#btscarnivalnet

“That’s right,” you confirm, “and for every wrong answer, you strip for me. Simple.” You give Jungkook the widest grin you ever have, possibly too wide, because he only hunches further into his seat. 

And it finally bursts your bubble.

“I mean… I’m just–you don’t have to do this, okay?” You scramble up from your seat, opening the distance between you two – placing yourself a good few feet away from the boy. “I was just… having fun with the idea—” With stumbling haste you continue to comfort him, “I jus–isn’t this like classic nerd porn that you’d watch?”

And you remember that comforting a fellow human being isn’t really your forte. You’re ready to gather all your belongings that are spread across the table, run away, change your name and hope like hell he doesn’t file you up for harassment. 

Thankfully, your shabby attempt at damage control does ease Jungkook, and his back straightens a little bit as he brings himself to look at you.

“Not wrong,” he gives you a grin, “I–I really like that, umm, idea. Yes, let’s do it.”

He trails off, but not without a smile of burgeoning confidence – apparently not enough to finish that sentence with, but enough to give you one strong nod – and you have the affirmation you need. More affirmation is given by his not-so-subtle shift in his seat, that shows you something was making its presence known in the confines of his pants.

“All right, let’s start this. International Law and Relations is pretty easy, and actually has very interesting sub-topics – you can take subjects on this topic when you move to the next semester,” you pause flipping through the textbook and give your tutee, “if you move to the next semester. Thankfully, this year you have multiple choice questions, so… You better fucking pass, you hear me?!”

Jungkook only gives you a sheepish grin, his hands fiddling with each other.

“Okay, we’ll go through chapters randomly. Your first one – what is a country’s exclusive economic zone?”

On completing the question, you look up and await an answer – but the doe eyes that greet you back showcase that behind them, there is a lot of emptiness. Jungkook’s eyebrows are raised as he tries his best to push out any answer, any words, just anything from his brain. Alas, after two minutes, you give up.

“Okay, you’re going first then,” your voice breaks his intense thought process, and he flashes you a wide grin. 

“Socks count right?” He pulls off the socks on both his feet, and wiggles his toes against the fresh air. 

“Why you wear socks in this weather, it’s beyond me,” you huff an exasperated sigh, “but okay. One down. Exclusive economic zones are the sea-areas where coastal states have the right to exploit resources for economic gains. Think fisheries, mining, construction, artificial islands, and other endeavours. Capisce?”

“Got it. Next!”

“Love the enthusiasm,” you grin at his eager look, and open the textbook to a random page again, “okay, same chapter, what are the three international air laws?”

“Oh, I know this! I read thi–uhh, Public International Law, Private International Law…”

“Yesss? And?”

“Why is my brain saying Supernatural Law?”

One look at his bamboozled face and you burst out laughing. “Supranational Law! Not Superna—” Your persistent giggles have you dropping the book onto your lap, hands rushing to wipe a tear that makes its way down your cheek. You can see a bleary Jungkook, following suit in your snickers, his shoulders rising up – it’s a very cute view. 

No, Jungkook is not your type of guy – and you will not make him. 

You’re actually supposed to wrap up this session with Jungkook earlier than usual – because a party doesn’t wait for anyone – and last night Baekhyun told you he’d pick you up. When you asked him whether the party was, he only sent you a smirking emoji as a response. 

Rude boys are your standard, and Baekhyun fits it to the tee. Jungkook, not so much.

But now you’ve started something that can’t possibly end soon. 

“Okay, next item!” You aim to be loud, to quell that finagling thought in your mind.

“But—” Jungkook sputters out, “but I got that right?! Come on, it was close enough!”

You shake your head. “A hundred, or nothing. Chop chop,” you wave a gratuitous hand at his torso – and he obliges with a sigh.

God damn. 

The gamer nerd, who probably doesn’t see the light of day – his body is way too beautiful for his character arc. You scan his whole chest with your glaring beam, pecs ogling back at you – totally unaware of how Jungkook is doing the same to you – it takes considerable effort for you to rip your eyeballs out and get them to focus back on his face. 

You take a large, audible gulp to facilitate speech, “Okay, didn’t know that’s what would greet me – moving on—”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean absolutely nothing, you closeted hottie,” you attempt to close that argument with that sole compliment – after all, you do have a tutoring responsibility – but Jungkook’s singular raised eyebrow makes you wonder if that party is really worth it.

Oh no, you need to make him pass this.

“Let’s move on now, or else you won’t ever move on from college,” you deflate whatever ego-ballooning Jungkook has – his bare shoulders slumping back to his hunched posture – and you internally grin. 

Picking up the thick textbook, you flip through to find a new page laced with information.  “Name three international hybrid tribunals, and their subject matter.”

“Okay okay, I just did this,” Jungkook starts off with confident, “the Special Tribunal for Lebanon, which is for the the prosecution of the people responsible for the assassination of the Lebanese Prime Minister, Special Court for Sierra Leone—” he pauses to take a deep breath and you watch his chest heave with an intent gaze, “which was for the Sierra Leone civil war, and finally… What was the–uhh– for the Kosovo War… Yes! Yes! Kosovo Specialist Chambers! The Kosovo Liberation army was put on trial,” he ends with a gleeful smile.

“There you gooo! See, you can totally do this,” you give him an encouraging nod, “what do you want me to take off?”

“O-oh, umm, your top?”

“Sure,” setting the book on the table, you slip out of your camisole, shaking your head to send your hair back to their place, “shall we move on?” 

But moving on gets tougher when he eyes you like that. The air gets denser within your space, the room feeling too small to escape the tension, and too big to act upon it. You remind yourself multiple times – this chocolate boy isn’t going to be the end of your night – your night ends on Baekhyun’s unspoken promise – but the eclipsing eyes that follow your neon bralette are pushing your brain to reconsider how you write this evening. 

“You–uh–you are really hot,” Jungkook’s fumbling words finally reach you.

You chuckle, stifling the urge to egg him on. “Thank you,” is your quiet response, and you both do well to stifle the snowballing tension.

“Okay, now I’m way more motivated to get my answers right,” he exclaims with vigour, and the two of you trudge forward, keeping up this charade of studies. 

Many questions down, and you’re at quite the standstill. 

Jungkook sits on his chair, not an inch of clothing on his body, stark naked – and you are about to lose your bra. 

Apparently he can apply himself real well when there are lewd incentives at the end of the rainbow. You circumvented the inevitable, counting riddance of jewellery and accessories as stripping – but now you’re out of options. Jungkook’s lips – pulled into a tender smirk that isn't racy – don’t threaten to sweep you off your feet – but fuck, they still get to you. Supple, with the slightest hint of moisture making his waterline glisten… you ache to taste them, to run your fingers over them, to drip honey all over them and watch them turn sweeter than ever. 

You need to get on Baekhyun’s dick. ASAP.

“Go on, I know that was right!”

Breaking out of your reverie with a demure huff, you smile your way out of your bra, and you can fully hear the deep inhale that your tutee has to take to this new view. With a brazen look of gloating, you cross your arms, letting your eyes and your cleavage do all the teasing – lest your tongue stumbles over the words and lands in his mouth. 

“Shi–yo–you’re—” Jungkook’s words falter as well, giving you an extra boost of pride. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot – I’m sorry, is this the fifth time I’m saying this?”

You laugh with him. “Yeah, probably. Could use a thesaurus.”

“I don’t think my brain will process anything on it. This keeps coming out because I got practice. Said it about a hundred times in my head.”

With your head thrown back, your whole body jiggles in laughter, filling the room with mirth and joy to replace the leaden lust in the air. You bend forward to flick his forehead, knowing full well that the movement just makes your breasts look more enticing; if that was even a possibility. His cock is stiff as iron, and you can fill a drying lake with your current rate of salivation. Both of you clearly recognize that words are flowing slower than before, movements are more calculated than before, and most importantly, eye contact lasts way too long for either of you to ignore. 

“Okay, umm, last question, then I need to be off.” You attempt to bring a close to this increasing strain in your throat, no matter how badly your body wants to delay your departure. “What years did the Hague Conventions take place?”

“I hate these questions,” murmurs Jungkook, “I remember the subject matters of it – it’s not like knowing the exact dates and times will help me avert war.” His pout makes you falter, like there isn’t a fully grown naked man in front of you, like he isn’t testing your limits right now.

“So… No answer?” 

Jungkook shakes his hung head, having given up on finding an answer. “What now, I can’t peel my skin or something,” he starts, a very innocent tone for this ambiance.

“Yeah, I mean, I gotta g—”

“And I’m out of jewellery, too, so—”

“Yeah, it’s cool, I’m gonna head out anyw—”

“You wanna tie me up or something?”

Silence. 

Too long of a silence. 

“I mea—”

“Jeon. Jung. Kook.” Your staccato of words work as a beat, your legs moving in its sync. You bend down for a brief moment to pick up his discarded t-shirt, but the rest of your movement wastes no time in finding a seat on his lap.

His dick presses against your clothed core, imbuing the ache that he currently feels, and goody – you both are in serious pain. And when you lean ahead to gather his hands into a knot on his back, he takes a sharp inhale – your breasts doing everything his dick-led-brain has been wanting for the whole session – pressing against his chest to feel every throb that races through your body.

“You have no filter,” you whisper into his ear, making sure he feels your damp lips move, “do you?”

“N–N–I, me–nngghh,” Jungkook labours through this ordeal, his hips going the extra mile to close the gap between you two. 

When you feel his hardness work against your pulsing clit, it only eggs you further, and the rudderless ship of your resolve yaws out of its lane, finding its anchor in the parted lips in your view.

If your surroundings could combust at the spark that you set off with the kiss, you’d be sitting in a castle of embers, licks of flames being innocent bystanders to the heat that your kiss generates. Your fingertips dig into the nape of his neck, and you swallow his groan with an eager tongue. Without a break, the kiss turns feral. 

You push into his mouth. He returns in kind – although there’s nothing kind about the way he digs his teeth into your lip. The hiss you attempt to release never makes it out to the world – Jungkook is intent on ending this kiss only when the last breaths in your bodies threaten to leave, carrying along with them your consciousness. 

And when that point comes, you part – your head is thrown back, and your hand carded in his hair pulls his back as well. Brisk, shallow breathing is the tune to which you gather your bearings. Your thighs burn for relief, the ache of holding your body in place settling in as the dopamine dies. From your awkward position, you flit an eye towards your partner in crime – and any dopamine that was dying, comes rushing back.

Your hands are still in the lush strands of his hair, and his lidded eyes are bouncing between many areas of view. Your libidinous eyes, your wet lips, your heaving breasts, or the junction of your thighs that give his hardness teasing touches. Maintaining this position, you dig into his cock, your flimsy underwear allowing your arousal to caress against his hot and awaiting length. He groans – it’s animalistic, it’s uninhibited, it’s none of the shy gamer nerd who cowered under the weight of your knowledge. His eyes, fervid, shuttle between all of your exposed skin, finding an anchor, but failing to stop.

“Look at you, is this what you really wanted?” It shocks you how far your voice shakes – what caused it – the kissing, the breathing, or the rock hard cock currently against your throbbing pussy? Who knows. 

“I mean… We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want this,” Jungkook bites out an answer with great difficulty, “I—I definitely wan—ungh!”

You just can’t resist. His neck. His clavicles. His bobbing Adam’s apple. His chest. His restrained arms making a tireless effort to feel you. You leech onto his sparkling skin, and drag your tongue in the confines – Jungkook’s words transform into unintelligent warble, just the way you like. 

Sliding downward, and acknowledging the slight ‘fuck’ that Jungkook exhales with a smirk, you lodge yourself directly in front of his broad, heaving chest. The position is awkward — a lot of your body weight lays on your hands that balance you on the chair’s seat – but your current view makes any pain go away. 

“Could this be the reason,” you land a soft peck in the middle of his chest, “why your grades are like this,” trailing your path with your nose, you move left, “we could have just gotten this over with,” you end the sentence with a swirl of your tongue around his already pebbling nipple. 

He hisses a string of unintelligible curses, arching into your ministrations, “Yo–you’d have d–done tha—” His train of thought ends with an audible gasp when you engulf the nipple in your mouth.

“For my tutee,” you release his nipple with a pop and look back up at his eager-to-please-face, cupping a cheek, “anything.”

“Can y—can you get rid of thi–this?” He shakes his bound hands from behind, his shoulder muscles bulging in the movement.

You simply shoot him an innocent look. “But you asked for it, didn’t you?”

“I thought that was the best thing that could happen to me,” Jungkook huffs with a light pout, “right now, I’m regretting it so hard.” As he speaks, you move to trail a soft line of kisses across his chest, reaching his other, neglected nipple. With your eyes locked in with his, you lick around the nub again, enjoying his restrained groans from your vantage.

“You don’t like it? What would you do if you… could touch me?”

“Fuck, I would—I wo—God, I would wrap myself around you… take a big piece of that ass, tear off your fuckin’ underwear… Grab your tits and dig my face into them till it’s time to execute my will—”

You chortle, still busy teasing his chest and making it hard for him to make his words flow. “You don’t need your hands for the last one baby.” 

Your skin rumbles against the loud groans of pleasure that come out of Jungkook when you press his face into your chest, and you feel him frantically lick and suck at your skin, tongue lolling at whatever it could catch a taste of.

“Ahh, this is—making me want some very bad things,” you chuckle at the throes of pleasure he is pushing you under, but are surprised at yourself how much your voice quivers as well. Jungkook makes a show of fighting his restraints; you very well know that you don’t have a sailor’s knot guide on you, and the fight he’s putting up is not more than the fight you had been putting up throughout this evening.

“Bad things?” Jungkook’s breathy whisper brings you back to his lips, and you drop back on his lap, grinding yourself just enough to let your wetness cover his twitching length. “You’re my tutor, I–I’m sure you only want the best for me.”

With your show of repress finally curtained, you drop to your knees, arching your back until you’re face-to-face with his member – tip leaking copious amounts of precum, owing to the hours of tension that you put him through. Jungkook’s thighs tighten under your enrapt gaze, and his staccato breathing is music to your ears. 

“Well, since I am your tutor,” you preen before you drag your tongue around the base of his dick, “and since I want only the best for you,” you drag your tongue up his muscle in one long stroke, “let me give you the best that I have.”

You wrap your lips around him thinking about how sweet he looks. You draw figures with your tongue thinking about how he's absolutely not your type. You suck more of his length into you thinking about how his moans differ from your average partner. So sweet. So pure. So untainted. 

So, so not for you.

Perhaps sweet is what you nee—

“I’m gonna cu—” 

The shrill ring of your phone pierces through Jungkook’s uncontained moans as he empties into your mouth recklessly. With your eyes closed, you try your best to savour the crisp, salty taste, letting your tongue cheekily lap at his member until you feel him shudder under your stimulation. Satiated, you get to your feet, looking eye to eye with the doe-eyed monster – who has the gall to look so pure even now, hands tied, balls empty.

“I should… Get that.” 

Unsurprisingly, Baekhyun is pissed that you kept his premium cock waiting at your doorstep, and you appease his injured ego while finding your clothes and bearings. Jungkook relieves himself of the ‘restraints’, eyes following your disrobed body as it finds its modesty back, piece by piece. 

“Okay… my phone, my book, my jewellery… I think I got everything,” you announce to the small, overheated room. “Jungkook. Good luck, this is the one thing you gotta pass, make sure you reread chapters 8 to 11, don’t blindly mark something because it sounds reasonable because nothing in this world is, make sure you have eno—”

“But! Listen—” His voice, still so sweet, not a hint of demanding assertion in his tone, just plain and beautiful pleading. “Wh–when can we… Umm when can we m–meet again?”

Ugh, your heart. 

“Listen, I’m going away on vacation, my exams are over,” with a mildly heavy heart you try to explain to him without rushing, “that’s why this was our last class. And after that, I’ll be moving away. But!” With a spring in your step you open his door to let yourself out. “Keep in touch! Keep texting me, okay?” With your second shoe on, you stand at the stairs leading you out of his apartment, and look at him for one last word.

And you see his beautiful body and almost crumble back into his apartment. 

“Yeah… Will do, bye!” He pulls himself together and grants you a bright, guilt-free smile.

So sweet, even when you’re blowing him off. So, so sweet. 

But you don’t do sweet. So accepting his goodbye, you run like a deer being chased by the hungriest predator, towards the spice that awaits at your door.

Damned professional attires. Why can’t they look good without having to be tended to every fucking day? 

You curse yourself for the cup ramen breakfast that ruined your only good shirt, owing to which you have this stainless but wrinkled shirt on you. It is very out of place, the lush lobby walls making you feel like every crease on you is magnified by a thousand. 

It’s obviously not the shirt that is making your stomach gurgle. It is the upcoming meeting that is creating turmoil in your insides, part dread and part excitement.

“He will see you now.”

This guy has a receptionist and an assistant. Why is he so boujee? One look at his office door and you already know – this meeting will not go as per plan.

And when you push the heavy-set mahogany door, and take the man sitting at the baroque desk, silhouette highlighted by the clear night sky behind him – you’re certain this night was made for trouble. 

“Ah, look who it is.” 

That voice. So different from the last time you spoke. Gone is the tender, dulcet voice of his, gone are his soft, vulnerable eyes, and gone is the benevolent disposition that he carried around with pride.

As he takes a good, slow look at you, assessing you from top to bottom, gleaming with mischievous confidence, you shuffle in discomfort at all this directed display of interest. The million twinkles in eyes have coagulated to turn into a ball of inferno. With that blaze, he drags his eyes all over you, tracing your contours with the pens of his gaze, making you feel nails and needles through your spine. Unabashed. Doesn’t care that you’re waiting to take a seat, doesn’t care about your obvious discomfiture, just holding you at your place like a puppet to his watchful leer. The black-on-black suit fits his body like a dream, and the things you want to do to him are straight out of a nightmare.

“Please, why are you still standing?” His assessment complete, he waves an arm to the plush leather seats at your disposal. “Have a seat.”

Moments of uncomfortable silence pass by you, but only you seem bothered by it. You hate how fidgety you are right now, showing your cards so plainly. But truth be told, you have no cards to show. You’re here for his help, and there’s no game to be played with him.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” you offer, making a general gesture to show his entire office space. You could fit nineteen of your cubicles in here, and still have space to waltz around. Your incessant jumping from one firm to another, attempts at finding footing wherever you land but ultimate dissatisfaction with whatever was presented to you led to a not-so-stellar career, and tonight, to this office. 

“Thanks.” He offers nothing more. And his lack of words definitely stings. 

How did someone who breezed through law school end up like this?

More importantly, how did someone who was barely passing subjects under you end up in a position of such power?

And most important of them all, how did you end up being at his mercy?

"So tell me,” he begins once again, bursting your bubble of self-detestation, “how can I help you?"

You take a deep, rich breath and start. "I'm assuming you read my email, so I just nee—"

"You're gonna have to pause right there. I didn't." A simple response, with a simple smile, and you simply want to crawl into a hole and never see sunlight ever again. Jungkook doesn’t even try to explain himself out of this – no excuse or reasons given as to why the email remains unread. And as happenstance would have it, you are in no position to ask him why.

"Very well." You tap the file ahead, taking a deep breath and starting again, "This file should have it all. It’s better if you read through it, I might miss details." 

Jungkook’s extended, bejewelled hand accepts the file, and leafs through the bundle of papers you’ve prepared for him. But that is not what you’re internalising. You're too busy furtively eyeing his bedecked office, the wooden panels offering a private divide between the office space and a separate seating area. The ritzy furniture establishing the space, the lavish lighting giving more depth to the space, the skyline flaunting its glory above it all – you're fraught with uncontrollable envy.

A call to your name jolts you, moving your eyes to him. 

“So do you need me as co-counsel? I hardly think you need the help.”

“Please, don’t patronise me,” you chide him, the repressed irritation showing its face. “I know I’ve not had the best set of years in this field. And I know I fucked up on this one, pardon my French.”

“Well,” he pays no heed to your agitated tone, pushing the file back to you – just enough, so you are forced to get up to reach, “you’re right about that. You fucked up. I can definitely look into this, but I have a heavy workload as it is.” He simply shrugs, a mock-saintly frown on his lips.

What happened to your sugar-cookie boy who would do anything to make you proud? 

Who is this man?

“I know, but I’m—” You swallow everything in you that stops the words, “I’m desperate. This meeting was clearly out of desperation. I know you knew what this was about. Why would you accept an appointment this late if you weren’t going to take on the job?”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you. Maybe I was curious what my tutor was doing, after leaving me high and dry that fateful night.”

He says it with such a harmless smile, like he just announced what he had for dinner. If you weren’t shaken yet, you now are. 

“If I remember correctly, that was not the case. But for now, I’m asking for your help. That’s how I’m doing.”

“Yeah well,” with a smooth move, he gets out of his charcoal seat, and glides towards the tasteful couches placed on the other end of this palatial office, your heartbeat picking up pace from a gentle jog to a frantic pace, “I think I’m entitled to something in return.”

You follow him to the couch across the room, seating yourself on it – and taking a second to enjoy how comfortable it feels. “I literally swallowed your load that night. If anything, I’m the one entitled to this.”

“I’m sure your boy-toy that night gave you everything you needed, didn’t he?”

Deep breath. He remembers the night very well. Too well.

Did you expect that? No. 

Did you want to find out?

Well, why else did you choose his name from a catalogue of high-end lawyers who could have saved your ass in this case?

What’s that saying… Curiosity kills your pus—

“Listen,” you interrupt your own reverie, “you will receive remuneration for your work, my boss is ready to—”

“Nuh–uh,” he tuts, “come on now, we really don’t need to play this cat and mouse game, do we?”

A deep exhale calms your nerves against this burgeoning yet desired situation, and you leave your seat to accept the glass of whiskey he’s offering you. After returning to the couch and gulping the hootch, you meet his accursed, biting gaze. “What can we even wager on like that night? It’s not like I have test questions to ask you anymore,” you throw the ball back into his court, desperately hoping he finds a good enough solution.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he teases you, sliding into the seat – it’s unbearable how good he looks with this confidence. He gets in your space, still holding his undrunk glass of whiskey, peering into your eyes as he makes his proposal. “I think a bit of role reversal will do us good,” he smiles back at you. “Do you good.”

“My definition of good, or yours?”

He smiles at your attempt at feigning confidence. “I don’t think they differ by much.”

In this quietude, the frenetic beating of your heart rings all the way up in your ears. It is a testament to how agog this transformed man leaves you; by the way he speaks, the way he looks, the way he commands your entire being. Words fail you, so you whisper a small ‘yeah’ and nod – you definitely knew where this night was going the moment you called his office, even if your ego strives hard to say otherwise.

“Let’s start simple,” he begins with a slap to his thigh, seating himself comfortably, “where did you go that night?”

What tactic is this? You’re baffled that this man – looking like a Michelin-star-seven-course-meal – cares about that one immaterial night.

Was it really immaterial, though?

Youngling Jungkook was probably offended, you posit to yourself, by the way you left things hanging (pun very much intended). 

“How would you know if I lie?”

“I’ll decide that.” His eyes add “and you’ll follow.” No room for discussion is provided.

“Right.” You sip on your refilled glass, clearing your throat before you answer, “I don’t know if you know him, Byun Baekhyun.” You look in his eyes for recognition, but you can’t read anything, anything at all. “I had to meet him.”

“To fuck?”

“Well, yes. Drinks and then that.” 

“Okay, I’ll take that.” 

And you’ve passed question one – all your clothing fully intact.

“Next question,” his eyes filled with sensual mirth, “was he any good?”

“Oh my God,” you throw your hands up, ready to leave the seat in a show of exasperation, “are you—is this insecurity? After all these years?”

“Well, I’m asking the questions, so I don’t owe you an explanation,” Jungkook leans into the cushions, his confident manner growing with each passing second, “but you might say, I’m curious.”

A moment of silence passes. 

“Yes.”

“Ahh…” He tuts at you, inching closer until you feel the microfibres of his coat against you, “Wrong answer.”

Of course it’s the wrong answer. 

Byun Baekhyun might have been one of the best fucks of the campus, and you might’ve had a lot of fun with him on erstwhile rendezvouses, but that night wasn’t either of your nights, with him being pissed of at you for making his dick wait, and you having your mind glued on a totally different dick to his. The lie might have been obvious, but the fact that you’re having to accept it right now is making your ears heat up.

You don’t really need to do this.

Oh, but you do.

“Go on,” Jungkook coaxes you with his honey-dripping voice, lidded eyes tormenting you, “you know the rules.”

In the tense air, you take off a bracelet, the fake diamonds leaving a chill on your wrist. After dangling it in his face, you drop it onto the couch seat. 

“Good…” Jungkook teases, wondering which deviation of his brain to follow next. “Next. Did you think about me while getting your mediocre pounding from Baekhyun?”

“Oh my God, no!” Your rude tone is extra sharp, like you didn’t even want to entertain the thought that Jungkook would think – Jungkook would know – that that’s what happened. 

To this date, you do not remember anything of Baekhyun – your memories of that day have been painted with Jungkook and Jungkook alone.

“Come on now,” his smug visage turns ungodly, eyebrow cocked up, “a white lie. Off,” is all he says. 

You bend down to reach for the buckle of your shoe. Owing to Jungkook sitting fairly close, your line of sight is delicious – his taut suit pants defining the thighs that he’s clearly worked for; basically ogling at his thighs and crotch in close proximity. With shaky hands, your shoes finally come off – no thanks to the burst of anticipation flooding your veins. 

“Have you ever thought about us on lonely nights?” The closer he moves, with each syllable of utterance, the farther you feel from a sense of control. 

“No…” Your words stammer, and you mentally give the point to Jungkook. Looking up, you find him smirking at your shrinking stature.

“Ahh… You make it too easy,” he just chides you, and you start slipping out your rings.You’re well aware that you are the one dragging this out – but the “yes” just does not want to grace your lips. 

Maybe because you actually like this game. 

Maybe you’re enjoying this end of the show. 

And maybe, you finally want to see this game to completion. 

“Just so you know,” Jungkook purrs into the shell of your ear, leaving you wondering when he moved so close, “I think about your slick on my cock a lot.”

The desperation in your countenance is so visible, it’s pathetic. You wait in silence for the next question, eager to jump to the finale, but the path to the end is far too enjoyable to skip.

“Do you want to continue where we left off?”

“No.” Your answer is straight, to the point, no embellishments. 

Instead, you let your hands do the talking.

In one smooth action, you unzip your skirt and pull it down, without a prompt from the dastard ogling at you. Every move you make, you feel his stare burn into your skin, countering the chilly air filling the room. You sit back with your legs tightly closed – not out of any false sense of modesty, that has never been your strong suit – but the unceasing throbbing of your clit needs temporary relief or else it will jump out and land into his mouth.

The distance between you two has steeply decreased, and you can’t tell who’s at fault anymore. In any case, this proximity is most welcome, as per the anticipatory goosebumps that decorate your skin. Swirling his yet-unfinished drink in his hand, ice cubes clattering against each other, Jungkook takes your exposed legs in that are only barricaded by your pantyhose. It’s not the best material – you’ve been wearing the same one for a week now, displaying many scratches and tears – but Jungkook’s eyes don’t even seem to register it. 

But what is with this speed? He is fully intent on making every second of your horny existence miserable. In a desperate attempt to get a fraction of his touch, you bring your leg up – making the move as slow and deliberate as possible – landing it on his thigh. The best begging you can do without actually voicing it out.

Jungkook, however, is a man of many talents – ignoring your direct needs being a prime one. After a light sip, he brings his glass down to your leg, the bottom rim touching under your toe – and you hiss at the ice-cold feeling that spreads across your foot, as the condensate spreads its influence. 

“I have so many questions for you…” Jungkook whispers to you, watching you twitch, “but I’m having too much fun right now.”

Just when you begin to ask whether his dictionary reads ‘fun’ differently, he drags his cold glass upward, painfully slow, traversing your foot, then along your shin bone, letting the precipitate draw a path of icy chill on the map of your body. Meeting your eyes to just plant a cheeky wink into your brain, he continues forging ahead – until he can reach mid-thigh. He stops there long enough to hear you hiss – only then do you feel the glass move away. 

If you weren’t already panting, you are now. Very audibly so. It is all you can hear in the room, in fact. 

That is, of course, until Jungkook assaults all your senses by dragging you awfully close to him, extracting a gasp from you – his grip on your thigh is tighter than the band in your stomach begging for a release, and you relish the feeling. 

“Do you, want me,” he says into the miniscule space that’s left between your lips, “to kiss you right now?”

You can’t decide what demands your spotlight; is it his gaze boring holes into your skin, or his lips that are now glistening deliciously?

“No.”

“Hmmn,” Jungkook turns away from you, and you almost rise in alarm – until you register his next actions, “thought so.”

One second to completely sip all of his whiskey. Another second for his lips to land on yours.

Finally.

The fantasies of this night blend into reality, and instead of doing the rational thing – thinking why you ended up like this – you give into the kiss.

Not only does he kiss you hard, like the future of his world depends on it, he also pushes in his undrunk whiskey into your eager mouth. The liquid swirls between the colliding tongues, some leaking out of the corners of your mouth – the rest coating the insides of your cheeks with a lush, rich and robust flavour – flavours that didn’t pop when you drank it from your own damn glass.

You kiss until the whiskey gets drunk – by whom, is a mystery – and before you can tend to the stray drops down your face, Jungkook’s hand grabs your chin to keep you still. 

God, your last kiss was nothing like this. The blood buzzing in your ears is thunderous, reacting to the contradiction between the soft, tender kisses exchanged all those years ago, and the jagged, raw conquering of your lips happening right now. Your roughened lips burn under the remnants of alcohol, but it’s nothing compared to the searing you feel when Jungkook lets his tongue languidly glide against your gnawed skin.

“Now, since it was the wrong answer…” He husks, his fingers moving inward, closer and closer until they land just below your collar, “I have no choice but to—”

One mighty sharp tug – and all the buttons of your shirt have popped, flying all around the two of you. His hands, still clutching the buttonless seams of your shirt, harshly pull you back into him. Lips firmly sealed back onto yours, he sends his hand roaming.

“This is what you needed that night, eh?” With one hand back to digging in your jaw, he mouths the words into your cleavage, teeth digging deep into whatever they can grab, “Sweet boys just don’t cut it for you.” He moves up to the nook of your neck, his other hand slotting between your thighs, “For all the attitude you had back then, all you want then is to be treated like a street slut. And you’re still the same. Whores don’t change.”

Rude boys are still your standard, and Jungkook has become just that.

“Ow—fuck, don’t leave mar–marks, man,” you attempt an angrier voice while avoiding his truth bomb – because yes, aren’t you knocked out, over the moon right now? The voice that emanates is feeble, with no brawn to be found. 

He too, doesn’t pay you any heed – teeth tugging the flesh in his clamp until he can hear you hiss, then letting it go, letting his tongue soothe the sting.

“You can pretend to hate it,” he sneers at you, his low tone whisper sending shivers like a snowy night, “your lips can lie, but your body? From the moment you walked in, I know your pussy’s been screaming to be filled. Just thank your stars I’m generous, huh?”

You’re drunk. On just two fingers of whiskey? That can’t be it. Definitely, it’s the heady concoction of the alcohol and Jungkook’s very able hands – one of which is enjoying the feel of your perking nipple. 

While one hand goes back up to roughly dig into your neck, the confines of your throat feeling the heat of his lust, his other arm wraps holds your back, making sure you don’t lean too back and lose your balance. It’s sweet.

What’s not sweet, however, is how long this is taking.

He pushes you until you’re balancing your head on the armrest, with one knee digging into the cushion beside you, the other firmly planted on the carpeted floor. Within a wink of an eye, he’s moved down – and you feel his tongue play over your bra, teasing your nipples, reminding you of a forgotten (but not really) past – a harsh suckle under your boob releases the trapped moan, but it sounds battered; perfectly showcasing your state of mind.

“How about this,” he whispers, looking up from his actions, “you think I can get you to come without taking anything else off?”

Do you have the mental fortitude to deal with the consequences of your bratty answer? 

“No.”

The fingers fiddling with your bra hooks halt – instead, he descends onto your clothed breast, biting over the fabric, fully knowing that your sensitivity was through the roof. You cuss and moan, growing frustration urging for more, but you do not beg.

“Funny how life changes,” he coos, shifting attention from one boob to the other, “today you’re the one tied down. And lucky for you,” with not a hint of weariness in his voice, “I don’t have to be anywhere, anytime soon.”

No ties, no ropes, no chains – hell, not even that overworn, oversized tee of his – and he’s still so right about it. Not a part of you wishes to move away, your pathetic self just wrapped around his agile fingers. 

Said fingers now hold your cheeks, squeezing until your quivering lips give an opening – and he drops a ball of spit right over. You lay there, entranced, taking what he has to give, your writhing less prominent now. Anything that falls outside the outline of your lips is gathered by his thumb, massaged over your mouth, then inserted for you to suck to your heart’s content. Which you do.

“You’ve shanghed sho mush,” you speak past his thumb; he definitely doesn’t try to make it easier on you, pushing his digit further inside, putting your tongue through a test of endurance.

“So have you,” is his simple response, dragging his wettened thumb across your cheek.

“Not as much as you, for sure.”

“I don’t think the mouthy bitch years ago would suck spit off of my thumb.”

“You don’t know that.” With his eyes widening ever so slightly, you continue, “But surely, the geek from years ago wouldn’t have spit in my mouth in the first place.”

“You don’t know that either.” 

Just when you think you’re done seeing stars with the roof on, Jungkook hooks the band of your bra in his teeth – like the primitive animal that he is – and pulls at it, just to let it snap back at your skin. The unannounced action makes you squeal, even though it didn’t really hurt – he’s got your body so alive, a feather could hurt you if he wielded it.

With the odd, oafish position of yours; one leg on the couch, the other hanging off loose, head balanced precariously on the armrest with your arms dutifully out of his way – you try to get him where you need him, knee nudging his thigh while your hips wriggle under an invisible spell. Finally, he acquiesces, settling down at the couch with your legs unwrapped on either side for his viewing pleasure. His palms squeeze the flesh of your thighs, a small tsk falling off his lips at the touch of your pantyhose.

“Tearing doesn’t count as taking off, right?”

“What?”

You don’t get a response – not in words, atleast. The loud rip that follows is the only answer he graces you with, your worn down pantyhose having its last wear forever. But his easy access only brings you gratitude when two fingers enter the tear in a split second, pushing your underwear inside your sopping core.

“Mmmhh—Fuck!”

Jungkook just laughs at your helpless body writhing beyond control as he explores everything he didn’t have a chance to before. Fingers travelling down, then up, inside, then outside, around and about – everything, only egging you further on. 

“After all these years…” Jungkook purrs, not directly to you, eyes only connected to the juncture of your thighs, “you deserve a good fucking. What should I do, huh? Should I make you come, then drop off the face of the earth?” His tongue swipes the length of your crevice, sending shudders down your thighs. “Or should I spend this whole night doing all the things I’ve been meaning to? Cover you in my jizz and parade you across the office? Show everyone what an excellent tutor you were, and your very innovative teaching methods.”

Your brain has no filter when exposed to the horny, and his last words made it do just that – you latch onto whatever words best serve your purpose. 

“You–you’ve been meaning… To?” 

“Meaning to fuck you against every possible surface of this room,” is what Jungkook says, but with his fingers entering your cunt and exploring about, you don’t register anything. “As a thank you, you know? Meaning to see you fall apart on my fingers, just like this—” He pushes in hard, your pussy throbbing around his digits. “Meaning to cum inside you, over and over again, and have you crawl around this space, dripping everywhere while I sit and watch your sullied body prepare itself to take more.”

Well, the last one is oddly specific. Even more odd is how much more aroused the thought makes you.

“Wow, umm—w–well—” Swallowing the wad of spit accumulating in your throat, you offer, “Since you clearl–ooh, clearly, know how to make me come,” you look him in the eye, tears of desire pooling in the corners of your eyes, “so fucking do it. S–Stop playing around.”

“But with a plaything as sweet as you,” he moves to kiss your clothed pussy, his fingers still playing imaginary music inside your walls, “with a toy as slutty as you,” another kiss, so delicate it hurts you, “hard to not play around.”

Hands unfettered from the mental shackles that Jungkook put on you, you pull him back up to you, lips smushing together once again – your other hand wraps around his wrist, grinding onto whatever surface his palm offers, using him like a glorified sex toy. He grunts hard into you, a vague attempt made at bringing you back under control, but your tongue is beguiling, and he stays under your hold. 

Until he isn’t. 

“A—w—fuck!”

Jungkook’s sadistic streak continues when he frees his wrist from your clutches, and smacks your clit once, twice, thrice – in quick succession. Your nub would buzz if it could, and a string of expletives release from you when he does it again – this time, with a greater backswing. 

With a sharp tug to his still-on blazer, you pull him up. “Fucker,” you sputter, making your first and last request of the night, in a desperate attempt to get the ball rolling, “let me suck your dick.” Your hands already flounder around his crotch, until he pulls them away, back to their previous confinement. In the background, you can hear his belt jingle; but all you can see is his arresting face.

A deep-throated laugh emerges from him, “Wasn’t last time enough?” He coos at your cock-hungry plea, pushing you back down and fiddling with your legs. “Next time, okay?”

“Next ti—uungghh!”

Barely able to complete your showcase of surprise, because this is the way he announces his acceptance – he pushes into your core, without warning, but he receives a warm welcome in the walls of your pussy. 

“We have a lot,” he emphasises with a thrust, “a lot of work to do, don’t we?” He pulls out just enough to leave you whining, then pushes back in with a grunt of satisfaction; his moves are calculated enough to leave you wanting while maverick enough to leave your spine tingling. “And a lot of catching up as well.” He hovers over you after positioning you better, both of your bodies lying along the length of the couch, before getting right back into your gushing entrance.

One particular thrust has you arching up, the shock of pleasure stagnating in your body for a hot second, making your head lag and voice wane. Jungkook sheaths himself completely, before slotting his face in the nook of your neck, heavy breaths licking at your heated skin. Not one to miss an opportunity, you take the lobe of his ear between your lips, letting your teeth graze over the skin.

“Mmmh, yes,” he keens, tilting into your touch, “make it hurt, baby.”

Whether it is the words he uttered, or the way his whisper travels down to your cunt, you dig your teeth into the flesh, immediately rewarded with a mouthwatering flurry of cusses stuttered into your neck. 

“It’s,” Jungkook pulls out of you in an instant, turning you around by your waist, “not,” he pushes your head back onto the headrest, your cheek bulging as you try to get a look at him, “enough.”

And the way he slams back into you, you feel your soul fight your body to escape. You mewl into the deathly quiet, his dogged jackhammering hurtling you towards your most awaited high of the day – hell, the most awaited all these years. He pistons into you, covering every inch of your skin in a sea of flames. Your orgasm finds you like a river in spate, gushing through its path, fighting boulders in its wake, carving its way through your entire body. 

Sounds of the room start feeling like echoes, slapping balls, grunty exhales, a weirdly long cloth rip that does not belong – but your ears are ringing, your mouth is drooling, and your brain is ready to shut down. Being jostled like a muppet feels like home, and you only start waking up when spurts of liquid coat all of your ass, thighs, and slit. 

In true asshole fashion, Jungkook tore all of your pantyhose, fabric loosely hanging on the sides, seams split until all of your ass and thighs were open for his pleasure. 

In truer asshole fashion, Jungkook left you a mess, cum trickling down your glutes, pooling at the bend of your knee.

And in truest asshole fashion, he is wiping his unsullied fingers clean, without a second thought about your current dishevelled disposition.

Ugh. You love to put yourself in a position you can’t get out of.

How the fuck will you get home? This jerk won’t give you a ride. 

Also, none of your bones work. 

You lay your head on the armrest, finding feasible ways out of this situation. It's going to be nice riding the bus with dried cum itching your ass. There must be a washroom in this boujee office, of course. You finally gather the strength to raise your head and look for one – but interception comes sharp and swift.

“Already done, huh?” Jungkook’s fingers press into the nape of your neck, pushing you back down, your tendons feeling the pressure of his stronghold.

“I—” You stutter and stumble again, just like the start of the night, “I thought we—”

“Don’t you remember?”

“What?”

“Hmmmn,” he sponges kisses over your clothed back, making his way downward, “stupid girl said I couldn’t make her come without taking anything off.”

Ah.

Stupid girl did say that.

Stupid girl also has her speaking right revoked right now, because Jungkook is collecting the half-dried cum on your ass with his tongue, awakening your dying senses once again. His final move is a start to the next chapter of your night, as he pushes his tongue into your velvet heat, depositing the cum where it belongs.

“Guess we keep playing, huh?”

Thank you for making it to the end! For more of my writing, find my masterlist here. As always, thoughts and feedbacks are greatly appreciated!    

He’s very loud, and has absolutely zero subtlety. He’s competitive—perhaps to an alarming extent—and chews with his mouth open sometimes. He’s way too stubborn for his own good and would rather eat soap than admit he’s in the wrong. He’s childish and full of pride at the same time, which is always a combination for disaster.

He can be selfish though he doesn’t mean to; maybe it’s just a side effect of being an overgrown baby. He needs to cuddle when either of you sleeps over, or else he gets agitated and won’t stop whining until you slot yourself into his side.

Jungkook hogs the blanket. He forces you to go on 6AM runs with him. He thinks everything you own is also his by extension, but not vice versa. He constantly blasts music while you’re trying to study, and only turns it down a couple notches when you threaten to tell his mom about that time he was in middle school and broke one of her previous vases, but somehow managed to pin it on the dog.

Despite all that, Jungkook is very charming, effortlessly so. Ever since he had that growth spurt at 14, girls started flocking to his side and vying for his attention, and surprisingly, his previously quiet self morphed into someone more confident and outspoken.

Throughout high school and now halfway into university, Jungkook has become the person that guys wanted to be, and girls wanted to be with.

He looks as if Apollo had descended from the heavens and made himself home among mere mortals. With fluffy dark hair, sparkly Bambi eyes, a jawline that can cut glass, and a well-toned body underneath his oversized hoodies, he’s the textbook definition of “boyfriend material”. Wherever he goes, Jungkook just exudes that charisma that makes people stop and say, “Wow. That. I want that. Where do I get myself someone like that? Do they sell them on Amazon?”

He’s smart in that casual and infuriating way where he still manages to ace all his classes without ever really trying. All his professors adore him even though he’s almost always late to class and hands in his assignments at least a few days late without giving any kind of notice or excuse. 

Jungkook seems like the total package—someone that mothers would love to call their son-in-law. (But, not everyone is privy to all his flaws like you are.)

And if all of that isn’t enough to knock the pants off of every wide-eyed college-aged girl, he’s a Fine Arts major who looks like he came straight out of a Pinterest moodboard, who wears a pair of those thin-rimmed glasses in class that always makes the TA just a little distracted. Who carries around a leather-bound journal wherever he goes like he’s a Shakespearean protagonist, just in case inspiration strikes and he needs a place for his sketches. It’s the journal that you saved up for three months to get him as a high school graduation gift, but also the very same one that everyone on campus daydreams about having a page dedicated to them in it.

(No one knows this other than a handful of his closest friends and family, but Jungkook doesn’t draw people, unless a school assignment requires him to do so. That’s his one rule when it comes to his creativity. He says it’s too easy, that the beauty of human beings is limited but more importantly, it’s fickle. Instead, he prefers to portray nature and inanimate objects, things that “remain eternal”, whatever the hell that means.)

There are, however, a couple of downsides to having godly looks and being the campus heartthrob.

You reckon this inconveniences you more than it does him. You can’t recall how many girls have come up to you for advice on how to approach him. Or how many love notes you’ve been asked to pass since ninth grade, only for him to skim and toss them.

(Jungkook doesn’t actually throw them away; he just never responds to any of them, thereby bestowing upon you the honor of watching smiles drop from eager lips when you regurgitate the same lines of “Sorry, he’s not looking to date right now” to his admirers.)

The attention gets to his head sometimes, but at least he’s never contracted the same asshole disease that guys get whenever someone throws a couple of looks their way.

You’re his messenger of heartbreak, as he once so annoyingly called it. It helps that he’s your best friend, and you make him treat you to a nice meal after each time. If it happens to be someone especially persistent who would constantly badger you unless you give them his phone number, he would throw in five extra coffees for all your troubles.

What doesn’t make it easier, though, is the fact that you’re also one of those lovestruck girls whose heart he breaks on a daily basis, but you’ll never let him in on that little secret.

You’ve known him nearly all your life, and you’ve been in love with him for half that time.

You should’ve gotten started on your philosophy paper ages ago, aka three weeks prior when your professor sent out reminders telling your class to do just that. But what have you been up to instead? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Well, you’ve been entertaining your clown of a best friend through all his shenanigans, but you always do that anyway.

Granted, the paper shouldn’t even be that long—5 pages maximum, no external sources needed beside the weekly class readings—but what’s important is the principle right? You need to start holding yourself to higher standards now that you’re starting an internship soon. 

Nevertheless, you left your assignment until the very end again, and now the paper is due in two days. As you hunch over your laptop at your desk, trying to compare and contrast the differences between Plato and Aristotle, your main distraction rolls into the room like a tornado.

“Eunji broke up with me,” Jungkook declares loudly as he barges in, drops his backpack to the floor with a thud, and plops onto your bed. He doesn’t even need to check to know where you are; he just buries his face into a pillow and groans in frustration.

You’re not fazed by his sudden entrances anymore. He does this at least once a day, just storming into your place and making himself at home. To be fair, it’s probably your fault for giving him a key, but oh well, he gets best friend privileges you suppose.

“Congrats?” you say confusedly as you swivel your chair around to face him. “I thought you wanted to break up with her?”

He straightens his form as much as he can on your too small bed, and props himself on an elbow to look at you. “Did you not hear me?” he says with a frown. “She broke up with me. I got dumped!”

You roll your eyes but you entertain him with a scandalized gasp anyway. “How dare she! This is unacceptable!” Maybe it’s a little too much, because he’s glaring at you and proceeds to chuck a stuffed koala on the bed at your head.

“It’s not funny!” Jungkook groans again, louder and more dramatic this time as his limbs flail about like a petulant child. “I’m heartbroken. Get the stash.”

“The stash” is your drawer of fancy snacks reserved only for special occasions or emergencies. 

He’s weaseled his way into The Stash more than you. Another annoying thing about Jungkook is that he steals your food.

“Stop being dramatic, and stop getting into my stash! Inflation is going up and you know how expensive those vinegar chips already are.”

It’s a losing battle; you know it every time you open your mouth to scold him.

When he sits up, crawls his way over to the edge of the bed, juts out his bottom lip and widens his eyes to stare at you like a Golden Retriever, you feel yourself melt a little at the sight. Sure, you’ve developed somewhat of a tolerance to it after him having pulled this trick on you countless times before, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to it.

You groan and go to fulfill his request, sullenly throwing him the bag of chips and a couple of candy bars. Jungkook punches the air triumphantly.

Anywho, he goes into detail about how he had envisioned the whole ordeal to go, what he was going to say to Eunji to soften the blow of the breakup because as much as he thought they were a bad fit together, he still wanted to be cordial and maybe even remain friends in the future.

That all went out the window when she suddenly stopped him before he could launch into a big speech though.

“She said she wanted to get back with her ex!” he recants exasperatedly, stuffing his face with the chips you bought with your hard-earned money. “Jinyoung or Junyoung or whatever the hell his name is. The one that looks like the flounder from The Little Mermaid and ran into the basketball pole that one time!”

“That’s mean.”

“It’s true, I saw it happen!”

You tear into a candy bar and take a bite. “So you got your ego bruised. Big whoop.”

“But it’s… It’s not something that happens to me often! Or ever!”

“You’re not the center of the universe. You sound like a douchebag.”

“Don’t.” Jungkook gives you a pointed look. “You know I’m not like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” you shrug indifferently, “but you sound like it.” 

He grunts in response and goes back to his top priority mission of dropping crumbs all over your bed. You both munch on your respective treats in silence for a few moments. With your eyes trained on nothing in particular, you think about Plato’s ideal state and how much he believed humans were rational beings capable of establishing structured societies. Truth be told, that’s really all you got. You haven’t been doing a very good job at paying attention in this class.

The muscle bunny next to you clears his throat, breaking your train of (very limited) thoughts on Greek philosophers. He doesn’t meet your eyes, only keeps them fixed on the bag of chips in his hands.

“So, um,” he starts, fingers fiddling with the paper wrapping, “I might have said something to Eunji after she said she wanted to break up.”

“What?” You raise a questioning eyebrow. He hesitantly looks at you and you gasp. “Jungkook! Did you slutshame her?”

“The fuck– No! Why would I do that?!”

“Then what did you do?”

“I told her…” he stammers before dropping the bag in his lap and raising his hands up in surrender. “Wait, you have to promise me you won’t be mad.”

“Jungkook,” you warn, narrowing your eyes at him, cautious of what he has to say. “What did you do?”

“You have to promise me first.”

“Just freaking tell me, you dipshit.”

“If you won’t promise me–”

“Ugh, fine! I promise! Now what the fuck you say to do Eunji?”

Jungkook threads his fingers together and stares at you like he’s an anchorman about to give you the latest news of the day. “I told her I wanted to break up because you and I want to date.”

Alarms ring and sirens blare. Your heart stutters foolishly in your chest. Bits of chocolate get lodged in your throat.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck!” you screech in disbelief. “Jeon Jungkook!” Grabbing the nearest pillow, you whack him directly in the face. The man tumbles off your bed with a high-pitched squeal, taking the half-eaten bag of chips along with him. Golden crisps fly everywhere.

“Ow! What the fuck? You promised!” 

“What the fuck do you mean “What the fuck?” Jungkook! Why would you say that?!”

The man rubs the spot on his ass where he landed on, and glares at you with those stupid eyes of his. 

“I couldn’t think of anything else!”

“Oh, you dipshit.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale in frustration. “Why didn’t you tell her what you were supposed to in the first place?”

“What, that I thought we weren’t compatible? Yeah, right. The girl had just told me she wanted to be with another dude. Anything I said afterward that didn’t involve me dating someone else would sound like I only wanted to save face.”

“You do only want to save face,” you deadpan. Why does he have the mindset of a 12-year-old girl?

“Well she doesn’t need to know that,” he shrugs, picking a chip off the floor and throwing it in his mouth. Ugh, gross. “Anyway, the damage is done. Sue me.”

“Oh my God,” you groan in absolute vexation. “How do you manage to get more stupid by the day? Okay, fine. Now you’re just gonna be even more embarrassed when she finds out that you lied, because you and I are not dating.”

Jungkook rubs his imaginary beard for a few seconds, still sitting among the chaos of sliced potatoes and humming as if in thought. “I’ll figure something out.”

You chuck your almost-finished candy bar at him, which he catches and eats the last piece. “God, whatever. It’s your problem. Now clean this up.” You gesture to the mess in the room.

“You made me fall.”

“I don’t care. Clean it up!”

“...Yes ma’am.”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“What? And stop saying my full name.”

“Well, then stop telling me to kiss you.”

“Why not? It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“Jungkook!” you shove him in the shoulder. “We were in the second grade!”

“So? Still counts. I tell everyone you were my first kiss.”

Your frown falters to make room for surprise. That’s… new.

You were in primary school; obviously he was your first kiss too. You don’t go around telling people that though.

“Why don’t you just… I don’t know, find someone new to date? It’s not like there’s a short supply of people who would be willing to do that,” you deflect.

Jungkook has been bothering you all morning with this absurd idea. Your paper is due in six hours and he keeps moping around your room, begging for your help in his dumbass plan. 

(The plan in question—which he claims to have been birthed from his big wrinkly brain and bathed in brilliance—is to convince Eunji that you two really are in a budding romance.

The first step of this scheme of his? Post a picture of you kissing.

Every other step after that? Pretend to be lovesick puppies every time you’re seen in public together. Which may also involve locking lips for people to see.)

“But I told her that there’s something going on between us!” He gestures to the both of you. “You and me! Specifically!”

“Sure, let’s assume that’s a valid argument–”

“Which it is.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Shut up. Hypothetically, I get why you’d think this could work. But why do we have to… kiss? Why can’t we just hold hands or cuddle or something?”

“Okay genius.” Jungkook pokes a finger at your temple. “We’re not exactly lowkey with the PDA. Everybody knows we do all of that. No one is going to believe it! The only things we haven’t done are kiss and fuck. Unless you want to make a sex ta–”

You wave your hands in the air to stop him from finishing that sentence as your cheeks heat up. He’s right; you’re just fishing for excuses at this point. It’s true that you two are quite affectionate with each other, even in public. You do everything that a couple does minus the, well, kissing and fucking—except whenever he has a girlfriend of course. You can’t count how many people have mistaken your friendship for something because from the outside, it does look that way, doesn’t it? You don’t like to dwell on this fact, but you can’t deny it either.

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up. Fine, why do you even have to post it online? Everyone on campus, and I mean everyone, would see it.”

“Well, duh.” It’s his turn to roll his eyes now. This motherfucker sure has a lot of attitude for someone who needs a favor. “I can’t exactly slide into Eunji’s DMs and randomly hit her up with a photo of us sucking faces.”

“We’re not sucking faces. Jesus– Okay, would the group know? How do you even expect to convince everybody else? You’re literally asking me to be your–” you swallow before continuing, “fake girlfriend.”

“The group” being all of your close friends. You have an odd pack of them, to be honest.

Taehyung is probably Jungkook’s second best friend only after you, what with being in the same major and having the same gaming interests. It’s uncanny how similar they are sometimes; it’s like two peas in a pod. Two peas that pass one brain cell back and forth in a game of mental dodgeball.

Namjoon is a senior whom you met while trying to sell an old bookshelf through Facebook Marketplace. You thought he was a creep at first; he had no profile picture and the only post on his timeline was from seven years prior, and it was a photo of a tree in black and white. When you arranged a meetup with him to exchange the goods, you made Jungkook go with you in case Namjoon was a kidnapper and/or murderer. Of course, that didn’t turn out to be true at all, and he’s been like an older brother to both you and Jungkook ever since.

Yerin is Namjoon’s ex, and it’s a wonder how they can be in the same tight-knit circle considering their history. But they always reassure everyone that the breakup was amicable and cordial, that there was no love lost between friends. Another fun tidbit is that they started out as roommates, and they still live in the same apartment to this day. Go figure.

It’s not surprising that they’re the most level headed out of all of you; you often joke that they’re like divorced parents to you, Jungkook and Taehyung.

Yerin might be the closest person you have to a role model. She’s calm and collected, but she never takes shit from anyone. You’re the only two girls, so that’s another reason why you’re naturally drawn to her. That, and the fact that she’s the one of the only two people who know about your little secret concerning a certain Bambi-eyed boy. (You like to think that you’re a good actress when it comes to pretending you only see Jungkook as a friend, but Yerin—and by extension Namjoon as well—is just ultra observant.)

And Yoongi… you don’t know why he’s even in the group, or how you all became friends with him in the first place. He graduated last year and is working part-time at the university as a TA while he figures out what he actually wants for a career. You reckon it might be a little late to start doing that, but oh well, everyone’s got their own process. (Come to think of it, you vaguely recall Jungkook adopting him into the group after he found the older man eating cheese sticks alone near a trashcan on campus and thought he was exuding “sad old man energy”.)

Jungkook gives you a devilish grin, and you already regret hearing what he has to say before he’s even uttered it. “Don’t you worry, sweet child. I have it all planned out.”

“Instead of working on your portfolio? Great use of your time by the way.”

“Zip it. Don’t distract me,” he chides and pats the top of your head. “We’ll spill after the photo goes up. Taehyung will definitely yell in the comments about how I didn’t tell him so at least that’ll look believable.”

It’s not like you’re entirely opposed to this idea. Sometimes when you’re cuddled up together in bed, watching a stupid movie of his choosing, you wonder what it’d be like to feel his lips on yours. Would they be as soft as they look? What kind of kisser is he? Is he the type to dive right in from the get-go—all hard and heated—or is he the type to start slow, ease you into it and douse your lips in warmth and honey before finally prying your mouth open with his tongue?

Every time you think about kissing Jungkook, it stings a little right where your heart is. Every time you think about anyone else kissing Jungkook, it hurts even more.

You want to kiss him, God knows you do; you just hope that if there was ever a day where he wanted to kiss you too, it’d be sincere and real. 

Not just for show because he can’t stand to lose to his ex-girlfriend in a game where he’s the only player.

“Jungkook,” you sigh. You really don’t want to talk about this anymore. “I’m your friend, your best friend. Don’t you think it’d be weird if we kissed?” You take a breath before continuing. “I know it’s just pretend, but still.”

Even if you didn’t have feelings for him, it would be weird as hell. You don’t know anyone who has tested the waters of friendship and kissed, on the mouth, regardless of the circumstances, and lived to tell the tale. It always implodes.

Actually, maybe that’s not entirely true. People are a lot more open-minded now, and mere kisses don’t mean as much as they used to. But to you, they still do. Especially a kiss with Jungkook. Especially when you’re in love with him.

“It won’t be weird. My cousin makes out with his neighbor all the time and they’re still friends,” he shrugs.

“They what– How is that remotely related to this? They’re not best friends.”

“Exactly! We’re best friends. We’re too close for anything to come between us. I mean, you’ve seen me naked before.”

“Dipshit, you were changing and left your door wide open!” 

He only shrugs again. The nerve on this clown. It’s true what they say, isn’t it? All men have is the audacity.

You punch him in the arm and trudge over to your bed, plopping onto it with an exasperated groan. Every minute that passes by is a minute that you should be reading about Greek philosophers, not arguing with your friend about his godforsaken brain babies.

The bed dips beside you, and something shifts in the air. Jungkook tugs on your hand and pouts, whipping out the puppy dog eyes again. You turn away from him and face the wall.

If you give in to this, you’re not sure if you’d be able to act normal around him again. Not after having had a taste of what it’s like to kiss him. To be with him, to be loved by him in that way.

You don’t know what you’d do if your friendship suffers the consequences of this reckless decision. He’s one of the most important people in your life—your less-than-platonic feelings for him notwithstanding. You grew up together, you’re each other’s rock and strongest support system, you know one another better than you know yourselves.

He’s your chosen family, and the bond that you two have is the most special you’ll ever know. He’s the only one you want to comfort you when you’re feeling low, and the only one you come running to to share your happiness. He’s your person, and you know you’re his person too.

His. In more ways than one.

“Hey.” You feel his arm wrap around you and pull you toward his body, your back pressed against his chest. “Sorry for being annoying about this,” he says more softly now, and for a second you think he’s about to nix the topic completely, seeing your reluctance to participate. But then he continues and you remember that he’s still your good old stubborn Jungkook.

“I promise it’ll be fine. Why wouldn’t it be? It’s not like we have feelings for each other, right? We’ll know that it’s not real.”

You’ve lost all mental capacity to ponder about Aristotle at this point. You remain silent, too lost in your head about this whole fake kissing fiasco. While all of these thoughts and scenarios are running through your mind, your best friend is completely oblivious. He’s only thinking about how to one-up another girl.

When you take too long to respond, he shuffles nervously on the bed. “You’ll do it, right? We’re good?” he asks. “Because I have to head to a class right now…”

No. The simple word sits on the tip of your tongue, caged in by your teeth. If only you could open your mouth and hurl it at his head.

No. You use it every day with ease. You say it politely preceding a Thank you when the cashier at the convenience store asks if you’d like to buy a chocolate chip cookie to accompany your best friend’s banana milk. You say it with slight annoyance in your voice when your mom asks if you have a boyfriend yet. You say it casually and teasingly when Yoongi asks if he could have one of your friends’ phone number.

So why can’t you say it to Jungkook now? Every fiber of your being is resisting his plan, but the motor cortex in your frontal lobe just won’t let you verbalize it. When you really think about it, have you ever not gone along with his shenanigans, however stupid they may be? Sure, this one may take the cake as the most hare-brained conspiracy he’s come up with, but the person asking for your help is still him.

You heave a sigh and squeeze your eyes close. “Shut the fuck up and go to class, Jungkook. I have a paper to finish.”

The man leans closer to you warily until his lips are right next to your ear, thinking it’s a good sign that you haven’t shut down his idea.

“Fine. I’m going now,” he whispers. “Love you, bye bye.”

Thirty seconds pass and his face is still hovering over your head. You know what he wants. You say it so he’ll finally leave you alone, all the while wishing that there isn’t an alternative meaning behind your words.

“Love you too…”

He grins and presses a quick kiss to your temple. “See ya later!” he calls as he dashes out the door.

Sometimes, Jungkook can be selfish; and sometimes, the lengths you go to for his happiness mean relinquishing your own.

Fortunately, you managed to finish that dreadful paper ten minutes before the deadline. Unfortunately, that was the last thing on your to-do list of high priority tasks, and you had no other excuse to avoid being roped into Jungkook’s scheme.

There is one thing that might deter him, though. You could tell Yerin about this whole thing and she and Namjoon would be more than willing to shut it down for you before anything happens.

You could, but you don’t.

Honestly, the logic of the plan seems flawed, but that’s not something that you’re too focused on in all of this.

Oh, those two are going to have a field day picking apart your brain, aren’t they?

You’re sitting next to Jungkook on your bed, nervously toying with the loose threads of your shirt as he prepares to enact the first phase of his plan. He’s even gone as far as to dub your room “campaign headquarters”.

“Your dozens of admirers are gonna hate me,” you tell him. “They’ll say I sabotaged them to get you all to myself.”

He tilts his head to look at you. “But you don’t usually care about stuff they say.”

“I don’t,” you agree, sighing. “Okay, what if I want to get a boyfriend?”

“Do you?”

“No, but what if I change my mind–”

“You’re stalling,” he says. “I know I’ve been bugging you but you don’t have to do this if you aren’t 100% on board.”

“I know. I just…”

You just what? How do you tell him that once you do this, it’ll just make it infinitely more difficult to pretend you’re not in love with him?

Jungkook takes your hand in his and squeezes gently as the atmosphere turns more serious. “It’s me,” he tries to soothe you, even if he doesn’t know exactly what for. “It’s just me.”

You take a breath before you can look at him. When your eyes lock, he just smiles, and you can’t believe that you’re about to kiss that smile.

“Okay, so what do we do?”

“Just be normal. You’ve kissed other people before. If it makes things easier, pretend I’m Eunwoo.”

Your mind is too troubled to notice how his jaw slightly tenses as the words leave his mouth.

“Yeah,” you exhale, “okay.”

You had a thing with Cha Eunwoo last year. He was nice, very handsome, and he asked you out after you did a group project together for class. He was always the perfect gentleman, and he genuinely seemed to care about you. If things were different, you think you might’ve actually wanted to pursue a serious relationship with him.

But after three months, Eunwoo broke things off though you couldn’t say that you didn’t see it coming. He was about to go on exchange for six months abroad, but that’s not why the relationship fell apart. He was willing to do long distance with you, but he said he felt like you were always putting him second after Jungkook, and he didn’t think that would change any time soon. If your best friend was first priority while he was still there, what would it be like when he was gone?

Well, maybe Namjoon and Yerin aren’t the only people who are privy to your little secret. You reckon Eunwoo must have known about it too, because the last thing he said to you was “Call me when you figure it out.” You never did though.

You didn’t tell Jungkook this; you only said that the pair of you just didn’t think long distance would work, but you’d always have a soft spot for Eunwoo.

Jungkook starts the timer on his camera and turns to you. Ten seconds, you can do this. Think of Eunwoo’s gorgeous eyes and that pretty smile. Just pretend he’s Eunwoo. Pretend he’s Eunwoo…

You close your eyes as he leans in. Eunwoo’s face pops up in your head.

Ready. Set. Action.

Your lips touch, and as quickly as Eunwoo appeared in your mind, he vanished just as fast. Something within you shatters but you ignore it for now; you can always open that door later. Right now, there’s only Jungkook—simultaneously in the center of your mind, at the forefront, lingering in the back…

Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook…

With his lips pressed against yours, he waits for the sound of the camera going off before pulling away from you, but he doesn’t stray too far.

A second isn't nearly enough to answer all your questions about what it’d be like to kiss him, but at least you’ve been allowed a glimpse into it now.

It happened in a flash but it felt like an eternity. In that split second, the fantasies in your head came true and fizzled out all at once. In that fleeting moment, you could pretend that he was yours, in every sense of the word. You could pretend that it was only one out of countless kisses you two would share. You could pretend that there wasn’t any line to tiptoe or any word that you had to keep unsaid. 

If only briefly, you could pretend that Jungkook loved you, in the way that you’ve always wanted him to.

A lifetime within a second, and you’re oh so tempted to never leave that illusion.

He tilts his head and grins like he just won you a stuffed animal at the carnival. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Your faces are still way too close for comfort. You don’t even think you’ve been breathing. It feels like an airbag was deployed within your chest when your heart crashed so suddenly against your ribcage, but you soldier on.

Clearing your throat, you punch him in the arm. “You better hope you didn’t give me any disease.”

He scoffs playfully and turns away to grab the phone. He examines the photo and when he deems it good enough to post, a tiny twisted part deep in your psyche wants to object, to find any reason to dismiss the picture he took just to have a reason to do it again.

You watch him type in a cheesy caption, ‘Been a long time coming,’ along with your username and a purple heart tacked on at the end, and send it out for the whole world to see.

There’s really no going back now. 

Jungkook was right though; Taehyung is one of the first people to comment on the post.

vantae: BRO FOR REAL?? NO WAY WTFFFFF

jaykay97: @vantae 😉

He turns to you when his other college friends start to come through with their own comments expressing surprise or congratulations. He gives you a grin, one that’s blinding and makes his eyes crinkle.

“I’ll refill The Stash for you.”

“Hey, what the fuck?” Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes at Jungkook. “What do you mean it’s not real? Your tongue was in her mouth.”

“His tongue was not in my mouth, oh my God.” You reach across the table and smack him over the head, knocking off the glasses perched on his nose in the process. “The photo is… real. But we’re not dating.”

Jungkook silently nods in agreement beside you as Taehyung sends you a glare.

“Why are you two doing this again?” Yerin speaks up from his place next to Namjoon. Her stare burns into the side of your face so intensely that you can’t meet her eyes. You know she’ll drag you somewhere to talk later.

You turn to your best friend and nudge his shoulder; he sighs and gives the gang a full recap of what happened—mainly his initial stupidity that led you both to this. 

Okay, so maybe it’s not that long of a story. He takes about two minutes to fill them in on everything and by the time he’s finished, everyone stays mostly quiet. You don’t know how you expected them to react, but this isn’t it. It’s like they’re privy to a secret that you weren’t let in on.

“And here I thought it only happens in the movies, right?” you half-heartedly joke.

Namjoon and Yerin seem to share the same sentiments. They look at each other for a few seconds, silently communicating in that way that they do. It’s annoying sometimes, but right now it just makes you feel uneasy.

Maybe being silent isn’t an odd response for Yoongi; he’s like that most of the time anyway. Still, it adds to your nervousness.

Meanwhile, Taehyung is evidently disappointed. “You couldn’t have said Somi instead? That girl has a fat ass crush on you and she’s hot as fuck.” Classic Kim Taehyung.

“Shut up, Tae,” Jungkook rolls his eyes and flips off the other art student. “I’m not into Somi, and I said I couldn’t think of another excuse, didn’t I?”

He sounds strangely irritated. Perhaps it’s due to all the attention in the room being directed at him (and you, but mostly him) for a reason that he doesn’t particularly enjoy. Like someone has laid egg shells all over the floor, your friends are having a hard time approaching the issue with Jungkook.

Namjoon is the first to offer some serious talk. “Kook,” he says, still searching for the right words, “have you really thought this through?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is this really the best idea?” Then Namjoon’s eyes flicker to you for a split second and you gulp. “I mean, have you thought about the consequences it might have?”

There’s a slight scowl on Jungkook’s face when he answers. “Consequences? The hell are you talking about?”

“I’m only trying to–”

“Hyung, can you just get off my back?” he snaps. “It’s my business, okay?”

It’s the first time he’s ever raised his voice at Namjoon, or at any of you, really.

The older man retreats instantly, not pushing to talk to someone who’s clearly not interested in listening.

A moment of silence ensues, but it doesn’t last long before Taehyung diffuses the tension with a change of topic, prompting a conversation about some gossip he heard about a frat house on campus. Even Yoongi joins in as an attempt to make the air feel lighter. Everyone soon drifts away from your situation with Jungkook, but he doesn’t contribute anything to the chatter after his little outburst.

He doesn’t like it when people question his decisions and judgment, but he’s never been unreasonably closed off to it. Not that he’s being unreasonable now, but it toes that line a little. Maybe he’s just in a bad mood today.

Eventually, Jungkook slips away to the balcony to get some air. You follow him out after some minutes.

“So…” you start, hoping he’ll at least talk to you. You bump your hip against his.

“What? Are you here to lecture me too?”

It’s cool outside tonight. You’re grateful for the late summer chill for providing you with some much needed fresh air. From here, you can see cars passing on the streets. Someone is out walking their dogs. A few more people are strolling about with their arms full of liquor bottles. Right in front of the building, there’s a middle-aged man with a small food truck. The smell of tokbokki wafts all the way up to you on the fourth floor, and it makes you a little hungry.

“You know Namjoon didn’t mean anything bad,” you sigh.

“Yeah.” Jungkook looks down at the ground and kicks at a fallen leaf from a plant. “But did he have to talk to me like I’m a child? Like I don’t know any better?”

“Don’t be too hard on him.” Your hand comes up to rub his back soothingly. “He’s just worried.”

“Why?” he asks. “Is there something he should be worried about?”

There’s a moment where you two just look at each other. The air thickens in a way that you don’t like despite the breeze that passes by. Stars in the sky mimic the ones in his eyes, and you feel an urge to get lost in the sparkling orbs staring back at you. It’s almost maddening what you would do to get them to keep twinkling for you forever.

There’s something unfamiliar in his expression, with his lips slightly pursed and a small furrow in his brows. You dislike it even more than the tension in the atmosphere; you’ve always been able to read him like he’s your favorite book.

You break away from his eyes with a clear of your throat. “I don’t know. I’m just saying that it’s not hard to understand where he’s coming from.”

Jungkook opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but then he just settles for a hum as he turns to look at the streets again. The conversation dies at that, and you slip away again.

It’s been weird tonight, from your friends’ reactions to the way Jungkook is acting while he’s supposed to be the “mastermind” in all of this. You’ve been trying to be as normal as you can around him to not jeopardize everything you two have, and you can’t help but be a little irked at his behavior right now.

When you go back inside, Yerin pulls you to the kitchen for some privacy.

“That was some interesting news tonight,” she says, sipping on her bottle of cider as she eyes you.

You swallow and nod slowly. You’ve been expecting a Yerin talk.

“What’s your game plan here?” she asks when you don’t say anything else.

“I don’t know.” You shrug, feigning nonchalance though you know you don’t have to in front of her. “There’s no game plan. I’m just going along with what he wants.”

She frowns and sets the bottle on the white marble counter. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“You always “going along” with what he wants. Always putting him before yourself. You can’t keep doing this forever.”

Like Namjoon, Yerin is just worried. You get that, and you would be the same way if you were in her shoes. 

“It’s not that simple.” Oh, but it is. “He’s my best friend.”

And there’s that excuse again. You can’t count how many times you’ve taken advantage of this title to justify your actions, your willingness to do anything for Jungkook under the guise of only being his best friend and not because you would trade the sun for his happiness for a reason far beyond that. Sometimes you think it’s pathetic.

“You could’ve told him no. He’d never force you into anything,” she says, but then her voice softens as she continues, her eyes sympathetic when they meet yours. “Are you hoping something would come out of this?”

There it is. The one question you wished she wouldn’t ask.

You avoid her gaze, preferring to train your eyes on the tiny droplets that collect outside the cider bottle instead. They roll down the side of the plastic when the moisture gets too heavy, and make a tiny pool where the bottle connects with the counter.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” you settle for eventually.

“What am I gonna say?” Yerin inquires.

“That I’m stupid, and reckless.”

“Not stupid,” she counters with a shake of her head, “but yes, I think you’re being reckless.”

“It’ll be fine,” you say with shaky finality. The words sound resolute, but underneath that shell, they’re mangled. As much as you want to believe them, you know deep down that you don’t.

Over the next weeks, it happens again a few times. It being the kiss. A few times being five, because you’ve definitely been keeping track. Although they have technically been more like pecks than kisses, each one lasting approximately 1.2 second.

Holding hands on campus, resting your head on his shoulders when you’re sitting beside him under the old tree near one of the old university buildings—things that you’ve always been doing, but now accentuated with a smooch on the lips here and there.

Yeah, people seem to buy it.

People including Eunji.

Truth be told, you don’t think they care that much. (Perhaps with the exclusion of Jungkook’s not-so-secret admirers who glare at you every time you walk by.) You suppose that like with any other new couple on campus, after that initial Oh, cool reaction, there’s not really much thought to be had afterward. You’ve tried voicing your observation to Jungkook, but he’s adamant that this is “the way to go”, which is vague and cryptic and how he is sometimes.

You’re not sure what it means, but as always—and cue a big sigh—you go along with it. You handle it… decently. Like with everything else Jungkook does that has an effect on you, you’ve tried to build a tolerance to the occasional peck.

Every time he kisses you, you act like it’s the first time. He gives you a warning before he does it so you aren’t startled. Nevertheless, you’ve developed somewhat of a routine before each kiss so you don’t completely freak out and collapse afterward. It goes like this: Clench your jaw, inhale deeply, peck!, exhale.

Your heart constantly complains, and you more or less successfully ignore it.

Yerin and Namjoon, being Yerin and Namjoon, try to talk you out of it before someone gets hurt. You, being you—aka pathetically in love with your best friend, don’t listen.

That, and the fact that having the title of being his (fake) girlfriend makes you feel a certain way.

Maybe you can’t shit on him for being stubborn when sometimes you’re just as headstrong.

That’s why you’re at this party with the rest of the group (sans Yerin, because she doesn’t do frat parties) at one of the frat houses, holding Jungkook’s hand. The beer you’re sipping helps quell the butterflies in your stomach when he mindlessly rubs your thumb.

Suddenly, he tips his head somewhere to the right, where you see Eunji leaning against someone you assume to be the ex she recently got back together with. Jungkook quirks a brow and blinks fast at you.

“Are you having a stroke?”

He rolls his eyes and puckers his lips slightly before leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Eunji is here. With the flounder! So you know….”

Your jaw tenses and you take a deep breath, not even questioning him if this is necessary anymore. Your eyelids fall as he surges forward, but to your surprise, you don’t get to exhale as quickly as you normally would.

The count remains at five. Five pecks that last a total of one second.

But there’s a new count that pops up on the chart.

Number of pecks that last a total of three seconds: 1.

When Jungkook pulls away, you swallow dryly and finally breathe out. Namjoon clears his throat awkwardly, having watched the whole exchange.

Your best friend doesn’t speak; instead he just stares at you. He doesn’t look to see if Eunji or anyone else is watching, like he usually does. He just looks at you. 

You’re hyper aware of how loud the music is and how his lips overwhelm the taste of alcohol in your mouth. How he’s still rubbing your thumb.

“I’m just gonna get another drink,” you croak the words out, and you disappear into the crowd before Jungkook can say anything.

The kitchen is just as packed as the living room, but you needed to get away for a while. The countertops here are sticky with spilled alcohol and reeks of drunken bodies. 

You turn around when a hand taps your shoulder, and almost choke when you see who it is that’s offering you a hug.

“Oh, Nayoung, hi!” you chirp awkwardly as you accept her embrace. It’s less than graceful, but then again, you two have never really been the best of friends, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying.

She was Jungkook’s last serious relationship before Eunji; they were together for about nine months before calling it quits. Out of everyone he has dated, you liked her the most. She has a bubbly personality, practically the embodiment of pure sunshine, and not to mention she’s one of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever seen.

Come to think of it, you don’t think you know why she and Jungkook split in the first place. He’s told you before that they still talk occasionally—the pair didn’t end on bad terms—but that’s about it, no details whatsoever. 

After the initial chit chat about what she’s been up to, what you’ve been up to, and the conventional commentary on the state of the party, Nayoung goes right into what you hoped she wouldn’t.

“I heard you’re dating Kook now,” she says after taking a sip of beer.

You fiddle with the cup in your hand and smile sheepishly at her. “Yeah, it just sort of happened…”

“I’m really happy for you.” A smile blooms on her lips, and you can tell that it’s genuine. “I’m glad he finally stepped up.”

The liquid in your cup sloshes slightly as you tighten your grip on the plastic. You stare at Nayoung, and you’re about to ask her what she means by that when someone spots her and calls her name loudly.

“Soyeon!” she squeals back at the other girl before turning to you. “I have to go say hi to her. But it was nice running into you. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

With that, she leaves, and you’re left standing in the kitchen with a bunch of people you don’t know and cheap beer you don’t like. Nonetheless, you pour more of the alcohol into your cup, stuff your mouth with a couple of potato chips and head back to find your friends.

Namjoon, Taehyung and Jungkook are nowhere in sight, but you spy Yoongi standing in the corner with a drink of his own, looking bored as usual and watching the drunks near him wobble until they collapse onto the couch. 

You open your mouth to ask him where the others are, but you hear their voices before the question can come out. You peek over Yoongi’s shoulders to scan for them, and find Namjoon and Jungkook standing a few feet from where you are, with the latter wearing an annoyed expression on his face.

“How many times do I have to tell you? We're best friends. The best of besties,” Jungkook says, his tone more defensive than Namjoon thinks it should be. “I don’t even see her as a girl.”

Your feet cement themselves to the floor as you stand there, holding the red plastic in your hand and trying to keep a neutral expression on your face. Yoongi looks at you but he doesn’t say anything. He just offers you a sympathetic smile and you wonder if he knows. 

You’ve been more distant since the night of the party, and Jungkook is willing to admit that it affects him in ways he doesn’t like. There’s something different about your dynamic that he senses, and he resents the fact that it doesn’t feel the same as it used to.

The cafe that he normally frequents is quieter than usual for a Saturday afternoon, and it does very little to distract him from the disturbance that’s afflicting his mind. Besides him and Taehyung sitting in their regular booth with their sketchbooks in front of them, there’s barely five other patrons in the coffee shop.

Every so often, Jungkook huffs and puffs, and it’s starting to annoy his friend.

“Okay, what’s up with you today, dude?”

“What?” Jungkook glances up from his journal and pushes his glasses further up his nose bridge. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Taehyung comments, sipping from his coffee and looking at the other man over the rim of the glass. “Is it about Y/N?”

“Why would it be about her?”

“I don’t know. You seem pretty… distracted lately. Trouble in fake paradise?”

Lead skids on paper and Jungkook’s movements come to a stop. His gargantuan eyes blink at Taehyung, who only shrugs and stares back.

“Why do you and Namjoon hyung keep nagging me about this?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung repeats, and irritation begins to crawl up Jungkook’s spine. “If I were you and I had a best friend whom I kiss all the time, I don’t think I’d be able to keep things strictly platonic, you know?”

What is he trying to get at here? Jungkook was planning to come over to your dorm tonight for a one-on-one hangout, but now, he’s just gonna be in his head about what his friend is saying.

“Not all the time. Sometimes,” the younger man corrects. “And it’s not that big a deal. Just leave it alone.”

“I mean–”

“Taehyung.”

If another person were to insinuate something along these lines to him, he might actually get into a fight. Taehyung and Namjoon aren’t the first ones to do it, and frankly, Jungkook is getting tired of it.

People keep implying that there’s something going on between you and him when in reality, you’re his best friend and that’s it. But everyone just goes on wanting to uproot his entire life by trying to unravel his relationship with you.

You two have been this way since forever. It’s not that deep.

Jungkook sits in silence across from Taehyung for a long while after that, each of them working on their respective drawings while the cafe continues to be mostly empty. 

He doesn’t notice when Taehyung stands up and makes his way to the other side of the booth to peek at his sketchbook. He’s just been mindlessly moving his pencil for the past hour; he does that sometimes, where he just lets his brain go rampant and his fingers glide through the paper seamlessly. Most of these times, he doesn’t have a specific vision in mind, and they often turn out to be some of the best works he’s ever drawn. 

“Dude,” Taehyung almost gasps as he leans over the younger’s shoulders. It’s almost comical, really, how his mouth hangs open and his eyes widen.

Jungkook’s fingers halt, his eyes refocusing and taking in what his friend is looking at. 

He gulps but his throat is dry, hastily closing the journal and stuffing it in his backpack. The chair scrapes loudly against the cafe’s wooden floors when he abruptly stands up, turning a couple of heads nearby. Taehyung calls after him but he’s already walking away, unable to stifle the restless feeling that gnaws on his guts.

Knock, knock, knock.

Hmm? You aren’t expecting anyone, are you?

When you open the door, the person standing on the other side of the threshold makes your heart leap to your throat.

He… knocks now?

“Koo,” you breathe, clearly surprised to see him. Or maybe you’re surprised at his unexpectedly good manner.

“‘Sup, dude?” He brushes past you into the room in that typical Jungkook fashion. “We haven’t hung out in forever.”

He’s carrying two paper bags that he holds up for you to see. When you lean closer to inspect them, it’s all of your favorites from the diner nearby. The scent emanating from the bags immediately makes your stomach growl.

“The last time you saw me was two days ago,” you say.

“Yeah, on campus. We haven’t properly hung out in weeks.”

“You’re so clingy, and needy.”

“I know you meant full offense when you said that, but none taken.” After setting up the food neatly on the floor, Jungkook goes to wash his hands in the bathroom. When he returns, he looks you straight in the eye. There’s that expression again, the one he wore on the balcony of Namjoon and Yerin’s apartment. “I’m only clingy with you.”

You wonder if he notices that you’ve been pulling away these past few days, though you can’t say that you’ve been distant. You just haven’t seen him everyday like you used to, and you’ve chalked it up to an overload of schoolwork which isn’t untrue.

As you begin to dig into the food he brought over, you can tell that he’s trying. To do what exactly, you don’t know, but you appreciate the effort anyhow. It’s not his fault that things feel weird between you. 

Once everything has been devoured and your bellies are stuffed, you do what you always do. He brings your laptop from the desk and plops onto the bed next to you. By this point, you’re no longer surprised nor annoyed when he puts on a Spiderman movie for the umpteenth time. The film starts, and the familiar superhero in red and blue takes over your entire screen. But there’s something different now.

You’ve been sharing a bed with Jungkook since middle school; you’re used to this.

No. Correction: you’re used to comfortably sharing a bed with him. This, right here? This isn’t it. When did things start to change between the two of you?

Oh, you know. When you crossed that line of no return.

You lie there on the soft mattress and against the plushness of the pillows, but your body is stiff. If Jungkook is going through the same thing as you, he doesn’t let it show.

“Why are you so far away? Come here,” he says, and practically yanks you toward him until his arm is wrapped snugly around your shoulders. You’re still rigid against him and you think he notices it, because he starts to rub soothing circles into your skin. It works a little.

Halfway into the movie, you sag against his body. After a few minutes, he glances down at you and chuckles to himself when he spies your slightly open mouth as you calmly snooze.

See, Jungkook thinks, fucking Kim Taehyung and his nosy ass. This is fine.

His eyes roam your face and he realizes that he’s never seen you like this before, not really. You’re his best friend, his partner in crime, his keeper and his soulmate, if soulmates do exist. Before you’re any of those things, he has found you pretty since you were little kids. Since the second grade to be exact, after you shared your first kiss and you suddenly burst out crying because “boys have cooties”. When your entire face was flushed red, your eyes wet with tears that rolled down your cheeks and even snot running from your nose, there was only one word that popped into little 7-year-old Jungkook’s head. Pretty.

Maybe that’s why he tells people that you were his first kiss. Even though you were mere children, there’s some pride in boasting about sharing that experience with someone he thought was the prettiest girl in the world.

If he were to say it out loud, you would argue that it’s reductive to think that way, but you would blush nevertheless. You tend to do that whenever he compliments you. You hide it but he always notices.

Raising a hand to ghost over your cheek, he smiles when he remembers how you always say it’s unfair that he was blessed with such long eyelashes while yours barely kiss the top of your cheeks.

Slender fingers follow the bridge of your nose and brush back the curtain of hair that falls over the side of your face, covering your jawline. When you hum in your sleep and instinctively snuggle closer into his warmth and feather-light touches, his focus shifts to something that he probably shouldn’t be dwelling on.

Jungkook isn’t in primary school anymore; believe it or not, he’s an adult now. He doesn’t just think you’re pretty anymore, he knows you’re beautiful. But if he can see that, then so can others, and the thought of it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. 

He feels like a creep, staring at you like this when you’re far away in dreamland, unaware of all the things running through his mind. It discombobulates him even more so when he can’t help but trace your lips with his thumb, gulping when he finds how soft they are, how lusciously pink they are. Must be from the lipbalm you always tell him he should use. Strawberry, was it? Maybe he should confirm that.

Every time that he’s kissed you thus far has been fleeting—barely even three seconds—and strictly for “business” purposes if you will. Trickery, put on for others to see.

But as he lies here with you cuddled up against him, Jungkook wants to shake you awake. Rouse you from slumber and kiss you until you’re breathless and clutching his arm in search of air. It would be so easy to do too, just a little nudge…

When you unconsciously clear your throat, Jungkook retracts his hand like he’s been burned. Fuck, what was that? he thinks. His entire chest rattles with the impact of his thoughts, and the realization that he can’t snap out of that daze. The urge to kiss you lingers like sweet petrichor after a rain shower. With a mind in overdrive and a heart that won’t calm down, he clenches and unclenches his fist, tries to take steady breaths, and fails to repress more thoughts about your lips. Meanwhile you’re right there, with barely any space between your bodies, blissfully unaware of his turmoil.

Glancing at the journal that spills out of his backpack from where it lays on the floor, he gulps as his conversation with Taehyung echoes in the background. 

The next week is more or less the same. You keep maintaining some semblance of distance between you and Jungkook, in that you try to limit your time alone with him. He still walks you home from class—gotta keep up the charade, right?—and you still hang out as a group with all your other friends. But other than that, you’ve been making excuses to not have him over as much anymore.

It’s particularly hot today, considering autumn is starting to settle in and you’ve begun to bring out your warmer clothes. Must be summer saying its final goodbye.

You’re with your best friend on the way from your evening philosophy class back to your room. His pinky is hooked around your own, your hands swinging back and forth between your bodies as you relish in the last of the heat. 

From the corner of your eye, you spy the familiar glow of green neon lights.

“Hey, let’s go there. I need–”

Silenced. 

You flatline for a moment before you’re fully aware of what’s happening.

Jungkook’s mouth is suddenly on your mouth, his arm is encircling your waist; it’s been a few seconds and he isn’t pulling away. Instead, his lips are slowly moving and you find that yours are too. You let your eyelids fall as your hands grip the fabric of his shirt. 

Your heart restarts and shifts into full gear every time his lips slot perfectly against yours. The taste of him is devastating, to say the least. You feel his other hand sneak up to cup your cheek and when he swipes his tongue your bottom lip, you gladly part way for him.

His arm tightens around you, effectively pulling you closer. A whimper escapes from your throat, muffled by his mouth, as his tongue dances with yours. He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before. The fantasies explode in your brain like fireworks and this time, you get your answer.

When some guy on a bike breezes by and whistles loudly, you break away with heavy pants. Still mesmerized by his lips, you blink in a daze and swallow thickly.

“I, uh…” you mumble weakly. If Jungkook isn’t still wrapped around your body, you’re sure you would just fall to the ground. You want to keep kissing him, and you want to cry for some reason.

Your mind is still in shambles from the impact of his actions and in that moment, you forget that he isn’t yours to keep. Ignorance really is bliss, even if it’s only fleeting.

Alas, reality comes crashing down and the air gets knocked out of your lungs for a completely different reason. It’s similar to that feeling you get when you’re dreaming, and you’re falling, and the world shakes you into wakefulness.

He whips his head around and scans your surroundings for a few seconds before turning back to you with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I thought I saw Eunji. What were you gonna say?”

He seems unfazed, and the pieces inside of you fracture even more. The shards pierce everything they could find, like glass in your bloodstream.

Jungkook is stubborn, and childish, and selfish at times, and all of that leads to the thing that you hate most about him: Jungkook can be casually cruel.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek until the taste of him is replaced with something metallic. You point limply at the convenience store around the corner, trying to repress the burning sensation behind your eyes.

“Pads… I need to buy pads.”

He’s gone on many period supply runs for you before, so he’s very well versed in the type of pads you usually get and the roster of comfort snacks you need during that time of the month, which is not to be confused with what gets selected for The Stash.

Whenever Aunt Flow visits, Jungkook always makes sure that you have an array of your favorite chocolates, gummies, and that Honey Stars cereal you like to munch on. Sometimes, if he can afford to splurge a little more that month, he gets you a boba a day to help you cruise through the discomfort.

Your period is the only occasion where he tries to be less of a menace to you, partly because he knows how much you hate going through it, but mainly because you’re ten times more irritable and won’t hesitate to choke him with your bare hands. (This may or may not have happened once or twice.)

Today though, you seem distracted as you browse the aisles. Your hand grabs a packet of pads and you move quickly through the store. It isn’t the one that you normally use, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Maybe you’re trying out different things, who knows? Jungkook isn’t one to tell you how you conduct your business down there.

However, you completely pass by the chocolate shelves without even looking at them. It makes him frown, and he has to linger behind to grab the sweets before catching up with you and dropping them in your little basket. When you sense the extra weight in your grip, you send him an appreciative but uneasy smile, and his stomach immediately drops.

It was the kiss, wasn’t it?

Fuck. Did he make things weird?

You spend most of the shopping trip in silence, and it extends to the walk to your dorm too, excluding the few instances where he makes a silly comment about the mundane things you see on the way home, but you merely hum in acknowledgement.

“Dude,” Jungkook says when the two of you stop in front of your building, “you know I love you right?”

The words sound and feel strange as they come out of his mouth. Strained even to his own ears, foreign on his own tongue.

He’s suddenly nervous as he awaits your response. You’ve exchanged these words a thousand—maybe a million—times before. Not once has it felt like this.

Not once has the air been charged with such uncertainty.

You force a smile onto your face that he can see right through. “I know.” Your voice cracks a little but you immediately cover it up with a fake cough.

He’s about to ask if you want to watch a movie—one of your choosing this time—in an attempt to distill the tension, but you beat him to it with a bid of goodbye. You tell him that you’re tired and just want to sleep, and head inside.

As he stands there alone with only the flickering street lights for company, he frowns. Nerves dissipate in his stomach to make room for something else entirely. Something that sinks in his chest that’s probably not his heart.

Is it?

Either way, it doesn’t matter. What’s more important is that you didn’t say it back.

You’ve never not said it back before, no matter how upset you are with him.

You still said it back when Jungkook accidentally deleted a midterm paper on your laptop that you’d been working on for four days straight. You still said it back when he forgot that he’d promised to pick you up from class to take you dress shopping, and left you stranded in the rain with a broken umbrella for nearly an hour. Even when you had to miss a scholarship interview to take him to the emergency room for appendicitis, you still returned his sentiments.

Drunken or sober, the words still came out one way or another. You said it back every time, every single time…

But there you were, with your strained smile and hollow eyes, caging the words in and swallowing them down.

He shakes his head harshly to expel the thoughts. He looks up at your window before turning on his heels to leave. His fingertips twitch, as he recalls your afternoon together. The urge to grab a pencil and his beloved journal becomes too immense not to notice.

In the wise words of singer-songwriter extraordinaire Tove Lo: “Wanna get over, get under.”

Well, in your case, maybe you won’t be getting under anyone. More like, “wanna get over, eat your feelings, get a date and try to forget.”

Naturally, it’s a lot easier in theory.

The first step? You’ve got it covered. The Stash has nearly been emptied out over the past few days as you make up excuse after excuse to avoid Jungkook.

The second step? You didn’t have to look any further than your cousin and the guy she keeps wanting to set you up with. 

It’s really just the third step that you’re having trouble with.

As you sit in this nice restaurant with your date, Seokjin, you find it quite challenging to focus on anything he’s saying.

He seems like a decent guy; charming, funny, not to mention tall and very handsome. Seems like the type of person you would be completely enamored with had your mind not been preoccupied by someone else.

Needless to say, the dinner isn’t going very well. You’re barely responding to any of his jokes or stories, and when he asks you about yourself, you only give him curt responses because you’re too busy thinking about another person.

You can’t remember why you thought this was a plausible idea in the first place.

You don’t notice that it’s been quiet for a few minutes while you pick at your salad and Seokjin watches awkwardly across from you. When a hand lands on your shoulder, you look up, but your date has both arms resting on the table.

A familiar voice calls your name.

“Jungkook,” you breathe as you look to your left, “what are you doing here?”

You can tell that he’s agitated; dare you say, even angry. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he barks at you, and you’re thankful that the table is hidden in the corner, where only the waiter nearby is nosy enough to pay attention to you.

Swallowing thickly, you utter, “I’m on a date.”

Jungkook is evidently unhappy with your answer, though you don’t think there’s any other explanation that he would be pleased with at the moment. He clenches his jaw so harshly that you fear it might snap from that sheer force. Turning his head slightly, he glares at the man sitting across, and his grip on your shoulder tightens.

“Your cousin said you were single,” Seokjin says frantically as his eyes dart between the two of you. You can’t blame him for jumping to conclusions. A guy showing up to your date looking pissed off as hell and you’re losing your voice like you’ve been caught in the act? Yeah, it’s fair to assume.

“I am!” You raise a hand in defense, turning away from your friend to face Seokjin. “He’s just a friend. I’m sorry, I– Jungkook!”

You can’t even finish your sentence before his hand moves to grab your wrist and yanks you to your feet. The waiter watches the scene unfold like it’s a soap opera as you get dragged out of the restaurant helplessly.

When you’re finally outside, you wrench your wrist from Jungkook’s hold but you’re still too stunned to say anything. He runs a hand through his hair and exhales in frustration.

“Get in the car,” he merely says, and surprisingly, you do without any protest.

You must have jinxed yourself back then, huh? You really thought this only happened in the movies.

The twenty-minute drive to your dorm is spent in absolute silence as he simmers in his anger while you organize the thoughts in your head, and the raging whirlpool of emotions that flood your body. After arriving at the building, you let him walk you up to your room and you let him come in. Only then do you find your voice again.

“What the fuck was that back there?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going on a date?”

“I didn’t have to tell you,” you counter, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“But…” He opts for the childish option. “We tell each other everything.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “not everything.”

“What is that supposed to mean? You’re keeping things from me?”

“No, I– You know what, just drop it. Why the fuck are you so mad? You embarrassed me tonight. You had no right to just barge in and drag me out of there like I needed to be kept on a leash.”

“I–” he struggles to find the words, and ends up settling for ones that feel like lies. “We’re supposed to be dating! What if someone saw you? What would that look like for me?”

Even if he meant it, it’s a weak argument and he knows it. The restaurant was far enough from campus that the possibility of being recognized by anyone from school was extremely limited.

“That’s what this is about again?” you scoff bitterly. “Your pride? Your precious little reputation? You’ve been using me for months and I let you–”

“I didn’t use you,” he interrupts.

“Didn’t you?” He stays silent after this, and you feel compelled to continue. “Everyone kept telling me to put an end to your shit or I’ll just eventually get hurt. But did I listen? No, of course not, because I’m stupid and because I’m too in– because I’m fucking stupid.”

“No, no, don’t backtrack. Because you’re what?”

You can’t even yell at him, unless you want the entire floor to hear and wake up tomorrow as the latest piece of gossip on campus. You can’t even weep to your heart’s content either. It’s so fucking shitty, but it’s your own damn fault anyway. What were you even expecting? There was no way you could come out of this unscathed.

“You can’t just kiss me like that and expect me not to…”

He knows exactly what you’re referring to. “Not to what?”

You know he won’t let this go, and you’re not sure you have it in yourself to keep it hidden for much longer. You expected that the truth would come out some day, maybe after you’ve figured out a way to get over him and not have to deal with the repercussions of your confession.

But you’re here at that crossroad now, and you’re tired. You’re exhausted, really, from years of yearning for him in secret and trying to kill that longing but failing every time. Your heart can only take so much before it eventually cracks, and it seems like that moment has come sooner than you ever anticipated.

“You can’t expect me not to be in love with you,” you choke on a cry, “more than I already am.”

His eyes widen and his lips part, and every trace of anger from earlier drains from his face. You take a step back as he takes one forward.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” you take in a breath, and unleash your suffering. “I’ve loved you for half our lives. I would do anything for you, but… I don’t know if I can keep going like this anymore. It’s too much.”

Now that the cat is out of the bag, where do you go from here? The answer is simple: You don’t know.

So, you do the only thing you can at this moment. You sit down on the bed, put your head in your hands, and you let the tears flow freely. Your heart is in your throat, and sunken at the pit of your stomach, and lodged between your ribs all at once, because it’s in pieces and there’s nothing that can undo the damage.

Quietly sobbing in front of the boy you’ve always loved, you feel pathetic and broken, and you mourn more things than just the loss of your friendship.

This isn’t a fight.

No, this is the end of life as you know it.

The mattress dips and you immediately scoot away. He freezes, gauging your reaction and thinking if he should reach out to you. You make that decision for him before he could come to his own conclusion.

“Can you just leave?” 

Not leave now and we’ll talk when I’ve cooled off; not leave and silently come back tomorrow with my favorite dessert as a peace offering.

Just leave.

You handed him your heart without even telling him; you gave him hold the most sacred piece of you and let him toy with it without realizing what’s in his palm. Now that he knows, he has no idea what to do with it.

The door closes and it feels like something else is ending too. You and him, the most special bond you’ve ever known. The most important part in every chapter of the story of your life…

You think of the friendship that’s been the foundation of who you are, the pillar that holds you up when everything else tries to pin you down. You think of how it’s starting to come undone brick by brick right in front of you, and there’s nothing you can do about it now.

You and him against the world, but now it’s only the world against you.

See? It always implodes.

Jungkook can be dense sometimes. Nudges don’t work on him; he needs to be pushed, shoved, and knocked some sense into before he can start to get his head straight. 

He doesn’t know why he calls Nayoung, but he does. Though it’s getting close to midnight, she picks up on the third ring. He doesn’t regard her sleepy voice and a confused hello? and goes right into it.

“Why did we break up?” he asks anxiously.

Not  a question that one might expect to hear from an ex nearly a year after the breakup, through the phone in the middle of the night. “I don’t know, you tell me,” she chuckles softly. “You’re the one who ended things.”

“I don’t know either,” Jungkook mimics her words.

Seconds pass, and Nayoung speaks up. “I’ve always thought it was because of Y/N.”

Yeah, he knew she was going to say that.

“Why?”

“I think everyone could see there was at least something there, except for the two of you. You could never really remember my favorite things as well as you did hers. At first, I told myself it was because you’d been friends for so long, and she’s important to you. But then I realized, that wasn’t really the case,” she says calmly, no bitterness in her voice at all though there she does sound sad as she recalls the past. “Sometimes I wished you would look at me the way you look at her.”

If there’s anything that Jungkook feels as he listens to his ex-girlfriend’s words, it’s guilt, and maybe a pang of remorse.

You think he doesn’t see you but he does; he sees you everywhere. You’re on his mind when that spot should be reserved for someone else. 

The night when everything went to hell and back, when he was coming to crash your date, he didn’t know what came over him. He was just so frustrated he couldn’t see straight.

As soon as he overheard Yerin and Namjoon talk about you having dinner with Seokjin, he lost all ability to be rational.

Was he upset because you didn’t tell him, or because you were with another guy?

If you had told him about the date, would it have made him feel better?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks. It’s been some months too late for that question now.

“I guess I just wanted you to myself for a while longer.”

“I’m sorry.” He means it.

“Don’t be.” She understands. “You didn’t know.”

It’s scary when people keep tugging at the rug he’s standing on. 

When the line is silent for a beat too long, Nayoung takes the initiative. It’s like she can sense that Jungkook’s affliction even through the phone, can picture how the cogs in his head are turning until they bring you to the conclusion that everyone around him has known for years.

“I knew we couldn’t have lasted long,” she says, hoping it’ll give him some comfort. “That’s why when we broke up, I said I hoped you’d work things out with her. You didn’t understand it back then, did you? I’m glad you do now.”

There’s a lot of things about you that are ingrained into Jungkook’s mind, like how you like to watch horror gameplays because you think the gamers’ reactions are funny sometimes and because you’re too much of a scaredy cat to actually play the games.

You like your eggs with runny yolks and lots of pepper; it can be annoying every time you grumble at him for breaking your yolk whenever he makes you breakfast. You’re very particular about your hair and don’t like it when anyone touches or plays with it. 

You’ve developed a newfound love for eBooks because they let you highlight quotes you like and post them on Instagram for pretentious purposes. You like to vacuum but hate washing dishes, which is good because Jungkook doesn’t mind it.

Other than a stuffed koala, you have two other plushies that you still sleep with—a bunny and a duck. Jungkook got you the bunny on your 17th birthday while he was taking you stationery shopping before the new school year. The fuzzy toy at a corner store caught your eye and you made him buy it for you; you said it looked like him and wanted to keep it with you whenever you couldn’t see each other. It’s all worn out now, and he tells you that he’ll get you a new and better one but you always refuse. This one has all the memories, you’d say, and nothing can replace that.

You took care of him when he had three wisdom teeth removed all at once; and you nurse his hangovers every time he makes the guys drop him off at your dorm after a night out, because he insists that sleeping at yours is much better than at his own place. When he wakes up in the morning with his brain mushed and pounding, he finds that your presence makes his headache a little more manageable.

He likes to hold your hand because feeling your dainty hands in his much bigger ones makes him smile for some reason. When you cuddle, he likes the softness of your hair and the scent of the hair serum you use.

Jungkook knows whenever he’s being annoying; it’s fun, he likes being a little shithead. He likes how you tolerate his antics and stupid jokes, and he likes how you would also put him in his place if he goes too far and keep him in check.

It’s in the little things. It’s in his daily routine. There’s a special box that he keeps in the center of his mind, labeled with your name, that goes with him everywhere.

He doesn’t like to think about the future; it’s a scary thought and the world can be a terrifying place sometimes. He doesn’t know what his future holds, how his life will change or where it’ll lead him; but every time his mind falls into that pit of existentialism that he dreads, you’re there.

You part the darkness like the sun. Just the thought of you brings him peace when he needs it. You understand him in ways that no one else ever could.

Because you’re his best friend.

You’ve been a part of his life for so long that somewhere along the way, he never realized it when platonic feelings grew into something more. 

Nayoung might have been the one to plant the seed, but Eunji was the catalyst. It’s ironic that none of this probably would’ve happened if Eunji hadn’t accidentally brushed up against Jungkook’s stubborn nature.

There’s a reason why he has been avoiding talking to Namjoon lately. Unlike the other men he knows at school, or any man in his life really, Namjoon sees things, and Namjoon knows how to read between the lines.

In hindsight, there’s a list of things he should’ve done differently. He shouldn’t have been so quick to shut his friends down whenever they broached the matter. He should’ve listened to their concerns; that would’ve saved him a lot of time, and he wouldn’t be sitting here alone in the darkness of his room, brooding over how stupid he’s been acting.

After that initial kiss, the spark that has kept him warm for years flared up into an inferno that torches him to his very core. Something in him shifts, like a light bulb being switched on for the very first time. He had thought about kissing you a few times before that, when he was drunk and you happened to be nearby. But after the fact, kissing you was everything that plagued his mind.

Now, Jungkook knows that’s not how friends are supposed to behave. They aren’t supposed to spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about the other’s lips. They aren’t supposed to be consumed with blind jealousy at the prospect of the other with a romantic interest.  

They’re not supposed to want the other how he wants you.

This can go either way. What happens after the realization—that nothing will ever be the same again? 

The earth shatters, of course, and the world ends.

None of his relationships have ever hit the one-year mark, and even with Nayoung, he never could find it in himself to tell her he loved her. Maybe there’s a reason for that.

Maybe that reason is because the space in his heart has always been occupied.

You’ve been replaying your last conversation with Jungkook in your head ever since it happened.

When you told Yerin about it, she didn’t say I told you so or reiterate how you should’ve listened to her in the first place. She just sat there and listened to you recant the entire story of that night. She held you and brushed your hair back as you cried. It made you feel better that she let you unburden yourself somewhat with a sobbing session, but it wasn’t enough. Your heart was still broken.

Two weeks have passed, the longest you’ve gone without seeing him. Since that night, Jungkook tried texting you numerous times, to which you didn’t reply. Most of his messages were apologies though you doubt he knew what he was apologizing for. To be honest, you’re not sure you know either. It’s not his fault, not really.

Then, he started leaving you voicemails but they still said the same things as his texts. You didn’t call him back, and it’s been a couple of days since he last tried. In the absence of any communication, you wonder if he’ll try again.

When someone knocks on your door, you expect it to be Yerin coming to check on you again even though she just came over this morning with a box of brownies that you haven’t finished yet. Instead, it’s the person you’ve been dreading and wanting to see at the same time.

“Nice,” Jungkook says, pointing to your old Mojo Jojo t-shirt that never fails to make him chuckle.

He looks like shit, eyes puffy and red like he’s been crying. You don’t reckon you look any better.

The conversation starts the same way it did the last time. “What are you doing here?”

He scratches his neck and peers at you with a pleading look in his eyes. “Can I come in?”

Your hand tightens on the doorknob in a way that he doesn’t miss, and you hesitate for a minute before you retreat back into the room, leaving the door open so he can follow. You go to sit on the bed, and he tentatively sits next to you but still cautious enough to leave some space between your bodies.

Minutes pass, and it’s silent. Neither one of you can read the other like you used to; it’s unsettling to say the least.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, his voice cuts above the tension in the room and hangs over your head like a black cloud.

This is it. This is it.

This is the part where he tells you that he loves you, but not in that way. That he only sees you as a friend; there’s nothing between you other than platonic feelings. You’ve spent all your life preparing for this moment, and yet nothing can truly ever brace your heart for what’s about to come.

“I never told you why me and Nayoung broke up,” Jungkook starts, and confusion seeps into your features. “She wanted me to meet her parents and I… I just couldn’t do it. I knew I liked her, but I couldn’t see myself taking that next step with her, or with anyone… And you know why I told Eunji that you and I wanted to try dating? She thought I’d never get my shit together and confess,” he chuckles humorlessly as he recalls the memory. “Even then I still didn’t know. I just wanted to prove that she was wrong.”

You’re not really sure why he has to drag out the act of breaking your heart. You turn to look at him. Doe eyes on the verge of tears. It makes you want to cry more than you already do.

“I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“To be honest, I don’t think I know either,” he says. “I know I should give you time, and that I’m being selfish for even being here, but I just wanted to see you.” His voice breaks at the end, and you break along with it. “I just wanted to see you.”

Your fists clench in your lap as you bite the inside of your cheek. He’s making this so hard for you, and his next words throw you in for a loop.

“I think… I think I might be in love with you.”

“Please don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” 

Jungkook doesn’t reply. Instead, he pulls out the sketchbook from his backpack and hands it to you. The leather is worn, even more so than the last time you saw it and it melts your insides just a little bit.

“Open it.”

“Jungkoo–”

“Please,” he says, his voice unsteady. “Please just open it.”

As you flip through the pages, it’s mostly sketches that you’ve seen before. 

Then, you come across a crumbled page, ripped from its home and clumsily taped back into the journal. On the page was an outline of a person, and you can only make out that it’s a figure of a girl, someone you don’t recognize for the lack of details. Anyone can tell that he doesn’t get a lot of practice when it comes to drawing people.

But you do recognize the surroundings, drawn much more intricately, and you realize it’s the beach you went to two summers ago. 

Over the next few pages, it’s still the same outline, still the same girl only in different settings, but ones that you’re all too familiar with.

The figure gets more detailed the more you go through his sketchbook, and by the time you’ve reached the latest addition, it’s clear who the girl is supposed to be.

It’s you.

You at the local flea market; you at the campus cafe, hunched over a notebook and an iced latte; you in his hometown where you visit his parents every once in a while.

And… you, that day Jungkook kissed you, with the convenience store in the background, near the corner of the page. The girl in the drawing is much more beautiful than you think you could ever be.

When a teardrop lands on the paper, you realize you’ve been crying. He’s beside you now, having shuffled closer while you were too immersed in the journal. His arm brushes yours, and when you turn to him, you see that he’s crying too.

“That day,” he starts, fingers ghosting over the sketch of you, “I lied to you about seeing Eunji. I just wanted to kiss you, but I was a coward, and I was scared of having thoughts about you that friends shouldn’t have about each other.”

You wipe away the tears from his cheek and he instantly leans into your touch. His lips wobble slightly as you look at each other; everything unsaid now out in the open, settling in between the two of you, waiting for someone to make the next move.

“Jungkook…”

“If you want me to leave, I will,” he whispers, sniffling and holding onto your wrist. “Do you want me to leave?”

You don’t know what to say other than no. 

“I’m sorry… for not realizing it sooner.”

You give him a teary smile. “It’s okay,” you say, though it hasn’t been okay. You’ve been miserable these last two weeks, and every so often these past years of your life. 

Old habits die hard; you always want to appease him. But if there’s ever a good time to forgive him for all of it, you think it might as well be now.

His gaze drops to your mouth, making your heart speed up as you wait for him. A shaky hand cups your face like if his fingers brush your cheek the wrong way, it might undo all the progress he’s made. 

Jungkook visibly gulps as he leans closer, his breath fanning your mouth softly until he finally presses his lips to yours.

Kindred spirits meeting each other for the first time again.

The count resets to 1. None of the kisses you’ve had before mean anything; the only ones that matter are ones that you share from now on.

When your lungs burn, he pulls away and chuckles breathlessly. His eyes are still glassy from tears, and it only emphasizes the galaxy that resides in them, an entire cosmos in those chocolate eyes that calls out your name with every twinkle of light.

You go in for another kiss, and another one, and another one… until your hearts start to feel a little fuller and the ache gradually becomes a distant memory,

Gloomy days where you know the sun is hiding behind that thick curtain of clouds but just won’t come out. 

The clouds part and golden sunlight starts to peek through. It’s brighter than anything he’s seen before but he thinks he’ll manage just fine.

He’s got his best friend right by his side.

“It’s for real this time?” Taehyung narrows his eyes at Jungkook skeptically. “You’re not fucking with me?”

“Yes, Tae, it’s real.” The younger man rolls his eyes but smiles as he utters the words.

You’re in Yerin’s bedroom, helping with each other’s hair and makeup for a university dinner that you’re all going to tonight, while the guys wait in the living room, having already donned their suits.

Taehyung throws his head back and groans in frustration as he reaches into his pocket. Jungkook opens his mouth, about to ask what’s with the reaction to his good news, but stops when he notices a wild Yoongi appear with his palm open.

Taehyung pulls out his wallet and slaps a few bills onto the awaiting hand, which quickly snatches them up as Yoongi scuttles back to his seat with a grin.

Jungkook frowns. “What was that?”

“We had a bet,” Taehyung grumbles, taking a cookie on the coffee table and throwing it into his mouth. As he chews and talks, chocolate chip crumbs fall onto his dress shirt. “On whether or not you would step up and confess.”

Jungkook’s frown deepens even further as he looks between his friends. At this point, he really shouldn’t be surprised that literally everyone but him has known all along. “Wha– Wait, you betted against me?”

“Man, I love you, and trust me when I say I was rooting for you, but your head was so far up your ass, it didn’t look like you were ever getting out of there.”

Jungkook’s brows shoot into his forehead in disbelief and maybe betrayal too, and he has a retort ready to launch at Taehyung though he’s interrupted by the sound of a door opening, followed by heels clicking on the wooden floor. 

He isn’t allowed a chance to get a good look at you before you’re already tucking yourself into his side, with your head resting on his shoulder. Across from you, Yerin has already taken her usual spot on the couch beside Namjoon. 

There’s something twinkling in Namjoon’s eyes as he looks at Yerin, but it can’t compare to the cluster of galaxies shining in Jungkook’s as he takes you in.

“What are we talking about?” you ask, tipping your head back to look up at him.

“We,” Taehyung chimes in before Jungkook can answer, “are talking about what a dumbass your boyfriend is.”

Heat rises from your neck and further accentuates the rose-colored blush on your cheeks at the word “boyfriend”. When you try to look down and hide your face, Jungkook grabs your chin between his fingers to hold your head in place as he offers you a quick kiss, brushing off Taehyung’s teasing words because you’re right there in his arms, looking all pretty and shy. It’s not everyday that he gets to see you dolled up like this.

His sudden action makes you even more flustered though. You clear your throat and fiddle with his hand that falls from your face to your lap, while your friends watch the interaction with fond smiles.

To the outside world, to anyone who isn’t privy to the whole fiasco that happened over the past months, everything is still the same. But to your little band of thieves, everything has changed.

That night, Jungkook takes you back to his place.

Truth be told, the prospect of having sex with him didn’t cross your mind until tonight. There was something about him in a dashing suit and his hair styled in a way that made him even more handsome than he already is, that had you clenching your thighs together during the dinner.

Jungkook knows you’re significantly less experienced than him. You’ve only had sex once before and you didn’t even finish. Not to pin the blame on the other guy though; that was your first time, it’s understandable that you couldn’t fully relax.

But now, as you lie underneath your best friend with his lips sucking on your neck and one of his hands squeezing your ass, the nerves decide to make an appearance.

You feel like a virgin again.

You’ve never really let yourself think about Jungkook and his skills in bed; it stings a little too much to imagine him sleeping with other girls even though you know he does. Sometimes Jungkook would tell you if he had a one-night stand the day before—not in detail, because you’d normally shut it down and change the topic.

Your heart hammers in your ribcage as he pulls down the straps of your bra. When he unhooks the garment and throws it to the floor, you can’t help but cross your arms over your chest and look away timidly.

He cups your cheek and turns your head to look at you. “Hey, it’s me,” he whispers. “It’s just me. You don’t have to hide from me. You never have to hide from me.”

As you gaze at him, you realize that he’s right. It’s safe there in those iridescent eyes of his. You know he means it when he promises not to jeopardize your heart ever again.

“Do you trust me?” Jungkook asks softly, fingers brushing away the hair that frames your face.

You do. Unconditionally, willingly, ardently. There’s no doubt about it now.

“Yes,” you whisper. Untangling your arms, you wrap them around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. You can’t get over how soft his lips are against your own, or how it seems like you’re floating with every sound you pull from him.

When you break away for air, he trails his mouth along your jawline, your neck, your collarbone and then your chest. He takes one breast in his mouth and sucks on your nipple until it hardens against his tongue. You weave your fingers through his hair as he licks your perky bud, arching into him and moaning when he switches sides to give your other breast the same attention.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip when he releases your nipple with a wet pop! and kisses his way down the path of your stomach to your clothed heat. Your hand leaves his hair to grip the bed sheets, your heart stuttering in anticipation as he neglects your core entirely and goes to suck hickeys into your inner thighs. 

You can feel yourself get wetter with every swipe of Jungkook’s tongue on your skin, and you’re sure that he can smell your arousal even through your panties at such close proximity. 

“Please,” you beg. “I need you to do something, I need you…”

“Patience,” he tsks as he comes up to hover above you again but still keeps his hand on your thigh, fingers dancing closer to your cunt until he finally makes contact. “I’ll make you feel good.”

As he rubs you over your panties, you moan against his mouth, and he swears the sound could make him combust right then and there. 

“Jungkook…” you whimper softly, eyebrows knitted together in pleasure. Your breath hitches and you look like you could cry just from this alone. God, there’s nothing he would love more than to ruin you.

His knee nudges your legs further apart as he devours your lips, his free hand palming your breast and pinching your nipple. Your panties start to become soaked, leaving his fingers a little sticky even through the lace. 

“Jungkook,” you whine again, tugging on his wrist.

“Mhmm?” He teases your clothed entrance, making you buck into his hand. “What do you want, baby?”

You might be inexperienced, but you’re definitely not a prude.

“Your–your fingers… please…”

He smirks against your mouth before pulling away to slide your underwear off your legs. He comes back to his previous position above you, kissing you and fondling your tits again. Deft digits land directly on your bare pussy, nothing to separate you from him.

He slips a finger inside, and you immediately clench at the intrusion.

“Relax for me,” Jungkook coos and rubs your clit with his thumb to help you loosen up. It feels nice though the discomfort is still there, and you know the more you focus on trying to ease into it, the more it backfires.

“That’s easier said than done,” you breathe, holding onto his wrist as he continues to pump into you. His lips find your chest and he sucks a tit harshly into his mouth. He can tell how much you like it from the wetness that gushes out of you, and he grants you another finger.

“Feel good?” he purrs, alternating between licking and biting your nipple.

You buck your hips to meet his fingers and cry out with every thrust of his hand. “So… so good…”

He scissors your pussy open and revels in the wet squelches in the air. It sends blood rushing straight to his cock, which strains uncomfortably in his boxers.

“Can you take one more?” he asks, mouth hot against your breast.

“I think so,” you moan, surprisingly excited to be stuffed with his fingers. Jungkook continues to swirl his tongue around your nipple as he pushes another digit inside your heat. “Nghhh…”

It’s a bit tight at first, but your body obeys him after a few thrusts; your walls stretch to comfortably suck his fingers in.

You really don’t know if it usually feels this good, or if it’s just Jungkook and his hands, his mouth, everything, in particular that can make your body react like this. You’re close to floating, transcending, with his every movement.

Obscene and wet sounds fill your ears, his warm lips on your body, his slender fingers bringing you to the edge…

“I think I’m gonna cum,” you rasp out.

“Cum then. You can do it,” he whispers and trails upward to kiss your cheek. “Such a good girl. Come on…” You lose your damn mind every time his digits slide in and out, and the wet sounds of him fingering your pussy only add to the pressure in your stomach.

He curls his fingers two, three times and you’re done for. Your nails dig into his arm as you scream his name, tears spilling from your eyes. He wants to tattoo the raised tone of your voice onto his brain for rainy days, and maybe every other day in between. 

Jungkook fucks you through your orgasm and then some. When he pulls his hand away from your battered cunt, he smirks at the sight of it soaked in your essence. You watch him spread the mess you made on his fingers and put them in his mouth. Euphoria washes over you as he tastes you, moaning while he does so.

If he can make you cry with just his fingers, he can’t wait to see what it’ll be like when you cream all over his cock.

He might not have been your first time but he’s the first person to ever make you cum, and that’s an even better honor for him.

He leans down to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth to let you taste yourself. “Mhmm,” you moan and pull him closer until you feel his cock against your thigh, hard and heavy. When you palm him over his underwear, he gasps into your mouth, and you feel a small wet patch from where his precum stains his boxers. 

“I want you…” you whisper languidly and grip him tighter.

“You have me,” he reassures, though it’s not exactly what you meant. He kisses you once more before sitting up to remove his last article of clothing. His cock, angry and leaking, slaps against his abs and you can’t help but bite your lip.

You’ve only seen and had one dick before, but even you know that Jungkook’s would be categorized as how-the-actual-fuck-will-it-fit big.

He fists his length and gives it a few pumps, smirking when he finds your eyes trained on his hand and its movements, bottom lip between your teeth while you’re still spread out for him. Your pussy drips onto his sheets from renewed arousal.

He turns away from you to grab a condom from his wallet on the floor, tears into the foil to take out the rubber and rolls it over his shaft.

“You ready?” he asks as he guides the tip to your slit, rubbing it against your folds to collect more wetness so he can slide in easier. Jungkook teases you a little, nudging your clit with his cock and relishing in the tiny moan you let slip out.

“Fuck me,” you say softly. It feels unreal to hear you—his best friend—utter these words to him. “Ah…” you mewl when he pushes in. Despite having been stretched by three of his fingers, his cock is a little too much for you.

He makes it about halfway in before he stills, waiting for you to open up. “It’s just me,” he repeats his sentiments from earlier and kisses you, hoping that it’ll help you relax and take him in completely.

It does work, sort of. Your pussy swallows a couple more inches of his length but he still can’t bottom out in this position. He tries fucking you like this, maybe your walls will stretch out more once you get into it but as soon as your brows knit in evident discomfort, he stops entirely.

“Am I hurting you?” His voice is rushed, worried. “Do you want to stop?”

“No! No, I– I want to keep going. It’s just…”

You huff out a breath in frustration, and Jungkook sees right through you, on the verge of blaming yourself and your body for something that isn’t your fault.

“Let me try something,” he says and pecks your lips again. He pulls out of you carefully and sits back against the headboard as he helps you climb on top of him. “Might make it easier.”

He holds your hips as you hover over his cock; the tip circles your entrance and you moan lowly, your hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself.

You sink down on him slowly, letting out shaky breaths until you’ve completely taken everything in. He rubs your hips soothingly as your walls stretch around his shaft.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek.

You shake your head and lean into his touch. “No, I just need a minute.”

“Okay.”

After a moment passes, Jungkook watches you reach for his hand and guide it toward your bundle of nerves, silently asking him to play with your clit while your pussy readies itself for him, and fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing he has seen anyone do. You moan when his thumb rubs figure eights into your swollen bud, your hips starting to move on their own accord to seek pleasure.

Bracing your hands on his chest, you lift your body experimentally from his cock and sink down again, making the both of you moan at the feeling of him gliding along your velvety walls with more ease.

The position is a little awkward because you don’t exactly know how to move on top of him. 

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “Go at your own pace.”

Though your rhythm is a bit off, you do it again, and again, and again, until you’re a moaning mess on top of him, fucking yourself on his cock while he watches, absolutely mesmerized by you. Breathless cries slip from your lips as Jungkook continues to stimulate your clit, your tits slightly jiggling with every movement, your eyes rolling back in bliss and he hasn’t even begun to do anything yet.

Fuck. He really needs to ruin you.

He presses his hips to yours to keep his dick from slipping out of you as he flips the both of you over. You look so pretty pinned underneath him like this that he twitches and grows even harder inside you.

“I want…” he trails off and gulps, looking for words as you stare at him quizzically, your walls unintentionally clenching around him. “I want to wreck your pretty little pussy. I want to fuck you so hard, you’ll be feeling me for days. Will you let me do that, hmm? Can I show you how much I love you?”

Hearing his crude words, you almost go into cardiac arrest. The way he’s looking at you could puncture your skin; his eyes darken with unfiltered lust that it turns you on unbelievably more. “Yes, please…” You nod, eager to have him prove to you that he means it.

Jungkook pulls back until just the tip is in you before he plunges forward, making you choke on a moan and your eyes roll back into your head.

It starts out slow at first; he wants to make sure that you’re fully ready for him before he picks up the pace. When you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer and raise your hips to meet his thrusts, he begins to settle into a faster rhythm, fucking into you with heightened desire and desperation. 

“Oh, fuck,” he drawls. “You feel so good.”

“Jungkook ah…”

Your eyes screw shut as you let the intense pleasure take over your entire body. The room fills up with your wanton moans and sinful sounds of skin slapping.

“Fuck me. Would you look at that?” He sounds like he’s whispering to himself, but you open your eyes to see what he’s talking about anyway.

Jungkook’s eyes are transfixed on the sight of his cock in your pussy, glistening with your juices every time he pulls out and gets even wetter every time he dives back in.

While he’s focused on that, there’s something else that catches your attention.

Your hand slides across your body and comes to a stop at your stomach. “Jungkook,” you stutter when he delivers a particular hard thrust and you clench around him. “You’re so big…”

He trails his eyes up to where your hand is, and his mind immediately blanks. 

No thoughts, head empty.

Knock knock, is anybody home?

“Fuck,” he grunts out, “fuck!”

Your stomach bulges with the faint outline of his cock as he pounds you into the mattress. He covers your hand with his own and slightly presses down on it, savoring the gasp that escapes from you.

You feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he thoroughly fucks you and your cunt swallows up what he gives you.

“Please,” you rasp out, “harder…”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He doesn’t give you time to respond, though if he did, you don’t think your brain could come up with any coherent sentences right now. He caresses your belly to let both of you feel his cock driving into you before his hand slips down to rub your clit. Jungkook slants his mouth over yours to swallow your surprised moan, and you feel dizzy all of a sudden.

Is this what coming home feels like? The yearning, the longing, the wanting but never having… it’s been years, it’s all you can remember. But now that it’s finally happening, you can’t find it in yourself to believe in the reality of it.

Jungkook loves you, in the way that you’ve always wanted him to. He’s here—he’s really here—taking this leap with you and no amount of gratitude toward the universe will ever be enough to convey how euphoric you feel—body and soul—in this moment. 

You call out his name breathlessly, your walls fluttering around his cock as you hold onto his biceps. “I–I’m…” Your cheeks are stained with overflowing tears; the pleasure sending you into overdrive as you sob out brokenly.

“I know, I can feel it,” he murmurs. “Cum for me, baby, hmm? I love you… Love you so much…”

He flicks your clit as he fucks you harder, faster than before, his thick cock repeatedly nudging your G-spot. He keeps the pace until you’re practically writhing in his arms, his name falling from your lips like a mantra and stars exploding behind your eyes.

Your juices soak his cock as Jungkook continues to fuck you, to help you ride out your high and chase his own. You’re still whimpering even after you’ve come down, and all he can think about is how he would give you the moon if you asked.

“Koo…” You bring your hands up to push back the sweat-slicked hair from his handsome face and pull him down for a sloppy kiss. Your tongue plays with his while he’s still toying with your clit. “Cum for me,” you whisper against his mouth. “Wanna see you cum for me…”

If he were to die right this second, he thinks it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.

You’re so wet, and tight, and warm. He feels your pussy pulsate and throb around him and he wishes that there wasn’t a fucking condom in the way.

One more thrust, two more… and his hips are stuttering as he shoots into the condom. His mouth hangs open with whispers of your name and his eyebrows are knitted in pure bliss; he’s so fucking beautiful like this that you can’t help but squeeze your cunt around him. He seems to like it, so you do it again, hoping to prolong his pleasure. “Fuck, baby…” 

Silence overwhelms the space around you now that you’re both still, basking in a post-orgasmic haze. You look at him with a lazy grin that he returns, and he tilts his head adorably as he wipes away the remainder of your tears.

Yeah, this must be what coming home feels like.

His tender eyes gazing down at you, his contented smile blooming just for you, his heart beating in tandem with yours… Jungkook is the safest place you know.

Even if being a shithead is inherent to who he is as a person. Even if he believes there’s a divine power in the banana milk at the local convenience store. Even if he has no regard for your stash of emergency snacks. Even then, he’s your person.

Even then, he’s your home.

It’s been a long time coming.

The air is hazy and thick, the floor sticky with god knows what, and Yoongi reaches for you beneath the table. His own large hand finds your smaller one, those knobby knuckles almost uncomfortable when he twines your fingers together. He’s still staring at Taehyung, and you want to do something, say something, it’ll be someone else soon, stop watching, you’re only gonna hurt yourself, but you know him, and you know when he gets like this it’s best to just let him ride it out. Suffer a little.

(Right now, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be tortured as last time, at least—when all of you had gone someplace else, some seedy spot in an Itaewon basement, and Taehyung had some girl pressed against the wall outside the bathrooms, fingers buried deep in her cunt as she shook and came. And Hobi, smarter and sharper than any of you but still so fucking stupid, had just—

“Fuck, man, they’re gonna need a mop and bucket for that. I mean, shit, it was so much? The sound when it hit the floor—”

Jeongguk had pulled a face. Half doe-eyes, half mortified terror. “When what hit the floor, hyung?”

“Her fucking squirt, Jeonggukie, what the fuck do you think—”

And Namjoon, just as wide-eyed and terrified as Jeongguk but for an entirely different reason, had laughed awkwardly and said, “Haaa, maybe we should talk about something else?” as he looked between Hoseok and Yoongi.

That night had been shit-tier, nearly unsalvageable, so at least it doesn’t seem like Taehyung’s in that kind of mood. At least the girl in his lap still has her clothes on. At least his hands are someplace you can see them. At least Yoongi’s still beside you.)

So you bide your time. Take stock of who’s still here and where they are, because the girl in Taehyung’s lap has her lips on his neck and things might go south faster than you’d originally anticipated. Hoseok and Jimin are on the dance floor, hips doing something sinful and too much; Namjoon’s at the bar, jaw clenched as the bartender passes him over for the fourth time in a row; Soyeon and Hyungseo are in the other side of your booth, tongues sloppy as they kiss just because they feel like it; Jeongguk, shoved in the corner on Yoongi’s other side, is slack-jawed as he stares at them, and Jeongguk is a fucking pervert so you know he’s hard.

“Put your dick back in your pants, Jeonggukie,” you say, loud enough for him to hear you over the music. The bass is heavy as it drops, feels like it’s thrumming through your veins, and Jeongguk startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table in his panic, and Soyeon and Hyungseo don’t bother breaking apart to look. “You want another drink?” you ask Yoongi, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

He shakes his head, finally drags his attention away from Taehyung. There’s someone new in his lap: chin-length silver hair, thin legs that go on for miles, tan skin covered in boldly-colored tattoos, could be anyone. Yoongi isn’t looking anymore, but you are, so you catch it when Taehyung looks up. Looks right at Yoongi, wants to see if he’s watching, but instead he just finds you. “Gonna go smoke,” Yoongi answers, and you slide out of the booth to let him leave.

“Is hyung okay?” Jeongguk asks when the two of you are pressed back together. He sips leisurely at his drink, trying to make it last until Namjoon makes it back from the bar with another one. Something baby blue and shockingly green, a little umbrella on top. Two cherries. “He seems sad. Hey, watch this.” Jeongguk pops one into his mouth and presents the knotted stem to you seconds later.

This is the part you never know how to explain: that Yoongi loves you but sometimes he wants someone else. Not instead, but too. That you love Yoongi and want him to have whatever he wants, and that jealousy is foreign to you. That you and Yoongi love each other but do things a little unorthodox, which is not out of the ordinary for a friend group as ran-through and commingled as yours, but still takes patience and care to explain.

So you just ruffle Jeongguk’s hair, laugh at his squawking protests, and wrangle him so you can press a kiss to the top of his head. “Don’t worry this pretty little head about your hyungs, okay?”

Jeongguk surfaces with a glare, surface-level because you’ve embarrassed him in front of two hot girls that are still making out, and hides his flushed cheeks behind his drink. “Is it about Taehyungie-hyung?”

“What’d I just tell you?”

He pouts, but you’re saved from another interrogation by Namjoon’s unceremonious return to the table. He’s so flustered by his one-sided feud with the bartender that he slams the blue-green drink down a little too hard, spills half of it in Jeongguk’s lap. “Move over,” he says to you, and you cock an eyebrow in return. “Please,” he amends, like that’s what you’d been looking for, but when you still don’t move he gets a little whiny and panicked. “They’re relentless,” he says, pointing his thumb at Soyeon and Hyungseo like you can’t see them. “Don’t make me—”

“What about me!” Jeongguk wails, pressing his hands pathetically to his groin like he’s trying to stem bleeding, at the same time you roll your eyes and fire a, “Says Mr. Eight-gigabyte Porn Folder,” at Namjoon.

You receive another glare, this time from Namjoon, and he doesn’t hesitate to steal Jeongguk’s spot against the wall when he goes to the bathroom to deal with his soaked pants, only to start swearing when he realizes the seat is wet, too. “Jesus fuck—”

“That’s what you get.”

“Fuck off,” Namjoon fires back. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

“Outside smoking.”

“Smok—why is he smoking?” At your silence, he jerks his head up, intent on getting an answer out of you. Instead, his question dies on his tongue as he follows your line of sight. Another new person in Taehyung’s lap, sucking Taehyung’s fingers into their mouth. “Ah, yeah. That fucking guy.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Be nice, Namjoonie. You know Taehyung would hook up with a microwave if it gave him attention.”

“What number is that, then? Hasn’t he gotten enough attention?”

“Third I’ve seen. The first one was cute. I thought for sure he was gonna leave with her.”

Namjoon huffs, shakes his head. Takes a long pull of his beer. “He’s not gonna leave with anyone. He just does this to piss off hyung.” Then, like he’s coming to a realization, he turns to look at you with a quizzical look. “Wait, where’d Seokjin-hyung go?”

You stare back in disbelief. “How long were you at the fucking bar? He left hours ago.”

“Did he?” Then, quieter and to himself, “How long was I at the fucking bar?”

Whatever game Taehyung is playing, Yoongi is woefully inept at playing along.

Doesn’t know when it’s his move or when it’s time to sit and watch. Doesn’t know the rules. Doesn’t really listen when you try to explain it to him; probably doesn't want to hear it. Yoongi seems to think he’s at his best when he’s a little sad, a little miserable and yearning. At its core, that’s what the game is, and as much as he keeps touching the thorns to see if he’ll bleed, you know he still enjoys it.

(Know he gets off on it, too.)

Yoongi reaches for you. Steadies himself with his hand on your shoulder, pupils wide as saucers—dark dark dark in the corner of this grimy club—eventually breaking into a smile when you grab his sweat-slick hands and guide them to your waist. Your bodies move together like waves, pushing apart only for Yoongi to continuously pull you in closer, dazed from the feeling of you pressed against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, words impossible to hear over the music, “look at you. So fucking pretty.”

He threads a knee between your legs, the sound of his groan drowned out as you roll your hips against him. Maybe Yoongi doesn’t know the rules to this game, but you do, and you make sure Taehyung’s watching when you drag your core against Yoongi’s thigh. He groans again, and his hands grip your hips tighter, moving you back and forth on him the way he does when you ride him.

You watch as he drags his eyes upward, see the exact moment he spots Taehyung across the club. His profile is lit up by the strobe lights, filling in the contours of his bone structure with greens and blues. He’s with Jimin and Hoseok now, dancing with the girl from earlier with the pink hair, her back pressed to his chest. He leans down and whispers recycled filth into her ear that she seems to buy. You watch as Yoongi closes his eyes tight; watch him pretend it’s Taehyung dancing with him; it’s Taehyung’s hips he’s gripping onto; it’s Taehyung who’s moaning and desperate for him in this moment.

You watch as his eyes snap open again.

You watch as he realizes he’s in this daydream alone.

And you wonder, briefly, if this should bother you. If this is fucked up, that Yoongi’s hard against you because he’s thinking about someone else, and you find that you don’t care. What you and Yoongi have doesn’t need to make sense to anyone except the two of you.

“Wanna go home,” Yoongi slurs into your ear, fucked up from the feel of you, the thought of Taehyung.

You smirk, tangle your hands in his hair and tug a little just to fuck him up even more. “Yeah? What d’you wanna go home for? It’s still pretty early.”

“Wanna fuck you,” he whines. Tries to hold you in place to grind harder against you and whines again when you move just out of reach. “Baby.”

“You know the rule.” There’s a drop of sweat that rolls down the side of Yoongi’s neck that you chase with your tongue. “Tell me what you actually want and we can leave.”

The breath he sucks in is harsh, fractured, like your question is a special kind of torture. You know it is. Unlike with Taehyung, this is a game both you and Yoongi know the rules to. Unlike with Taehyung, this is the game Yoongi plays to win. The song changes again, this time to something filthy and slow, and Yoongi fits himself to your back, moves until both of you are facing Taehyung. “Want you both,” he says into your ear. Nips at the lobe. “Want to watch you fuck him the way you fuck me.”

“Don’t wanna fuck him yourself?”

You feel him shake his head. “Not this time.”

“What are you doing, then? In this fantasy of yours?”

Yoongi presses closer, the outline of his hard cock pressing into the small of your back now. “Watching, at first. Wanna see you ruin him.” His hands skim along your skin, dip beneath the hemline of your shirt, dance across your stomach. “Wanna watch you make him fucking cry.”

“Are you telling me how?”

Yoongi’s laugh is low, a little caustic. “I won’t need to. He’s so fuckin’ easy.”

“And yet you want him this bad,” you taunt. “Someone easy like that—doesn’t seem to be your type.”

He bites along your neck. “Watch yourself.”

“I’m not the one all fucked up over Kim Taehyung.” You make eye contact with the man in question. Watch as the look on his face fades into a smirk, syrupy and slow. Sleezy, you think. He probably is as easy as Yoongi says. “I should tell him how fucking hard you are. Should tell him you’re gonna take me home and fuck me and come thinking about him. That’s pretty fuckin’ dirty, Yoongi.”

It’s nothing you haven’t said before. Sometimes you press even harder, humiliate him a little when he seems to be in the mood for it, but this time he goes stock-still. Silence stretches between the two of you, the only people standing still on this dancefloor, and you’re halfway turned around to see if Yoongi wants to fuck or cry when he says, “Do it, then.”

You laugh. All part of the game. But then Yoongi grabs your hand, moves it to his cock, straining against his skin-tight jeans, some kind of message that’s gotten fucked up in translation. “Yoongi—”

“Tell him,” he says, expression shuttered and serious.

“You wanna think about this for more than ten seconds? You haven’t talked to him since the last time you guys hooked up and you want me to go tell him you… what? That you want to have some weird cuck threesome with him?”

That’s exactly what you told him.

(Because you know Yoongi, and you also know Taehyung. Your dig at him to Namjoon was very much based in truth, and with how fucked up the dynamics of your friend group are, it hadn’t taken much more than sending Yoongi out into the cold to order a taxi, swaying your hips a little, re-glossing your lips, and disposing of the girl with the bubblegum pink hair. No one had batted an eye.

“I’m going home to fuck my boyfriend,” you said, leaning into Taehyung’s space. He was draped on the couch again, legs spread in a way that was frankly obscene. “Would you like to join us?”

“That depends, angel. How do you fuck him?” he asked, spreading his legs wider.

You stepped closer. Cupped his cheek, dug your nails into his skin a little, and said, “Better than you ever did,” all condescension.

Taehyung had just laughed. Pressed his tongue into the fat of his cheek. “I guess we’ll see about that.”)

And now you’re here, Taehyung sprawled on the bed beneath you. You can see why a sight like this would have Yoongi fucked up as long as he has been: Taehyung’s golden skin contrasting against the crisp white of the sheets, dark hair fanning against the pillows, curls falling into his eyes, chest heaving. Each time he throws his head back you’re torn between sinking your teeth into the column of his throat and wrapping your hands around it. It’s easy to ruin him when he looks like this; easy to give Yoongi what he wants.

“What should I do with you?” you think out loud, and Taehyung’s responding whimper draws a laugh out of you. “Yoongi wants to watch me fuck you,” you continue, hands teasing toward the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. You pinch, slap away the sting. “Would you like that?”

Taehyung’s cock—long and thick, still glistening with spit from when you sucked him off—twitches at the thought. “Y-yeah, fuck, want that,” he answers, hands moving to fist the sheets. He’s been so good. Has done exactly as you said. “Wan’ you to fuck me.”

“Should I fuck you the way you used to fuck your hyung?” Both Taehyung and Yoongi moan at the same time, and it’s so stupid, you think, this game they’ve been playing. Cat and mouse, as if the conclusion hasn’t been inevitable this whole time. “Use your words, Taehyung.”

“Yeah,” he says again, Adam’s apple bobbing heavily in his throat. “Y-yeah, like that.”

You hum, reach behind you for the bottle of lube. Yoongi mutters a quiet shit from the other side of the room and you glance over. Mouth hung open, lips wet; jeans pushed halfway down his thighs, the outline of his cock visible through his briefs, hand squeezing at the base. Cheating a little, but still not touching himself the way you know he wants to. He’ll be the first to cry, at this rate.

Eyes back on Taehyung. You wonder if he’d normally preen, put on a show. You wonder if he did that with Yoongi, some whole thing. “He’s told me about it, you know,” you say, clicking the lube open. Sounds more like a gunshot in the small space of your bedroom, where the only other sounds are labored breathing and the city outside. “Told me all about how you used to split him open with that big cock.” You tip the bottle sideways, let the lube dribble out and over Taehyung’s balls. He hisses at the cold, mutters a swear. “Told me he’d struggle to take it sometimes.”

“You two are—fuck.” Whatever Taehyung was going to say is cut off as your finger follows the lube, trails down to his hole. You circle it there, make sure it’s wet, press a little just to watch his hips jerk. “You two are fu-fucking weird.”

“Mm, maybe,” you concede, “but you should see how hard he comes when he’s thinking about you.”

You gather more lube on your finger, then, and press it inside. Just to the first knuckle, just enough to make Taehyung whine. “I guess you already know that, though,” you continue. Pour a little more lube on Taehyung’s skin. Pull your finger out enough to slicken it, push it back in a little further. “Was it good for you?”

His moan is broken and low, deep and heady. A sound that makes the world feel like it’s tilting; a sound that makes you want to chase it. “Yeah,” Taehyung answers, and it could be a response or a declaration when it’s followed by, “so fucking good.”

“Yoongi is good, isn’t he? He listens so well.” With your free hand, you grab Taehyung’s face roughly, turn his head in the direction of where Yoongi’s sitting. “Look at him,” you instruct. He already looks fucked-out. Cheeks flushed, breathing hard, knuckles white where he’s gripping onto the arm of the chair. “Look at how good he’s being, not even touching himself.”

And Taehyung… Taehyung almost looks ashamed. Won’t meet Yoongi’s gaze, now that they’re so close, now that it’s real, and this won’t do, will it, so you dig your nails in a little harder, drag them down his cheek, tell him again to look at his hyung. Then—

For the first time all night, their eyes meet at the same time.

Yoongi’s whimper is loud. The loudest you’ve ever heard him outside of actual sex. You work in a second finger alongside the first, build up a steady rhythm, and Taehyung isn’t faring much better. Little by little he opens up for you and you’re thankful for the way he sucks you in, adjusts. It’s getting harder to ignore the heat between your own legs, watching two beautiful men fall apart in vastly different ways, even though you want to drag this out, want to make Taehyung cry and give Yoongi exactly what he wanted.

And, god, Taehyung is so fucking pretty.

You tell him as much, and his smile is greasy, looks even more lewd when you crook your fingers and his eyes roll back. He’s still tight around you when he asks for a third so you shake your head, tell him no, tell him he’s greedy, and you think people must not make him beg much, the way he’s pouting. Taehyung has a face that gets him whatever he wants and a cock to match, and you’d understood it before, why Yoongi couldn’t really let it go, but it’s different when it’s right in front of you, making a mess of your sheets.

“I must be going soft on you,” you tell him, working in another finger the next time he asks. “Yoongi wanted me to make you cry and here I am, giving you whatever you want. Maybe I should let him decide what you get.”

Taehyung shoots a hand out, grabs at your forearm. “Don’t,” he says, voice hoarse, bordering on pleading. “Please. He’s still mad at me, won’ give me anything.”

A huff of breath escapes you. “He doesn’t look very mad to me. Looks like he could probably come on command if you told him to.” It’s not an exaggeration, not really; Yoongi is gone, looks like a stiff wind could have him spilling all over himself. “But maybe that’s what you deserve.”

You nail Taehyung’s prostate the next time you crook your fingers and he sobs. You do it again, then a third time. Precome oozes out of his cock, deepens the pool on his belly. You keep it up until tears pool on his waterline, until he’s reaching for you again, begging you to stop, words cracking as he tells you desperately that he’s going to come. “Angel, fuck, please, I’m gonna—”

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, all authority. “You’re not going to come, are you, because I haven’t told you to. Yoongi hasn’t told you to.”

The first frustrated tear streaks down Taehyung’s cheek. “Oh my fucking god,” he chokes out, forcing his hips flat to the bed, tries to force you to stop moving. But your rhythm is steady, confident, three fingers working with the space he’s left you, and it isn’t until you watch his balls tighten that they slow. Taehyung’s sweat-slick, looks even more golden under the amber lamplight, and it’s dizzying, the way the color shifts as his chest heaves with his ragged breaths.

There’s only enough time for you to slip your fingers out, grab the lube, slick up the strap-on that’s fastened around your hips, before you’re pressing the head against Taehyung’s hole, still dripping wet. “It’s so big,” you muse, grinning wickedly at the man beneath you, “I don’t know if it’s going to fit. What do you think, Yoongi? Is this how you used to feel?”

When you look over this time, Yoongi has his cock out, briefs tucked beneath his balls, stroking fast. Clicking your tongue, he looks up through half-lidded eyes, hand stilling immediately. His nod is almost imperceptible, too disoriented to answer, and you’ll give him this one. Won’t push it. What you will push, though—

“Shit.”

You’re not sure if it comes from Yoongi or Taehyung. It might’ve even come from you, because you’re transfixed, can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your stupid flesh-colored dildo disappearing into Taehyung’s body. Fucking greedy, you think, mostly at yourself, because if this sight is good you can only imagine what you’d see if you were watching his face. Brows furrowed, mouth pinched. A look not far off from that night in the club, the determination on his face as he fucked that girl with his fingers, uncaring who heard or saw.

But this is your show. Yoongi’s fantasy. Whatever girls—people—Taehyung has fucked in seedy clubs across Seoul are of little importance here. All that matters is the steady push of your hips, the slow roll once you’re fully buried, the pleasure that jolts through you when you’re able to grind a little against the toy, the way Taehyung thrashes against the sheets, incoherent as he babbles, stuck between more and too much.

“Okay?” you ask, hands skimming along his warm skin. Goosebumps trail in their wake, and you settle them on his thighs. Press them up and to the side as he nods, giving yourself more space, and Taehyung’s moan is loud, unabashed. His cock lies neglected against his stomach, begging you to reach out and grab it, stroke him, make him come too fast so you have another bruise to press on, some way to embarrass him.

But this is your show, Yoongi’s fantasy, and you don’t have to look because you can hear how close your boyfriend is to getting himself off. Can hear the way his breath hitches, can hear when his rhythm changes. Quicker, now. More insistent. If Taehyung looked over at him, it’d be all over, and you almost tell him to do that, too.

“Stop touching yourself,” you say to Yoongi. A second time when he disregards the first, too far gone, too close. “Yoongi.” He whines but he listens, shoves his fingers in his mouth to stem the urge, and Taehyung watches it all.

You’re still thrusting, thighs burning, sticky where they meet Taehyung’s, and it won’t be your lengthiest performance, that’s for sure. So you call Yoongi’s name again, beckon him over, and he hesitates, looks so unsure. But it’s so stupid, the way he and Taehyung dance around one another—and you know, you know Taehyung wouldn’t be shaking like this if it were just you, if Yoongi wasn’t in his head, wasn’t watching—so you’re insistent. “Come here,” you tell him, and you make sure your voice is spun sugar when you say it.

Yoongi listens. Stumbles over on unsteady legs, knees nearly buckling when he gets close enough to also watch the way the strap-on fucks into Taehyung’s hole, the way it stretches obscenely to accommodate it. “Baby.” He threads his hands into your hair and kisses you hard and messy. Taehyung moans beneath you so you know he’s watching, and you will your body to move faster, fuck him harder.

When Yoongi pulls back, it’s obvious. The longing in his eyes. “Tell him,” you say, and he looks caught-out, would almost look angry if he were capable of it. “This is your fantasy, isn’t it? So tell him.”

“I—” He looks down at Taehyung again, meets his gaze again, and he must see something there you can’t, because all the hesitation is gone when he says, “I want to kiss you.”

And you know what it means.

Because that had been the rule between the two of them. No staying the night, no kissing. You know what it means for Yoongi to ask for that, what it’d mean if Taehyung allowed it, and it nearly cracks your heart in half that it’s the only thing he’s willing to ask for when his wants are endless when it comes to Taehyung.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung moans. “Fuck, hyung, yeah—yeah, c’mere, kiss me, please, fuck.”

Yoongi looks like he’s been punched in the gut. Looks overwhelmed, given this kind of permission, so he goes about it all wrong. Starts to kneel at the side of the bed before you tsk and grab him by his own hair. “Do it right,” you instruct.

He moans. Aborts whatever he was about to do and climbs over Taehyung on the bed, straddles him, fitting in between both of you perfectly, close enough for his cock to slot against Taehyung’s. They both moan, and their game had been so fucking stupid it sends a lick of anger through you. Yoongi ruts his hips once, twice, and then he’s leaning down and cupping Taehyung’s face and pressing his lips—still wet from you, still wearing your spit—to Taehyung’s.

And Taehyung comes immediately, nearly untouched. Spills all over himself with a loud, broken sob.

“Holy shit,” you say, hips slowing until they’re still. “Holy shit, that was fucking hot, what the fuck.”

Taehyung trembles in the comedown and Yoongi presses in closer, kisses him through it. Can’t seem to stop now that he’s allowed. He’s still rutting, has Taehyung teetering on oversensitivity, so you grab Yoongi’s hips to slow him. “Careful, baby,” you say softly into his ear. Press a kiss to the nape of his neck. Give him a minute to back away from the ledge again and get himself under control, let Taehyung catch his breath. “Are you okay, Taehyung?” you ask, hands once again touching any of his skin you can find. You knead at the muscles in his calves.

There’s some garbled response. Something you think is supposed to sound like an affirmation. “Words, please.”

“Y-yeah,” comes his response.

“Okay. I’m gonna go grab something to clean you up, all right?” You press another kiss to Yoongi’s shoulder, turn your attention to him. “Then we’ll finally give you what you want, yeah? Finally let you come.” A shiver runs up his spine and he nods weakly. “Can you prep yourself while I’m gone?” Another shaky nod. “Good boy. Gonna pull out now, Tae.”

You do so slowly. Taehyung hisses, sucks in a breath through his teeth. Hisses again when you replace the toy with your thumb, try to ease the discomfort of being so suddenly empty. With another kiss pressed to Yoongi’s shoulder, you mumble an I love you into his hair, and then you’re gone.

There’s always been something about the way Yoongi touches himself.

Like the goal is more than simply getting off. Like there’s reverence in it, something beyond purpose. Yoongi touches himself the way other people drop to their knees at church and pray.

Sometimes it’s long and drawn out. Sometimes his hands skirt over every inch of his own skin before he finally brings them to his cock. Sometimes he rests on his haunches in the middle of the bed and angles himself toward the mirror and watches, his cheeks aflame the entire time because he’s embarrassed to see himself like that, three of his own fingers fucking himself, but the embarrassment almost feels just as good. Sometimes he has you beneath him, raining down praise as his fist works the length of his cock.

Sometimes he does it entirely wrong, like now.

Two pale, lube-slick fingers work in and out of his hole. His own, then, and not Taehyung’s. Just like you’d asked. You’re a little surprised, thought maybe Yoongi might panic and retreat with you gone, but they’re both where you’d left them. Taehyung’s talking all the while, saying god knows what in that deep timbre, and it’s straight up pornographic the way his large hands rest on the cheeks of Yoongi’s ass, pull them apart.

The damp cloth in your hand feels useless. Is useless, you think, because Yoongi had told you something, once, deep in the throes of another cerebral fantasy—

“I can’t believe I have to keep telling you this,” you say, and everything immediately goes still at the sound of your voice, “but do it right, Yoongi.”

Taehyung lifts his head, stares at you skeptically. Probably mirroring the look on Yoongi’s face that you aren’t privy to with his back to you. “We’ve talked about this,” you continue, stalking closer. All eyes on you as you drop the cloth to the floor. “Are you clean?” you ask Taehyung, and he nods, expression still dubious.

And then you’re reaching between both of them, swiping your fingers through the mess of cum on Taehyung’s stomach, and he understands immediately. “Are you gon—fuuuck. Fucking christ.” The first swipe goes to Yoongi’s mouth, and there’s no hesitation as he sucks your fingers clean. Your free hand finds Yoongi’s, the one he’s working himself open with, and pulls it away. Replaces it with your own, your two longest fingers covered in the second swipe of Taehyung’s cum, and you fuck them in and out faster than Yoongi had been.

“Filthy,” Taehyung chokes out, clearly overwhelmed; another groan when Yoongi starts sucking at his neck, biting, claiming.

It’s primal, the way Taehyung reacts, the way Yoongi embeds himself under his skin, tries desperately to make a home there. Something permanent this time; or, at least, a home that won’t burn down like the last one. Won’t be reduced to a smoking heap of bitter ash. And you wonder, as you watch the way these two beautiful men fit together, if Taehyung will be holding the match or the key this time.

You press slow, open-mouthed kisses along the knots in Yoongi’s spine. Drizzle more lube on your fingers, work him open more. Whisper I know, baby, I know when he gets impatient and a little too demanding. Swap the condom on the strap-on and slick it up, just like last time, and then you’re pressing into Yoongi instead of Taehyung, the way you’ve done so many times before.

Everything is familiar and different: the drag, the pull, the noises spilling out of Yoongi’s mouth. Those staccato whines varied in pitch, sometimes drawn out and sometimes punched and short. This is what you know. This is your home, and you think, as Taehyung looks at Yoongi, so fucking endeared, as he gently cups his face, as he says—

“Hyung, you look so pretty. You’re doing so well, hyung, fuck, I didn’t think I’d ever see you like this again.”

—you think your house might look nice with an addition. An extra space carved out only for Taehyung. A room where Yoongi can exist in endless adoration.

“Make yourself useful, Kim Taehyung.”

Because Taehyung listens. Because Taehyung is good in all the ways that Yoongi is good, and he doesn’t have to be told twice when the order deals in Yoongi’s pleasure. So all of you adjust until Yoongi’s on his hands and knees, gripping tightly onto the headboard, and Taehyung shuffles down the bed until he can get his mouth on Yoongi’s cock.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” you say, and Taehyung moans at the praise, the vibrations making Yoongi gasp and jerk.

You know when you hit his prostate, too; know this is going to be over soon from the way he buries his face in the crook of his elbow and screams. You know it from the way he starts to shake. From the unintelligible filth that pours from his mouth as Taehyung swallows him all the way down. From the way he stutters out a, ba-baby, wha’bout you, gonna come like this, and you pet his hair, voice soft again when you say, this is for you, Yoongi, you can come, I know it’s so much.

There’s a final husky, drawn-out moan, and then there’s quiet.

Lucidity returns slowly.

The heat kicks on. A police siren wails in the distance, seven floors below you. You re-wet your cloth and do your best to clean the dried cum from Taehyung’s skin, your smile fond as he whines at the cold, tries to squirm away. Yoongi doesn’t move an inch, just collapses face-first onto the mattress and lets everyone fuss over him. Starts snoring a few minutes later, after you’ve pulled the duvet up to his ears and he’s tucked in and warm.

You move to the dresser. Pull out two t-shirts—oversized on you, tight in the shoulders on Taehyung—and clean underwear. And then you pause, because Taehyung’s already plucking his own clothes off the floor, already has his fucking socks and briefs on, and it’s… it doesn’t feel right, is the thing. Doesn’t feel like he should be leaving. Not tonight, maybe ever.

“Where are you going?” you ask, and you do a good job of keeping the hurt out, at sounding normal.

Taehyung doesn’t get it. Looks at you like you’re a little stupid and a lot crazy, because he looks at you, then at the world outside the window, and finally at Yoongi before answering. “I—leaving?”

“Why?”

Taehyung looks at you like you’re a lot stupid this time. “I don’t…” Pauses. Tries to sink into the floor to no avail. “Look, I think maybe this was a mistake? Hyung and I—I don’t think this is what he wants.”

“And how do you know what he wants?”

“Because we’re here,” he answers, anger seeping in. “Because I’m standing in your apartment. His girlfriend, and—”

You sigh. “If you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you, but I think it’d really hurt him if you left.” You leave off the again. It’s not your trauma to dredge up. Yoongi wouldn’t want you to, and that’s reason enough. “I would like it if you stayed, if that means anything.”

“The two of you are fucking weird,” he says again, but he looks less torn. Looks less like he would plow you over to get to the door, and it’s… progress. It’s good. You can work with a halfway thing. “Hyung would really—you think he wants me here?”

It’s spoken about in the way a broken thing always is: delicately, hesitantly, like Taehyung’s afraid of the answer, afraid to find out the results of this stupid game of his own design. “He does. It’s not my place to say much more than that, but I think the two of you are overdue for a conversation, if nothing else.”

Taehyung nods. Starts looking less and less like he’s out of place; starts looking like object permanence, takes a corporeal form within the four walls of your bedroom. “There’s space here for you,” you say, with the amount of care words like these require, “if you want it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Whatever you want it to. Nothing has to be decided right now, but I know Yoongi. You know him, too. I just don’t want to see him hurt again.”

Taehyung nods again. Peels his socks off. “You’re sure?” he asks, and when you nod, he climbs back into bed, seems to somehow know which side of the bed is Yoongi’s, two magnets drawn together. Something inevitable.

You breathe out a sigh. Finally slip the t-shirt and underwear on. Flick the lamp off and let yourself have a minute to enjoy the calm, Yoongi’s body heat next to you, still snoring softly between you and Taehyung. And then, because you can’t resist—

“You two are really fucking stupid, you know that?”

You hear Taehyung swallow. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sounding the part of a scolded child, and as much as you try not to, you’re smiling again, fond and endeared, into the dark. “I know.”

“Okay. Go to sleep, Tae. I expect a very nice thank you gift in the morning.”

It doesn’t happen in the morning. Not really.

It happens sometime in the middle of the night. The light streaming in through the sheer curtains gives away nothing more than silver-amber light, the moon and the city. Could be minutes since you fell asleep, could be hours; all you know is Yoongi’s at your back, arm slung possessively over your middle, and his heat is stifling.

“Yoongi,” you hiss, because it’s not just his heat. He’s hard again, cock pressing against the swell of your ass just like it was in the club, and you feel him smile against your neck when he realizes you’re awake. Feel him rock his hips, just a little.

He nips at your lobe, your jaw. “Hi, baby,” he says, like this is just another morning. Like he’s about to present your favorite mug to you, coffee fixed exactly how you like it. “Why didn’ you wake me up?”

“For what?” you breathe out, voice already wavering. All Yoongi has done is skim his warm hands under your oversized t-shirt, swirl a finger around your navel.

Yoongi tuts. Feels weird to be on this side of it, the illusion of condescension. “To fuck you. Make you come. You didn’t earlier.”

“I meant what I said—”

“I know you did,” Yoongi interjects, “but I don’t find that to be a very acceptable excuse.”

You roll your eyes, no heat in it, but then Yoongi’s hand moves to the hem of your underwear and slips inside. Your hips jerk when he moves two fingers lightly over your clit, jerk again when he finds you already wet and groans deep and husky into your ear. And it’s not loud, but it’s loud for this room at whatever-the-fuck time it is. “Gotta be quiet,” you whisper to him, and he laughs, thinks you’re joking. “I’m serious,” you say, and you want to sound authoritative but it comes out as a whine when he sinks those fingers into your cunt.

“Why would I need to be quiet?” he asks. Crooks them as best he can from this weird angle, you on your side with your back pressed to him, Yoongi halfway on top of you. “Shouldn’t I be loud?” He hits a spot that whites your vision. “Shouldn’t everyone in this fucking place hear it?”

Usually you wouldn’t care. Your apartment building has heard worse, including whatever debauchery the three of you had gotten up to mere hours ago, but—“Taehyung’s asleep.”

Yoongi startles, goes still. “What?”

“What.”

“What d’you mean Taehyung’s asl…” You feel him turn. Feel him realize, for the first time, that there is a very-asleep Taehyung on his other side, and you want to ask how he hadn’t noticed before, want to say didn’t you realize how cramped this bed is, it’s not big enough for three people, we’ll have to get a new one, but. Yoongi hadn’t expected him to stay, hadn’t expected it to even be an option, so of course it would’ve been a blind spot.

Your heart cracks in half again.

“What’d you say to him?” he asks. Not accusing, almost awed, like you knew a code, the secret passcode to getting Taehyung to stay that Yoongi hadn’t had before.

You reach back, find Yoongi’s hair. Scratch gently at his scalp. “Just that I thought you’d like it if he stayed. That’s it, nothing else. I wouldn’t.”

“I know, I wasn’t…” He sucks in a deep breath, holds it, lets it go. He’s okay. “This is okay with you?”

A laugh spills out of you. “You’re asking me that now? I was nearly fist-deep in his ass a few hours ago but him sleeping in our bed is crossing some kind of line?”

“Sex can be different,” Yoongi argues, “and it’s me, you know, like it’s my hangup, not yours—”

“I want you to be happy,” you answer honestly. “Whatever that looks like. I told him there’s room for him here if he wants it, but they’re not my knots to untangle. If he wants to stick around, if you two can get your shit together… we’ll figure it out. It only needs to make sense to us.”

Silence. Then—“I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my fucking life,” Yoongi groans. “Jesus Christ.”

“I should’ve known hyung was the type to get a boner from open and honest communication.”

Yoongi startles again at the low rasp of Taehyung’s voice. “And that’s exactly why I said I fuck him better than you,” you fire at him, deadpan. He laughs. You don’t have to look at Yoongi to know how red he’s turned.

“You said that to him?” he chokes out, all mortified disbelief, at the same time Taehyung says, “Maybe you’ve got a point, angel.”

The mattress sinks under Taehyung’s weight as he shuffles closer to the two of you. Must touch Yoongi somehow, because there’s a high-pitched whine from the back of his throat, so loud in your ear, has heat coursing through you. “Finish what you started, hyung,” Taehyung says, and Yoongi’s nod is jerky, his hands uncoordinated under Taehyung’s watchful stare.

Yoongi moves over you fully, wastes no time before he’s working his fingers in and out at a steady rhythm, sucking at your skin. Taehyung groans quietly, doesn’t need to be told a goddamn thing; rids you of your shirt so Yoongi can mouth his way from your jaw to your neck, collarbones to chest, one nipple and then the next. Pleasure licks up your spine, outweighs how overwhelming it is to have Yoongi this geared-up, wound this tight; to have Taehyung’s hands roaming over every inch of skin his hyung doesn’t have his mouth on.

“Yoo-Yoongi,” you choke out, because this has really gone from zero to a hundred and he’s been pressing incessantly on your g-spot for too long to remain unaffected.

It’s building, building, building, and you’ve fully lost control of your hips, grinding against the heel of Yoongi’s palm like you’re desperate for it. (You are.) And Taehyung just laughs darkly, says, “Think she’s gonna come, hyung,” just to get under your skin.

“Mm, yeah. Might make a mess.” He slaps at your clit and that’s it, that’s what does it.

And Yoongi knows you, doesn’t he, because he knows how you like to get fucked. Knows to click his tongue at you, give you that disappointed look; knows to wipe your release on your thighs. Knows to barely let you catch your breath before he’s slipping on a condom and pushing inside of you.

After his fingers, the stretch from his cock feels dizzying. Feels on the edge of too much, and Taehyung’s commentary is doing fuck-all to help you come back to earth. Keeps saying shit like goddamn, hyung, yeah, fuck her like that. Maneuvers you so your back is pressed to his chest, now, your head on his shoulder, so Yoongi can slip his tongue into Taehyung’s mouth while he ruins you. It’s filthy, it’s so fucking filthy, and you think, selfishly, that a room won’t be big enough. You’d build Taehyung an entire goddamn house to keep it like this, to keep the three of you safe in this bubble.

“Imagine, hyung,” Taehyung starts, and you know what comes out of his mouth next is going to be nasty. Yoongi knows it, too, eyes starting to go glassy. A million constellations reflected as he looks at the two of you. “If we fucked her at the same time. Both of us in that tight pussy. Our cocks togeth—”

You’re not sure if the deafening moan comes from you or Yoongi. Either way, his hips falter, cadence reduced to stuttered thrusts as he tries desperately not to come just from Taehyung spewing more filth out of his devilish mouth. But you want to see it. Want to see what happens when he’s pushed to the brink of horny delirium, so you say—

“Do it.”

—and Yoongi has to stop altogether. Grips your hips so hard you know they’ll bruise, and you think, for a second, that he actually did come. Everything is quiet for a second, just more labored breathing, and then Yoongi picks his head up. Looks more fucked-out than you’ve ever seen him, even more than earlier, and looks straight at Taehyung.

“Put your fingers in her.”

Taehyung breathes harshly through his nose. Waits for you to nod, give him the okay, and then his hands leave your hair and skim down your body. They’re so warm, so large, cover so much skin that it truly feels like he’s everywhere, like it’s more than just him touching you. The closer he nears to your cunt, the more overpowering it is, the harder it is to breathe.

“Is this what you want, angel?” he asks, words warm on your skin as he presses them just below your ear. “You’re a greedy girl, getting hyung’s cock and my fingers.” He rubs circles into your clit, sends you spiraling. You’re dangerously close to a second orgasm (could be a third, could be a hundredth, considering Yoongi never let you come down from the first) and there’s a split-second right before he dips his fingers into your cunt, works them in alongside Yoongi’s cock, that you feel engulfed.

Everything is on fire.

You, most of all.

Taehyung sucks his fingers into his mouth, gets ‘em wet, works in slowly. Just his middle finger at first, and Yoongi falters again, moans out an oh fuuuck that betrays exactly how far gone he is. And you aren’t far behind, the stretch from both of them unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You can’t imagine how it’d feel if it was more than just Taehyung’s fingers, except you can, and Taehyung notices when the thought has you clenching, has you a little wetter, because he laughs at you, tells Yoongi like he can’t tell on his own. Like your boyfriend is a little dumb, like he’s never fucked you before, and that does something to both of you.

One finger turns into two. Yoongi’s a fucking mess, absolutely gone of the feel of them inside you, against his cock, can’t stop moaning. The tight fit has Taehyung’s fingers pressed snug against your g-spot, exactly how Yoongi’s had been, and it’s too much. Too much.

“I’m, fuck—I’m gonna—”

When you come it feels like the end of the world. It feels like rapture. It feels like every atom in your body has been rearranged, like the gods themselves are rewarding you specifically with the sound of Yoongi following right behind you, moaning low and ragged, spilling into the condom.

In the comedown, he kisses you—soft, tender, with every iota of love and affection contained in him. “I love you,” he says. Presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You okay?”

“Not sure,” you answer honestly. “Give me three to five business days to decide.”

Yoongi’s smile is shy, almost embarrassed. More gums than anything else. Behind you, the rumble of Taehyung’s laughter against your back, rattling your ribs. Rattling your heart, maybe, lodged safely between them.

It expands, makes more room—the one for Taehyung, that house—and Yoongi’s lips find Taehyung’s next and you know it’ll be okay. These two stupid boys, they’ll figure it out, put a cease fire to their foolish game.

Yeah, something inevitable.

Ah shit.

You lift the arm curled around your waist off you and commando roll out of the luxurious california king you’ve woken up in.

The beautiful man you woke up with shifts and his face presses into the pillow. 

You tear your admiring eyes away from him guiltily and grab his shirt from the floor, slipping it on, buttoning quickly.

You’re tiptoeing to the door when a grumpy deep voice makes you freeze.

‘That’s my favourite shirt,’ your husband says.

You reach for your patience and don’t find it. 

Min Yoongi has exhausted all your reserves of goodwill towards him.

‘I was trying to be considerate and not wake you up,’ you say through gritted teeth.

He snorts. 

Your blood pressure spikes.

You unbutton the shirt and seriously consider throwing it at his beautiful head.

You’re so annoyed it takes you longer than it should to register the way his gaze is roaming your naked body.

‘Min Yoongi,’ you say, injecting as much ice into your tone as you can, ‘you know we can only tolerate each other when we’re drunk.’

‘My morning wood’s not picky,’ he drawls, like it’s a compliment.

You roll your eyes. You know Yoongi’s always been attracted to you physically.

It’s your personality he can’t stand.

‘I’m sore,’ you tell him briskly, putting your dress back on. 

You’re not lying. You think Yoongi sometimes takes his anger with you out on your cunt.

You love it, really, but he’s got a generous dick and impressive stamina and you really are sore.

Yoongi, unusually, looks concerned. ‘Was it too much?’

You ignore the flutter in your chest as he picks your panties off the floor and passes them to you, smoothing a soothing hand over your lower back.

You step away from his touch as though his hand is burning. 

His sigh of irritation gives you life.

‘You’re deeply annoying,’ he tells you.

You smile, brilliantly, at him.

‘Oh Yoongi, are you this sweet to all the women you sleep with?’

‘Are you this annoying to all the men you fuck?’ he snaps.

Your smile falters for a second before you pull your mask firmly back in place.

You turn away from him and leave his bedroom without a goodbye.

***

Yoongi stares at the mark on his neck, just above the collar of his shirt, and thinks of you as he gets dressed for work.

Of course you’d had to mark him, even after he’d warned you not to. 

Sometimes you’re so fucking exasperating he can’t stand you.

Now he has to meet his entire board, including his father and grandfather, looking like a horny teenager.

He has a flashback to your beautiful thighs wrapped around his hips, ankles crossed behind him, as you begged him not to stop.

Yoongi tries to shut that image out of his head before the erection he’s had all morning returns, but the image is burned into his retinas.

Shit, it’s in living technicolour with fucking surround sound. 

Yoongi finishes getting dressed and stops by the kitchen for a coffee.

Mrs Gye, his housekeeper, smiles politely at him as she hands him his flask.

Yoongi thanks her, and is about to leave when he remembers.

‘Can you make some herbal tea for Mrs Min, please? She’s not feeling too well this morning.’

Mrs Gye nods, ‘of course, Mr Min.’

‘Don’t tell her I asked you to do it, just say you made some,’ Yoongi instructs. 

Mrs Gye looks like she’s about to protest, but Yoongi’s already out the door into his waiting car.

***

You sigh with pleasure as you sip your herbal tea on your way into work. 

Mrs Gye, your housekeeper, is truly a treasure.

She’d assured you that Yoongi hadn’t noticed anything different about his morning flask of coffee.

Yoongi’s a man of habit, so much so that he’s predictable in every way. 

One of the cleaners had dropped his favourite flask and cracked it yesterday. 

She’d been apologetic, but you’d been worried.

You know he’s got a big meeting with the board of his company today and you’d been determined not to let anything detract from his focus.

You’d driven to three places after work before you’d been able to find a replacement. You’d bought five, just to futureproof against any other flask mishaps.

Of course, all that driving around had made you late for dinner and Yoongi had been sure you’d been late on purpose.

You can’t blame him, it’s the sort of stunt you’d have pulled five years ago when you first got married.

You’ve changed but you’re pretty sure Yoongi sees you as still the same spoiled, immature heiress he’d been forced to marry, as the oldest son and heir to his family’s vast business empire.

Anyway, Yoongi’d been seething throughout dinner. 

He’d spanked you until your ass was red raw.

You’d begged for more.

You stifle the delicious shiver that runs through you at the memory.

Your mood drops as you remember him accusing you of fucking other men.

Sure, you’d accused him of the same, but you’ve always been faithful to him.

You just don’t know if he’s been as faithful to you.

You’d heard the rumours about him and his breathtakingly beautiful and terrifyingly talented media director.

Park Gyuri was a model and actress before she went to grad school and earned an MBA. She waltzed into Yoongi’s family company, and she’s been doing a bang up job of everything since then.

She’s also the woman Yoongi was dating before he was forced to marry you.

You stopped seeking out the rumours because it became upsetting.

In your heart of hearts, you don’t think Yoongi’s any more in love with you than he was when you got married.

In truth, you wouldn’t blame him.

You’d spent years being the exact cold hearted bitch he’d eventually accused you of being.

You’re surprised it took him that long to finally snap.

***

Yoongi smiles at Gyuri as she walks into his office.

She’s beautifully put together as always, and she’s wearing green silk today, a shade that complements her colouring well.

‘Free for dinner tonight?’ she asks.

‘What’s the occasion?’ Yoongi asks. 

‘Nothing, I just want to have dinner with my friend,’ Gyuri says, smiling affectionately at him.

There’s a pause before ‘friend’, so brief Yoongi knows anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed it, but he did.

Yoongi would be lying if he said he’d never considered what his life would be like now if he hadn’t married you. 

He’d probably be less annoyed on a day to day basis.

He’d probably still be a member of the country club you’d got him kicked out of.

He might be married to Gyuri instead.

He’s about to say yes when your face floats into his head. The look in your eyes when he’d accused you of being annoying, which is definitely true, and of fucking other men, which he doesn’t think is true. 

Yoongi says, politely, ‘Rain check? I’d like to have dinner at home today.’ 

He’s been thinking about how you said you were sore, and he wants to check on you.

You’ll probably ignore him like you always do but he wants to see you’re all right for himself.

Also, he’s aware there’s an underlying frisson between him and Gyuri, and he doesn’t want to explore that just yet.

For once, Yoongi doesn’t linger in his office after everyone leaves. He picks up his bag and calls for his car and heads home.

When he reaches home, he walks into the kitchen. Mrs Gye is at the sink whilst something’s simmering on the stovetop. She startles when he sees him.

‘Ah, Mr Min, you’re back early.’

Yoongi murmurs something about working at home and hands her his flask. Then he stops, looking at another identical four flasks sitting to dry on the draining board by the sink.

Mrs Gye sees his line of vision.

‘Mrs Min bought them yesterday.’

Yoongi’s first thought is that you’re plotting something devious.

‘Where is Mrs Min?’ he asks.

‘She went up to her room.’

Yoongi doesn’t often go to your rooms, in fact he doesn’t think he’s visited you there this year at all.

He knocks on the door and there’s a muffled response.

‘I’m in bed, is it important, Mrs Gye?’

Yoongi says, ‘it’s me.’

He senses rather than hears your response. In moments you’re opening the door, pulling a robe tight around your waist.

Your hair is messy, your face devoid of makeup.

You look up at him self consciously. 

Yoongi puts a hand on your arm. ‘Are you ok?’ 

You frown at him. ‘You didn’t kill me with your dick. I’m on my period.’

Yoongi bites back the laugh that threatens to erupt.

You ask, ‘would you like to come in?’

Yoongi follows you through your bedroom to your living area. 

You pour both of you water and sit in your favourite chair, legs curling underneath you.

‘How are you doing, Yoongi?’ you ask, yawning.

‘Do you want to sleep with me?’ Yoongi asks, suddenly.

You choke on your water. 

Yoongi waits until you’ve recovered enough to speak.

‘Right now? Jesus Yoongi I said I was on my period.’

Yoongi looks unperturbed. ‘I didn’t mean fuck, although if you’re down, I am. I meant sleep with me. Do you want to sleep in the same room?’

You stare at him.

‘Are we in danger?’

Yoongi stares at you.‘What? No, don’t be ridiculous.’

‘You can tell me, Yoongi, my family have security contacts everywhere.’

Yoongi massages his forehead. ‘No. Forget it. Just forget it.’

You get up hurriedly as he looks like he’s about to ditch you. ‘Yoongi!’

He stops. 

‘You want to spend more time together?’ You ask, doubtful as to what he really meant.

‘We’re married,’ Yoongi points out, patient. ‘We’ll probably have kids eventually. Shouldn’t we try to get to know each other?’

You have a flashback, vivid, of Yoongi calling you a spoiled, stuck up bitch.

‘Yes. Let’s sleep together.’

Yoongi looks at you for a moment. 

He holds out his hand. 

With a sense of trepidation, you take it.

***

‘It’s weird not to be fucking,’ you say to Yoongi, pulling the covers up to your neck, looking around his room curiously. 

‘It’s also 9pm. Why are you already in bed?’

You hop out and trip over a pair of Yoongi’s slippers, sprawling on the floor.

Yoongi looks at you, shirt half unbuttoned.

‘I’m tired,’ you say, crawling back into bed.

You pull the covers over your head.

A moment later you feel him sitting on the bed.

He pats over where your head is.

‘Come have dinner with me.’

‘Is that an euphemism for a blow job?’ you ask from under the covers.

You sit up suddenly and realise Yoongi’s sitting on the bed in his briefs.

You can feel heat rush to your face. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen your husband naked before, hell, it’s not even been 24 hours since you last fucked.

But this is different.

This is intimacy when you’re more comfortable with fucking.

Yoongi’s watching the way your eyes rove over his thighs.

‘See something you like?’ he asks, coolly.

You scoff. ‘Of course I like the way you look, Min Yoongi.’

You get up. ‘Let’s eat.’

****

Yoongi eyes you over the soup you’re stirring.

‘Why did you buy so many flasks?’ he asks.

Your eyes snap to his. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I saw them.’

You shrug. ‘You like them. I want you to have replacements if one breaks.’

‘That’s thoughtful.’

‘Just being a dutiful wife,’ you chirrup cheerfully.

Yoongi stares at you like you’ve grown another head. ‘You are definitely not that.’

You nod in agreement. ‘You’re right.’

‘Are you feeling ok? You’ve barely touched your soup and you already tried to get into bed.’

‘I’m on my period,’ you tell him, again. You get up. ‘I’m going to go get some of my things and bring them to your room.’

‘It’s our room,’ Yoongi corrects, gently.

‘Our room,’ you repeat. 

By the time you’ve finished gathering your things, Yoongi’s just got to his door.

‘After you,’ he says, strangely formal.

You shoot him a look and head to his huge dressing room.

‘You can use that side,’ he says, pointing.

The entire wall he’s pointing at is made up of bare clothes rails at varying heights. 

You pull open a drawer, intending to deposit your toiletries and underwear in it, and stop when you see the packages inside it.

‘What’s this?’ you ask.

Yoongi walks over from his side of the dressing room.

Together you look at the boxes from a well-known underwear brand. It’s the same brand you tend to wear.

You look up at Yoongi, and to your surprise, the tips of his ears are red.

Your impatient, unsentimental husband actually looks… embarrassed.

You wait him out.

Finally, he mutters, ‘sometimes if I see something I like, I buy it for you.’

You can’t believe your ears. 

‘Did you buy this for — someone else?’ you ask quietly.

Another thought occurs to you. 

‘Did you buy this for yourself?’ you ask. 

Yoongi groans, irritably. 

‘I bought all this shit for you. My wife.’

He opens the top box and rifles through what looks like a beautiful red silk and lace teddy. You glimpse the tags. It’s your size.

‘I got this after that night when you wore that red dress to meet the Hans because you look fucking breathtaking in red.’

‘How do you know my size?’ you ask weakly, stalling to give your brain time to catch up.

‘Your size is the only fucking thing I do know about you,’ Yoongi says, still irritable. ‘How many times have I taken your lingerie off?’

You stare each other into an uneasy stalemate.

‘You really didn’t buy this for anyone else?’ you ask.

‘Believe me or don’t believe me,’ Yoongi says, at the end of his tether. 

He stalks out of his dressing room, and you blink blindly at the stack of boxes in the drawer.

By the time you re-enter Yoongi’s bedroom, the lights are off and he’s a lump under the covers.

You climb in the other side and after a moment, scoot over to be closer to him.

He’s got his back to you, rigid, cold.

You put your hand on his shoulder to warn him, then kiss the back of his neck.

‘Thank you,’ you tell him.

You’re half- asleep by the time he turns onto his back. His hand brushes yours under the covers, not holding it but touching you.

‘You’re welcome,’ he says. 

You curl your pinky finger around his, like a promise, and go to sleep.

***

When you wake up the next morning, Yoongi’s already gone.

His side of the bed is rumpled, and when you run your hand over the sheet it’s cold.

You need to think. 

Even better, you need a third party to do your thinking for you.

You send your best friend Nara a text, then notice the time.

Shit. You need to get to work.

You hop out of bed, trip over Yoongi’s slippers again and scurry to your own room to get dressed.

Your morning is pretty dull, a bunch of meetings with clients, a team brief before your new product launch tonight.

Nara meets you for lunch. 

Kim Nara has been your closest friend since junior tennis club. She has an impressively strong backhand, a competitive streak a mile wide and is the most loyal person you’ve ever met.

She pours you some wine from the bottle she started whilst waiting for you, then sits back in her seat.

‘What was so urgent you had to meet today?’ she asks.

Her eyes narrow. ‘Did Min Yoongi knock you up?’

‘What? No. I’m on my period right now,’ you protest. 

You take a gulp of wine to fortify yourself.

‘But it does involve him.’

Nara takes a matching big sip. ‘Hit me.’

‘I think I should try to get him to forgive me.’

‘For what?’ Nara asks. There’s a mischievous light in her eyes now.

‘For buying Kim Seokjin instead of him at that bullshit charity auction? For sending that chain email to all his employees with his STI testing results? For getting him blacklisted from every golf course in the country?’

You cringe.

You’d been young when you married Yoongi, spoiled and impulsive and naive and terribly, terribly selfish.

Nara sucks in a breath to power what you know is going to be a litany of crimes. You’d write it all down if it wouldn’t kill you to read what an asshole you were to him.

You have no idea why he hasn’t divorced you.

You guess this is why he tries to break you every time you have sex.

Nara’s talking about the time you ran off to Switzerland for three months, but you tune her out.

You need to make all this up to Yoongi, a man who buys you gifts even when you’re barely talking, and who wants to be closer to you despite everything you’ve done to him.

You figure ten is a nice round number.

You’re going to do it. 

You’re going to find the ten worst things you’ve done to Min Yoongi and make up for every single one of them.

***

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Min, Mr Kim says he can’t see you until his bodyguard gets here.’

You gape at the expressionless secretary who’s been dispatched to give you the news. He nods apologetically, then withdraws.

The nerve of Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin is Yoongi’s best friend, and instrumental in your plan to make things right with Yoongi.

It looks like he’s going to make you work for it every step of the way. You’ve been waiting outside his office for ten minutes already, and there’s no end in sight.

The first attack you’d launched on Min Yoongi after you got married was at a charity fundraiser where there had been, to your devious delight, an auction.

Not just any auction. Seokjin and Yoongi had been part of it, and you’d very intentionally bid on Seokjin despite wearing the Min heirloom pendant around your neck.

You’d bid a ridiculous amount and won him, a record that was shattered not long after by the ‘purchase’ of a man with a rakish glint in his eye, Jungkook, you think his name was.

Even worse, you’d paid a horny elderly society lady, Mrs Kang, known for her constant innuendoes and wandering hands, to purchase your then new husband.

He’s never told you what happened on their date. 

On your date with Seokjin you’d dressed so provocatively you were a quick move away from being arrested for public indecency.

To his credit, you hadn’t once caught Seokjin’s eyes wandering below your neck.

He’d spent the whole date scolding you on Yoongi’s behalf.

You’ve had other shenanigans with Seokjin, but the auction is the most scandalous one by far. You’re not surprised he doesn’t want to see you.

You glance at your watch and realise you’ve been waiting for over twenty minutes.

You get up to leave and you hear your name called in a deep voice that’s definitely not Seokjin’s.

It’s a man, around six feet tall, who looks the size of a refrigerator. He looks like he could break you in half and not break a sweat.

You’re escorted into Seokjin’s office.

‘Y/N,’ Seokjin says, formally, from behind his desk. ‘Have a seat.’

You aren’t sure if Seokjin realises that you practically grew up in boardrooms much more intimidating than this. 

You sit behind his desk obediently.

‘I wanted to talk to you about Yoongi,’ you say, rushed, because you don’t know how much time you have.

Seokjin looks at you evenly. ‘I have no interest in discussing my best friend with you.’

‘We don’t have to discuss him. I just want to make up for all of the things I’ve done to him over the years.’

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. You’ve always found him intimidating, if you’re honest. 

‘Anyway, can you convince him to put himself up for auction at the Rose Ball next month?’

‘Why?’ Seokjin snaps. ‘So you can humiliate him again?’

Your hackles rise at his tone, but you remind yourself of your end goal. You’re not sure you can make Yoongi cuddly but you think you might be able to make him like you.

‘I won’t humiliate him,’ you say, humbly.

Seokjin glares at you. ‘I need more assurance than your word, funnily enough.’

You like how loyal Seokjin is to Yoongi, but he’s sure being an ass right now.

‘I’ll pay you.’

Seokjin frowns. ‘Do I look like I need the money?’

‘I’ll cook dinner for Yoongi and you,’ you offer.

He snorts. 

‘Can you even cook?’

‘Jesus what do you want Seokjin?’

You stand, and immediately his bodyguard takes a protective step forward.

You throw your hands up in exasperation.

‘Yoongi really wants to go to watch the Portland Trail Blazers when they’re in town next month. It’s right before the Rose Ball. Take him and I’ll get him to auction himself off at the Rose Ball.’

You put out a hand, forgetting about the bodyguard for a moment.

You pull it back quickly when he steps in front of Seokjin. 

‘Deal,’ you call happily over the bodyguard’s shoulder.

‘Wait.’

Seokjin steps out from behind the human wall and holds out his hand.

You shake it. 

‘Don’t fuck me or Yoongi over,’ Seokjin warns.

‘I won’t,’ you promise.

***

Yoongi’s already home when you get back after work. 

He’s dressed in basketball shorts, a sweatband around his forehead.

‘You look hot,’ you say, absently, as you search through your drawer in his dressing room for a loose tee.

‘Here,’ Yoongi says. He tosses you a plain tee, one of his own. 

You put it to your face and inhale. 

‘It’s fresh,’ Yoongi says, dryly.

‘It smells like you,’ you say. ‘I like it.’

You step out of your work clothes and pull it over your head. 

‘I’m going to bed.’

You pause before you leave the dressing room. ‘Hey, Yoongi. I got tickets to the Portland trail blazers game next month. Wanna go together?’

Yoongi gapes at you. 

‘You didn’t seriously just ask me out to a basketball game with my favourite team whilst wearing my t-shirt and nothing else.’

You hadn’t been thinking about anything naughty but you snap to attention at his words.

‘Are you still on your period?’ Yoongi asks.

He’s already rounding the central island in the middle of his dressing room, where he keeps his watches and jewellery.

He’s heading straight for you.

You squeak and retreat to the bed.

He’s a second behind you, landing right on you before you can even yank up the covers.

‘Let’s make out,’ he says, voice husky.

‘Yeah,’ you agree.

His lips are almost on yours when you stop him.

‘Do you still want to make out even if we don’t—‘ you trail off, and Yoongi looks at you oddly.

‘Fuck?’ he supplies, helpfully.

You nod.

‘Are you serious? What do you think I am? Some sort of brute?’

‘We usually just skip to the fucking,’ you point out.

Yoongi stares at you for so long you think he’s had a stroke.

Then he leans over and kisses your forehead. 

Your eyes closed automatically when his lips touched you, so it takes you a moment to realise he’s pulling away. 

‘I’ll see you at dinner,’ he says. 

He’s out the door before you get a chance to say goodbye.

***

You’re trying to pick something to wear to the game with Yoongi. You’re not really a fan of basketball, not like he is. Your only knowledge of basketball consists of what you’ve gleaned from pictures of celebrities courtside and what you’ve seen in movies.

Once you’re dressed, you run downstairs to where Yoongi’s waiting. 

‘They’re not courtside,’ you say, apologetic, as Yoongi drives.

‘You’ve said that a few times,’ Yoongi says mildly, signalling to turn.

‘I just don’t want you to be disappointed,’ you say.

‘I won’t be,’ Yoongi says. 

‘I don’t know anything about basketball,’ you tell him. 

Yoongi looks at you with such disappointment it feels like you need to seek his forgiveness for yet another thing.

‘I’m calling the best divorce lawyer in town right after this,’ Yoongi says. ‘But first, let’s watch the game.’

‘What? You’re divorcing me over a —- sport?’

‘Not helping the cause,’ Yoongi retorts.

You want to pout but you’re pretty sure he’ll just get annoyed with you. 

Yoongi drives into a multi-storey car park and backs into a space so sexily you get a little wet just watching him. 

He even does that thing where he rests his arm against your seat, as though it’s a habit he can’t break even though his car has a rear camera.

You want to hold hands with him as you walk to the arena, but you rarely ever touch when you’re not fucking. 

Yoongi says, without looking at you, ‘what is it now?’

‘This is kind of like a date,’ you observe.

Yoongi sighs. 

He’s never really indulged your fondness for romantic gestures, you guess he’s always seen them as childish. 

‘It’s a date,’ he confirms. He leads you to your seats as though he knows the arena well. 

You look around curiously. The seats aren’t courtside, but you’re only a couple of rows back, and the view seems fine to you.

‘Is this ok?’ you ask.

‘They’re perfect seats. Stop asking me or I’ll kiss you and ruin your lip gloss.’

‘This is kiss proof, actually,’ you say, seriously. 

Yoongi turns fully to look at you. ‘Is that an invitation for me to test it out?’

‘Let’s just see how the date goes,’ you say, leaning back in your seat.

You can feel his eyes on you. He scoffs, but he doesn’t sound annoyed. 

The game is an exciting one, but you spend it mainly watching Yoongi. He’s pretty even-tempered most of the time, but watching basketball really seems to get his blood going.

He cheers so loudly and enthusiastically you’re almost deafened. Once the game gets going he barely even seems to notice you.

You’re glad he’s enjoying himself. 

At half time, you get him to take a selfie with you to send to Seokjin as proof. 

You’ve just sent it when he leans over and kisses you on the cheek, quickly.

You turn to him, but he’s already turned away.

You think about the feel of his lips on your cheek for the rest of the game, and somehow the second half flies by.

Yoongi’s so hyped by the time the game ends that you keep smiling at how endearing he is. 

‘I feel like you need to talk about this to someone who knows about basketball,’ you remark as you walk back to your car.

He grins at you. ‘I might stop by Seokjin’s place.’

‘Ah sure,’ you say, a little crestfallen that he doesn’t want to go home with you.

You fiddle with your phone, realising you don’t even know where Seokjin lives. ‘Is home on your way?’

‘I’ll drop you off,’ he says. 

You’re quiet on the drive home. Yoongi pulls into your driveway and shuts the engine off. 

‘Hey,’ he says.

You turn to him. 

‘Thanks for getting us tickets. And thanks for coming with me.’

You smile. ‘It was Seokjin’s idea,’ you demur. ‘See you later, Yoongi.’

You get out of the car and are walking to the front entrance of your home when you hear the car door close behind you.

There’s footsteps, and by the time you turn, Yoongi’s standing in front of you, barely two feet away.

‘Hey,’ he says again. ‘Can I get a kiss goodnight?’

You reach into your brain for a snappy remark but come up with nothing.

All you can do is look up at him as he leans over you and kisses you. His tongue flicks at the seam of your lips, once, and then he’s pulling away.

He smooths your hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

The action makes your heart flutter helplessly in your chest. He rarely ever touches you like this. 

Yoongi rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, gently.

‘I’ll see you later. I’ll try not to wake you up when I get in.’

He waits, engine idling, until you’re safely indoors before he drives off.

***

You’re nervous. It’s the night of the Rose Ball, and the charity auction where you’re going to orchestrate the first stage of making up with Yoongi.

You’ve picked a red dress because of what he said about you looking pretty in red.

Yoongi knocks on your bedroom door, because you’d wanted to get ready alone.

You open the door and take in the vision of your husband in a white dinner jacket, hair pushed back from his forehead and styled beautifully.

There are silver earrings glinting in his ears, and his hair is currently silver to match. 

‘You look very handsome,’ you tell him, honest.

He holds out his arm. ‘I think you’re wearing red on purpose to fuck with me, aren’t you? Quick, say something annoying so the universe can tilt back to its normal axis.’

Gamely, you pout at him and whine, ‘why didn’t you get me any new jewellery to wear, Yoongi?’

‘I’ve got some pearls I can put around your neck,’ Yoongi suggests. 

‘I’d rather you put them down my throat,’ you say, suggestively.

‘There’s my spoiled little horny heiress,’ Yoongi says, approvingly.

You roll your eyes. ‘I’m not spoiled.’ 

‘Try saying that in a less whiny tone,’ Yoongi tells you unsympathetically.

‘I’m not whiny.’

‘I hope you saved up some money to buy Kim Seokjin again tonight,’ Yoongi says.

You frown.

‘I’m gonna buy you, not Seokjin.’

He snorts. ‘I hope you’re not expecting me to buy you.’

You pause. This is an angle you hadn’t even considered. 

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

At the ball, you read through the list of names up for auction. To your annoyance, Seokjin, Yoongi and you are all one after another, clustered together.

You think it’s an attempt to capitalise on the scandal of the previous time Seokjin and Yoongi were up for auction.

You’re nervous all throughout dinner, and by the time the auction starts you’re vibrating with nerves.

Seokjin stands when his name is announced, nodding at the emcee. Across the table from you, you can feel Yoongi’s eyes burning into your head. 

The bidding starts at a cool 5 million won, and rapidly escalates.

Seokjin, devastatingly handsome in a beautiful tux that emphasizes the broadness of his chest and shoulders, doesn’t even have the decency to pretend to be surprised.

You look at Yoongi and keep your hands perfectly still in your lap.

‘50 million won, do I hear 55?’ 

It’s a relief when the bidding closes at 75 million won. You don’t even see who the highest bidder is, concentrating on your husband sitting across from you.

When Yoongi’s name is announced, he stands and nods. 

You think to yourself again how beautiful your husband looks.

You keep up with the bids easily. To your annoyance, the bidding is fast and furious, and it’s only moments before you’re holding at 90 million won.

‘Do I hear 95?’ 

‘100 million won.’

You turn, aghast, and look into the diabolical and devious eyes of Kim Seokjin. 

Why the hell is Kim Seokjin driving up the bidding war on your husband?

Yoongi just looks amused when you stare at him, accusing.

‘110 million,’ you snap.

You try to stare the evil bastard down between bids.

By the time you get to 150 million won, you’re glaring daggers at Seokjin and Yoongi.

‘Sold to Mrs Min.’ 

There’s barely time to breathe a sigh of relief before you realise Yoongi and Seokjin are now patting each other on the back. 

To your chagrin, they leave the room as your name is announced.

As the bids escalate on you, you pull your phone out and send Yoongi a rapid fire text.

Y/N: Buy me or I won’t fuck you tonight.

Yoongi, the bastard, makes you wait on read.

You’re dialling his number when you realise two things. 

One, that the bidding’s somehow reached a hundred million won.

And two, that the main bidder is a very beautiful man whom you’ve never met.

‘Going once….’

You squirm in your seat as Yoongi and Seokjin walk back into the room.

If there’s any urgency in Yoongi at all that his wife is about to be sold to a random stranger, his face doesn’t show it.

You suppose this is exactly how he felt when you let Mrs Kang buy him.

‘Going twice to Mr Park Jimin.’

Yoongi lifts a brow, and his eyes snap to the beautiful man. 

He nods to the auctioneer, and bidding resumes.

Park Jimin seems pretty determined, but he’s no match for your husband.

Yoongi buys you for a shade under two hundred million won.

***

You’re trying to unfasten your necklace whilst Yoongi gets changed after the ball.

‘Two hundred million won,’ you say, teasingly. ‘Guess I’ll need to put out.’

Yoongi grunts, and a moment later he says, ‘lift your hair.’

You pull your hair away from the back of your neck and he unfastens your necklace for you. 

‘You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to,’ he says. 

Later, in bed, you’re lying awake next to Yoongi, thinking about the night.

‘Yoongi,’ you whisper.

He sounds like he’s stifling a groan. ‘What?’

‘Thanks for buying me.’

It’s so dark you can’t see any of his features.

Eventually, he says, ‘there was never a possibility that I wouldn’t.’

‘What?’ you ask, surprised. ‘Say that again.’

‘Good night, Y/N.’

***

You think that one of the things that irritated Yoongi the most about you when you first got married was your total lack of interest in getting to know his friends.

And so part two of making up with Yoongi involves Kim Namjoon.

He’s an interesting man, from what you know of him.

Like Yoongi and Seokjin, he comes from a privileged background. Unlike Yoongi and Seokjin, though, he’s not in the family business. He runs an art gallery in the city with his partner, Nayeon.

You’re apprehensive about approaching Namjoon at the gallery but you can’t think of any other way to meet him.

Seokjin’s less icy to you since you took Yoongi to watch basketball and since the successful completion of step 1, but there’s no way he’d voluntarily help you. 

You push open the glass door and decide to just walk around.

Unlike Seokjin, Namjoon doesn’t make you wait. 

You’re barely in the cool comfort of the gallery before he’s standing next to you. 

‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ he asks, politely.

You search his expression for hints of sarcasm, but he seems perfectly sincere.

To be fair, you’ve never tried to provoke him like you did Seokjin.

You decide to be as direct as he is.

‘I was hoping to invite you and Nayeon for dinner at ours,’ you say.

He doesn’t answer straight away.

‘I haven’t really tried to get to know Yoongi’s friends, since we’ve been married,’ you say, pointing out the obvious. ‘I’m trying to remedy that.’

Namjoon gives you a long look. 

You wonder what Yoongi’s been saying about you to his friends.

Judging by how wary all his friends are around you, you don’t think he’s been singing your praises.

You’re just about to speak again, when Namjoon says, ‘Yoongi often comes to ours on a Sunday night for dinner. I’m sure Nayeon would be really pleased if you could make it with him this Sunday.’

You smile, grateful. ‘I’d love that.’

Namjoon gives you another long look, then a dimple flashes in his cheek.

It transforms his face, which up until now had been rather stern and intimidating.

‘I’ll see you Sunday.’

***

Yoongi’s watching you polish off the last of the bread at dinner, bemused.

You figure now’s as good a time as any to tell him about how you’ve invited yourself to dinner on Sunday.

He takes it in his stride.

‘I’ll try not to embarrass you,’ you say, jokingly.

‘Like when you sent my sexual health test results to my entire company?’ asks Yoongi.

You look down at your plate. 

Shit, another thing you need to atone for. 

‘Sorry about that,’ you tell him, contrite.

‘It’s fine,’ Yoongi says, rolling his eyes. ‘I became a meme for a few months, I can cope with that.’

You put your hand on his arm. ‘I really am sorry. Want a blow job?’

Yoongi rolls his eyes again. ‘Are we so emotionally stunted we can only communicate through sex?’

His tone is cutting. 

You’ve been so soft for him lately that there’s a pang of hurt in your chest.

‘You’re a lot more tolerable when you’re fucking me,’ you say, coldly.

‘Likewise, princess,’ Yoongi snaps.

You get up from the table and go to watch TV alone in your rooms.

By the time you go in to Yoongi’s bedroom, it’s dark.

You slide in next to him and turn away, back facing him.

You hear a sigh, then his hand pats the sheets, looking for yours. 

You tuck your hands between your legs.

Yoongi’s hand travels down your arm, seeking your hand.

His thumb brushes over your clit, and you let out a surprised ‘oh’.

Yoongi shifts over, spooning you, chest pressing against your back.

‘Can I touch you, princess?’ he asks, voice low. ‘I’ve been thinking about how you pouted at dinner and I’m so fucking hard.’

‘I don’t want to cum for you,’ you tell him, petulant.

Yoongi nibbles at your neck, sharp teeth sending shocks of pain and pleasure through you.

‘I’ll make you cum anyway, princess. Get you grinding against my hand and crying my name. You always sound so pretty for me.’

‘Yoongi,’ you murmur, but your legs are already spreading to make room for him.

‘That’s my girl,’ he says, fingers slipping through your slick heat like he hadn’t expected anything less. ‘Let me fuck the spoilt brat out of you until only my baby’s left, hmm?’

Yoongi talks dirty to you until you’re creaming around his fingers, then his cock.

***

Yoongi looks up from his phone and gives you a quelling look.

‘Stop fidgeting.’

You hug the bottle of wine you’re bringing to Nayeon and Namjoon’s place to your chest.

‘Who else is going to be there?’ you ask.

‘Usually it’s Seokjin and me. Sometimes Gyuri comes.’

You think about that and wish, childishly, that you’d chosen a nicer outfit.

You realise Yoongi’s watching your face.

‘I appreciate you wanting to meet my friends,’ he says, carefully. 

‘Oh it’s about time I made an effort, don’t you think?’

Yoongi gives you a long look and rings the doorbell.

You’re greeted by a relaxed-looking Nayeon.

You don’t know her well, but she’s always struck you as nice. You feel an odd pang as you see the affectionate way Yoongi greets her.

Here’s a whole other aspect of his life you’ve never been involved in.

You volunteer to help Namjoon cook the rice. To your bemusement, he’s frighteningly accident-prone.

Within five minutes, you’ve saved him from putting his hand on a hot pan twice. You shudder when you see him pick up a knife to chop vegetables.

Nayeon nudges you. ‘Don’t worry. He’s not too bad. Someone always keeps an eye on him.’

‘Like a toddler,’ you mutter, then you remember where you are.

Nayeon just laughs. ‘I think of it as he’s still getting used to his size.’

You laugh. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t get any bigger then.’

You look up as Seokjin enters the kitchen with Yoongi.

Your eyes meet Seokjin’s. He nods coolly at you.

You smile back.

To your surprise, Yoongi claps a hand on Seokjin’s back. 

‘Yah, Jin, greet my wife properly.’

Seokjin pulls Nayeon into a hug, then stops just in front of you. 

You put out a hand for him to shake, and instead, he pulls you into a hug too. 

You look up at him, a little wary.

‘Don’t you need your bodyguard?’ you ask, unable to resist.

Seokjin narrows his eyes at you. ‘I’m watching you, brat,’ he replies, so softly only you can hear.

‘And Yoongi’s watching you,’ you return, snarky.

Seokjin’s eyes darken. ‘Clearly Yoongi’s too soft on you, given your attitude.’

‘Break it up,’ Yoongi’s voice says from behind Seokjin.

You slide around Seokjin and stand next to Yoongi. When Yoongi turns to talk to Nayeon, you flip Seokjin the bird.

He glares daggers at you but has to quickly rearrange his expression when Yoongi and Nayeon ask him a question.

You’re so busy fielding all the interactions that it’s a relief to sit down to dinner.

Ah shit. 

There are prawns in the broth, the one thing in the world you’re allergic to.

It’s your own fault. Early on in your marriage, for reasons known only to you, you’d decided to let Yoongi think you were a snob about seafood rather than just telling him you were allergic. Cue a very uncomfortable dinner when you’d refused to eat anything one of his chef friends had cooked.

Seokjin, next to you, looks at your untouched bowl pointedly. ‘Don’t you like it?’ he asks, voice so velvety it’s not immediately obvious he’s jeering at you. 

You grit your teeth and pray the epi-pen in your bag is in date. 

It’ll probably be fine, unless you have a whole prawn….

As if on cue, Yoongi hands you a prawn he’s just peeled.

You’d always thought Yoongi would be the death of you, but you’d thought the mechanism would be from hate fucking you into oblivion, or irritating you into apoplexy.

Not a fucking prawn that he’s peeled for you because he’s decided to be a solicitous husband for once in his life.

You can feel a few eyes on you.

‘Oh that looks delicious,’ you chirrup brightly. You accept the prawn, swallow it quickly, wait a beat, then excuse yourself.

You grab your bag on the way to the bathroom, fumbling for your epi-pen. 

You jab it into your thigh just as the familiar tingling starts in your throat.

The door opens, and you’re faced with Yoongi, staring at you. 

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he hisses. 

He grabs the epi-pen you’ve just dropped on the floor. 

‘Are you shooting up in my friends’ house?’ he snaps.

You shake your head, voice raspy. 

‘I’m allergic to prawns.’

Yoongi stares at you like he can’t quite believe his ears. 

‘What?’

You want to repeat yourself but your voice is getting hoarser. 

Yoongi seems to click into action then. ‘Fuck. Do you need the hospital?’

You nod. 

Moving faster than you’ve ever seen him, Yoongi grabs your arm and hustles you out of the bathroom.

He scolds you all the way to the hospital.

‘You’re an idiot, you know that? Why would you eat something you know you’re this allergic to?’

Two blocks away. 

‘Why couldn’t you just tell me? Of all the stupid stunts you’ve pulled—‘

At the entrance of the emergency room.

‘If you die from this I’m going to follow you into the afterlife and kill you again.’

You’d snap back if he didn’t sound more worried than angry.

Yoongi sits beside your bed, filling in a form on a tablet with your details. You can see him typing in your name. 

You grab his arm. ‘Not my name,’ you rasp.

Yoongi frowns at you. You fumble in your bag and pass him your driver’s license.

He looks at it for a long moment. 

‘You changed your name? You said —-‘

He cuts himself off with visible effort. You can see a vein throbbing in his forehead.

He fills in the rest of the form, swearing softly under his breath. 

You close your eyes and lose yourself to nightmares about prawns.

When you wake up, Yoongi’s sitting by your bed.

You say his name.

He runs a hand over his face. ‘How are you feeling, princess?’

‘I’m fine. Can we go home?’

‘They want to keep you in a little longer.’

You sigh. 

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were allergic to prawns?’ Yoongi asks.

He sighs. ‘That time, with Mingyu, when he made us all that food. I thought you were being such a bitch.’

‘I am a bitch,’ you say. ‘I hated you back then. I hated our marriage and I hated that it felt like I didn’t have any choice in anything.’

‘And so you decide to die because I fucking peeled you a prawn?’

‘Why did you do that? You always say if you can’t peel a prawn you don’t deserve to eat it.’

‘Jesus fucking christ. I just wanted to.’

‘What a time to choose to be the doting husband,’ you say, regretfully.

Yoongi snorts with laughter. ‘Are you allergic to anything else I need to know about?’

‘Assholes,’ you mutter. ‘That’s why Seokjin and I don’t get along.’

Yoongi laughs again. ‘You’re such a rude brat. He won’t stop calling me. He wants to apologise for putting pressure on you to have the broth.’

‘Nayeon and Namjoon want to know if you’re ok, too.’

‘Tell them I’m fine.’ 

‘Here,’ Yoongi says. ‘I’ll add you to the group chat and you can tell them yourself.’

You send off a few texts and put your phone down.

‘I need to call my lawyer,’ Yoongi says, running a hand through his hair.

‘You’re divorcing me over a prawn allergy?’

‘No,’ says Yoongi, patient. ‘Now that I know your real name, I need to get it changed in my will and also on all the properties I’ve invested in for you.’

‘Ooh, I’m in your will?’ you ask, intrigued. ‘What do I get?’

‘None of your business,’ Yoongi says.

You wave a hand threateningly. ‘I could kill you right now and find out.’

Yoongi fends you off easily. ‘You should be resting.’

‘We could be arguing about this at home,’ you point out.

By the time you’re discharged from the hospital, it’s the early hours of the morning.

When you get home, you’re greeted by Mrs Gye. 

‘I took care of it,’ she tells Yoongi.

Yoongi nods and thanks her.

‘Took care of what?’

‘Mr Min rang earlier and told us to get rid of all the prawns in the kitchen and pantry,’ Mrs Gye says. She’s apologetic. ‘We didn’t know you were allergic, Mrs Min.’

You glance at Yoongi, who’s slipping off his shoes. 

‘You didn’t have to —‘

He cuts you off. ‘It’s a risk I’d prefer not to take again.’

He starts up the stairs, heading for his bedroom. ‘I’m going to try and get some sleep.’

You hurry after him, because he’s not waiting for you. 

***

You’re coming out of your meeting with the manager of the third country club you got Yoongi blacklisted from when you spot a familiar face.

A familiar, beautiful but unwanted face.

‘Seokjin,’ you say, nodding politely.

He leans down, and automatically you present your cheek to him for a kiss.

‘How are you doing?’ he asks, courteously.

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. ‘I’m fine. And yourself?’

To your astonishment, he actually seems to be a little shamefaced as he says, ‘I’m sorry I urged you to have the broth at Namjoon and Nayeon’s the other day.’

‘It’s fine, you couldn’t have known,’ you say, neutrally.

‘What are you doing here?’

It’s your turn to look repentant. 

‘I got Yoongi blacklisted from all the country clubs. I’m getting him re-invited to all of them.’

Seokjin’s gaze is penetrating. 

‘You seem like you’re really trying to make amends,’ he observes.

‘Yeah well, I was, like you keep pointing out to me, a brat.’

He’s been walking with you to the lobby. 

‘Can I offer you a lift anywhere?’ he asks. 

‘Ah, I’ll just wait for a cab.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘Doesn’t Yoongi have a driver?’ 

‘He does. I don’t.’ 

Seokjin nods to the car waiting for him. ‘Do you have other country clubs to go to?’

‘I have four left,’ you say. 

Seokjin looks at you in firm way he does. ‘Come on. I’ll take you.’

You climb into the back seat with Seokjin. 

‘You’re not taking me somewhere to murder me and dispose of my body, are you?’ you ask, only half-joking.

Seokjin settles back in his seat and loosens his tie. 

‘I’ve got the afternoon off, and I’d prefer not to commit murder during it,’ he says, not reassuringly. 

With Seokjin by your side, the next meeting is almost enjoyable. You even get offered champagne, which you gulp down.

Seokjin looks at you, amused. ‘Stressful day for you?’ 

‘You make me nervous,’ you admit. 

‘I just don’t want Yoongi to be hurt anymore.’

You digest the idea that Yoongi wasn’t just inconvenienced and embarrassed, but actually hurt by your actions of the last few years.

That would imply he cared.

You’re staring out the window, thinking, when Seokjin says. ‘Of course, he didn’t want to marry you either, at the beginning.’

You chew on your lip. 

‘But he was willing to make his best effort to be a good husband to you. He’s decent like that.’

You turn your head so Seokjin can’t see your face.

He’s not wrong. Yoongi’s never once retaliated for anything you’ve done to him. 

Instead he’d grown progressively more cold and impatient and distant.

The wave of guilt surprises you with its depth.

‘I’ll make it up to him,’ you say, quietly. 

Seokjin puts his hand on your arm so you’ll look at him.

‘He has a real soft spot for you,’ he tells you. ‘God knows why, I would have punished you long ago.’

You flick your eyes up at him. ‘Luckily I married a more forgiving man than you,’ you say, summoning your haughtiest tone.

Seokjin just laughs. ‘We both want the best for him,’ he says. ‘Maybe you’re not such a cold hearted bitch after all.’

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself. We aren’t friends,’ you sneer, out of habit.

Seokjin turns away and laughs quietly to himself.

At your next meeting, Seokjin gets whiskey served to you. 

You’re a total lightweight, and with your empty stomach, you know you’re heading to a danger zone.

But damn, it’s also intoxicating having polished, suave Seokjin by your side at these meetings with older men. 

It’s after your final meeting, three drinks later, that Seokjin says, ‘dinner?’

You hold on to his arm to steady yourself. 

‘Maybe we can have dinner at mine,’ you suggest. 

‘Great idea,’ Seokjin beams. ‘I love Mrs Gye’s cooking.’

You never actually make it inside the house. 

Yoongi finds you and Seokjin sprawled on the front steps, arguing about which country club offered the best membership package.

You slap a brochure onto the steps between you. 

‘This was clearly the best deal,’ you announce. You squint but it doesn’t make the words any clearer. 

Seokjin sweeps the brochure away dramatically. 

‘Wasn’t.’

‘Wassss.’

Yoongi says, dryly, ‘why do people who can’t handle their alcohol go drinking?’

Both you and Seokjin glare at each other, then at him.

Yoongi sighs. ‘I can’t carry both of you at once.’

‘Take the asshole first,’ you snap.

Seokjin leans towards you menacingly. ‘What did you call me?’

Yoongi hurriedly lifts you up under the arms, and you curl into his chest. 

‘Take me to bed, Yoongi,’ you say, looking up at him. 

‘You’re heavier than you look,’ Yoongi grunts.

‘It’s my brain,’ you say, trying be helpful. 

Seokjin snorts rudely behind you.

Yoongi says, voice low, rumbling in his chest, ‘ignore him.’

You press a kiss to Yoongi’s chest. ‘Sorry I’m so heavy.’

He smiles at you with that looks like affection. 

‘It’s fine. I’ll just drop you if it’s too much for me.’

Yoongi helps you into bed and unzips your dress. 

‘Can you do the rest so I can get Seokjin?’ he asks.

You nod, convincingly. You’re still trying to tug your arm out of the sleeve when you give up and pass out.

Yoongi helps Seokjin into your bed and returns to his room to find you sprawled exactly where he left you, half undressed.

He slips your dress off you. You crack an eye open.

‘Yoongi,’ you say, whiny.

Yoongi replies, ‘yes?’

‘I just want you to like me,’ you say. For a moment you look completely lucid, and sad.

His heart gives a dangerous jolt then, like somehow, you’ve worked your way into it. Like a household pest.

Yoongi can’t bear the thought of exterminating you.

‘Stop being so annoying then,’ Yoongi says, trying to be stern but it comes out weak. He’s not even convincing himself at this point.

You put your hand over your heart. ‘I’ll try my best,’ you promise.

***

At breakfast, Yoongi frowns at his phone. 

‘Why am I getting invited to become a member of every country club in the vicinity?’

Seokjin, dressed in Yoongi’s clothes, mumbles something unintelligible into his cereal.

You look up from your pancakes and through your sunglasses at your husband.

‘I got you blacklisted from every single country club in the area when we first got married, so I spent yesterday getting you reinvited.’

You point your fork at Seokjin and say, grudgingly, ‘Seokjin helped.’

Seokjin sips his juice. 

‘Why did we drink so much?’ he asks.

‘You’re the one that kept asking for drinks,’ you point out.

Yoongi holds up a hand between you to break you up.

‘Why?’ he asks.

‘I’m making up for being awful to you,’ you tell him.

Yoongi frowns. ‘Is that why you’ve been so erratic lately?’

You’re offended. ‘I’m not erratic.’

‘Taking me to that basketball game? Buying me at the auction? Dinner at Namjoon and Nayeon’s?’ Yoongi asks.

‘Riding you in the shower yesterday,’ you add.

Seokjin covers his ears.

‘I’m being nice,’ you say.

Yoongi says, ‘I appreciate your efforts, but you don’t have to make anything up to me.’

‘She does,’ Seokjin interjects.

You toss a pancake at him. 

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

‘We’ll talk later,’ he says to you.

‘I don’t know why he’s still here,’ you say to Yoongi, like Seokjin’s not in the room.

Yoongi pushes your coffee towards you. ‘Drink. Finish your breakfast. Seokjin and I have a meeting to get to. Let’s talk later.’

‘I have a surprise for you tonight,’ you say, remembering.

Yoongi leans down to kiss your cheek.

‘I don’t like surprises.’

‘You’ll like this one,’ you promise. 

***

You once sent a troupe of strippers to put on a show at an important business meeting Yoongi had organised with a notoriously conservative client.

The deal had fallen through despite months of preparation and expense.

It was then that Yoongi had finally snapped and called you a cold hearted bitch for the first time.

You’d thought long and hard about how to make this up to him, and you don’t know enough about his company to source an equivalent deal.

You’re hoping dancing for him in the red teddy he got you will help.

You’re not a bad dancer, and you’ve been taking lessons for weeks, enough that you’re pretty confident you can pull it off.

You’ve hired a room in an underground sex club, hoping the gritty feel will add to the thrill of it.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows when you lead him through the private entrance off the street, down a flight of stairs, to a darkened corridor.

You lift the keycard out of your thigh-high stockings and unlock the door. 

You’d shared a bottle of wine at dinner, and you’re feeling good.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room, like you’d specified. The lights are off apart from a blue glow. It’s dark enough to lend a sense of intimacy, but light enough that you can see Yoongi’s gorgeous face clearly.

God, your husband looks beautiful tonight, all in black, his lips stained from the wine.

He leans back on the chair, legs spread, watching you.

The one thing you’ve always liked about Yoongi that he knows when to keep his mouth shut.

His lips part as you turn in front of him and unzip your dress. It puddles on the floor in a shimmering heap.

You hit play on the music and start dancing.

Yoongi’s gaze focuses intensely on you as you dance for him. You put your legs on his thighs, pushing them apart to make space for yourself as you shimmy between them.

Your ass brushes his crotch, deliberately, lingering longer and longer with each pass until you’re grinding against him.

Yoongi, like a seasoned strip club connoisseur, keeps his hands to himself, braced on his thighs.

You turn so you’re facing him, leaning forward to encourage him to look down the top of your silky teddy. Your nipples are stiff, pushing against the silk, and you put two fingers in his mouth.

He needs no prompting, sucking on your fingers, tongue delving between them suggestively.

You put a hand on his shoulder and run your wet fingers over your nipples. 

Yoongi grunts, eyes fixed on your tits.

You slide your hand down between your legs and lean over him to whisper in his ear.

‘I’m imagining your fingers here, Yoongi,’ you purr, gratified by how you can see his skin prickling with goosebumps.

Yoongi licks his lips. His voice, when it comes out, is so deep you’re wet just listening to him.

‘You know you really fuck me off sometimes,’ he says. 

For the first time since you started dancing for him, you falter.

You look at him uncertainly. 

His hand comes out, landing on your silk-covered hip, long fingers splaying over your ass.

‘I think it’s your face,’ he muses, almost like he’s talking to himself. ‘Your face is so fucking bratty I want to shove my dick in your mouth just to shut you up.’

He pulls you down so you’re sitting in his lap, straddling him. 

He cups your jaw, pulling your face closer to his. His thumb traces over your bottom lip, teasing at the seam of your lips until your lips part enough for him to slip his thumb in.

Automatically, you suck. 

‘There,’ Yoongi says. ‘You always look so pretty with me in your mouth.’

You can’t help yourself. You whimper around his thumb.

‘I like this even more though,’ he says. 

Eyes on you, he moves his hand down your hip, cupping you between your legs, parted on his lap.

Like this, you’re spread out on top of him.

Yoongi hisses as he feels how slick you are. He teases at your clit, one finger slipping into you.

You say his name. God, he feels good.

He curls his finger, and you whimper again.

‘Your little pussy knows it belongs to me,’ he says, almost conversational, as he strokes your clit.

He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your breast as he fingers you, tongue laving the red silk.

You slip a strap down your shoulder so your breast is exposed, nipple taut for him.

‘Do it properly, Yoongi,’ you whine.

Yoongi laughs darkly. ‘Where’s your manners, baby?’

Your mouth snaps closed, lips thinning into a straight line. Your eyes flash at him.

Yoongi’s looking at you. 

‘There you are,’ he says, but oddly, there’s affection in his voice. 

He tilts his head to slant his mouth over yours in a slow kiss at the same time his fingers start scissoring inside you.

He smells so good. He pulls away and leans his forehead against yours. 

‘I kiss you all the time, brat, how could you say we skip straight to the fucking?’

You’re hazy with pleasure, his fingers haven’t stopped moving inside you, and he always seems to go unerringly to the spot that makes you cry out his name and beg for more.

You’re begging now. 

‘Yoongi,’ you moan. 

‘Who fucks you like this, brat?’ he hisses.

‘You,’ you answer, ‘please, Yoongi.’

‘That’s right,’ he says. ‘That’s fucking right.’

You’re grinding against his hand now, each movement making you flutter around his fingers. You’re so close you can taste it, chasing your high.

Yoongi pulls his fingers out, and you cry out. 

‘Yoongi!’

‘Cum on my cock, let me feel you.’

You fumble with the zipper on his pants, and he hisses as you draw him out. 

He grabs your hips and sinks you down onto his cock.

Fuck, he’s so thick and hot you could cum even if he stayed perfectly still.

Yoongi shudders. ‘Fuck. Fuck. Feel me, baby? You get me so hard for you it hurts.’

Your eyes are squeezed shut, concentrating on the feel of him.

‘So fucking tight for me, shit.’

You’re already starting to tighten around his cock when he slaps your thigh. ‘Go on, this is what you wanted isn’t it? Fucking take it, baby.’

His voice is low, slurred, pupils blown all the way.

He’s rude as fuck, and you’re about to cum your brains out thinking about it.

Only Min Yoongi could do this to you.

He knows it. His breathing is ragged, but he somehow has the presence of mind to say, ‘fuck. Does my baby want tenderness too?’

His lips press against yours, he slides his tongue into your mouth, and he cradles the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

‘Fucking cum for me,’ he murmurs. 

You slam your hips against his again, and finally, finally, you cum.

You curl into his chest, and he’s there, mouth on your hair. 

‘You did so well,’ he tells you. ‘Waving that ass in the air for me, shit. Wearing this. You’re gonna need to do this again.’

‘I want to be good for you,’ you say.

Yoongi tilts your face so you’ll look at him.

‘Why? I’m a cold bastard most of the time.’

‘You have a nice cock,’ you offer.

Yoongi laughs. ‘You can have my cock anytime. It’s all yours.’

‘Oh are we exclusive now?’ you tease.

‘I’m wearing your ring around my finger,’ Yoongi reminds you, showing you his hand. 

You tilt your head, pretending to think about it.

‘I’ll get you another ring to put around your cock.’

Yoongi grins and slaps your ass, gently. ‘Come on, get dressed. I want to get into bed with you. It’s my favourite part of the day.’

You want to ask if he really means that, but he’s already opening the door. 

***

Yoongi looks pretty sexy when he’s concentrating, you decide. 

You’ve graduated from sleeping together to also spending time together in his study sometimes in the evenings.

You’re trying to concentrate on reading a brief your social media manager prepared for you, but really your husband who isn’t doing anything other than frowning at his work, is distracting you.

Yoongi glances at you. ‘Need help with anything?’

You hum. 

He walks around his desk to stand next to you. 

‘What are you working on?’

You show him your brief. ‘Just prepping for a meeting tomorrow.’

Yoongi looks like he’s concentrating again, reading over your shoulder.

‘I’ve got it, Yoongi,’ you tell him.

He glances at you. 

‘I didn’t say you didn’t.’

You try to ignore the flare of irritation as Yoongi walks back to his desk.

You know Yoongi has a sharp intellect and great business instincts. He’s earned every bit of his impressive reputation.

You’d be a fool to turn down his help.

Maybe you are a fool. But you don’t want him to see you as the impulsive devil-may-care hellion he married. You want to show him that you, too, have earned your right for respect in your role.

You chew on that for a bit, and finally, sighing, give up and go to bed.

You guess it’s going to take a bit longer to change Yoongi’s perception of you.

***

You got up to a lot of shenanigans on your honeymoon with Yoongi. 

You were drunk for a lot of it, so you don’t remember much, but the bits you do remember are all bad.

You’d started drinking on the plane and spent the first night throwing up in the hotel bathroom.

And the second. Possibly the third.

You’d straight up disappeared after breakfast one day and had spent a day wandering the city on your own.

You’d also refused to sleep with him, claiming you were being treated for gonorrhoea. You’d accused him of giving it to you, which was how you’d ended up getting your hands on his test results to send to his company.

At least this is an easy thing to make up to Yoongi.

You couldn’t possibly make it a worse experience.

You’ve organised a weekend away with him, in a rustic little cabin by the lakes.

It works on many levels. The cabin’s a fair drive away, which means you get to watch your husband drive sexily. You think Yoongi likes nature, and you envisage doing a bit of paddling, maybe some fishing. 

Also, the isolation of the cabin means you won’t get any noise complaints, important because you intend on fucking Yoongi constantly this weekend.

You’re still congratulating yourself on your genius when Yoongi wakes up the morning you’re due to leave.

You’ve been awake for hours.

The smile you turn on him is so bright he grimaces.

Ah. You keep forgetting he’s not a morning person. Also you have no idea what time he got in last night.

You scurry out of bed to grab him a coffee and promptly trip over his slippers.

Yoongi swears behind you. ‘Why do you keep falling over my slippers? They’re in the same place every time.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t leave them there,’ you retort, hurt. 

Then you remember you’re on your best behaviour. 

You bite your tongue and go to grab him a coffee. 

When you get back, he’s on his back, staring at the ceiling. 

‘Got you coffee,’ you say, holding out his mug.

He accepts with a gravelly ‘thanks.’

You’re brushing your teeth when he says, ‘there’s been a supply problem with the new line we’re launching. I may need to spend time this weekend on the phone.’ 

‘That’s fine,’ you say, brightly. You’re determined not to let anything mar your new honeymoon weekend.

Yoongi says, gently, ‘is there any way we could reschedule?’

You stare at him. ‘Do you not want to go?’ 

The words are out before you get a chance to think them over. You could kick yourself at the neediness in your tone.

Yoongi says, ‘of course I want to go, I just don’t want you to be disappointed.’

You’re starting to wonder if he’s trying to tell you he doesn’t want to go. 

‘I won’t be disappointed,’ you say, watching his face carefully.

Yoongi smiles at you. ‘Then let’s set off after breakfast.’

Yoongi’s quiet as he’s driving, and you notice how tired he looks. You’re just about to suggest he pulls over to let you drive when he says, ‘something on my face?’

‘You look tired,’ you say. 

‘I am tired,’ he tells you. He smiles at you, faintly. ‘This upcoming collaboration with Novatech will be the biggest, most high-stakes project I’ve started since I took over from my father. I can’t afford for it to fail.’

‘Why would it fail?’ you ask.

‘There are a lot of moving parts,’ Yoongi says, vaguely.

‘I’m sure it’ll be a roaring success,’ you say, faith firmly in your capable, successful husband.

Yoongi says, ‘just don’t try to sabotage me.’

You say, earnestly, ‘those days are behind me.’

‘It’s a shame,’ Yoongi says, ‘I’m going to miss spanking you for misbehaving.’

That reminds you. 

‘You can spank me anytime,’ you tell Yoongi. ‘Also, check out these new panties I bought.’

Yoongi glances at you and nearly swerves off the road.

‘Are you wearing crotchless panties?’ he asks, and he looks intrigued and flustered all at once.

‘It’s called an ouvert,’ you explain. ‘That’s French for open.’

Yoongi mutters something to himself you don’t quite catch.

‘What did you say?’ you ask, sweet as pie.

‘I said, your fucking pussy is going to kill me,’ Yoongi says. 

He gives you a half smile, lazy, devastating. 

‘I can’t think of a better way to go.’

***

Yoongi’s phone rings the moment you step into the cabin.

You wonder if you should have plumped for somewhere more rustic with no cell reception.

You unpack half-heartedly, watching from the window as he paces around outside the cabin.

He rubs a hand over his forehead, looking more stressed and tired than you’ve ever seen him.

Maybe he’s been stressed like this before but you haven’t been paying attention.

You come out to bring him a glass of water.

He smiles at you, still on his phone.  

You flash him your ass and glance back to see if he’s watching. 

He isn’t.

When Yoongi’s done on the phone you grab him. 

‘Want to go for a walk? I’ll protect you from the wolves.’

‘I am the wolf,’ Yoongi says, but it’s half hearted.

‘Hey, why don’t you take a break. I’ll rub your back.’

Yoongi perks up at your suggestion, and it’s the most animated you’ve seen him all day.

You get him to lay on the bed just in his briefs.

You wonder if you’ll ever get used to how beautiful his body is.

You put your hands on his shoulders and knead, and his deep groan makes you feel good in so many ways.

You can feel Yoongi’s muscles relax as you massage over his shoulders and down his back. When you get to his legs he twitches a little like he’s falling asleep.

By the time you get to his feet he’s dead asleep.

You cover him with a blanket and a kiss and head out for a walk.

When you get back he’s still asleep, so you make a space for yourself next to him and join him.

You’re awakened by Yoongi’s hand on your shoulder. 

‘Hey, I made dinner for us.’

You blink, disoriented. ‘What time is it?’

‘It’s late. Come on. We’ll sleep better when we’re full.’

Yoongi’s made ram-don. You sigh happily as you sit down in front of the steaming bowl. Instead of sitting across from you, Yoongi slides in next to you.

His thigh nudges yours. He puts his free hand on your thigh. 

You look at him curiously.

Yoongi says, ‘eat.’

The noodles are delicious, but you find you’re enjoying Yoongi’s hand on your thigh just as much. 

You put your hand on his, and smile at him as he knits your fingers together. 

It’s sweet, and silly, and something you wouldn’t expect from your normally brisk, impatient husband.

Yoongi watches you finish your noodles, enjoying the warmth of your thigh and hand. He shifts a little, because he’s quite sure he shouldn’t have a raging hard-on from doing something as innocent as holding your hand.

You’re smiling at him so happily. If Yoongi’d known that holding your hand would be enough to make you smile like that he’d have tried to hold hands with you this whole time.

You’re finished with your late dinner. Yoongi stops you when you get up to start clearing up.

‘Let me do it. Why don’t we watch a movie? You set it up and I’ll clear up here.’

By the time Yoongi finishes clearing up, you’re ensconced on the couch, so covered in blankets he can barely see you. The lights are low, the TV on playing some movie Yoongi knows he’s not going to get into. 

He’d rather watch you.

He slides in next to you and holds out his arm.

You look at him like you’ve never been invited to snuggle before.

To be fair, Yoongi doesn’t think you’ve ever done this together.

He lowers his arm like he’s changed his mind, and you’re next to him so quickly he has to bite back a smile.

You rest your head in the curve between his neck and shoulder, cheek on his chest.

Your hand flutters over his torso, finally landing on his stomach. You turn in, nose against his chest, breathing him in.

It’s adorable. You’re adorable.

Yoongi wants to fight dragons for you. 

He leans down and sniffs your hair as quietly as he can. 

Your breathing is easy, slow, and Yoongi realises you’ve fallen asleep when you go boneless in his arms. 

He wonders if you know how much he’s prepared to do for you if you ever asked.

Part 2

You hated the idea. You fought it with everything that you had. The vampires disgusted you with their lust for blood and their strange habits. It was the worst thing you thought could happen.

But your father was right, it was the only choice your kingdom had left, and you had a duty to the people.

With that realization, is how you find yourself under this gorgeous oak tree in the middle of the night. The stars and moon and a few scattered candles are the only light to be found in this open field.

“Welcome one and all, witnesses to both His Highness the King and ______, princess of the human kingdom to our South, as they pledge their dedication to walk the night together. From the night we come, to the night we go, Cursed or blessed to walk the moonlight alone.”

The wedding dress that is chosen for you to wear is dark crimson, a bloody reminder of just who exactly is standing before you. With full lace skirts that drag against the ground, it’s light, airy even. It feels incredibly soft against your skin as your finger tips brush against the fabric but none of that matters as you still feel like you’re suffocating. It’s the absolute opposite of the dress you imagined yourself wearing on your wedding day but it is tradition here in the vampire kingdom for the bride to wear red.

“Sometimes another soul walks our path, Then two become one, in love everlasting. Come forward, Children of the Blood, And welcome this couple to your brood, Within each other, these two are found, Bear witness as their souls are bound.”

The hardest part of this is that it needs to be believable, and at the same time, the subjects from both kingdoms wanted you and the king to hate each other. So the wedding had to be done with official vows, ones that made it sound like the two of you were in love. It makes your stomach churn as the priest continues to speak.

“Please bring your left wrists forward towards me.” The priest said with a soft smile. Though it was gentle, his fangs are still visible, sending a shiver down your spine.

He takes out a red sash from his pocket and gently ties it around both of your wrists, Jungkook’s cold skin brushes against yours and makes you jump slightly. Though it’s as cold as stone, it’s also as soft as cashmere.

Finally, you allow yourself to look up at the man standing next to you.

You hate that he is so beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful being you have ever seen. Soft, thick, black hair slightly smoothed back away from his forehead, eyes almost as black as his tresses and lips that were sharp and hued pink.

When he catches you staring for a bit too long, he merely smirks and turns his attention to you.

“Sorry.” The king mouths to you, no sound coming from his mouth. You look back towards the priest quickly. He holds out a golden goblet beneath your bound wrists.

“Stand now as ye will stand forever, Like this crimson cloth your hearts are tethered, This goblet's contents are your symbols of devotion, So take the rings from the Goblet.”

Your hand shakes violently as you reach into the cup to retrieve the silver band that is to be placed on Jungkook’s right finger. You swallow thickly as you toy with the silver band in between your fingers, your pulse quickening because you know that not only can Jungkook hear the beating sounds of your heart, but all the other vampires present as well. Jungkook does the same with your wedding ring but with more confidence in his motions.

The ring he holds for you is a silver band as well, but it also contains a dark shaded ruby, cut into the shape of a blood drop or possibly a tear in the case of this marriage. But even then, it was stunning.

“______, please repeat these vows after me:

I will stand by your side, hunt at your back, and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.”

These vows had been written hundreds of years ago, meant for two vampires binding themselves together…not a vampire king and someone like you who is so very human. But you say them anyway, your heart still hammering in your chest as you turn your body towards the king and take his hand into yours, noticing just how soft his hands are before you slip the ring onto his awaiting finger.

“I will stand by your side, hunt at your back…” You pause when your voice shakes for a moment, “and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.”

You place the ring onto his finger and release the breath you have been holding the entire time. Jungkook smiles and takes your hand into his.

“King Jungkook, please repeat the vows to your bride.”

Jungkook waits a moment for you to look up at him, his eyes hold yours and his thumb rubs gently over the back of your hand. You wish you could pull it away…even more, you wish you wanted to pull it away.

“I will stand by your side, hunt at your back, and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.” His voice is alluring and even, as if he isn’t nervous about this at all. He slides the ring down your finger and lets it sit perfectly against your warm skin.

The priest hands the goblet to one of his assistants and turns back to the two of you after you’ve both finished.

“Above you are the stars, below you are the stones. As time passes, remember, like the star should your love burn brightly, like the stone should your love be firm. Be close, yet not so close that you restrict one another. Possess one another, yet grant each other the freedom to grow. Be understanding and compassionate, and have patience with each other, for storms may come, but they will quickly pass. Be free in giving affection and warmth. Fear not, lest the ways or words of the unenlightened give you unease.” He clasps his hands over your joined ones before he finishes the last part of the ceremony.

“As both your arms and the cloth form the symbol of eternity, may your love endure through this life and all others. As the Gods and the old ones are witness, with those of us present now, I proclaim them Husband and Wife, and thus are they bonded in Blood. The Two are now one. I present to you the Blood King Jungkook and Queen ______ forever bound, eternally free! You are husband and wife for all eternity. You may now kiss each other to seal your eternal bond of love.” The priest opens his arms and presents the two of you to the guests.

A kiss…was it necessary? Would they believe you if you didn’t kiss him? Would he be able to resist biting you? Would he taste of blood on his lips? So many thoughts plagued your mind in the moments before he cupped your cheek and tilts your face towards his.

“It’s just a kiss.” Jungkook whispered, only loud enough for you to hear. Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion at his gentle touch.

“One kiss.” You step forward and wrap the arm holding your bouquet behind his back as he leans down to mold his lips against yours.

You weren’t expecting the softness of them, assuming that their appearance would be deceiving. His cool hand on your cheek brings you just the slightest bit closer as your lips brush over his once…twice…three times before your brain catches up with you and you remember who you are kissing.

There are whispers amongst the wedding guests who watch the scene unfold in front of them. Some with disgust. Some with curiosity. However even with the divided opinions in the crowd, they all share the same opinionated attitude. You try to ignore them as best you can.

Your lips separate from his a little too quickly and your hand immediately flies up to cover your mouth and the gasp that escapes you. Jungkook smiles, a flash of fangs when his lips pull back, and gently touches the veil hanging from your head and cascading over your shoulders. He takes your free hand in his and turns you both towards the guests, who clap but don’t seem to be pleased.

“And now the crowns.” The priest turns back to his assistants and picks up the crown that belongs to Jungkook first. The king bends slightly at the waist and the crown is placed gently atop his head.

The crown looks too perfect on him, black and silver metal twisted into spikes with small red gems at the base. It’s as if he has always worn one, perfectly designed with Jungkook in mind. And maybe he has, you don’t know how long he’s been the king after all.

You hadn’t actually seen your crown until this moment. The priest picks it up from a black silk pillow and presents it to you to observe. Like Jungkooks, it too is also made from black and silver metal twisted into even more dramatic spikes. Large, jagged diamonds and rubies cover it in its entirety. It looks ridiculously heavy, and when the priest places it on your head, you find your assumption to be correct. Heavy and cold.

From somewhere nearby, horns and trumpets start to play, signaling the end of the ceremony. Jungkook takes your hand again, and the two of you make your way back down the makeshift aisle your father had nervously walked you down less than an hour ago, and already things feel so different.

You’re quickly whisked away by carriage. The space inside doesn’t feel big enough, you can’t get far enough away from him, but he simply stays on his side of the bench seat and doesn’t move towards you on the ride back to the castle.

Once you’ve arrived, you’re met at the doors by Jungkook's advisor, Namjoon, who you had met a few times beforehand during meetings with Jungkook and your father. He has a kind face, gentle like he could do no harm, but that did not change the fact that he is a still a vampire. Standing next to him is the Captain of the vampire kingdom's army, Yoongi. You had also met him previously, but he doesn’t speak much unless it’s to Jungkook regarding the royal army.

“Did everything go accordingly?” Namjoon asks as the two of you ascend the stairs to the castle.

“It was my wedding, Namjoon, not a transaction.” Jungkook moved to the side and motioned with his hand for you to walk ahead of him through the doors.

“Is that not exactly what this is?” You hear Namjoon say just before you’re inside, Jungkook sighing as he follows.

“He’s right.” You grumble.

“Beg your pardon?” Jungkook says from beside you, his hands clasped behind his back as the two of you walk towards the great hall where the celebration and dinner is being held.

“It wasn’t a real wedding. It’s part of a bargain.” You stop to face him and he does the same, looking at you bewildered.

“Perhaps the circumstances aren’t ideal, but the wedding was real, my queen.” He bows to you, and you’re sure the scowl on your face is as deep as they come.

“Let’s get this night over with.” You grab the skirt of your dress in your fists and begin stomping off towards the great hall. You can hear Jungkook laugh quietly, but you choose to ignore him.

You’re forced to mingle, your hand wrapped through Jungkook's arm as the two of you make rounds through the room. You absolutely despise the whole experience. But soon enough, you’re thankfully seated at the head table and wine is poured into your cup.

You notice that yours and your parents' place settings are the only ones with plates. But of course they would be, no one else in this damned kingdom eats food.

Downing the first glass of wine in one gulp, you signal for an attendant to bring you another one. You can feel Jungkook's eyes on you as you down one glass after another, unable to bring yourself to care about what he could possibly be thinking.

“Do you want any?” You finally ask him after your third glass. A very unladylike hiccup following.

“I think you know the answer to that question already, my queen.” He smiles softly but his jaw is tight with annoyance.

“I’m not your queen.” You say a little too loudly. Some of the guests begin turning their attention to you.

“You have every right to be angry, _____.” Jungkook tries to say under his breath, but you scoff loudly, reaching for the bottle of wine and rudely snatching it from the attendant.

“Angry? That does not even begin to cover it. I am outraged.” You take a swig from the bottle and laugh bitterly. “I am disgusted…and I am not your queen. You and your people are just…fucking vile.” You look up from the bottle of wine to see a look of horror on your father’s face from where he sits at the next table. You know you’ve said too much. You’ve been cruel. “Jungkook…” You start to correct yourself but he cuts you off by standing up from his chair with so much force that it flies back against the wall, causing the guests to look up and stare.

“One thing you are not going to do is insult my people. You can say all the terrible things you want about me, but not them. Not when they’ve given up so much so that your people can live.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you to your feet. “Let’s go.”

“Let go of me.” You try to pull your wrist away, but it’s no use against his inhuman strength. “Release me this instant!” Jungkook continues to pull you towards the door, your legs wobbly from wine and the heels on your feet.

“The evening is over. You need to sleep it off.” He pushes open the door and drags you into the dimly lit hallway.

“I am not sleeping with you!” Even though it’s futile, you scratch and pull at the sleeve of his embroidered jacket.

“As if I’d expect that of you.” Jungkook scoffs and swings you around to face him. He maneuvers your body until you’re pressed against the wall with your arms above your head, one of his hands pinning your wrists there.

“Let go!” You try to kick at him but he dodges every time.

“Whether you like it or not, my queen, this is your home now and these are your people. I have and will continue to do what’s best for everyone involved, including you.” His eyes are almost pitch black, a deep red threatening to spill into the iris’ as he speaks through his clenched teeth.

You must stop forgetting that Jungkook is a monster.

“You know nothing of what’s best for me.” You begin moving to spit in his face, but he knows what you are about to do before you have even finished the thought. His free hand comes up to cover your mouth, leaving you to glare at him without being able to talk.

“Listen carefully, my queen.” The grip on your wrists tightens slightly. “You are not the only one making sacrifices around here. So when you decide you want to act like royalty and not some drunken heathen, by all means come to me.” You jerk around in his hold, you just want him to get the hell away from you. He seems to understand your request as he slowly takes his hand away from your mouth.

“I fear you’ll be waiting a very long time, your highness. Possibly until my death, but I’m sure you’ll find that day ever so joyous.” You use your body weight to push at him once more and he finally releases you, but stays in close vicinity.

“Don’t assume you know anything about what I find joyous.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder towards the guards who are standing near the doorway to the hall. “Escort her majesty to her chambers, she’s not to leave them for the night.” Jungkook straightens his shirt and jacket, and begins making his way back towards the dinner hall.

“You can’t just lock me away! Do you hear me?” One of the guards motions for you to walk towards the opposite hallway.

“No more talking tonight. Go to sleep.” Jungkook says over his shoulder before he disappears into the dinner hall. You scoff loudly, taking off walking as fast as your drunken legs will allow you to go.

“Stupid, ignorant, pig headed blood sucker.” You grumble under your breath as you continue down the hallway. The dim lighting from the candles doesn’t allow you to see much, but you can see there is art on the walls that you would rather enjoy if you were not so pissed off. And if they did not belong to the most ridiculous man you had ever met.

The guards lead you to a winding staircase where you quickly find out that in your drunken state you are unable to climb them unassisted. At the top of the first set of stairs they split, one set going left and the other going right. The guards gesture for you to head to the left.

“And where does the right go?” You ask with a hiccup.

“To the king's chambers.” One of them replies. Jungkook had not been lying, he really had prepared your very own chambers. You reach the doors to your bedroom soon after.

One of the guards opens the door for you to enter the room. You cross your arms over your chest and practically stomp inside, turning around to face them.

“Your king is sadly mistaken if he thinks he can lock me up for the rest of my life. I’d rather die.” You aren’t sure what you expect them to say, but they merely bow before shutting the door.

As soon as it clicks shut, you grab the skirt of your dress into your hands and begin ripping the fabric apart, tossing the pieces around the room.

“Stupid, ridiculous, hideous dress.” You screech, grabbing the sleeves at the shoulders and ripping them apart too. You bend down to grab the heels off your feet, stumbling around before yanking them off and chucking them as far away from you as possible.

Your chest heaves with short breaths as you feel yourself burning with rage. Reaching up into your hair, you hastily pull out as many of the pins holding it into place as you can. You start to walk towards the wardrobe when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the far wall. You look like a forest witch. And not the good kind.

Changing your mind about finding other clothes, you begin to notice that there isn’t much in your room. A few vases with fresh flowers and a bed with soft, silky white sheets. There’s a white fur rug at the foot of it and a very large trunk atop that. There’s also a small fireplace in the corner with a few small logs in a basket nearby. The room was otherwise quite empty.

Looking through another set of double doors, you find the washroom. There’s a claw foot tub in one corner with several shelves of soaps and oils on the wall behind it.

As badly as you want to bathe, you need to find ways to protect yourself. Weapons. You need to learn the layout of the castle so that you know where all the exits are at all times. And you also need to find some food. Food in a castle full of creatures who don’t eat it. You sigh loudly, almost tripping over some pieces of your skirt on the marble floor.

Looking down at what's left of your wedding dress on your body is almost laughable. It’s mostly just the bodice and a few pieces covering your lower region in a tattered disarray. You cannot bring yourself to care, this dress was a mistake. It was all a mistake.

You walk out onto the balcony and see a ledge that looks just big enough for you to make your way over to the next room. Wasting no time, you swing your leg over the side, feeling a bit dizzy and suddenly remembering that you’re still quite drunk. But there is no time to sober up now, you have missions to complete.

Still barefoot, you balance onto the ledge and carefully side step your way along the stone. It's only about ten feet from your balcony to the next one.

You get a little too ahead of yourself and almost slip just once, but manage to climb over the railing of the next balcony successfully. You slink over to the window and peer inside, seeing what appears to be an empty guest room. Trying the handle for the doors, you’re overly pleased to find that they are unlocked.

Once inside, you press yourself against the wall and move towards the bedroom door. You pray that once you open it, there will be no vampire guards waiting for you. You have yet to secure a weapon and this might be your only chance to do so when so many of the castle's occupants are still at your wedding reception.

Slowly, you open the door, poking your head outside to see the guards are still occupied with watching over your bedroom door. You silently thank the gods, tip toeing into the hall, you're able to make a mad dash as soon as you’ve rounded the corner and gotten out of the guards sight.

You run until you find the winding staircase that you had come upstairs on. Its familiar shape lets you know that you’re going the right way. Eyes darting from side to side, you descend the stairs, making sure there are no vampires lurking about in the halls.

With absolutely no idea where you are going, you take the hallway to the left, and to your surprise, you smell food. The scent gets stronger and more distinct the further you travel down the hallway. You notice a swinging door, the sounds of clanging pans and a soft voice coming from inside. You brave a peek inside the small round window on the door, the person inside has their back to you for a moment, but when they turn around to face you, you almost cry.

Hoseok.

You shove open the swinging door with all your might, jumping onto a very unsuspecting Hoseok, who screams bloody murder at the sight of you. He almost falls backwards, but catches himself on the corner of the counter.

“Get off of me, witch!” Hoseok yells, reaching for a frying pan in hopes to knock out the creature currently hugging his torso.

“Oh, Hoseok, I’m so happy to see you.” You cry into his chef's coat.

“______? Is that really you?” He grabs your shoulders and moves you back to get a look at you. “My god, it really is you. What the hell happened to you?” He picks up a piece of your dress from the floor that must've fallen off in your rush to get to him.

“How are you here? Why?” You sniffle, tears streaming down your face.

“The king asked me to come stay here and be your chef…since you know, they don’t eat food and you do.” Hoseok pats the top of your head affectionately.

Hoseok is your closest friend. You had grown up together back in your father’s kingdom. His mother had been a long time servant of your parents, the most loyal that you could ask for. Hoseok had inherited that particular trait from her. He began cooking as you got older and soon became one of the best chefs in your kingdom. You were very surprised when you heard your father was so willing to let him go.

“My father let you come? Who will make him those banana pancakes he loves so much?” You laugh, wiping your face so you can get a better look at him, making sure that he’s really here in front of you.

“No, not your father, I meant King Jungkook. He apparently gave your father a rather large sum to make sure that I came here to cook for you.” Hoseok shrugs his shoulders and smiles widely.

“Why would he do that?” You hiss.

“I don’t know, _____. Maybe he just wanted you to be comfortable here.” Hoseok gives you another small hug, then moves around you to continue what he was working on before.

“I find that hard to believe.” You scoff.

“Do you want to explain why the hell you look like a swamp witch?” Hoseok is packaging some food and placing it into the cold room that was filled with ice.

“I…may have gotten drunk at the reception…and got sent to my rooms like a child. And I may have thrown a fit of rage about it.” You plop yourself down on a wooden stool in the corner of the kitchen. You learned a long time ago not to get in his way when he was working.

“You? Throw a fit? Could not imagine such a thing.” He laughs before closing the door to the cold room. “So you haven’t eaten?”

“No. I’m starving Hoseok, please make me food.” You whine to your friend and he rolls his eyes in response.

“You’re lucky I don’t beat you with this plate of food. I made this damn dinner for the reception and they brought your plate back to me untouched? You’re on thin ice my friend.” Hoseok pulls a plate of food from the oven that he had been keeping warm there and sits it in front of you.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” You don’t bother waiting for him to hand you any utensils as you grab the food with your hands, dismissing the fact that it’s too hot to be eating. You’re too hungry to care.

“One day in the vampire kingdom and you’ve already lost your mind.” Hoseok places a fork beside your plate, but still, you ignore it.

“Do you have knives in here?” Your face lights up, looking around the kitchen.

“I’m a little hesitant to give you any sharp objects right now _____.” Hoseok looks at you with concern reaching his face.

“It’s for protection, Hobi. We’re the only two humans for miles, aren’t you a bit concerned about that?” Your mouth is half full of food as you speak and Hoseok looks disgusted as you stand up and start rifling through his kitchen.

“Of course it’s a little…unsettling. But the king isn’t going to let anything happen to us. Especially you.” Hobi walks behind you, picking things up as you make a mess. You scoff at the last part.

“He cares about me as much as I care about him, which is not at all.” You finally find the drawer that holds the kitchen knives. “Finally! Why didn’t you tell me where they were?”

“Because I think you’re slightly insane.” He puts his hands up in front of him in surrender when you turn around to face him, knife in hand.

“I’m not insane. I’m being…prepared.” You close the drawer and move back towards the kitchen door, peaking out into the hallway through the circular window. You don’t see any movement.

You aren’t sure where to keep this knife if you finally managed to get your hands on, looking around the kitchen for something to use.

“Here, just use this.” Hoseok sighs, handing you a long leather string. “Wrap it around your thigh, that's what all the female warriors do.”

Looking at Hobi inquisitively, wondering how he could possibly know that bot of information, you take the string from his hand and wrap it around your thigh until you can tie it. You’re able to secure the knife between the leather well enough for now.

“Do you even know how to kill a vampire, ____? Is a knife even going to work?” Hoseok crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at you.

“Father told me once that you have to remove their heads.” You don’t look at him, just continue looking into the hallway.

“And a kitchen knife is going to remove a vampire's head!? I’m going to pretend you didn’t get that from me if anyone asks.” Hoseok motions towards your knife with his head before he goes back to cleaning up the mess you had left in your wake.

“I’m going to go look around some more. I’ll come find you later.” You look at him now, as he picks things up off the floor.

“Please don’t.” He teases, crossing the small kitchen to stand in front of you. “Be careful roaming around this castle.”

“I’ll be fine, Hobi.” You wrap an arm around him and he does the same to you, giving each other a much needed hug. He kisses the top of your head before he lets you go.

“Go on then, Blood Queen. I’ll bring you your breakfast in the morning.” He shoos you away.

“Do not call me that.” You glare at your friend. “Eggs and lots of coffee?”

“As you wish.” He rolls his eyes again and you can’t help but smile.

Pushing open the swinging door, you carefully step out into the hallway, keeping your back pressed to the wall as you follow it through the castle.

There isn’t much to see. Some extra bedrooms, one room that looked like a study and one door that had led to a small patio. You mentally mapped that door in your head and hoped you could remember it well enough to write down when you got back to your rooms.

As you approached the end of the hallway you began to hear voices. You knew you should turn around but your curiosity was too much to battle with. So instead, you made your way to the double doors that had been left slightly ajar.

Inside, the room was full of vampires seated at a very long table. Jungkook is sitting at the head of it, his fingers adorned by silver rings, stroking his chin with worry. You aren’t sure how you know that he’s worried, but you just know. Namjoon paces the floor behind him, babbling to no one in particular it seemed. Yoongi, who is sitting to his right, still appears to be his quiet and stoic self. Not much different to how you saw him for the first time.

There are several others present around the table that you do not recognize. But the real question is why are they here instead of attending the wedding reception?

“Is this a threat we need to be prepared for sooner rather than later?” You finally hear Yoongi say, his voice deep and rumbly.

“We knew taking on the human kingdom was going to cause issues with Taehyung. Because not only did you agree to help them, you married the fucking princess.” Namjoon says, distaste thick in his voice.

“They required protection. This was how we gave them that.” Jungkook doesn’t bother looking up, he merely sits back in his chair and crosses his legs.

“At what cost? Why are we paying for their ignorance?” Namjoon continues to pace the floor behind Jungkook's chair.

It surprises you how Jungkook continues to defend your kingdom when he clearly did not have much reason to. It isn’t as if you had married him on happy terms. The only thing he is really getting out of this arrangement is land, and it isn’t like there is much of it to give in the first place. You’ve been so angry that you really had never taken the time to consider that.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Jungkook says, abruptly standing up from his chair.

You feel panic rise up as you notice that he’s heading towards the door that you’re still standing in front of. You look around the hall frantically, seeing a large statue in the corner to your left.

You dash towards it, trying to keep the sound of your bare feet padding across the marble floor as quiet as possible. You hear the door creak open all the way as you fling yourself behind the statue, flopping against the ground with a thud.

“Shit. Shit that hurts.” You whisper, trying to right yourself into a sitting position.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the mouth of a sailor?” Jungkook is suddenly standing above you, making you jump with fright, banging your head against the statue that had apparently done nothing to hide you from him.

“Has anyone ever told you that it’s rude to just appear out of nowhere like a damn ghost?” You rub the back of your head and manage to get to your feet to stand in front of him. Jungkook scoffs, trying to hold back a laugh.

“What in the world have you done to your dress?” He asks, reaching towards your torn up skirt. Before he can touch them you slap his hand away, making your hand sting at the contact.

“I had a moment. Not that it’s any of your business.” You attempt to smooth out what’s left of the skirts at your waist.

“You look like a swamp witch.” Jungkook can’t help the smile that graces his face and you want to slap it away for being so beautiful.

“I do not!” You shove past him, stomping back down the hallway where you had come from.

“Would you please stop for a moment?” Jungkook calls after you.

“I will not.” You refuse to give him any further satisfaction. He does not seem to take the hint, his footsteps following after you.

You’ve had enough of him for one night. You reach into the band you had made and wrapped around your thigh to hold onto the kitchen knife you had gotten from the kitchen, spinning around and pointing the sharp end of the blade right at Jungkook’s throat, making him stop in his tracks in front of you.

“Where did you get a knife?” Jungkook dares to ask, an eyebrow raised in question.

“That is also none of your business.” You move the knife so close to his throat that the slightest movement could make you cut him.

“Were you keeping that knife strapped to your thigh?” Jungkook's voice lowers as he slowly raises his hands in surrender. You choose not to answer him, only stiffening your stance. “Incredibly violent…” Jungkook smiles and his fangs extend slightly, making you feel bewildered at his reaction.

“Why are you smiling?” You poke the tip of the knife against his skin.

“Because I like that you’re beautifully murderous.” Jungkook is suddenly out of your sight, making you whirl around to find him, only to be pressed roughly against the wall, the hand holding the knife anchored above your head.

“Get off of me!” You move to knee him in the groin but he’s too fast. Inhumanly fast.

“I want you to be a part of this, you know. I want you to help us help your people.” His grip tightens slightly the more you move around.

“Why?” You seethe.

“Because you’re the queen. My partner in this life. Why is that so hard for you to understand?” The look on his face is so sincere that it makes you halt your movements.

“Jungkook…this is not a real marriage. Why are you so convinced that it is?” With one last push, he releases you and takes a step back.

“I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to make you see that it is.” Jungkook tells you with a quiet sigh. “But for the time being, please just come inside and listen to what we’re speaking about. You should be a part of it too.”

You feel the tiniest sliver of hatred melt away from your heart. It makes your chest feel lighter, like you can breathe a little easier. You don’t understand it. You don’t understand him. But you can’t deny that you want to know what’s going on in that meeting room.

“Fine. Let’s go.” You rip your eyes away from his face before it becomes too noticeable that you were looking at him at all.

“Do you perhaps want to change first?” Jungkook asks. “The dress has become rather revealing.”

You glare at him before propping your foot up against the wall, exposing your bare leg to him. You slide the kitchen knife back into the homemade holster on your thigh, adjusting it slightly and letting your foot slip back to the ground as you keep direct eye contact with the vampire king.

“No. I think I’ll attend the meeting just as I am.” You can’t help but smirk a little, pointing your nose to the ceiling before making your way into the meeting room. Jungkook laughs quietly in disbelief, but follows you inside.

All the eyes in the room are suddenly on you. One of the men sitting at the table visibly chokes on air as he watches you walk into the room and takes in your appearance.

“I suggest you get yourself together, Seokjin.” Jungkook walks ahead of you to pull out the chair to the left of his for you.

“Apologies, your highness.” The man named Seokjin splutters slightly, then straightens in his chair.

“Were you attacked, my lady?” Yoongi says, his voice low but still holding a bit of concern.

“No…I was…it's nothing. Don’t let my clothing distract you from the discussion.” You move around the table, choosing to ignore the chair Jungkook has pulled out for you, but instead decide to move to his chair at the head of the table and sit down there. “Shall we?” You ask, a smug look on your face.

“Incredible.” You hear Jungkook mumble under his breath, only meaning for you to hear it, but obviously all the other vampire ears in the room do as well, making everyone shift uncomfortably in their seats.

“Does the queen need to be present?” Namjoon remarks from the seat next to Yoongi.

“Yes, she does. And I won’t hear another thing about it.” Jungkook makes his point clear and moves to sit in the chair he had originally pulled out for you.

“Fine then. We need to start preparing for a war with Taehyung. And we also need to consider that in order to avoid it, we should give up the human kingdom. We don’t need it.” Namjoon is very monotone as he speaks about giving up your kingdom to an apparent enemy.

“Absolutely not.” You say without thought.

“No disrespect, your highness, but I was speaking to the king.” Namjoon dismisses you and you can feel anger start to bubble beneath your skin.

“You say that you mean no disrespect, but you’re sitting there suggesting that we turn over my kingdom, full of innocent people, to your enemy.” You lean forward in your seat, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you look at the king's advisor.

“I’m not sure you understand the ramifications of going to war with Taehyung, your majesty. He is not to be underestimated.” Namjoon leans forward as well, meeting your gaze with a challenge in his eyes.

“Perhaps someone could explain to me who Taehyung is, and how he has become such a threat to the most powerful kingdom in this realm?” You don’t let your gaze fall from Namjoon’s, challenging him right back.

“If you two are finished with your vicious little disagreement you’ve got going, I would be honored to get the queen up to speed on the situation.” Seokjin says from a few chairs down. His voice makes you look away from Namjoon with a scowl on your face.

“Please. Tell me what you know.” You give Seokjin your attention, ignoring the mumbled curses Namjoon says under his breath.

“Taehyung is the king of the werewolf kingdom to our west, your highness. And I…well I know more than most about werewolves as I myself am one of them.” Seokjin looks up at you then, a golden glow flashing across his eyes when they meet yours.

“I’m confused. If you’re one of them, what are you doing here?” Your curiosity is peaked at this very unexpected bit of information.

“Well you see, my lady, I owe my life to your king. Many, many years ago he had mercy on me and I have pledged my loyalty to him until my dying day.” A smile plays at the corner of Seokjin’s mouth as he looks from you to Jungkook, who also shares the same smile of fondness on his face.

“He saved your life?” You ask, enthralled by this story. A vampire saving the life of a werewolf is unheard of, the two of them becoming friends is even more unheard of.

“He did. And now he has me at his side, even if he wishes I wasn’t at times.” He laughs a little and Jungkook’s smile grows wider.

“You’re too humble sometimes, hyung.” Jungkook says, sharing one last fond smile with Seokjin before he looks back at you. “Seokjin is vital to the way this kingdom is able to live and operate on a daily basis. Don’t let him talk lowly of himself.”

You wish their story wasn’t so endearing. That you didn’t feel a pang of something in your heart for the fondness they share for each other. But no matter how hard you try to bite back your smile, it betrays you, pulling your lips up slightly.

“I am happy to meet you, Seokjin.” You say, sharing one more look with him before the moment is interrupted.

“Could we get back to the point?” Namjoon says, obviously annoyed by the friendly conversation. Why was he so frumpy?

“Of course. My apologies.” Seokjin sits back in his chair with a small bow of his head.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a sour puss?” You say to Namjoon, almost causing Yoongi to choke on a laugh.

“My lady, this is not a joke. If you’re insistent on being involved, I beg you to take this seriously.” If Namjoon could blush, you suppose he would be at this point.

“I’m listening.” You roll your eyes a bit and turn to Jungkook, who is watching you with a smirk on his face.

“Taehyung isn’t happy about this…union. He believes your land should be his and we are almost positive he isn’t going to sit back and let it go.” Yoongi takes the initiative to explain this time.

“And for now, as I’ve said before, we double the guard at the border but we don’t engage. I’m not starting a war without reason.” Jungkook speaks now, everybody forwarding their attention to him. “And perhaps we need to set up a meeting with Taehyung.”

“A meeting? What do you hope to come of that, your majesty?” Namjoon looks with disbelief on his face.

“I’m avoiding a war at all costs. I won’t bring unnecessary danger to either of the kingdoms.” Jungkook stands up. “And this discussion is over for now. I’m sure the queen would like to sleep.” You nod, quickly being able to tell that Jungkook is done talking for tonight.

You stand from the table, bowing to the others who stand at the same time as you do to bow deeper in your direction. Jungkook motions for you to walk ahead of him with his hand as you take one last look over your shoulder at the men sitting at the table. More monsters than men…but it was easy to forget such a thing.

“I’m glad you joined us.” Jungkook's voice startles you from your thinking.

“Yes well…I won’t let anything happen to my people. We can’t just throw them to the wolves.” You hope he detects the seriousness in your voice.

“I hope that you can see that isn’t my intention. It never was.” Jungkook walks next to you, his arms crossed behind his back.

“As long as that is clear.” You reach the bottom of the stairs that lead up to your separate bed chambers, stopping on the bottom step and turn to look at Jungkook.

“Loud and clear, my queen.” Jungkook steps up closer and you almost trip over the step trying to create space. “Where is the knife now?”

“It will be in your chest if you do not step away from me.” You growl through your teeth, making Jungkook grin wickedly, fangs appearing under his lip.

“Beautiful and violent. Where have you been all my life, darling?” Jungkook steps up onto the stairs, making you stumble up a few more to get distance.

“You’re some kind of masochist, aren’t you?” You put your hand down onto the handle of the knife. Jungkook throws his head back in laughter. The sound is…certainly not what you expected. He seems so human as he laughs and tries to compose himself.

“Would you like to find out?” He takes one more step up towards you and you’ve had enough.

You lift your bare foot from the wooden stair and press it into the middle of his chest as he stands two steps down from you. You watch Jungkook's eyes as they take in what is happening, roaming over the exposed skin of your legs and thigh.

“Stop flirting with me.” You push slightly against his chest with your foot. “It’s very annoying.”

“Your heart is beating so quick, I’m not sure that you mean that.” Jungkook says in a low tone. The sound of his deep voice tries to pry its way between your thighs, but you won’t let it. “I think you rather like it, actually.”

“You’re not amusing, your highness.” You try to remain unfazed.

“You can’t lie to me. I can hear the blood rushing through your veins…and your breath struggling to even out.” Jungkook tries to take a step up but you push him back down with your foot.

“You’re delusional. Whatever you are hearing is simply because I am fending off a vampire, not because I find that vampire to be maddeningly beautiful.” You wish you had said that differently…surely he will know you’re lying now.

“Why do you fight it?” He questions.

“Fight what?”

“The attraction between us.”

“Because there isn’t any. None. It is nonexistent.” You shove your foot into his chest once more but he doesn’t budge of course.

“Liar.” Jungkook says quietly, you can feel his breath on the skin of your leg. His cool fingers come up to ghost over the skin of your ankle, allowing goosebumps to find home on your skin as your body betrays you even more. “Shall we test your theory?” Fingers continue their featherlight touch up your calf.

“You’re…it’s not affecting me at all.” Your voice shakes slightly as you fight to keep your eyes open.

“More lies, my queen.” When his fingers get to the inside of your thigh, your brain suddenly remembers what’s happening. You kick him in the chest with more force and Jungkook stumbles slightly, giving you a chance to jog up a few more stairs before you speak to him again.

“No more of your unrequited flirting. And especially touching. None of that.” You yell down to him, wishing you could smack the grin on his face.

“As you wish.” He bows to you.

“Goodnight, your highness.” You pull the knife out of your holster and point it towards him as you back your way up the rest of the stairs, making Jungkook laugh out loud again. You don’t look back this time as you dash your way down the hall to your bed chambers where the two guards are still standing. “I’ll be going to bed now.” You huff past them and into the room as quickly as possible.

You press your back against the cool wood of the door, trying to catch the breath you had not realized were holding . He was absolutely infuriating. Ridiculous. Egotistical. And yet… soft and endearing at times. Like when he was speaking to or about Seokjin. It is something you never expected to see.

Looking down at your hand, you see the wedding ring he had given you just a few short hours ago. Shaped like a drop of blood and every bit the color of it. You had forgotten all about it and now you aren’t sure you wanted to take it off. You and this ring have been through a lot already.

Finally, you bring yourself to move towards one of the tall armoires on the other side of the room. Perhaps it’s time to finally change out of your tattered wedding dress.

You look through some drawers until you finally find some silky night shorts and matching camisole. It seems revealing for pajamas, but you also don’t have the energy to keep digging for something else.

With a sigh, you head into the bathroom and make a beeline for that glorious claw foot tub in the corner of the room. You look around and notice the gold crusted faucets at one end of the tub.

Running water. The vampire kingdom had running water for baths. This was not a luxury that you had back in your human kingdom.

“Something decent has come from this.” You mumble to yourself as you turn on the faucets and watch the crystal clear water start to fill the basin of the tub. You grab one of the first glass bottles of soap that you can reach, breathing in its scent and finding it to be lavender. A scent you missed about the gardens in your father’s kingdom. You pour a plentiful amount into the stream of water and watch the bubbles begin to form and you can’t help but smile.

Stripping out of what’s left of your wedding dress, you toss it away and carefully step into the tub. The water is so warm already, instantly loosening your tired muscles and cleanssng your dirty skin. It felt like heaven.

Once the tub has filled you turn off the faucets and sink down into it. You let your head dip beneath the bubbles, letting it washclean your hair and , making it easier to pull the rest of the pins out of it.

It’s quiet in this washroom. Almost too quiet. So you decide not to dawdledauddle for too long, getting yourself cleaned up and grabbing a robe from one of the hanging hooks on the wall.

Making your way back into your bed chambers, you dress into the pajamas you had found earlier and climb into the bed. You feel alone all at once. Too alone with your thoughts.

How would your life play out now that you’re here? Married. To the king of vampires. Jungkook. The blood king.

You want to know more. Need to know more about him and this place.

In order for you to do that, you have to change your sleeping schedule. You need to be awake at night when everyone else is awake.

It took some time for you to get used to but after a couple of weeks you are able to get up and join the vampires during their meetings regarding Taehyung.

You are also able to explore the castle and its grounds more thoroughly. Finding it full of vast libraries and art from different centuries…different worlds it seemed.

Most recently though, you had discovered the gardens. Gardens that had been somewhat neglected by visitors if you were being honest. They were clean and well kept, but they were mostly empty. Not many flowers and things to fill all the spaces in between the manicured bushes and small trees. You wondered if it was because no one could come out during the day to care for them. And the more you thought about it, the sillier it seemed.

You love walking around outside nonetheless. Sitting on the stone benches and watching the fountains. But your urge to do more is constantly bouncing around in your mind.

Tonight, you find yourself changing into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater. You had decided you were going to start digging around in the gardens, whether it is something a queen should do or not, you didn’t care. It would busy your mind and give you something productive to do.

“Where are you off to?” Hoseok calls behind you as you make your way to the back doors.

“To the gardens. I think I’m going to start digging around. Maybe plant some new things.” You turn to see the bright smile on his face. One of the few bright things here.

“There are groundskeepers for that, you know?” Hoseok teases as he approaches you, taking in your very unqueenly outfit.

“I am aware, Hobi. But I’m bored and I need to find something to occupy my time.” You wave him off with a sigh.

“Do you know where the gardening equipment is?” Hoseok asks, hands moving to his hips as he looks at you expectantly.

“Well…no. But I assume that you do?”

“Perhaps. What’s in it for me?” He continues to tease.

“I’m the queen, you have to tell me if I ask.” Your arms cross over your chest.

“Oh now you want to be the queen? Only when it benefits you, I see.”

“Come on, Hoseok, pleeeeease?” You’re growing tired of his antics.

“Let me use your bathtub twice a week, and I’ll tell you where it is.” He puts his hand out for you to shake.

“As if I would deny you that bathtub.” You laugh a little and shake his hand. “Come on then, to the gardening tools.” You jump onto his back as he turns around to lead the way, making him carry you.

“I don’t remember carrying your spoiled ass around being in my new job description.” Hobi laughs, adjusting you on his back so he can walk with more balance.

“It’s in your best friend job description, check your paperwork.” You place your chin on his shoulder and squeeze your legs tighter around his middle.

“Ridiculous.” He laughs louder, making his way towards the back doors to show you where to find the gardening tools.

Hoseok takes you to a small building outside the castle, inside of which are plenty of gardening tools for you to get started with your plans. He doesn’t stick around though, making his way back to the castle to finally get some sleep. Hobi is having a harder time adjusting to the new sleep schedule than you had.

With your arms full of shovels, rakes, and other tools you may or may not need, you find an area near the fountains that you plan to start with. The dirt in this area seems a bit dry and sad looking, so you think if you dig into the soil, you’ll be able to bring the good dirt to the top.

You spend a few hours tilling the soil and sure enough, it already looks so much better than it did before. And even though autumn is in full swing and you’re working by the light from the moon, you’re still a bit sweaty.

“I think digging your way out of here may be a bigger task than you bargained for.” A now familiar voice says from behind you, making you jump at the sudden sound.

“Will I have to live out the rest of my days here wondering when the next time you’ll give me a heart attack will be?” You place your hand over your hammering heart while Jungkook smiles.

“Apologies, my queen.” Jungkook walks closest to where you’re kneeling on the ground, his hands behind his back. “What is it that you’re doing exactly?”

“I’m gardening. Is that not obvious?” You sit the small shovel down and wipe your hands off on your thighs.

“Yes. But why?” He asks curiously.

“Something to do? A hobby? I’m tired of wandering around this castle like a ghost.” You look up at him when he comes to stand next to you. “Is that something I’m allowed to do, your highness?”

“You’re rather snarky for a queen.” Jungkook smiles again, the sharp points of his fangs showing behind his lips.

“I have been called much worse.” You huff, standing up from the ground, wobbling slightly from being in that position a bit too long.

Jungkook is inhumanly fast, gently steadying you on your feet. One hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder. His skin is so cold it sends a shiver through you, goosebumps covering your warm skin.

“So long as you’re here, no one will dare to call you anything less than you deserve.” His eyes are almost black as they meet yours. “Are you okay to stand?”

You shake away the trance you feel when you look at him, stepping back slightly and out of his hold.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You awkwardly stumble over the shovel on the ground, righting yourself before Jungkook has a chance to try and help you again. “Thank you.”

“Shall I help you with this?” He asks, bending to pick up one of the rakes.

“Oh…that’s not necessary, I can manage.”

“I’m well aware that you can manage. But would you like some help…and some company?”Jungkook almost looks shy as he asks. “I think it would be good for us to spend more time together.”

You aren’t sure what to say. Part of you despises the thought of spending time with him. But a bigger part tells you that you long to know him more. To hear his infuriating tone when he teases you.

“Fine. But you start over there, and don’t crowd me.” You point towards an area a few feet from the one you had been working on. Jungkook laughs quietly.

“As you wish, my queen.” He bows at the waist and makes his way over.

“I’ve asked you several times to stop calling me that.” You sigh, pushing some hair away from your face before you continue tilling the soil.

“Why does it bother you so much?” Jungkook gets down to his knees, the brown slacks he is wearing meeting the dirt.

“I am not a vampire, Jungkook. Being the Blood Queen seems like I’m pretending to be something that I’m not.” It bothers you. All those vows that you took about protecting each other are just lies.

“You don’t need to be a vampire to be the queen here. No matter what you hear or what you think, you only need to try and understand.” Jungkook’s quick hands are making much faster work of things than yours ever could.

“Understand what?” You ask.

“Will you let me show you some time? It will be much easier to show than to try and explain it in so many words.”

You don’t understand what he means, but the look on his face tells you that he’s sincere in what he says. And even though you should probably say no, you’re too curious not to indulge him.

“Okay.” You simply state. Jungkook smiles softly and continues his digging.

Another week passes, and Jungkook joins you out in the gardens every night. He brings you new tools to use and lists from the florists in the kingdom so that you can pick out flowers to plant wherever you please. You choose as many as you can find that grow at night, because though they carry all the usual things that flourish in the day time, you know you won’t get to enjoy them as much as you will the ones who bloom at night.

You spend hours in the many libraries within the castle researching the plants and what they need to live well at night. Jungkook joins you there often, following you through the stacks of books and listening to you babble on and on about the flowers.

As much as you wish you didn't enjoy his company, as much as you don’t want to be fond of the sound of his voice, you are very much beginning to.

“_____?” Jungkook says quietly, closing the book that you’re holding in your hands. He doesn’t call you by your first name often, it’s a strange feeling that follows it.

“What is it?” You slide the book back onto the shelf in front of you, turning your attention to him.

“Would you please do me the honor of accompanying me into the kingdom tomorrow night?” His hands are behind his back as he speaks, stepping closer to where you’re standing.

“May I ask why?” You try to pretend his close proximity does not affect you. Jungkook is still a vampire after all.

“I told you I would help you to understand why being human does not mean you cannot be the queen here.” Jungkook brings a hand from behind his back and reaches out gently, brushing your fingertips with his.

“What are you going to show me, Jungkook?” You slowly pull your hand back from his touch, making him smirk at your stubbornness.

"Hi, baby," Jungkook grins, deflecting your question with the sweetness of his smile. His head rests on his tattooed forearm as he gazes at you. "Miss you."

The words make you sigh, releasing a tension you didn't even realize you were holding. Carrying your phone into your bedroom, you sink down onto the mattress of your childhood bed. "I miss you, too."

It's been over a week since you said goodbye at the airport. Eight days, six hours, and thirteen minutes, to be precise. Every tick of the clock sends that number higher and higher.

"I was just thinking about you. Wanted to check in. How're you feeling?"

You shrug, burrowing deeper into the pillows. "I'm okay. Woke up late. Just killing some time before the appointment this afternoon."

He hums, nodding. Your boyfriend opens his mouth and then closes it again. You know what he wants to say, but he doesn't need to. You know he'd be here with you if he could.

This trip came up unexpectedly. But that's how it always goes when a parent gets sick. Everything's fine until it's not. It was easy enough for you to drop everything and fly halfway around the world, but Jungkook's just starting his career now, after a long period of false starts and dead ends. He didn't have the time banked and you weren't about to ask him to give up his job to come home with you.

Home. There's that word again. It's disorienting, being back in the place where you grew up, and feeling like you're somewhere new. So little has changed here, yet it feels completely unfamiliar. Home is now several time zones away.

Home is where he is.

Jungkook's voice pulls you back to the tiny device in your hand. "What time is it there?"

"Just past noon." You don't ask him what time it is, fully aware that it's the middle of the night there. "Why are you still up?"

"Eh, got home a while ago from drinks with Jin-hyung and was hungry, so I got fried chicken. Now I'm too full to sleep."

You give him a look. "How many times do I have to tell you, you can put some of that in the fridge? You don't need to eat it all in one sitting!"

Jungkook scrunches his nose in delight at your reaction. "I know I don't need to. I want to."

You just roll your eyes in defeat. It's not a new topic of discussion. Your boyfriend has a big appetite.

There's a gentle clicking sound from offscreen, nails tapping on hardwood, and then a big brown nose pops into frame as Bam puts his head on his dad's arm, wanting to know what he's looking at. Bam's technically your dog, too, since the two of you adopted him when you'd moved in together three months ago, but you're not a fool. He's Jungkook's baby.

"Bammy!" you coo, and Jungkook tilts the phone so Bam can see your face. His tail whips Jungkook's side in his frenzy. "Hi Bammy, I miss you!"

"Bam's been such a good boy, keeping me company while you're gone, haven't you?"

Jungkook buries his nose in Bam's face while planting kisses on the dog's snout, and you laugh when he sniffs the dog. Someone else might find it weird, but you're used to his sensitive nose. He's always sliding up behind you in the kitchen or bathroom and pressing his face against the back of your neck to inhale deeply. You stopped wearing perfume at his request, when he told you how much he loves your natural scent.

Right now, you'd give anything to feel his arms around you and hear that little snff snff up close. Your sigh is a little louder than you intend, because it draws Jungkook's focus away from his dog.

"You okay, baby?"

"I am. Really. I should… I should probably eat something." Food always helps. It's one of the things your father taught you. "Keep me company while I make lunch?"

Jungkook grins again, twirling something in his hand. "How about I do you one better?" he asks, and you realize he's holding his karaoke mic, and likely has been this whole time, just waiting for the perfect moment to reveal it. "Any requests?"

As you warm up your leftover takeout, Jungkook serenades you with a selection of your favorite songs. He incorporates little bits of choreo in some of the performances, like the risqué moves he does while crooning "Unholy" that make you choke on your rice. As always, his sweet tenor makes your heart flutter while he effortlessly riffs his way through a private little noraebang, just for you.

When your lunch is done, you sit in your father's old armchair, tucking your legs up on the sagging cushion. Jungkook's eyes are closed as he sings, and you know he's lost in the music. It's one of the things you love most about him, the way he gives his all to whatever he's doing. No matter what it is, he's always committed. Devoted.

You're so lucky to have him.

"Koo," you finally say when he pauses to pour himself a beer. "Baby. It's so late there. As much as I'm loving this concert, you should get some sleep." As a graphic designer, he works from home, so he doesn't have to wake early for a commute, but he's still human. He still needs sleep.

He fiddles with his frosted mug, pushing it back and forth on the table by where his phone is propped. "I know. I just… I don't like sleeping in our bed without you. It doesn't feel right." He frowns, dark brows knitting together in a look of anguish. "It doesn't feel like home when you're not here."

The last bit of tightness in your muscles dissipates as you melt at the heartache in his voice. "Oh, babe, I wish I could be home with you right now. Take you to bed, wrap my arms around you, and cuddle you to sleep."

"I wish you were here, too." The stars in his eyes seem dimmed by the sadness that hangs there. "And I'm - I'm sorry that I couldn't be ther-"

"I know, babe. I know." He falls silent at your gentle interruption. You've never hated the miles between you more than this very moment, wishing you could hold him close. Knowing he feels the same. "But this, you calling me like this to check in on me, singing to me - this means so much."

"Be better if I could hold you."

"Mmm. True." You smile playfully, chest warming when he smiles back just a little. "But don't worry. Even though you're there and I'm here, I still - I still feel your love." Of the two of you, he's the crier. But you find yourself swallowing thickly around your words. "So thank you."

Jungkook nods, letting his chin fall to his forearm again. "I'm always here, baby, any time you need some love. Time zones can't keep us apart."

"I know." You mirror Jungkook's position, watching his eyelashes flutter as exhaustion finally seems to hit him. "I love you, Koo."

"Love you too. Let me know how the appointment goes."

He yawns, and in the corner of the screen you see Bam curling up next to him on the couch. As soon as you end the call, you know they're going to fall asleep right there together.

"I will. Go get some sleep, babe."

He murmurs something that sounds like a very sleepy goodnight, and then the call disconnects. The screen fades to black, but in your mind you still see his soft smile.

Stretching, you peel yourself out of your father's chair. The appointment you have today is the one you've been dreading, but you'll be okay. In just a few more days, you'll be back home.

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It was early summer the first time you noticed him. 

You walked into your favorite coffee shop, a complete necessity to be able to function without being grumpy, and noticed him sitting in the corner. Despite the temperature outside, he had a sweater on as he stared intently at his computer, oversized headphones covering his ears. His long, slightly curly black hair fell around his face and he just left it there. There was a barely touched coffee sitting next to his computer, beads of water dripping down the sides. 

It’s not like you made a habit of cataloging everyone in the coffee shop, it was just that you had your routine. It was also a local place so there weren’t new faces all that often. And here this man was, so consumed by whatever he was working on that he didn’t seem to even realize there was a whole world happening around him. Didn’t notice the screaming child who’s mom came in three times a week. Didn’t notice the teenager who came in on FaceTime with someone like it was his own personal space and everyone wanted to hear his conversation. Didn’t hear the two women loudly cackling in one corner. Didn’t hear the person listening to music without headphones like everyone wanted to hear. 

It was kind of impressive, actually. You wondered if the entire world could be on fire and he would continue working on his computer. You were kind of envious, too, because you would give everything to have that kind of focus on anything. 

As soon as you had your coffee, you were out the door. But not without a last look at the new face. Idly, you wondered if you’d see him again.

You did. In fact, he seemed to be just as much a creature of habit as you were. You got used to seeing him there. Always there before you, always working intently on his computer, always ignoring his drink. 

Since he became a part of your routine, even though you never spoke, you did what you did with every other person you came across. You guessed what kind of work he might do, what he liked to do in his free time, what he listened to while he worked. There was a comfort in it. He was always so calm, so undeterred by the flow of people around him. 

Until one day, in the fall, he wasn’t there. His normal table sat empty. You realized that you actually enjoyed this mystery man that you knew nothing about. This man you’d never spoken to had become a part of your days.

“What’s wrong?” 

Your friend Taehyung was with you, another departure from your normal routine, but he’d been complaining about the coffee at his normal place for weeks. So you suggested he try this place. 

“Nothing,” you answered, shaking your head. 

“Where’s that guy you’ve been talking about?” Taehyung asked, looking around curiously. You swatted at him in response.

“Not here,” you said quietly.

Taehyung gave you a knowing look that you hated immediately. “Ah, is that why your face looks like that?” 

“What’s wrong with my face?” You wanted to be offended, but you also knew Taehyung and knew he likely didn’t mean anything by it.

“Just looks like someone kicked your dog, is all,” he shrugged.

“I don’t have a dog,” you responded and he rolled his eyes.

“He must be cute,” Taehyung said.

“He’s just…I’ve never seen anyone with that kind of focus, is all,” you said and approached the counter to order. 

The next time you went back into the coffee shop, headphone computer guy was back at his usual table. It was like nothing had changed. He still didn’t look up, still didn’t break focus, and still didn’t seem like he was drinking his coffee. You smiled, immediately thankful Taehyung wasn’t with you this time.

Taehyung had agreed, the coffee at your place was great, way better than his place. But it was out of his way and he was almost always running late. So you started picking up coffee for the both of you most days. Which was better for you, anyway, because Taehyung would periodically pay for both coffees as a thank you for bringing something drinkable.

The next departure from your routine came after you stopped ordering that extra coffee for Taehyung. He was seeing someone new that had convinced him the best thing to do was make it for himself at home, which had resulted in him spending too much money on something he didn’t really know how to use. Oh well, the things we do for love, right?

You were getting too used to the rest of the routine, too used to being able to look at the stranger that always worked on his laptop. Which is exactly how you noticed the change. You went back to your normal coffee order and he glanced up at you. When he saw you were looking at him, he glanced back down immediately. But you had seen it. Maybe he wasn’t quite so oblivious to his surroundings.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking and you needed to stop making stories in your own head. He didn’t look up at you the next time you were in or even any of the times the rest of the week. 

And then, about a week later, he actually surprised you. You were taking your card out to pay for the coffee you just ordered when the barista told you that it was covered. 

“What?” Your hand paused in your wallet.

“Yeah, you’re all set,” she said and smiled.

That didn’t exactly clarify anything. “Um, how?”

“Oh, that guy over there on the computer paid for it,” she said and your eyes followed her line of vision despite knowing exactly who she meant.

He wasn’t looking up at you, but you swore you saw the faintest twitch of a smile on his lips. Okay, so that was how this was going to go. You waited by the end of the counter, on the other side of the shop from where he sat. As soon as you had your coffee, you walked over to his table and wondered the whole time if he would even look up.

He did, almost immediately.

“Uh, thanks,” you said, unsure what else you were supposed to say.

“You’re welcome,” he said and smiled.

And it was one of the cutest smiles you’d ever seen, all soft and too big and gummy. Every time you’d seen him before, he looked intense and focused. It was why you never thought he realized what was going on around him. Now, he smiled soft, eyes crinkling as he looked up at you. He pulled his headphones off and closed his laptop.

“Do you want to sit down?”

You did, of course you did. It had been weeks and weeks of made up stories about this man that suddenly paid for your coffee and asked you to sit down. There were a million questions that you wanted to ask. It started with his name, though. Yoongi. Pretty. It almost felt weird after all this time to know his name. And to give him yours in return.

You can’t remember what you talked about that first day, only that you loved to listen to the sound of his voice. Gentle but also deep and gravelly. Animated but also somehow lazy. His voice, like everything else about him, was a study in contrasts that somehow worked perfectly together. 

It was another week of chatting every time you came into the shop (he was always already there at his normal table) before he asked you if you wanted to get dinner sometime. An immediate yes from you. 

And it was probably one of the cutest dates that you had ever been on. In the coffee shop, Yoongi seemed calm and at ease, like he was genuinely comfortable. When you met him for dinner, he seemed nervous. Like he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Which actually made you a lot less nervous. He was beautiful and you felt tongue tied around him more often than not. But now here he was, slightly stumbling over some of his words and not at all at ease. It made you like him a lot more.

You were in trouble.

It was nice because you realized how much you hadn’t learned about him yet even though you felt like you’d known him forever. Although he hadn’t given you a clear answer on his work at the coffee shop, he talked about it freely on that first real date. He wrote music. Everything from songs that he sold to artists to scores for movie soundtracks and everything in between. It seemed like he had worked with some pretty big artists, too. He didn’t think it was a big deal, but you thought it was amazing. You also found out, unsurprisingly given his line of work, that he played several instruments including the piano and the guitar. Piano had been his first love, he talked at length about the piano he had at a studio he worked at when he wasn’t at the coffee shop, and guitar had been something he just picked up while writing songs. Even though he didn’t think he was good, he agreed he’d play for you sometime when you asked. Maybe he wasn’t the only one smiling like an idiot

He also wanted to know everything about you and disagreed when you said it wasn’t nearly as exciting. So you told him about your family, about growing up, about dreams that you still had. Things you usually hesitated to share and would never share on a first date. He interjected to share stories of his own. Easy. It was just easy.

After dinner, he walked you to the door of your building and awkwardly shuffled his feet. Again, like he wasn’t completely sure of himself or what to do. You lingered a second longer and were glad you did when he placed the gentlest kiss on your lips and then told you to have a good night. 

Several more dates went by and you realized that you were actually developing incredibly real feelings for Yoongi faster than you had for anyone else before. It had never been easy like this with anyone else, it had never felt effortless. But everything with Yoongi was as natural as breathing. 

When he asked if you wanted to meet his closest friends, you said yes right away. And the way he smiled said you made the right decision. He offered to cook for you and them, promised he’d rope one of them into helping, and promised all you needed to do was bring a bottle of wine, if you wanted.

You showed up at his apartment right on time, like you always did, but it wasn’t Yoongi that answered the door. Instead, you were greeted by a tall, broad man with almost blond hair. His smile was easy, but in a very different way to Yoongi.

“Hi, you must be the woman we’ve heard so much about,” he said, still smiling and holding the door.

“Well don’t just stand there, Namjoon, invite her in,” called another familiar voice.

“Ah, right, sorry,” he stuttered and stepped aside. 

Your eyes fell on another man, shorter than the one he called Namjoon and slender, but with a smile that could break a thousand hearts. He was on his feet immediately and coming towards you.

“Hi, I’m Hoseok and this is Namjoon,” he said and you relaxed. It was good to put names to faces.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you said.

“You too! Yoongi hasn’t stopped talking about you in…” Hoseok started before there was a clattering from the kitchen.

“Yah, Hobi, I can hear you,” Yoongi scolded. 

“It’s not like she doesn’t know,” Namjoon added quietly and Yoongi rounded on the taller man.

“Not you too,” Yoongi whined before he turned back to you. “I hope they don’t scare you off.”

And there was a little bit of a truth to it, if his face was anything to go by. But you just smiled and crossed the room to kiss his cheek.

“Not a chance,” you said and held up a bag. “I couldn’t decide what to bring so I brought both.”

“Jin’s gonna be thrilled,” Yoongi said, looking at the bag. “Come on, I’ll introduce you and then leave you to those two.”

“Are they not allowed in the kitchen?” You wondered as you followed Yoongi.

“Hobi is, Joon isn’t,” Yoongi said and didn’t elaborate further. 

As Yoongi said, his friend Seokjin was in the kitchen. He was also strikingly attractive (seriously, what was it with this friend group?), but the most surprising thing was his apron. He also had his hair pushed back off his face as he watched the dishes.

“Ah, you’re here!” Seokjin saw you and greeted you as if you’d known each other for years.

“This is Jin,” Yoongi said, a little unnecessarily but you appreciated it all the same.

“Nice apron,” you commented and earned a loud laugh in response.

“Please don’t,” Yoongi muttered and you weren’t sure who he was talking to.

“I can’t get my dinner clothes dirty while I’m cooking,” Seokjin said.

“We’re staying in,” Yoongi whined and now you realized it hadn’t been you he was talking to.

“And I want to look nice,” he said.

“He brought it with him,” Yoongi told you and Seokjin didn’t look remotely bothered.

Yoongi gave you a peck on the cheek, which earned a joke from Seokjin, and sent you back out to sit with Hoseok and Namjoon. It was probably for the best, though, because if you stayed in the kitchen, you’d want to help and two people were already plenty. It wasn’t that big of a space. 

It was also really nice to get to know Yoongi’s friends, who were just as lovely as you would have guessed. Namjoon, as you discovered, was not allowed in the kitchen because he was a terrible cook. He also was incredibly clumsy. Hoseok was apparently a pretty decent cook, but not as good as Seokjin or Yoongi, which meant that he was keeping Namjoon company as well as keeping him out of trouble. 

You could see that they had all been friends for years, the way they interacted and shared stories. But the best part about meeting them and having dinner was that they all included you in absolutely everything. And aside from a few pokes at Yoongi, who apparently never fell fast like this, they completely accepted you. It might have been silly, but you held your breath until you realized that you passed their test.

After the night had been such a success, you figured your friends were up next. Unsurprisingly, that was just as easy. Taehyung wanted to play the fill-in older brother role for you, but he lasted all of five minutes before he was gushing over how much he loved you two together. He also wanted to tell Yoongi about how you had looked for him every time you came into the coffee shop, which he did after you finished the first bottle of wine. You couldn’t stop him from the embarrassing stories. Which ended up being fine because Yoongi admitted he thought you and Taehyung were dating when you ordered him coffees every time.

Nothing in life was ever this easy for you. No relationship, whether it was a friend or romantic, had ever slotted in this easily. Part of you, the pessimistic side, kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. You were sure that nothing like this lasted for you. But the hopeful part of you wanted to believe that you deserved it.

You weren’t really sure how you had gotten here, it was like one day you were observing this quiet man from afar in a coffee shop and the next, you were getting ready to spend Christmas together. Despite saying that he wasn’t much for the holiday, he had been right there with you in decorating, making sure the lights were up, that there were things up on the wall, that the whole place felt cozy.  And you both had stockings. You had agreed on a limit, yet you had caught him periodically slipping things into your stocking every time he was over. 

“Eggnog is disgusting,” you announced as you sunk onto the couch next to Yoongi.

“Then don’t drink it,” he responded.

“Ridiculous,” you said and he laughed softly at you. “It’s a tradition.”

“We can make new traditions,” Yoongi offered.

“They’re not traditions if they’re new,” you said with a pout.

“They are if we do them every year,” he said and you shot a look at him.

“Still planning to be around next year?” You almost didn’t dare to hope.

Yoongi looked into your eyes, more sure than you had ever seen him. “I’ll be around for as many holidays as you’ll have me.”

It was crazy, the way the butterflies fluttered in your stomach, the way your whole body was on fire. You’d never really believed in love at first sight, still didn’t know if you believed in soulmates, but you also knew that you’d never felt anything like what you felt for Yoongi. When you heard him essentially say that he was also in it for the long haul, your heart was ready to burst. 

“This is crazy, right?” Your voice was small and you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“What?” 

“We’ve only been dating for a couple months and we’re celebrating Christmas together, talking about traditions,” you said to your hands that twisted in your lap.

Yoongi’s long fingers reached out to tilt your chin back up. “It doesn’t feel crazy to me.”

“But we’ve only known each other for such a short time and…” you rambled.

Yoongi shrugged. “Who cares if it’s a short time? Who cares about anyone else’s timeline?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve always just been a little worried about everyone else’s opinions,” you said and sighed.

“My friends love you, yours love me. We’re happy and I know I’m not alone in saying I’ve never felt like this before,” Yoongi said and you smiled at him. “I don’t think anything else matters.”

“You’re right,” you agreed. 

“So come here,” he said and opened his arms for you to settle against him. “Now we just have one thing to decide.”

“What’s that?” You tilted your head to look up at him.

“Our first new tradition,” Yoongi said and you smiled again.

If all you did for the rest of your Christmas Eves was cuddle with Yoongi and complain about eggnog, you would be happy.