Demitjee

You loved your family, you really did.

That’s what you told yourself when the whole lot came over to yours and Minhos house.

Your mother was overbearing and did a bit too much, your dad a bit too silent in the contrast, your sister always showed symptoms of envy or was aggressively flirting with Minho in your presence. He was very good at politely making clear he wasn’t interested in any of that but it still was aggravating. Not to mention you were hustling the whole evening to get the dinner to everyone’s liking without pissing anyone of them off or offend someone.

“Jagi”.

You didn’t even look over your shoulder to know your husband stood in the doorframe, looking at you intensely. You could feel his gaze on your back while you were almost hauling the plates into the sink.

Food was done, everyone had a glass of wine and you were exhausted. God, you just hoped they would leave after the dessert. You just had to prepare that in the meantime.

“Jagi”, Minho said again, a hand on your waist.

“Not now”.

Without thinking, you swatted his hand away which pretty quickly resulted in him setting his own glass of wine down and turn you around. He pushed you against the counter with both hands on it on either side of you.

“Would you look at me, Jagi?”, he said softly, a hand on your jaw to angle your head up a bit.

You literally melted in his embrace, slumping against him with your hands on his chest.

“I think you need some rest, huh?”.

A sigh left your mouth before you even noticed it. His eyes were gentle and caring, but you had to stop the eye contact before his words fully reached your brain.

“I can take a break when they’re gone. I’m gonna sleep for like fourteen hours”, you huffed with a half hearted laugh.

“Let me take care of it”, he suggested, still looking down at you.

Now your laugh was a bit more sincere. It was endearing how this kinda stoic man always looked out for you, even more since you were married. Your eyes fell to your hand, the ring heavy but warm on your finger. A sweet reminder of your life long connection and devotion.

“And let my sister talk about how you have to swoop in for my useless ass? Not happening”, you patted his chest.

“You don’t understand”, there was a smirk on his lips, you even noticed without directly looking at his face, “You should let me take care of you”.

Your heart sank immediately. It was embarrassing how fast your face was hot, probably glowing red in an alarming speed. That was your husband, what was wrong with you?

Looking up was a mistake, a big mistake. His dark eyes seemed to be a lot darker than usual, his pupils were dilated.

“Huh?”.

That was all you could muster. Your head was so empty all of the sudden that you forgot how to speak.

“You’re so worked up, kitten”, he whispered, “Let me help you get some relief, yeah?”.

His hand moved from the counter to your waist and before you could even think about scolding him for having this idea while your family was in the next room, he bent down and kissed you. The grip on your jaw was strong, guiding you and obviously helped him taking the reins in this moment.

His lips moved against yours with a kind of urgency you were very familiar with in all of the years of dating him. Minho liked to be dominant, no matter if he had to be rough or soft.

And now, he decided to be on the soft side, his tongue asking for permission to lick against your own, fingers rubbing gentle circles on your skin before holding you in a firm grip.

You forgot to breathe occasionally, gasping into his mouth which he hungrily swallowed. Your own hands hung uselessly in his neck, playing with some strands of his hair.

The kiss was deliciously sloppy, red wine heavy on his taste. You whimpered against his lips when one of his hands reached for the fabric of your dress, bunching it up to have access to the soft and supple flesh of your thighs.

“Minho”.

“Hmm?”, he made, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips.

Your knees buckled, his nose grazed your jaw now. You could feel his breath on your cleavage and you asked yourself if he blew the air there on purpose to make your head even more numb.

“My family-“, you closed your eyes, fighting hard to grasp the last remnants of your sanity.

“What about them?”, his mouth peppered kisses along your throat.

This was unfair, he was playing dirty. He knew you couldn’t deny him anything. Especially not when his hand sneaked past your waistband, cupping you between your thighs without shame.

“We can’t do that, they’re- hggnn- they’re..”.

“You’re saying no, but your pussy tells me otherwise, kitten”, his voice was so quiet you questioned if you hallucinated, “You’re drenched”.

Your fingers combed through his dark hair, gripping the strands tightly until he hissed.

“Minho”.

He chuckled dangerously, his tongue darting out to lick over the skin on the nape of your neck.

“I love how my name sounds when you’re moaning it”, he cooed cockily.

Two of his fingers rubbed your folds, teasing you as he was not yet touching you where you needed it the most. On one side, you wanted to move your hips to meet him, on the other side you wanted to stop this. Maybe continue after the guests left. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t shove him away.

You gasped very loudly when one finger breached your entrance and sinked in. He was quick to seal your lips with his again to silence you, kissing you hungrier and more aggressive than before.

It all went too fast and felt too good, it made your head spin and your body completely surrender to him.

Minho kissed you like everything he did - with passion. He silenced your mewls and conquered your whole being with it, but it also kind of steadied you while his fingers fucked you in a slow pace.

You tried to kiss him back but were so distracted and entranced by this whole situation.

He ended the kiss abruptly and his fingers vanished - you already wanted to complain about how he had completely ignored your clit until now, but were surprised by him tugging on the waistband of your panties until he managed to pull them down. The dark haired hoisted you up and placed you on the kitchen counter.

In this position, it was easy for him to completely remove them from your ankles. You watched him shoving the fabric into the pocket of his jacket.

You were out of breath, your chest heaving quickly in combination with your racing heartbeat.

Again, he hiked your dress up and exposed you to the cold air. But the anticipation made you shiver even more, with him going down on one knee and pulling you towards the edge of the counter with spread legs.

He gave you a sly grin, kissing the inner side of your right thigh before moving closer, pressing his lips directly onto your clit. You jolted, one of your hands immediately went flying to the back of his head, keeping him in place there.

Minho groaned when he gave you a slow and long lick with the flat of his tongue.

“You always taste so good, kitten. Fuck that dessert”.

He circled your clit, massaging it by alternating between gentle licks and applying more pressure to the bundle of nerves. It was really hard to keep quiet, like the shivers going through your body had to leave it with a moan in the same rhythm as he was making out with your pussy. Instead, you tried to bite your lip to choke the noises and give him a sign to slow down by tugging on his hair.

But he just kept going, was even sucking on your clit. He obviously didn’t bother that your family could come in any second, he was eating you out like a starving man and this was his first meal in years.

“Minho, please-“, you begged, your voice broken and almost a moan, “Please, I- oh god”.

Your toes curled as your legs started to tremble heavily. The heat pooling in your stomach made your blood boil that made you want to rip that stupid dress off your body and beg him to take you right then and there.

The pleasure was gnawing at your self restraint and at your self respect. Instead of wanting to push him away, you steadied his head towards your core, grinding on his tongue to get the most friction possible.

But now he was the one to pull away. He was on his feet in a second, pulling you down from the counter almost in the same motion. You stumbled while he smoothed the fabric of your dress quickly. Minho’s face glistened with your juices which he dried with the palm of his hand.

“What a waste”, he mumbled just a second before your mother opened the door to the kitchen.

You must’ve looked like a wreck at this point while your husband looked like nothing had happened, he was just combing through his hair with his hand, fixing the strands you had disheveled.

“Do you need some help, dear?”, she asked.

You were still breathing heavily, being edged like this was some kind of experience. You still felt how sticky and wet you were.

“I’m already on it”, Minho answered quickly before you could open your mouth, “Another glass of wine?”.

Your mother loved Minho because he knew how to behave in front of her. He always was charismatic, using his natural charm to make her swoon.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart?”, she mused.

“Give us a minute?”, he handed her over a bottle, “Dessert will be ready soon”.

She was gone as quickly as she had appeared, which made you even more frustrated. She really interrupted you for nothing? Minho turned to you again with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry”, he pulled you towards him by your waist, “I heard her coming”.

“Minho”, you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, completely ignoring his words, “I want you. Now”.

The irritation of this moment was heightening your desire and lust. He laughed, but put you back in your previous position on the counter.

“That’s what I wanted to hear, kitten”, he literally purred, opening the buckle of his belt, “How do you want me, then?”.

He was hard, he always got aroused from eating you out. You just hoped your mother had enough decency to not look at your husbands groin.

“Hard”, you breathed, mouth howering in front of his own, “But make it quick. Another interruption and I’m going to explode”.

Minho pulled his dick out, pumping it and smearing the leaking pre cum over his length.

“As you wish, kitten”, he growled against your lips.

He pulled you against him, wasting no time and easing himself inside. You were so wet, your pussy was literally sucking him in. He didn’t give you any time to accommodate to him anyway, arms wrapping around you to hold you in place while he thrusted forward.

Your lips crashed against each other - it was nothing in comparison to the previous kisses, this was all teeth and tongue and pure need. You wrapped your legs around his waist for leverage and to be impossibly close.

Even though he hasn’t fully bottomed out yet, he was fucking you like you had told him how you liked it. Thrusts so hard, they pushed the air out of your lungs each time and so fast, that your orgasm quickly was in arms length again.

“Please”, you whispered in between open mouthed kisses, “Please, make me cum”.

“You wanna cum, kitten?”, he taunted you with a grin, “Although the others could hear you? You need it so bad?”.

You already felt it, your release almost there but your body instinctively held it back, waiting for his permission to sink into the bliss. But your body already seized, your arms already locked in around him because his rough treatment felt too good.

“Yes, yes, please-“, you sobbed.

“Fuck, cum on my cock, then. Make a mess for me, kitten”.

And you did. You clenched around him so pathetically, he had to smother your sounds with his hand on your mouth.

“You let me fill you up with the others being next door?”, he grunted, “You want me to fuck you full of my cum?”.

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes, his movements didn’t stop or faltered in the slightest.

“You do want it, do you? I’ll leave you dripping the rest of the night. Can’t wait to fuck it back in when they’re gone”, he talked himself in a haze.

You couldn’t bear the overstimulation, he was relentless. When he let go of you, your sweaty body slumped back against the wall but he still couldn’t stop.

“Tell me you want it, kitten. Come on. Tell me you want me to fill you up until you’re pregnant”.

His right hand held your thigh up, the other came down between you, thumb rubbing your clit in a perfect rhythm with his thrusts.

“Cum inside, Minho. Please”.

He couldn’t hold on to his composure anymore, biting his finger as he spilled into your cunt. Although his movement was erratic and his head fell back into his neck, he didn’t slow down until he pulled another release out of you - this time leaning forward and silencing you with a dizzying kiss.

He lingered like this for a second before he rubbed your aching thighs, pulling out of you with a hiss.

You felt absolutely exhausted, your mind thinking about some kind of halfhearted excuse why your family needed to leave now without dessert.

“Can you make them leave?”, you asked in a slur.

“Of course, Jagi”, he answered, helping you down into your feet once more, “I’ve already had dessert”.

@isa-mi-aldini @rianzysworld @illsiren @simpdemon1 @babybutterballl @deaddcrow @burntbang @rory-cakes @straystar-8 @honeyyyy21 @karlee10261990 @aiyanotfound @alex-rabbit @angelstarsthings @pineapple-burgah @a2dkive @smuttaburger

and the first time he ever found out about your little infatuation, he seemed to have grown a little more comfortable with roughing it up a little.

“oh god… oh baby. fuck, you feel so good.” on your stomach, face pressed into the sheets, san’s face nudged in the tight space where your neck meets your shoulder. his arms caged either side of your head, resting his forearms next to your ears.

his chest was glued to your back, your spine digging into his stomach. bare and hot and wet, your bodies pressed against each other without an inch of space to speak for. your entire body shivered when he forced himself deeper into you, his curved, thick cock splitting your cunt open.

this position had him so deep, so invasive, so full. his hips rolled against the flesh of your ass, san’s voice dipping low in needy moans when you squeezed around him while he pulled his hips back, listening to the slick sound your pussy made, trying to keep him inside.

“pussy’s so warm today, baby.” he lets his mouth fall open against the shell of your ear, panting and groaning to make your brain melt. “making me feel so fucking crazy, you make me feel crazy, pretty.”

you forced your head out of the pillow when you felt his thrusts slow to a deep grind, pulling a ragged whine from your mouth. you pried your eyes open to watch as his arms moved around your head.

“turn, look at us.” he kisses below your ear, and drags his tongue up the side of your cheek. his right arm reaches and grabs his phone from the corner of the bed, holding it tight in his hand and scrolling and pressing buttons.

you forget he keeps a tall mirror against his bedroom wall, right next to the end of his bed. you can see the top halves of your melded bodies. his big, broad shoulders shadow your littler form under him. his soft, flushed face meeting your eyes in the reflection, his big, meaty arms flexing and twitching around your head every time he moved.

you watch to try and see what he was doing, and he punishes your nosiness with a sharp, deep thrust that makes your calf lock up.

“mind your business, babydoll.” he grumbles, then you feel it. his left arm curls around the front of your throat, tight. the muscles twitch and contract over your neck, just enough to limit your breathing. snug, warm and secure around the front of your throat.

he feels you tighten around his cock, and it makes his skin prickle. “ooh, fuck…” he groans and you feel his voice vibrate against your back. you forced your eyes up and you can see his phone recording your reflection in the mirror. catching the fucked out look on your face, his thick arm wrapped around your throat in an owning headlock.

his mouth spreads into a sly grin when your eyes roll when he pulls back his hips and then sinks his cock back into you so slowly, so smoothly, your legs jerk under him to try and escape the feeling.

“my soft little slut…” san leans down to whisper in your ear, the flash of his camera moving with each thrust. he licks the tears that pool at the corner of your eyes before he drags his head back up to watch you both in the mirror.

“look at you go, baby.” he praises around a heated smile. “drooling all over my arm like some kind of puppy. does that feel good? hm?”

you whimper out an incoherent agreement, and he giggles softly, littering the nape of your neck with soft kisses. he adjusts his hips to drag against that deeper, sweeter spot, that makes you still and lightly sink your teeth into his arm.

he keeps that meaner pace, deep heavy strokes in your guts that you can do nothing but lie under his body and take. his arm around your neck made clouds swim around in your brain. he tightens the hold, and you squeal loudly, barely catching the way he zooms in with his phone to better catch the pretty look on your face.

your cheeks squished by his muscles, your eyes desperate and heavy-lidded. he thought you looked so cute, and who would’ve thought that all he had to do to get you this needy was to put you in a headlock.

san fucks you greedily, the curve of him perfectly hitting that spot that turned your mind off. his voice egged you on, his low moans, and his pretty heavy breaths. groaning ’mhms’ of approval with every thrust into you as if he was grading the feel of your cunt around him. with every stroke, you only seemed to get even wetter, and the proof was the sticky web of your slick that clung to his base.

“mm, i love fucking my baby, slow… and stupid.” he attaches his lips to the pulse point on your neck, sucking and running his tongue over the sensitive spot of skin. “jus wanna fuck you so deep it hurts.”

he’s in your ear, talking to you and only you. all the while his phone catches every moment, every thrust and every moan.

his lower stomach repeatedly brushes against your back, his cock stirring up your insides at the most, torturous and delicate pace. the slow smack of flesh, the sticky hollow sound of your cunt swallowing all of him.

you feel his knees brace against either side of your hips again, adjusting his posture a little. his arm around your throat tightens to your near limit, his head nudges against your neck, his lips whispering against your cheek.

this way he uses your neck as leverage to anchor is body to allow him to fuck his cock into you a little faster, a little rougher.

“yeah, baby, yeah. take all of me. all of me.” san’s voice drops into a breathy purr, pressing his lips directly against your ear, the soft skin tickling you. “givin this pussy a workout hm?”

you groan and kick your feet, and he laughs at you as hand from the arm he’s got your neck trapped in buries itself in your tangled hair and yanks your head to the side so you’re fully facing the mirror, your ear resting below his jaw.

“you like to be lazy. you like to lie here— fuck… lie here and take dick, helpless and limp. let sannie do all the work huh, princess? let this pussy do all the work for you?”

he turns his head and your eyes catch in the mirror. his eyes are lidded, competent and heated. yours are foggy, tear-glazed, spent. he smiles at your expression and growls under his breath when you clench around his dick again.

his fingers scrape against your scalp with every heavy stroke of his hips, his pretty grunts and moans making your belly twist into swirls.

your hands grasp at the sheets, your cries coming out choked and breathy then more san fucked you, and he seemingly forgot that you needed to breathe until you tapped on his bicep to tell him to let up.

he does immediately, loosening the hold on your throat. you gasp and choke, but he doesn’t stop moving his hips, fucking you slow and deep while you regain your breath.

“aww, ‘m sorry babydoll.” he kisses your temple and you could feel him giggle against your skin. his voice lowers to that brain ticking whisper and you feel your air stolen from you again.

“bet you would’ve looked so pretty passed out on my cock.” he finally sets down his phone and takes his now free hand and trails it down your body, running along the side of your waist, his hips never stopping that deep, languid push and pull.

“looking all soft and sleepy.” his hand snakes between your body and the bed and finds your clit with his coarse fingertips. you gasp and squirm under him, your body shaking as a plea for mercy. san only laughs, circling upwards against the sensitive nerves while he splits your pussy open, over and over and over again.

“think i could still make you cum in your sleep princess?” he whispers against your throat and you feel as his arm tightens its hold around your throat once again. you feel the bed start to shake and your cunt start to burn with pleasure as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, filling you long and deep at just the right angle.

“mmhm, soak my cock baby.” he growls under a moan, letting his tongue fall from his mouth and tasting the flushed skin on your throat. “make it smell like you.”

he bites his bottom lip and his eyebrows furrow, his cock pounding into you so full he just might had been close to fucking your cervix.

his fingers on your clit continue to move at that dragging, spherical pattern that helps that pressure build slowly. stroke my stroke, praise by praise. you melt under his body while he uses you as he sees fit. your pussy sucks him in everytime he draws back, your pretty little moans make san’s head spin.

“gonna fuck myself to that video everynight while im on tour.” he promises against your skin, your orgasm dangerously close to sweeping you onto the floor. he rolls his hips with every thrust, forcing his fat tip to press against your gspot.

“eee..every n-night..?” you whimper deliriously, his cock effectively having cut off all cognitive function, a stupid smile spread across your face.

he laughs and kisses your shoulder as he rolls his hips a little harder. “mhm, every night baby. i'll send you some videos so this pussy-” he thrusts hard this time, as if acknowledging her himself. “-doesn't miss me too much. want you to remember how good i make you feel while i'm gone.”

you shake violently when his tip nudges that spot just right, and right at that moment you cum on the spot. your limbs jerk and twitch and once san’s felt you cumming he eases his hips into a faster rut, pounding your pussy through your orgasm, fucking you through it.

“there we go, there we go. let it take you baby, keep cumming, keep cumming for me.” he pinches your clit and teases it with gentle brushes while he mounts you on his mattress.

his arm is covered in your drool, the red indentations of your bite marks inflamed on his skin. san looks back at you in the mirror, and you’re too out of it to notice as he pulls out his phone again and starts to record the reflection.

your eyes are shut and your brows are furrowed in bliss, lips parted in pathetic whines, your cheek resting against his bicep. he keeps his eyes on the mirror as your face twists in overstimulation when he starts to grind his cock deep into you.

his muscles flex, and he can feel the strain in his wrist from continually holding the camera up to capture you two. your shoulder twitches every time he bottoms out into your pussy, and your eyelids flutter every time he presses his palm against your lower stomach. he catches every change in expression, every twitch of your body, every lilt in your moans.

he always misses you so bad when hes away, so he always makes sure he fucks you so unbelievably well that you could probably do without him for at least a few days.

until you’re sore, or your stomach burns, or you physically can’t cum anymore. and he’ll be so methodic, so thorough, so gentle. anything to get you satiated for the first few days in his absence.

he's gotta work you out of his system somehow anyway, or else he'll be a horny, delirious wreck on tour.

the videos help with his withdrawal symptoms.

jeon | jungkook

visions: you’re convinced by your friends to go to a party and let go of the memories of your ex just for one night. unfortunately for you, jungkook doesn’t want to be let go. completed

the other woman: jungkook decides it's time to take matters into his own hands and figure out how to get you - his sweet, innocent girlfriend, to fuck him. completed

paid in full: (part 1) (part 2) "all debts must be paid in full." says jungkook with a mischievous glint in his eyes. he wouldn't tell your mother of you going against her wishes and sneaking out if you allowed him to have you the way he desired.

nefarious: you knew who jungkook was prior to having his children and marrying him, so you serving him with divorce papers wasn't going to do anything but anger him. part one | prequel

test your morality: jungkook's morality is tested when he's woken from his unconscious state to find you - his best friend - bound before him. completed

best friends!: jungkook doesn't like the idea of you wanting to loose your virginity to anyone that isn't him. completed

seonbaenim!: (idol version of best friends!) your group decides they want to shed the “good girl” image for your next comeback & you confide in your seonbae, Jungkook, in helping you do so. One | Two

sibling rivalry: you visit your dad for a week for christmas and come face to face with your step-brother - who you've managed to avoid - again.

what are you willing to do?: After managing to dodge your property manager out of rent for two months, you're left in a vulnerable position when he finally comes looking for you. one | two

off limits: he’s a 10 but…he’s your brother’s best friend & completely off limits. one | two | three

m.i.l.f: "there are HOT MILFS in your area waiting for YOU to FUCK THEM!" the ad said, though jungkook wasn't expecting to come face to face with you; who also happens to be his best friends mother. one | two | three | four | five | ½ | six | seven

ecstasy: you were offered the opportunity to test out an unreleased game, not realizing that you and the rest of the testers were the game itself. teaser

starstruck: jungkook, a highly aware-winning actor,has his eyes set on you, an upcoming actress. one | two

kitty: when you're going through a rough heat, who else is there to call besides bunny hybrid jeon jungkook? completed

twisted: jungkook has been getting you out of trouble for as long as he can remember - and he was tired of doing it without anything in return. completed

nerviosa: that time your cousins boyfriend, jeon jungkook; college senior, took a certain interest in you, a college freshman. one | two

so persuasive: a look into how you stupidly got involved with jeon jungkook - your new step brother - after attempting to convince him that you weren’t boring. completed

when did you get hot?: jungkook is determined for you to forget the shy, nerdy boy you remember him as and know the man he is today - by any means necessary. one

sweet temptation: jungkook, a wealthy ceo, hears of an underground socialite party on christmas eve and attends, unaware of what he was truly getting himself into.

kim | taehyung

two sentence horror story: you ran up to the first person you saw -  a man inside his car whose tires screeched upon you jumping in front of it - and screamed how you were kidnapped and blindfolded. completed

fertile: during an annual camping trip with your parents, you venture off deep into the woods and find a man chained to a tree. completed

divine intervention: you'll do anything to have your own baby one day - even to go against your morals and allow a wiccan to help you. completed

stress relief: your job is to simply ease the stress that the military men face while deployed. your client? sergeant kim taehyung. completed

terms & condition: kim taehyung, soap opera star now first-time director who is looking for a fresh new face - someone to give a chance to like jeon jungkook, his now close industry friend, did for him. coming soon…

park | jimin

two sentence horror story: years ago, your best friend, Jimin, and you made a pact that if one of you were single by the age of 26 that the two of you would just marry the other. completed

creep: park jimin had it all. he was loved throughout the world as an idol apart of one of the biggest groups. he had the popularity, respect and adoration - and a few haters; but what idol didn’t? what park jimin wasn’t expecting for was infamous blogger, Creep, to be reporting on him. completed

word is bond: in order to save your kingdom from perishing, you agree to give your body to the demon king - jimin. completed

bad decisions: you're getting married on valentine's day - but somehow, you allow a stripper to fuck you in front of your brides' maids and maid of honor. completed

kim | namjoon

lessons: when jungkook asks namjoon for advice on oral sex, he wasn't expecting his hyung to physically show him - you being on the receiving end of it. completed

with love, k.nj: ever since you and your mother moved into this new apartment, you began receiving notes from an "admirer", all signed initials k.nj. one | two

sentient: you're gifted a high-technology android by an old friend who appears to know everything - even about you. completed

jung | hoseok

ain't no fun: ”Hoseok wouldn’t treat me like this.” is what had Namjoon laughing in your face - because you didn’t know Hoseok like he did. But he’d let you think you did, after all, it ain’t no fun if the homies can’t have none. coming soon...

min | yoongi

dilemma: being single and broke on valentine's day is not what you expected - especially when your dealer is waiting for his payment. completed

a man's world: you've been living in a man's world so long that you forgotten what it was like to be a woman living in it. completed

family matters: somehow, you find yourself back at yoongi's home after an uneventful five months of pregnancy. one | two | two ½ | three

desire: you've encountered an unholy being - an incubus - and you're fully enthralled. completed

kim | seokjin

two sentence horror story: it’s been nearly 5 years since you last saw seokjin. completed

payment plan: your husband and you find yourself bankrupt and dead broke thanks to his gambling problem. his younger brother - successful businessman kim seokjin - offers a helping hand free of charge. unbeknownst to your brother, you would be the one paying seokjin for his charity. completed

autumn of terror: the small town of oakville is being taken over by a serial killer who goes by "the ripper" who uses fear as a tactic to control the town entire. you, an out of town detective, team up with head detective of oakville kim seokjin. completed

You’ve managed to fix your grade - even if Professor Kim got your failing grade up to a C, stating in the email he sent that you’ve improved greatly and there’s still room for more improvement. You had an idea what “more improvement” meant, but showing your father the new grade you had assured him that you were doing better.

You’re unsure how you feel about Professor Kim now. After the class ended, you and he continued with his game. You’ve completely ruined the panties he had given you, soaking them entirely with your arousal and cum while Jin had coated you in his own cum. It was a long, shameful walk of shame you’ve had back to your own home. Jin had kept your panties for himself and instead had you leave with the ones he’s given you, the vibrations not stopping until you were home and had taken them off.

You’ve realized you lost your friend nearly an hour into the party. You were also out of a drink and now you were making your way back towards the kitchen. It’s always quieter there - and more drinks were held in there than out where you were currently. You’re positive your friend had found whatever boy she was entertaining this week to spite her ex-boyfriend.

You pass a familiar face on the way to the kitchen, your mind now recalling just where you’ve seen him from. A cloud of smoke hits you as you swing the kitchen door open and your eyes squint. You wave a hand in front of your face as you walk deeper into said kitchen, door swinging close behind you. The music is muffled now.

Your heels click as you go towards the island where mountains of alcohol are displayed. There’s mixed drinks, as well, and you’re positive you would be inebriated if you sipped as little as a drop of it. 

“Y/N.”

The voice speaking your name has you more alert. Your eyes turn towards the sound and instantly you hum.

“Jungkook.” you murmur. You knew Jungkook from a few classes, but you saw him more at parties. He’s always in the corner, however, dancing to himself with a drink. This time, however, he’s holding a joint between his fingers.

“Haven’t seen you at the last party.”

You decide on pouring yourself a shot. You and Jungkook weren’t friends and you and he barely talked. You two, however, share glances every now and then. You can acknowledge that Jeon Jungkook was an attractive man who was worthy of several glances.

“I was busy.” you shrug your shoulders. Busy getting your grade up that is.

“We missed you.”

The other voice is deeper and instantly, you’re off guard. You hadn’t noticed him upon entering, that Jungkook wasn’t alone in the kitchen. 

Kim Taehyung is on the opposite side of you. He’s holding a red cup in his hands, dark eyes watching you as he leans against the island.

You take the shot in one go, the harsh liquor burning your throat.

“Is that so?” you ask. Taehyung was another man you’ve shared more than a few glances with, but you and he rarely spoke. Mainly because he was once involved with a friend and that went against girl-code.

“Of course. You’re at every party.” Taehyung chuckles. He shakes his amber colored-hair out of his eyes as he laughs. “What were you busy doing?”

This is the most you’ve talked to either of them. You turn away to pour another shot, finding that Jungkook had made himself on the opposite side of you on the island. He holds out the joint for you to take. 

“Peer pressure?” Jungkook asks, raising a pierced brow.

You glance at the joint, a trail of dancing smoke flowing in the air. Your eyes trail to his tattooed fingers, up his arm until you reach his eyes.

“You can say no.” Jungkook snickers, his rosy lips curling into an amused smirk. His lip is pierced, as well, you note.

Your hand works for you, grasping the joint. You bring it to your lips and hit it, not knowing that you’d regret doing so. Whatever strain this was is strong and something you hadn’t had before, but you had gone under, in their words, “peer pressure”. 

The next 15 minutes happened in a blink of an eye, you and Jungkook continuing to smoke while you and Taehyung took shots. You had forgotten about the party just outside the door completely, and it doesn’t cross your mind why no one has entered at all.

Your mind is swirling and too caught up in the way you’re in the corner of the kitchen, Taehyung’s large hands roaming up your smooth skin. You’re wearing a skirt and it gives him easy access to run his fingertips towards your clothed clit.

“Did you come here alone?” Taehyung ponders. “I haven’t seen your friends around.”

“They’re probably getting fucked by now. That’s what girls like them do.” Jungkook chuckles. He’s close to, on the other side of you. Their cologne dances off one another and it hits your senses.

“Where are you trying to go?” Taehyung asks, pushing you back against the corner slightly when you attempt to step away. His hand works its way  to cup your thigh. “We just want to have fun.”

Your eyes blink a few times at both Jungkook and Taehyung. 

“I don’t.” you murmur.

“Why not?” Jungkook asks. He’s just as touchy, his hand sliding up your other thigh and then towards your ass. He grips it in his hand harshly, receiving a gasp from you. “We know you like to have fun, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “What the fuck-”

“All that fun you were having with Professor Kim?” Taehyung chimes in. His hands are working, tapping along your clothed clit. “We want the same fun.”

Your eyes widen and you stiffen.

Your heartbeat quickens.

“What?” you whisper, voice nimble. “I-I don’t know-”

“Don’t try to lie to us, baby.” Taehyung chuckles.

“We know. It’ll be our secret, okay?” Jungkook presses his lips against your cheek. “We won’t tell anyone what you did for Professor Kim. He’ll keep his job and you’ll keep your dignity.” he laughs. “Daddy’s money on school won’t go to waste.”

Your heart doesn’t calm down. Your mind is racing - how did they know? If they knew, who else did? Was it obvious? It couldn’t have been. You and Professor Kim’s situation was short lived. He had given you what you wanted and now he had no use for you; yet.

“Your pussy’s wet, Y/N. You’re excited.” Taehyung grunts, his fingers rubbing at your clit. Your body was doing what it naturally would in this situation, but your mind is far from relaxed. 

“Your ass is amazing.” Jungkook breaths, giving it another squeeze. “What did you let Professor Kim do to you?”

Your mouth is snap shut, your eyes brimming with tears. Your silence causes Jungkook to look at you. 

“Why do you look like that, Y/N? Don’t be so upset, baby.” Jungkook coos, kissing your cheek until he gets to your lips. “Just be good to us, and we’ll be good to you, okay?”

Jungkook’s free hand goes underneath your shirt to cup at your breast. This top didn’t call for a bra and he has full access to it. 

“We’ll make you feel good, Y/N. Promise.” Taehyung mutters, You were soaked and he was far too excited to see how wet you could get when they truly had you where they wanted you. 

It’s overwhelming dealing with one, but two was too much to handle. Taehyung’s fingers had pushed aside your panties. Your glistening cunt had caused him to chuckle before his fingers dive through.

Jungkook had lifted up your shirt to release your breast. His fingers twist and tug at your nipples, enjoying the reaction you gave him.

“I knew you would let us.” Jungkook says, lowering himself to your nipple. He captures it in his mouth and begins to twirl the bud with his tongue.

Your head falls back, a silent whimper escaping your lips. You were too exposed here - there was a party just behind the door. The music is booming through from the outside and you can hear a few muffled chattering and laughter.

This is all still far too surreal right now. Jungkook’s hand grips at your breast while he sucks on your chest, lightly moaning. The action causes Taehyung to do the same, leaning his head down to capture your nipple into his mouth.

“Wait-”

Taehyung’s long fingers begin to inch their way inside of your pussy. You’re tight, prompting him to believe you haven’t been fucked properly in a while. He slides three of his fingers inside and begins to pump, his tongue sliding around your hardened nipple.

You swallow back a moan.

Jungkook releases your nipple from his mouth with a soft pop. His eyes glances down at Taehyung's pumping fingers and he snickers a bit. “You’re so wet, baby.” he says.

“And tight.” Taehyung says against your other nipple.

Jungkook’s hand ungrips your nipples. His eyes turn towards you as his hands slide down your stomach and right between your legs. His fingers capture your clit and he rubs circles onto it. You bite your lip, legs quivering. This was all too much to handle - Taehyung’s already pumping fingers in you and now Jungkook is focusing on your clit. Your stomach is churning and you really didn’t want to cum right here in the middle of a kitchen - not with a party right outside the door.

“We can’t do this h-here!” you protest, your voice low to mask the whine that comes. You hated the way your body responds to their actions.

Your cheeks warm when both of their attention turns to you. 

“Someone can walk in…” you trail off.  Your attempts to remain calm aren’t swaying them - your legs are shaking and your eyes keep fluttering. You were enjoying this - just not the idea of being caught.

“How about you cum here,” Taehyung begins, popping a nipple from his mouth. “and then we can take it somewhere private.”

Jungkook falls to his knees. His dark eyes have a mischievous glint to them. His hands hold onto your legs tightly in his grasp before he opens his mouth and pokes out his tongue. He watches your reaction as he licks between your folds, Taehyung’s pumping fingers just inches away.

Your head draws back, your teeth sinking onto your lips. Jungkook doesn’t attempt to tease you in the slightest - he and Taehyung have you right where you need to be. Instead, he proceeds to suckle right onto your clit. His head bounces from side to side, his grip on your skin only tightening. 

“I think you’re liking this more than you let on.” Taehyung murmurs in your ear, breath tickling your skin. 

Your mind is continuing to swirl in how fast everything is. You had to be far from tipsy now - not including the weed Jungkook has given you. In such a short amount of puffs, you were stuck in such a vulnerable position.

“You’re leaking all over my hand, Y/N. You like the idea of two cocks fucking you?”

There’s teeth sinking into your soft flesh, You let out a soft cry.

Jungkook continues to lap his tongue against your clit, not moving from the position. He witnesses the way your back arches, mouth falling open with such pleasure that’s nearly unimaginable. Taehyung’s free hand - so large against you - grasp your breath while his lips are trailing such invasive kisses against the skin of your neck.

Your whimpers are pleading with them to stop - that you didn’t want this here; or at all. But neither man moved. Not until your thighs are trembling with overstimulation and the pressuring you’re holding is released.

Jungkook backs up a bit as you cum, new arousal seeping out of you and drenching the floor entirely. He licks his lips, hungry eyes watching the way your pussy glistens -  and he can’t wait to feel it for himself. 

Just mere seconds after Taehyung and Jungkook put your clothing back where they belong - because you were far too overwhelmed to do it yourself - the kitchen door swings open. The music blares through for a few moments before it closes and heels click against the floor. She doesn’t notice the three of you in the corner as she looks for a drink.

But when the woman turns around and spots the three of you, her eyes focus on you.

“You okay?” she asks. You don’t know her and she doesn’t know you, but with the way you’re leaning against the corner with a dazed look in your eye while two men hover over you doesn’t sit right with her.

“She’s fine.” Taehyung calls, wrapping a hand around your waist. “We were just leaving.”

The woman glances between the three of you. 

“She’s drunk.”

“Who isn’t?” Jungkook scoffs. “We all are.”

“I think I’ll be taking her home.”

“You don’t know her.” Jungkook fires back, glancing at Taehyung then you. “Y/N, do you know her?”

“Of course she does.” the woman hisses. She, unlike Jungkook, Taehyung and yourself, is sober and had just joined the party. She doesn’t know you from a can of paint, but if she decided to ignore the way these two men are staring at you like their next meal, it wouldn’t sit right with her. “Y/N, we’re leaving.”

Taehyung allows you to be pulled away from him. He decides that going against it would make him look bad. So he shrugs his shoulders. “Fine.” he says, even if the veins on his neck pulse in great disdain. “Y/N, I’ll see you around. Maybe in Professor Kim’s class.”

Jungkook licks his lips, your taste still on him. His eyes are glaring daggers at you and the unknown woman. “What’s your name?” he asks her.

“Fuck off.” she rolls her eyes, wrapping an arm around you and taking you out of the kitchen.

Jungkook slowly turns his head towards Taehyung, raising a brow. 

“She can’t escape us forever.” Taehyung shrugs. “Whose party are we even at?”

“Jackson’s.” Jungkook answers.

“Then, we’ll have to find Jackson and get that camera footage.” Taehyung motions to the camera high up in the ceiling, nearly undetectable. 

Jungkook’s eyes slightly widened. “Then what?” he murmurs. 

Taehyung snickers. “We do what we do best.”

What Taehyung and Jungkook did best was release said video - blurring out each of your faces. It was a warning shot, you note.

That night once the girl, who later told you her name was Bella, had taken you out of that party, your worries only diminished slightly. She had taken you outside for fresh air and snagged you a water bottle along the way.

“Did you really know those two?” she asked you, concerned in her voice. “The way they were looking at you…”

You nod your head. But your hand trembles when you take a sip of water and it gives her another reason to not leave you at this party entirely. “Let me take you home.” she said. 

That night, you had gone to bed without showering, your body exhausted. When you woke up, your phone was nearly dead.

Your notifications were wild. You were in a massive group chat that you hadn’t been into before and it took you nearly three minutes to find the start of it.

When you had, your body ran cold at the black and white video of you, Taehyung and Jungkook, altered to blur your faces. Your heart pounded as you read the countless messages of people asking who the girl was - if she was a good fuck or not.

Your phone dies before you have the chance to process it, the reflection of your frightened face staring back at you.

You take a deep breath. Your trembling hands had put your phone on the charger and went up to go to the bathroom. Upon entering and looking at yourself in the mirror, you could only stare at your reflection. 

You looked a mess, eyes a bit wide and startled. Your hair was completely ruined out of its style, the way you slept and woke up could be possibly to blame.

A hot shower would’ve had all your worries fall down the drain, but it didn’t. It couldn’t. 

If anyone was coherent that night, they’d know that it was you in that video. That it was the same shirt and skirt you wore that was pushed up to allow two men to do as they pleased with you.

That would ruin your reputation and then word would get out. Your father would hear and slowly, his reputation, as well. You were a legacy here - and though you aren’t saying your family are saints. But none of them were exposed to this degree.

Your phone rings as soon as you are out of the shower. It was charged enough to finally turn on.

A towel wrapped around your body, you looked at the number displayed on it. You didn’t have the number saved to your phone, but your spirit has an idea of who it could be.

“Hello?” your voice is lost of any energy.

“Hello sunshine.”

Jungkook’s voice is cheery on the other side. You take a deep breath, your hand squeezing your phone to your ear.

“You’ve been avoiding us.” Jungkook then says, his cheery tone gone and replaced to one darker. 

“I haven’t!” you exclaim. “M-My phone was dead and…”

“You know we could’ve exposed you, right? Show everyone how much of a fucking whore you were for me and Tae?” Jungkook spats, shushing you entirely. “What do you think your father would’ve thought if we sent the video to him and all his colleagues? That this is what you’re doing in college instead of being studious.”

Your heart pounds outside your chest at the position you were caught in. Jungkook and Taehyung knew too much about you, and now they had physical proof. Your life could be ruined if you didn’t do what they said - or do what they wanted. 

“What did you tell that girl last night?” Jungkook questions. 

The girl from the night before flashes in your mind. Her kindness was unmatched as you hadn’t known who she was in the slightest.

“Nothing.” you say truthfully.

Jungkook is silent on the other end for a moment, as if thinking. “Are you sure?” he questions. “You didn’t make yourself the victim?”

You’re positive you know what Jungkook is speaking of without him coming out directly and saying it.

“No. I didn’t tell her anything.” your voice is pleading with him to believe you.

“Okay.” Jungkook speaks finally. “You owe us, Y/N. For keeping this secret for you.”

You swallow. You close your eyes for a few seconds.

“I know.” you reply. “Are you two busy now?”

There’s a chuckle on the other end. You can imagine Jungkook now, a smug look on his handsome face and a smirk on his rosy lips. 

“You can come over if you’d like.” 

You open your eyes, staring directly ahead. The only end to all of this was to do exactly what they wanted. A deep voice in your mind tells you that this wasn’t the end. That even if you did what they told you to, that this video was still out there and at any moment, they could expose you.

Think positive, you tell yourself.

In under an hour, all the positivity was out the door as soon as Jungkook and Taehyung walked through it.

“You’re such a little whore, Y/N.” Taehyung’s fingers are gripping your chin between his hands.

Jungkook is directly behind you, both of his hands bruising your waist as his hips snap forward.  His hips are punishing and seemingly full of hate as he pounds into you. Your thighs are forced apart to take him whole and bare.

“You pretended to be so shy last night as if you didn’t want us.” Taehyung continues. His cock is mere inches from your face and dare you say your mouth salivated to have it in your mouth - maybe it was the lust flowing through you with how well Jungkook was fucking you.

“But here you are allowing Kook to fuck you. But not only that,” Taehyung’s tip brushes along your lips. “you’re drooling to suck my cock, aren’t you?”

Taehyung watches you - your fucked out expression is entirely beautiful to him. The sound of Jungkook’s hips snapping back and forth with the squelching sound of your pussy; it all comes together perfectly. 

You whimper, nodding your head.

It all happened too fast when they arrived. You were nervous, sure, but the events led to this. Your ass in the air while Jungkook fucks you with no mercy. His cock springing in and out of you with such speed that you were nervous you’d cum before it was all over - and still had to deal with Taehyung. 

Taehyung shoves his cock into your mouth without much warning, hissing at just how salivated your mouth was to have him. His grip on your chin is replaced by your hair.

Jungkook’s eyes dance around, unsure of where he wants to land. Your ass bounces against his groin so beautifully, your pussy clenching around him. But now witnessing the way your head bobs up and down as you suckle onto Taehyung’s cock sends him into an even more aggressive state.

You cry out, mouth falling open a bit when Jungkook’s cock dives even deeper into your pussy. You aren’t permitted to stop, however, as now Taehyung just takes control. He thrusts into your mouth entirely, the tip of his cock reaching your throat. You gag, and Taehyung feels it and the only thing he could do was moan.

“You look pretty with a cock in your mouth, Y/N.” Taehyung groans. Drool trickles down the corner of your mouth to your jaw.

There it goes again, your pussy squeezing around Jungkook. He groans, one hand roaming up your side to capture a bouncing breast, 

“Such a good girl you are, Y/N.” Jungkook pants - you were a sucker for praise, he thinks, as each time anyone gave it you’d squeeze around him. “You like being fucked like this, huh?”

Your voice does a strangled moan of confirmation as Taehyung thrusts his cock in and out of you. 

The sight alone had to be demeaning. Having Jungkook fuck you so disrespectfully, completely milking your walls while Taehyung has full access to your mouth. It’s an act you never thought you’d be in, but as the seconds roll on you find that slowly, you’re uncaring about how much you’d come to regret this. As of right now, your body was more than welcoming of the cock in your mouth and pussy.

“She’s so wet.” Jungkook gasps, a mere moment of disbelief on his face before he composes himself. You’re messily leaking all over him and yourself, your tight pussy only squeezing him more and more. “Is this how you fucked Professor Kim, Y/N?”

You aren’t meant to respond, of course - not while Taehyung plunges his cock in your throat. You had to look a complete mess - watery eyes, drool dripping down your chin. But to them, there wasn’t an even more beautiful sight than witnessing you be completely used.

“You’re such the perfect little whore.” Taehyung coos, your nose lightly pressing against his groin with how deep his cock slides into you. Your eyes were growing wetter, inhaling through your nose the best way you could.

Jungkook is groaning and grunting behind you, thrust powerful yet sloppy and he has every intention of cumming - either on you or in you. He didn’t really care where.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Jungkook pants.

“Me, too.” Taehyung tightens his grip.

Jungkook glances up, an idea forming in his mind. With a few more pumps, Jungkook pulls up. “Turn her around,” he demands, a hand wrapped around his cock.

Taehyung is surprised, but he does as Jungkook is told. He assists in turning you around, your back against the bed and Jungkook on top of you, Taehyung behind you. 

“Imma fuck her tits,” Jungkook states, both hands engulfing your breast and placing his wet cock between them. “you fuck her mouth.”

Taehyung is more than willing, his eyes marveling at how slutty you appear in this new position.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter a bit, but he watches the way his cock thrust between your breast, his thumbs playing with your perky nipples. You’re gagging against Taehyung’s cock.

“I’m going to cum all over you, Y/N. Cover you in cum just how you want.”

“Fuck, I think she likes that.” Taehyung chuckles darkly, a hand pressed against your cheek as his cock plummets in and out of your mouth.” I’ll cum all over your face, baby, you’d want that? You’re such a little whore that I know you  do.”

You’re far too fucked out to care. Your thighs are still shaking from the way Jungkook was fucking you before.

Warm cum squirts all over your breast, some hitting your neck and at the sight, Taehyung pulls his cock from your salivating mouth and cums right on your face. His eyes are dark as he watches the way you whimper, covered in their seed.

You don’t move for 20 minutes, far too exhausted to do anything. Jungkook, however, is kind enough to clean the cum from your body with a rag he found in your bathroom. He doused it with warm water prior to cleaning you. 

Taehyung settles himself behind you, while Jungkook is lying facing you. Neither of them go to move, both far exhausted just like you are - even if they know they’re overstaying their welcome. Taehyung’s arm is lazily around your waist while Jungkook’s is over your torso.

The feeling of unease never truly subsides from your body, but you’re far too exhausted to worry about it now.

part two

Okay, maybe you were being just a little bit facetious with the whole ‘absolutely no reason for him to be acting like a spoiled brat’ thing, the reason for his displeasure is obvious. He’s made it abundantly clear time and time again but that isn’t going to stop you from playing dumb. 

His reason is just so– so– stupid. 

Territorial, maybe. 

Jimin has never liked Hoseok, not since their very first meeting at Miss Oswald’s front door. 

It had been a few weeks after you had taken Jimin in off the streets– his frame finally starting to fill out a little, no longer just skin and bones and bruises from whatever fights he had gotten into out there. His entire being finally starting to glow. 

At the time, his tail was whipping back and forth frantically as you stood in front of the door, having just pressed the bell. Happy yips, licks to your cheek planting themselves in place as he was practically vibrating with light. He had been so happy, so excited. 

You? Your heart had been beating a mile a minute at how far he was coming along, how much he was already growing out of his shell. How carefree the energy around him always started to bend whenever he was relaxing on the couch or in the sun. 

And then, then the switch happened. 

It was night and day, honestly. 

All of that light, that excitement shut down the moment your neighbour had opened the door, Hoseok standing right behind her frame. 

His tail was wagging– of course it was, you had always known him to be a happy hybrid. A sunshine smile that warms up your toes even in the coldest winters, a hug so tight it might break your bones. Everything about him making someone feel just so safe and content. That same smile placed on his lips now as he looks at you, only you. 

Like there's a whole Earth to orbit but the only thing that can draw his attention is you, type of smile. 

The second Hoseok’s mouth opened to say your name in greeting, a low growl could be heard from behind your body. A singular sound that made you feel as if the birds decided to stop singing and the wind had ceased its own motion around you. One that had made your hair stand on end, to cause your pulse in your throat to raise just a few notches faster. One that you had never come out of Jimin before, right along with a swift tug at your wrist, urging you backwards. Away from the very thing he perceived as a threat. 

Oh no– that he knew was a threat from just that singular look. 

Hoseok only stood there with a simple tilt of his head, a gentle smirk finding his lips as Jimin continued to try to pull you back to the safety of your own home. Clearly unthreatened in the slightest, clearly amused at the affection Jimin so obviously had for you. He knew that look all too well, too. 

Hoseok knew these games just as well as Jimin did, it seemed. 

Ah, it really was unfair that he loved them, thrived in them. In the thrill of winning, in the thrill of the hunt. Especially when something as pretty as you is standing as the prize.

After you had finally managed to usher the mutt– Jimin– inside the house, he knew it was his job to make sure Jimin knew his place. What kind of alpha would he be, otherwise? 

You had let out a squeak, entirely unaware of the competition already set in stone between the two as Hoseok pulled you into a hug, nuzzling into your neck as his eyes remained on the golden retriever. That same smirk stayed in place as he gave a simple lick to your neck. Something that could so easily be taken as innocent, a nice greeting from the doberman hybrid anything but as an all too familiar chill travelled down your spine at the feeling. 

You knew what it meant.

Hoseok knew what it meant. 

Jimin, fuck, obviously knew what it implied. 

Hoseok wanted to keel over and laugh at the restraint Jimin held while his owner (Martha, Maryanne, he couldn’t remember her name right now) cooed over the golden retriever hybrid. At the way the Jimin’s ears swivelled almost manically trying to catch what was said when Hoseok pressed his lips to your ear. At the pinching of Jimin’s eyes as your cheeks flushed red, all while the doberman hybrids owner straightened out his hair and talked about how adorable he was. 

The silent conversation, one you had missed entirely, between the dog hybrids was clear– Hoseok had you first. That didn’t mean Jimin wouldn’t have you last.

Oh. Hoseok knew this was going to be fun. 

Especially when you, the every clueless human, thought they would be best friends right away. You knew Jimin had been excited to make one too! You truly could not– still can’t– understand why he just has to hate him so much. 

Hoseok is practically an angel! Someone you consider yourself to be very close with, even now. He’s always so carefree and gentle with you and his owner. Always makes you laugh when you're sad, helps you clean your house when it just feels like too much. Takes you on walks at night whenever you just need to get out for a bit but don’t feel safe enough to go on your own. Hell, on particularly cold nights he would even risk sneaking out of his own house to go to yours just to help warm you up because he knows you keep the house a few degrees colder than you actually prefer.

So!! It makes no sense to you that Jimin wouldn’t like him all the same!! His outrage is completely unfounded. 

Something about territory, at least that’s what he would tell you. His quiet, under-the-breath, grumbles that are always so hard to decipher no matter how hard you try– yet are adorable regardless. Huffs and puffs that didn’t feel as upset as he truly intended whenever faced with that little pout on your lips. 

Unfortunately, their relationship only became more strained the more time Jimin spent under your care– spent with you. 

It wasn’t anything you could have predicted, honestly, but it was welcome nonetheless. As the months passed, your relationship developed into something more than what it was supposed to be. At least, more than what society would allow his stance to be in your life. 

But you had  never seen hybrids as animals, as something as simple as a pet. Jimin was never an animal– never a golden retriever even if he had ears and a tail to match. He could think, he could feel. A few animalistic traits would never change that. 

He was simply just… just Jimin. Your roommate that you care about a little too much. The one with the pretty smile and puffy cheeks that always complained about wanting more meat. 

The one that dug holes in your backyard and played with you in the hose during the summer, but growled at any man who came within a ten foot vicinity of you in public. 

The one who, despite how much he hated the man, went whining to Hoseok when you got the flu. So scared for your health, your safety after the man at the corner store kicked him out when he was trying to buy medicine for you that he tucked back his own pride and went to him of all people because he just didn’t know what could fix his human. What could make you better. 

Your roommate that you sometimes let sneak into your bed when the nights are too cold and the idea of a body pressed against yours, holding you, keeping you safe practically left you whimpering into your pillow. 

Somehow, he always heard. Like he was simply sitting outside your door. Waiting to hear that betrayed little sound of your lips and the soft call of his name. 

Neither of you could stop the feelings from developing, and while the true stature behind your relationship had never been spoken out loud or defined, you both knew something was there. You would never deny it.

But Jimin, poor Jimin, has always been an anxious guy. He didn’t like when you took too long in the shower without him, or when you would have to leave for work during the day. A scenting frenzy would occur the second you stepped through the door, making you promise to never leave him like that again because he simply could not live without you by his side.

And that is exactly why Park Jimin could never know that before he came into your life, you harboured the same feelings for Jung Hoseok, lest you actually want the golden to rip his face off. 

Jimin could never know of those stolen memories you had with the doberman hybrid when he would sneak away from his owner. Could never know of the stolen kisses, the soft touches. The almost-claiming bites he would press into your neck when you were fast asleep, completely unaware of the danger that lurked behind Hosoek’s sun. 

The fact that Jimin’s knot wasn’t the first you had ever taken– nor could he ever know about what occurred when you were sitting Hoseok for Miss Oswald 3 months before Jimin had come into your care. How you had helped him through his rut. How you found yourself unable to say no to him every time after. 

No, he could never know about any of it. 

You had already caught Jimin looking at Zillow one too many mornings. No more than a simple ‘goodmorning’ from Hoseok setting him off when you two coincidentally met at the conjoined mailbox. 

He said the mutt– doberman, you would correct– was plotting, you told him it was a simple coincidence. It was a repeated pattern over and over again. Only recently did you convince him to stop leaving printed out pictures of houses for sale all over the building. 

Yeah, Jimin can’t know. You would do anything in your power to keep it that way. 

Ah, it’s unfortunate for you that he already does. 

Did from that very first meeting when that stupid dog tried to mark you as his right in front of him. Tried to call you his bitch without formally saying the words out loud. The audacity! And you just– you let him when you’re his and not his! You know?! Uhg, whatever, as if you would be Hoseoks’ for long. 

Funny. As if.

“I told her last week we could help today, Min! You agreed then!” You whine in return, crossing your arms over your chest, mimicking his childishly defiant stance. 

“Well I didn't know he was going to be there!” The low grumbles he let out almost made you want to coo. Jimin has never been much of a fighter, but the grumbles he always let out made your belly flutter up. 

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Where else would he be, exactly?” 

He opens his mouth to respond, a cocky expression taking over his face, but you stop him with a sharp pinch of a glare, your head jutting out slightly as if to test him, “And don’t you dare say ‘the pound’.”

He visibly deflates, his foot kicking at nonexistent dirt on the ground as his throat lets out a series of little grumbles. Tail wagging slowly behind him as he contemplates his next action. 

Before you give him the chance to, you’re already turning to leave. Grabbing your bag off of the couch with a little ‘humph’ of your own, leaving him to flounder after you as you make, well, try to make your way to the door. Arms already securing around your midsection as he stumbles to keep up, a high pitched whine leaving his throat as you try to make your way towards his biggest threat. 

“W-wait!” His voice is nothing more than a yip as he secures you in place, head nuzzling its way into your neck. Nose rubbing back and forth against the underside of your jaw, trying to soak his scent deeper into your skin like you aren’t covered in it already. 

But he needs to be sure. Needs to make sure Hoseok is sure, too. 

“Are you sure we can’t just stay home?” His voice is sad now, a whimper as his tail curls itself around one of your legs. His hands firm and insistent in their claim over you. His rubbing not ceasing for a second, your neck practically raw from the attention he’s been giving it all morning. 

He doesn’t care. It’s not enough. 

It never is unless it’s your cunt stuffed full of him. Only then can he be positive other hybrids won’t try to stake their claim over you. Stake their claim over what is rightfully his just because he said so.

A sigh is all that can be heard from below his hunched posture, one of your hands coming up to rub at his pinned-back ear, “Minnie… I already told you we gotta go… Miss Oswald said she needs help and I’m not going back on a promise. I can go without you if you–” 

“No!” His denial is sharp, high pitched as he somehow tucks you closer. Encases your entire being in the expanse of his chest. It’s only times like these that he remembers how small you feel against him. Or maybe just how much space you can take up in his mind, in his very being. 

Everything in him screams to not let you go. Everything in him, both raw and fresh, curling around his brain screaming at him to do anything in his power to keep you from going out that door. To keep you from leaving him to go see that mutt. 

Sure, his inner hybrid normally screams at him like this whenever you have to go anywhere. He doesn’t like you leaving his sight– in fact, it physically pains him to do so. Makes him pace around in his head and outloud, biting on his nails until he knows you are back to him and safe. His. 

He just needs a little more time and he’s sure you’ll feel the same way, too. In fact, he knows it. To him, you’re already his mate. So why couldn’t you just let that dumb dog go. 

It pisses him off to no end, honestly. Especially the fact you can’t see what he’s doing to you. Trying to control you. To make you think of him and only him and not the hybrid you’re meant to be with. 

You’re meant to be with Jimin. He’s sure of it. 

So it really doesn’t matter if he does the same. If he effortlessly makes you more reliant on him. If he keeps you dependent on his affection and care. If he slowly weaves himself into the fabric of how you think every single day because you’re meant to be with him. Not Hoseok. 

You took him off the streets. You’re his guardian angel. Not Hoseoks. Hoseok was simply… convenient, probably.

Stupid mutt. 

He needs to show him how much you mean to each other. How important he is to you. 

His eyes light up as an idea floats its way to the front. One that has his inner hybrid howling, his tail wagging, and his cock already growing half hard in his pants. 

“I’ll…” He grumbles softly, so soft you can hardly hear him over the racing of your heart. His fingers almost childishly pulling at the bottom of your shirt, thumbs jutting out to rub against the skin of your tummy softly. Just little temperamental circles, nothing more, nothing less. “I’ll come…” 

He feels the stiffness in your form, clearly still poised and ready for an argument, visibly deflate from your shoulders as you relax against his chest. One of your hands softly coming up to lace your fingers through his own. Your voice utters out a simple, “Thank you, Min.” while your thumb reaches to stroke over his knuckles. 

Soft. Gentle. Caring. 

He lets out another long, drawn out whine. His hips pressing closer, his cock rubbing against your barely covered ass. 

Why did you have to wear a skirt today? It’s another question on his long list of complaints. One he doubts he’ll ever have an answer to other than the notion that you want to be slutted out to the older hybrid. That you want his cock buried in your cunt instead of the man holding you now. 

Whatever. It won’t be Hoseok’s cum dribbling down your thighs anyway. 

You gasp at the contact– at the hardness you certainly feel against the plush of your cheeks, “J-Jimin–” But before you’re even able to get out his full name, you’re already being flipped around. The entire room spinning as you’re pressed back against the couch, a mop of blonde finding itself between your tits as you gasp once again. Attempting to recuperate– to consolidate your once standing form now laying back against the couch, thighs spread as his body makes space between them. 

His entire weight rests against you as his head shakes in your cleavage, the pressure making it more difficult to breathe. His breath keening, whimpers leaving his lips as his hips struggle, grinding themselves against the plush of the couch. 

“You like him more than me, don’t you?” Jimin starts his sad, floppy dog act once again. The one that he knows tugs against your heart strings, the one that makes it easier to get what he wants from you. Makes you forget about the hand moving up your thigh, the heat of his breath against your cleavage. 

“Wh-what?” You quickly breath out, hand that was reaching down to stop his pursuit freezing midair. Brow pinching in confusion as you try to calm the heat rushing to your cheeks, “No I don’t. What are you talking about?”

He only whimpers again. Taking the moment of hesitation to lace his free hand with your own. Pinning you without you realising it fully– not yet, anyways. 

“I-I just…” He mopes, pushing your skirt up and over your hips. Panty clad cunt now directly pressed against his lower stomach. The subtle, continuous grind of his hips into the couch cushion causing your hips to rock along with him the same. Moisture gathering against your core as he makes you grind against his pelvis. 

“He’s always so territorial over you…” He can’t stop the bite in his tone, the little growl at even the mention of the other male right now, “Doesn’t understand that you’re my bitch.” 

It takes a second for you to catch up– it always does when he throws too much at you at the same time. But as soon as you process the fabric of your underwear rubbing against your clit, you soon recognise the ‘bitch’ in his words, no matter how affectionate he always meant it, “Jimin!” 

He whines at the mild scolding tone in your voice, letting his ears droop. Letting his tail brush gently against your ankles as he wags it low, submissive. Making him seem even more pathetic than he already is, “It’s true… he’s always all over you. Scenting you. Trying to take you from me…” 

“Please… I just need to make you smell like me so he knows…” It’s heavy in his tone still, that same grating whimper that has you wanting to sell your soul and give it to him. “Let me cum inside? Please?” 

“J-Jimin…” The hesitation is clear in your voice, yet so is the sticky trail of arousal coating his abs. His shirt slowly being pushed upwards along with his grinds, your panties doing nothing to stop the spread of your arousal as he mewls against the couch, “I don’t– there’s no time and I don't want to be late–” 

This time, it’s his gaze that cuts you off. The tilt of his head upwards, eyes brimmed with glassy tears threatening to fall while his cheeks remain flushed pink. His lips parted, saliva collecting at the edges just like he always gets when he’s far too wound up for reason. 

You know his act well enough at this point, at least you should. 

Knew those puppy-dog eyes he now sends your way, making your heart shrink in on itself. Knew the keening of his throat that always made him seem just so pathetic. Make you just want to give in to anything he wanted with a simple flop of his ears and simpering wag of his tail. 

Let him do what he wanted, more so. Because the second you gave in? The second you’d look away shyly and agree to whatever he was acting? A switch would flip behind Jimin’s soft brown eyes. A switch that wouldn’t return to its upright position until he was well and done with you.  

That cute, pathetic little dog boy who was just preening for your approval would turn into a wicked thing. Would tread you like a rag doll, like his bitch in heat. Would take you until his cock wouldn’t let him anymore– until he was sure you were knotted up well. Sat pretty on his cock, claiming you the best that he could without biting your neck directly. 

You knew his act well, and yet you let him get away with it every single time. 

Even when he works himself up past the brink of sanity, forgetting to ask your permission time and time again to start. 

Thankfully, Jimin knew how to beg for forgiveness, too. 

Cute and sweet when he just couldn’t wait anymore. When he just had to bend you over while you cooked, when he couldn’t wait until you woke up to start licking at your cunt because you just smelled too good. That whine in his voice that had you shushing him instantly, petting at his hair through sleepy mumbles, telling him that it was okay.

Spreading your legs just a bit farther with the press of his hands, opening you up even wider. Licking you clean until you were red and sore and pushing his head away. Only then would he ask for one more, encourage you– make sure you knew you could do it. 

You let him get away with too much– you even admit that now as his teeth nip at the top of your breast. At the skin spilling over the top of your shirt while one of his hands finds its way between your bodies, pressing against your pelvis. Giving just a little bit of pressure to your empty core, making you more aware of it than you ever have been before. 

You were no match against him. He knew it too. Knew you like the back of his hand, just like a good alpha should. 

“C’mon… C’mon please…” His voice whimpers, head taken back to pressing between your tits. His face pressed between them, shaking his head as if it would will you to not let him go. To just let you give in and give him whatever he wants. “Just the tip… just let me put the tip in so I can cum…”

His hand slips lower, curling under the hem of your panties. Slowly pressing his fingertips against your folds, not giving you any chance to think. To pull away. The pads of his fingers gliding against your slick, whimpers of your own leaving your lips. 

He dips two fingers shallowly into your hole, collecting your arousal on his fingertips before he brings them higher. Presses down against your clit as you kick your hips. As your body urges him closer even if your mind still attempts to remain strong against his advances. 

 “Promise… Promise just the tip– please just let me. Please!” He’s getting impatient, you both know it as those same fingers slip lower. As his ring finger is the first to push itself inside of your leaking hole. Curling as it begins its slow pumps inside, pulling you closer, urging you deeper to just agree so he can make sure Hoseok knows his place. 

He was like an angel in carnate, even when he uttered such sinful words that has your cunt clenching around him. Pulling the digit deeper as it adjusts to the slow stretch of his finger. As your hips squirm when he presses his thumb against your clit once more, urging it to let him through as he slowly works his middle finger in alongside the other. 

Has you wanting to let him sink his cock inside your heat like it belonged there, like it was never meant to leave the safe haven that was your folds. 

“I don’t know…” You hesitate, hardly gasping for air as your spine curls, pressing your body closer to him. His efforts finally successful as he manages to stuff a second finger inside, stretching you. Scissoring your core. Making sure you’re ready to take him because the both of you know you’re already slipping. He doesn’t even really know why you’re still fighting with your cunt clinging to him so tightly, begging for him. “I won’t– I won’t have time to change or shower a-and–” 

You try excuses, but they do little to sway him. You don’t even believe the words uttered from your lips as he pulls his hand from your cunt, his back-brain telling him you’re stretched enough. That it’s okay if it hurts just a little. Meanwhile your hands are reaching blindly for his wrist, doing everything in their power to keep his fingers tucked inside without your permission. 

If he was in his right mind more, if his head wasn’t so far into outterspace from the idea of fucking you, he may have reacted more to the cute display. Though he has a mission. A single prerogative on his mind as he frame pulls back just enough to tug your panties from your hips. Pull the material down your thighs until it’s far past your ankles. Thrown into some odd corner of the room. 

Nope, instead there's nothing more than another high whine in his throat, his strong hands pressing your thighs open further. Palms melting into your soft skin as he takes his rightful place over you. This bulge practically omnipotent as it strains against his pants. 

“Please, please, please, please, please.” He begs like it’s a prayer, his tail whipping back and forth behind him in anticipation. Drool at the sight of you, the smell of you consuming him from the inside out as he stares at your splayed form. At your bunched up skirt, at your puffy, dripping cunt. “Just let me, I promise I’ll be good. I promise.” 

He’s getting too excited now. He knows it. You know it. But neither of you do a single thing to stop it. You simply can’t when he’s wound this high with adrenaline. When he’s a bit more animal than human, moving off of pure instinct. Off of the drive to consume you whole. When you both get so foggy in the head that you know you can’t say no. 

Slowly, you roll your head to the side, baring your neck at him. Your final act of submission as you let Jimin take the reins before he just gets too excited that even he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Voice quiet as you mumble out your concession to the standoff. “Y-you have to be quick.” 

A loud whine rings throughout the air, though this time in pure, unadulterated relief. His hands already working on his button and zipper, shoving his boxers down just low enough to free his swollen, straining cock. “Thank you, thank you.” 

He’s whimpering again as he hand wraps around his length, fist tight around the base, right where his knot would swell up. A pained groan as he squeezes himself, as you watch dribbles of pre-cum leak from his pink tip. 

“Gonna fill you up– make you, make you leak all pretty. He’ll smell my cum on you.” He struggles out, voice high and fervent as his stare flicks between the state of your cunt and your neck still to the side. Still obeying his stake, his claim on your very being. “Know you’re mine. Everyone will. Cause you are. Mine. Filled with my cum. My scent.” 

My pups. He wants to add, but he still has to wait for your heat to get that. Human’s heats seem to take forever to come. 

Your breath hitches when he finally releases his cock, when he finally lowers his frame over top of yours. His hips slowly dragging himself over the crest of your pelvis, pulling back just far enough to drag the tip of himself over your clit. Smear his cum against your skin, marking you. Keeping you. 

His cock feels so heavy against you. So thick and daunting no matter how many times you’ve taken it before. The length too pretty to be fair, nice and straight and flushed as it feels like stone against you. Red hot pressure against your cunt as he taunts you with it. Slides it down to your hole, notching himself right against your as your entrance flutters. Cunt begging, screaming for him to just thrust it inside. Fuck you fully until your lungs breathe in nothing but his air. 

“Just the tip.” You force out, your eyes trained on the scene between your thighs. Tone light, airy as a spring breeze as you attempt to keep yourself focused. In the moment. To make sure he doesn’t go too far and you’re not even more late for your gardening appointment than you already know you’re going to be. 

“Just the– tip.” He nods his head fervently, agreeing as his gaze is locked on the same sight as you. As he hovers on the precipice, a thrust away from penetrating. Cute little pink walls fluttering around barely any of him. Watching as your entrance attempts to stretch to accommodate for him, as your thighs shake with something greater than need for him to finally snap the band and let himself inside. 

“Promise. Promise just the tip. I’ll be good– promise.” His promises are as fine as sand, but you’re too cloudy to even realise it, “‘M gonna be fast, promise. Just need to cum in you. Won’t even knot.”

But even if you wanted to argue, to keep him in check, every piece of sanity you have remaining slips away the second Jimin bullies the first inch of his cock inside of your cunt. Your moans filling the air in tandem as Jimin finally feels whole again, the last bit of his soul re-entering his body whenever he gets to fill you up like this. 

“G-Good.” He stutters out, hips unable to stop and give you a moment to adjust as they already begin their thrusts. The first few inches of his cock battering your wall as he fucks ‘just the tip’ inside. “Good mate. Good. So good for me, my perfect human. Mine.” 

His head leans down, face tucking itself in your neck as he licks at your skin. Unable to stop himself from mouthing right between your neck and shoulder. Teeth scraping against the skin as you’re all but pliant to him. Fists grabbing at the back of his shirt, trying to pull him closer before pushing him away. His entire being surrounding you, all of his weight pressing into each shallow thrust. 

You feel even more out of breath than before with his weight against your chest. His hands kneading your thighs as he holds them down, makes sure they remain open for him as he gets lost in your heat.

“‘S-s’ good!” You manage to slur, though aren’t sure if your voice sounds like words or nothing more than sounds. “Min– c’mon– quick.” 

“Just the tip.” He repeats to himself like it’s a reminder. Though it doesn’t stop him from pressing in deeper with every thrust. Just a little bit every time. A little bit more and more and more. 

Fucking you open slowly, until you forget all about his promise of it just being the tip. Pushing himself inside, using his muscular hips to his advantage as he breaks you open slowly. His cock fighting where his fingers couldn’t fit, trying to remind himself to train you to take him properly so the stretch doesn’t hurt so much every time. Until half of his length has already disappeared inside of your core. 

“Promise. Promise just the tip.” Or maybe he himself doesn’t know what ‘just the tip’ is anymore, maybe he doesn’t even know where you end and he begins. “Fill you up. Make you full.” 

He groans loud when he finally bottoms out, when he gives up convincing your body slowly and just forces himself all the way inside. The other half of his cock making home inside of your heat, the skin where his knot wants to inflate practically burning with the need to cum. 

Your thighs attempt to close against his grasp, though they are forced to remain in place. Your breath hitching as you gasp, head twisting, hands twitching as you suddenly feel so full. Body attempting to do anything to pull away, to move closer, to do anything against the frame that rocks into you. To get away from the stretch, to pull him closer to fuck it away.

“Min, Min–” You repeat his name, feeling more of his saliva on your neck as he continues to work against it. Leaves love bites where he much rather place a mating mark instead, “Move, gotta move. Please.” 

You’re keening, writhing underneath of him when he finally starts the withdrawal of his hips. No more than a couple inches as he pulls back, rutting forward again with a new kind of need he hadn’t held before. His breath coming out in short, rough pants as he works his hips as quickly as he can. Refusing himself the reprieve of pulling out more than he is. 

He wants to be consumed by you entirely. Wants you to feel him cum deep. Wants to drip out of you for days. 

“Close.” He half-whines, half groans against the column of your throat, seemingly entranced by it. His hips, his desperation working you closer and closer to the edge. Feeling that band in your lower belly tighten up whenever he presses his full weight against your core, whenever you feel the brush of his cock against the too-sensitive spot inside of you. The one that has your walls clinging to him like the world depends on it. 

He finally pulls away from your neck, one of his arms propping next to your head as he takes the chance to look down at you. As you finally get the chance to look up at him– to see the fuzzy, almost manic look in his eyes. See the blushed out from of his parted lips, the too-sharp canines that reside right behind them. 

“Good human.” He swallows, mouth still salivating from the combined scents of arousal in the air, “Gonna–” He pauses, grunting as he attempts to steady his thrusts again, resuming an actual pace rather than just helplessly rutting into your core, “Gonna fill you up. Make him smell me on you.” 

He groans at the mere thought, the look on Hoseok’s face when the older hybrid catches a whiff of him on you. The claim he places right in your cunt, making sure he knows to stay out of it. Makes sure he knows who was there first if he tries to pull you away like he always does.

His hips get sloppy again, imagining Hoseok’s face pissed as he sneaks his hand between your thighs. As he gets the picture of feeding Hoseok his cum right from your center. 

You’re Jimin’s bitch. 

Thankfully, you’re too far gone to care. Barely hanging on by a thread as your head rolls back against the arm rest of the couch, nails digging into Jimin’s shirt as your walls clamp around him. Falling over the edge at a perfectly angled thrust, a loud moan of his name as your entire body ceases around him.

The leg he isn’t holding down manages to cling around him, your fingernails biting into his back as you press yourself as close to him as you can. Your spine shuttering as it releases waves of flutters down your entire body. Walls clenching, toes curling in a pattern that calls to the most base instincts of the man still fucking into you. His knot catching on your entrance with every thrust as it slowly starts to inflate, slowly tries to keep him locked inside. 

You’re burying your face in his neck, chanting words even you can’t decipher as your teeth scrape against his skin. Words foreign, lost on your tongue as you let him use you for his own release, slow shutters following you with every stretch at the base. 

“Fuck! Fuck, mate– Good mate, Mine.” He’s groaning, entirely lost himself, “Gonna– gonna make him eat it from you. Gonna watch you drip all over the garden, make him know you’re bred. Bred so good.” 

He’s gasping as he finally pulls back before his knot expands to its fullest, before he lets it trap him in your heat. Intent on keeping at least one of his promises it seems. His cum pumping out in thick waves as it coats your walls. As it fills you more than you expect it to every time. 

He manages to pull back from your death grip once the first few waves of his release dives down. His body withdrawing, hand coming to rap around his sore, inflated knot. Squeezing it as the remainder of his cock continues to leak weak spurts of cum inside of your walls. His mind dizzy with what to do to make it stick. 

He watches in awe as he presses his hips forward, oversensitivity taking over both of you as he pushes as much of his cock inside as he can, fist still firmly squeezing around his knot. Feeling the way some of his cum is pressed deeper inside, watching the way your hips wiggle to get away from the onslaught, but continuing the press and withdraw a few more times until it's too much for even him to take. His spine tingling, a confused simper leaving his lips when your hands come down to press at his hip bones, urging him to stop. 

It takes you a few more seconds to recover, trying to urge your breathing into something more standard as your eyes pinched closed, forcing your brain back from the clouds into reality. Trying to recover even though you want to do nothing more than take a nap, maybe climb into a warm bath. 

However, in the few seconds you attempt to take to recover, Jimin already seems to have other ideas. With a whine drawn from your lips, he pulls out of you, quickly replacing his cock with as many fingers as your walls will allow. Your eyes peeking open to see what he’s doing. Watching as his frame as it awkwardly shuffles down the length of the couch– the hand around his knot and the hand in your cunt making it more difficult than necessary. 

Your face pales at what he does next, yet somehow burning ten shades warmer at the same time. Your jaw dropping open, your eyes splitting open wide as he removes his fingers, buries his nose in your cunt, and inhales. 

Smells you.

“Jimin!!” You squeal, knees kicking up, feet already pressing against his shoulders. Ready to tell him off, ignoring the feeling of his cum slipping down your cheeks, no longer having anything to hold it inside. 

But before you can get a word in, he’s raising his head up. The most innocent smile on his face, his eyes aglow with happiness, “You smell like me now.” 

You freeze, stuttering. Unsure what to do as you open and close your mouth like a fish. Completely floundering between the shifts in his demeanour and the fact he just smelled your cunt! 

“You’re… You’re ridiculous.” Is all you can manage to say, feet still against his shoulders watching him with wide eyes. 

Well, that is until you catch sight of your phone vibrating against the floor, having fallen somewhere during your descent onto the couch earlier. A call from Hoseok ringing, dying out before you even have the chance to reach for it. Your lockscreen– a picture of Jimin, Hoseok, and you– coming into view. A time of 3:58 staring at your face, along with 5 missed calls from the doberman right against your notification center.  

Now, you flounder for an entirely different reason, your body moving before your mind as it rolls– well, falls, really– off of the couch. Cussing, crouching as you pick up your phone, double checking the time once again before shooting a glance over your shoulder at Jimin.

Half an hour late. 

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” You mumble to yourself, standing as you scramble towards the mirror by the front door. Attempting to fix your hair while Jimin just stares at you, thinking about how you’re the cutest thing in the world. Watching the little dribbles of white against your thigh as they leak from your cunt. 

He leisurely fixes himself up as well, settling on the fact he’s just gonna have to be uncomfortable with his knot in his pants until it releases fully. Shouldn’t take as long as normal, especially ‘cause it’s not buried inside of you. Watches happily, tail wagging as you scramble around the room. 

“Underwear!” You urge, maybe ask into the air. You’re already half an hour late. You hate being late. It sends your anxiety running high and makes everything around you spin. “Where did you put my underwear??” 

He hums, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Propping his head on your shoulder. Your thighs continuing to shake even though you force them to move– he’ll give you a massage later. “Don’t wear any.” 

He says the phrase like it's the simplest solution in the world– like it doesn’t have your mouth gawking at the idea of not wearing anything under your skirt in front of your neighbour, in front of Hoseok. 

He’ll definitely know. You won’t be able to hide it from him. Not even in the slightest. 

But as your phone rings again, Hoseok’s smiling face settling in as a backdrop, you pale. Your thumb shaking as it slowly answers. 

“H-Hoseok! Hey!” You try to sound cheery, but Jimin lets out a quiet giggle. His hand already on your lower back while he guides you to the door, humming. Scooping up your purse in the process. 

“(Y/n)?! Are you okay?” The concern in his voice is palpable, and you feel your heart cracking. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! I just– I lost track of time.” The excuse is flimsy, all three of you know it. Hoseok makes a sound, considering on the other end of the line. God, you can only imagine his face right now. Even the mere idea of it sends a shutter down your spine.

“Right.” He guffs, “Get here soon then. We don’t want to waste the rest of the daylight.”

“Of course!” You quickly agree, nodding your head even though he can’t see it. Your brain already craving his praise rather than the subtle dismissal in his voice, “We’re already out the door! I promise!”

“Mm. I see you.” You tilt your head up, spotting his stare from Miss Oswald’s front door. His frame leaning against the frame, filling it out. Phone lowering from his ear as he ends the call. Arms crossing in front of his chest, his stare pinning you in place. Practically radiating authority. Radiating the urge to command, to dominate. 

You swallow. Between Jimin humming behind you, and the impenetrable stare of Hoseok in front, you feel like a cat before a hurricane. Unknowing of what is coming, only that something is. 

Looks like you aren’t wearing any underwear after all. 

An hour had ticked by.

A full hour of dealing with– with whatever this was. Hoseok acted completely normal, all smiley and bright while he helped his owner. While Jimin, your sweet, conniving Jimin, acted as if nothing was wrong. 

Both of them acted like nothing was wrong, like they couldn’t smell the sin on your skin. 

Both of them just happily chatting away in the flowerbeds like they actually liked each other. Like the too sharp smiles they sent each other's way meant nothing instead of a test of patience. Jimin smiling bright as he tilted his head back, laughing along with the sun still planted high in the sky. 

It was as if his personality had switched. Jimin, your Jimin, who normally grumbled the entire time at your neighbours’, was the perfect angel. Hoseok did much of the same. Acting like he wasn’t staring at you from the doorway an hour earlier, an all too familiar gaze locked on target while you wobbled like bambi over to him. 

It was scarier than anything else, honestly. Having the man act like nothing had occurred. Like everything was all sunshine and rainbows when you knew you were in for some sort of trouble the moment you walked through his threshold. Watched him bristle while a too-wide smile crossed his lips. 

It’s a rather horrible thing, the way he slowly made you relax. His sunshine demeanour slowly coaxing you into believing he wasn’t really upset. Like you weren’t really in trouble in the slightest. Like everything was fine and he totally hadn’t noticed the knot still straining in Jimin’s pants or the afterglow of sex still radiating from your skin. 

Like he hadn’t been analysing you from under the guise of kindness and sincerity. Trying to figure out if you had really just come into his territory with a waddle in your step and the scent of cum between your legs. 

Really, you were an auspicious thing, if nothing else. 

Coming into his home, when you were his mate. That you were his bitch. His pup. Whatever you wanted to call it, it didn’t matter. Even if he hadn’t properly confessed to you yet, he knew you both were aware of what you were.

Looks like both of his pups needed more training. He would give it to you. Make sure both of you knew your places in his pack after he got the old broad that adopted him out of the picture. 

It was always his plan, anyway. To get rid of her. The moment he first laid eyes on you he knew you were actually the one he was supposed to live with. To take care of. On paper, you would be his owner, of course. But he hoped his late night visits to your room would have convinced you by now of who was truly the owner in this scenario. 

Eventually, sooner rather than later he would have finally convinced his owner to move down to Florida for retirement just as she always dreamed about. Eventually, no matter what he had to do, he would find himself under your roof. With you everyday.

Sure, Jimin had thrown a wrench in those plans at first– well, really just made everything take a little bit longer. Made him laugh when the younger dog thought he could manage to extricate Hoseok from your life when you were so carnally intertwined. 

At first, he thought about getting rid of Jimin, too. But you just seemed so fond of the blonde boy, he couldn’t find it in himself. Maybe he thought he was a little cute too– always acting dominant. Pretending he could be in the face of someone like him. 

It was cute. And Hoseok likes cute. Makes him want to put the golden retriever in his place. 

Show him how to actually take care of a human like yourself. 

In the end, the decision was made for him in letting you keep your plaything was a simple one. He just knew the responsibility of training that brat would fall onto his shoulders. Knew he needed to teach him some fucking respect for the little stunt he pulled today. 

Ah, maybe it’s not your fault. Not really. You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you? Can’t help but spread your legs from the mutt when he does nothing more than gives you a simple beg. It’s Jimin’s fault, just like it always is. He can’t really blame you for anything, not ever. You’re his good, sweet girl. 

Jimin is the mutt.

He guesses it can’t really be helped. That both of his pets will need to learn to follow their alpha better. 

At least now he gets to watch you try to look cute. To try and be coy about the cum that still threatens to leak from you– despite your run to the bathroom the second you got to his house. He assumed you were in there, trying desperately to mop up the mess between your thighs. If Jimin was good for anything, at least it was that. He knows how to fill you up well. Keep it in deep in an attempt to mark his territory. 

He sighs, resolved. Though it sounds more like it’s in relief just at the sight of you. Muscular thighs rising himself from his squatted position when he watches you move over to their little group in the flowerbeds, too precarious as you carry a tray of lemonade over to the two individuals enthralled in the job of playing in the dirt. 

Another day Hoseok would have joined them, but another day Hoseok also wouldn’t have to show her dumb puppy her place. He didn’t want to get his hands dirty, anyway. He was having more fun watching you. 

As he stalks over to your form, he watches you bend over without thinking. Handing both his owner and Jimin a glass, not even considering your skirt raising along with you. At your folds now exposed to the air– exposed to his gaze directly.

It's hard for him to bite back the growl in his throat, though he finds it a lot easier to when he stands behind you. Making sure you’re covered from prying eyes. Looming over you like the decision has already been made for your fate.

It has been. But at least he’ll go easy on you. You don’t deserve the punishment, anyway. Jimin does. And the first step of that correction will be making sure you don’t leave this yard before taking Hoseok’s knot like the good little bitch you are. 

He watches as you rise, startling when you feel his presence over you. The hard planes of his form right up against your back, spooking you. You feel nice against him. So cute and small. His teeth itch for the day that they’ll get to sink into your neck formally, the gentle trace of his tongue over them doing nothing to settle the urge. 

“Ah!” Your quiet shout before you turn your head, pinching your glare up at him makes him want to coo. To wrap his collar around your neck and make you whimper, “Hoseok!” 

He smiles down at you, giving a soft laugh as he pats your head, “Boo.” 

“Not nice!” You whine slightly, scolding again. Turning around, poking a single finger against his chest like that would actually do anything. He’s sure whenever you scold Jimin, the boy would be whimpering already. Clinging to your legs for no reason at all other than never wanting you to be mad at him ever. 

He wants to roll his eyes at the thought, hazard a glance at the other dog now that your attention is residing solely on Hoseok’s shoulders. But he doesn’t. Not when he much rather keep his focus on you. 

“Sorry.” One of his large hands reaches up to wrap around your wrist, the apology thin as air as he dismisses it immediately, “I need help with something inside. Follow me.” 

“Oh–” You look behind yourself quickly, spotting Jimin chatting casually away with Miss Oswald. Twisting your head back around to look at Hoseok, take in his unarmed expression. Nothing seems to be off, even if your gut tells you otherwise. 

“Yeah! Of course.” You make a vague gesture to the tray under your arm,  “I need to put this away, anyway.” 

He only hums, a pretty note leaving his lips as he turns the other direction. Your feet following as he tugs you along with him. Long skinny tail wagging as his ears stay pitched up due to their unfortunate docking done by Miss Oswald when he was a pup and she didn’t know any better. The fluffy things moving back and forth to detect any sound.

Butterflies are already tumbling around in your guts at the sight of his back. The muscle that you know sits pretty right underneath the skin, always managing to make you feel like a school girl vying for his attention. 

Though, if you really consider it, everything about Hoseok makes you feel that way. His calm, yet assertive actions. The way he tucks you behind him whenever he feels like there may be danger around. The sturdy way he holds your hand, your wrist whenever you two walk together. The way he laughs whenever you do something embarrassing. The crinkle by his eye whenever he wants you to know he’s safe. 

Too caught up in all the considerations of Hoseok, you don’t even notice when he veers you off course. When he makes a sharp left away from the back door, instead tugging you to the side of the house. The thin alleyway between the sidewall and the fence, only slightly obscured from view thanks to a vine covered free standing trellis. 

Your head tilts as you look up at his back. His tail freezing in place, even though his entire frame remains relaxed. Carefree. The subtle squeeze tighter on your wrist finally prompting you to speak. 

“Hobi? What are–” Before you can finish the thought, your back is already pressed against the wall. The tray, once safely seated under your arm, falling to the ground. The clatter too muffled to hear farther out in the yard. Your gasp going unnoticed to the people farther out all the same.

Still, he doesn’t respond. His expression having fallen into an almost bored thing. His smile fallen, eyes simply watching. Waiting. 

Entirely unconcerned as he places his hands on your hips, thumb moving down to catch the hem of your skirt. Pulling it up, bunching it around your midsection. 

“Hoseok!” You’re already squealing, your hands coming down to the front of the material, attempting to pull it back down. To cover yourself, “S-stop! I’m not wearing any–” 

In your frantic movements, you miss the slip of his hand between your thighs. Only startled from your hasty dismissals by the feeling of his thumb between your lips, slipping down from your clit til it rests at the rim of your hole, delicately tracing it like he has all the time in the world. 

As far as he’s concerned, he does. 

“I know.” His eyes are cold as they watch you, as they pin you down in place, “Think you could come over without me knowing, pup?”

“I-I–” You aren’t sure what to say, not really. Your mind already spinning as you try to process the quick changes in direction. As you try to consolidate the friendly, carefree Hoseok– the one who didn’t seem upset in the slightest– to the one now that spreads Jimin's cum, along with your quickly accumulating slick around between your folds. 

“Wh-What are you–” The question is cut off again, unable to get a single word in between his jarring movements and voice. Your head spinning as you try to catch up, though unable to truly find a place. 

Does he seriously want to fuck you right here?! In the backyard?! 

“I think you know.” He hums, his finger slipping from your folds, instead moving down your thigh. Slowly sliding under your leg, raising it. Hitching it up to give him all the access he needs. 

“I-I– No– W-We can’t!” With his other hand, he gathers both of your wrists in one. Unconcerned with your fighting. With your wiggling and your hushed tone of voice. Doing nothing more than sending a pointed glare down at you, one that makes you feel small. Like you’re doing something you’re not supposed to.

“But we are.” He guides your hands down to the hem of your skirt, urging you to grab hold of the material and lift it up. “You’ll hold this for me, won’t you pup?” Though he asks, it sounds more like a question than a demand. 

Instantly, your body betrays you and complies. Like it's already been trained despite your brain's pre-disposed hesitance. Fingers grasping the material, slowly allowing him to slide it up until you’re hitching the material high. Cunt spread out for him, just for his viewing pleasure. 

“H-Hobi– J-Jimin–” You try to explain urgently, looking up at him with insistence though it seems like his own graze is trained between your legs. At the pink, puffy cunt that wasn’t treated with the proper aftercare you deserve. Wasn’t licked clean with anything to keep the cum inside of you, was just left pretty and used. 

“Jimin what?” 

“H-He doesn’t like it when we d-do this– w-we should– mm!” He pinches your thigh, a pinned glare raising to your face before it drops, returns back to that same simple face it seems he’s taken to wearing. 

“You’re really worried about him right now?” He sighs, his fingers releasing your wrist as they travel down to his pants. As they tug his zipper down, shove the material down with a lazy insistence. “I think you should be more worried about me. Maybe about you.” 

One final tug and he manages to get his jeans below his cock. Dark red head springing free, pretty long length practically pulsing with a need to be inside you that he’s kept locked away since you came to his door step with that shy smile on your face. 

It’s cute how you can’t help but whine at the sight of him.  Really, it is. How your lower lip drops just slightly, your cheeks flaring with an ever deeper shade. How your breath picks up every so slightly. How your hips wiggle in his grasp from the sight of him alone. Makes him want to choke you on it– too bad he doesn’t have the time right now. He’ll have to make this quick. 

At least your body knows who it belongs to.

“B-But they–” You swallow, try to control your breathing even though everything in you is screaming just to give in. “We shouldn’t, they could come over here a-and–”

“I guess you should be quiet, then.” His fist wraps around his cock, stroking over it with an appeal that has you whining. You really are no better than Jimin, are you? Just cute and dumb and begging for something to stuff you full. 

“I know you’re not good at that pup, but you’ll have to try for me, hm?” He hazards a glance up at you, tilting his head ever so slightly. 

And god do you want to give in. Do you want to get on all fours and just present yourself like he knows you want to. Just want to be good for him like he likes, like you always are for him when he comes crawling through your window and just slips himself inside with no complaints from you. 

Want to just roll over and give him everything because you never have been able to say no to either of your dogs. 

Still, no one can blame you for giving it the old college try. 

“Pl-please Hobi— I’m, I’m already sore and—“ You keep trying to make excuses, honest, you do. But Hoseok was hardly listening. “Jimin just fucked me so it’s all messy and—“

“He got you ready for me then.” He simply hums, his hand continuing to run up and down his unfairly long length. Hips canting forward on every stroke of his fist to just tease you with the presence of his head against your cunt. “Got you all stretched out to make my job a little easier. I’ll make sure to tell him he’s a good boy next time I see him.” 

“No—“ 

“Oh? You think he deserves a reward instead?” He keeps cutting you off, not letting you get a single word in. It’s infuriating. All of it is– but it’s hard to think. So hard to do anything when he finally ceases his teasing. When he finally draws his cock between your sore, cum slicked core. Fist slowly dragging himself back and forth between your folds, “I’ll let him clean my knot then. When it’s tucked nice and safe inside of you. That sound better, pup?” 

You groan in both annoyance at him and the pleasure staring to overtake you. At your legs becoming shaky, at his hand still holding you up, spreading you open. “Th-thats not what I mea–” 

“Then what do you mean?” He stops suddenly, too quickly. His cock pressing up against your hole, eyes facing you. Red swirling in his gaze, “Did you really think you could come into my territory with him all over you?” 

His hips jut forward slightly, barely stretching you yet the motion is enough to make you squirm. At the resistance fogging up your brain to ebb back, the glorious softness of submission willing your mind to let it take over instead. 

“Seriously.” He scoff, his hips slowly rocking into you, watching as your expression lulls into complacence, “I knew you were a dumb pup when you had a cock in you, but you can’t really be that stupid to think I'd let this–” He motions to your hole, pathetically fluttering around his head, “Slide.” 

He rolls his eyes as your hands reach out to press against his hip bones, fingers digging into his skin. In an attempt to draw him closer or push him back, you could hardly decipher yourself. But it seemed like he knew– he always did. He could always read you like an open book.

“Coming into my territory, letting him try to claim you like you aren’t mine.” He sinks further inside, the tip of his cock finally finding home between your pulsing walls. Stretching you ever so slightly as he sinks his weight down onto his heels.“See? I’m already inside. Took me so easy, just like that.” 

He grunts, his hips not stopping their smooth glide until he’s fucked himself all the way inside, “But we can’t, huh?” He mocks, a soft smile on his face as he curls his fingers in your hair, forcing your head to look down at where you’re fully stretched out around him. At where your cute little cunt begs for him to move. “Looks like you want to, to me.” You know he speaks, yet you can hardly hear him. Somewhere along the way– you wish you could pinpoint when– you felt cotton slowly filling your brain. Slowly floated up into the sky when he treated your body like his property rather than his own. When he treated you like his sweet toy, for him to use and for Jimin to chew on only when he allowed it. 

It had you feeling mushy inside. Had your breath speeding up into short little pants, your body unable to do anything other than follow his simple, direct command. The only kinds he knew you could take when you were in such a state. 

You certainly couldn’t focus now– not that you ever really wanted to. Not when your eyes trained between your legs. Where you could see his hips almost flush against your own, the last inch of his cock twitching as it wished to ram itself inside of you as well. 

Your nails dug deeper into his skin as you whine, little crescent moons in their place as your back arched ever so slightly. As your pupils expanded and your eyes became just a little bit too hazy. 

“Right.” He nods his head, lilt in his tone, “That’s what I thought.” 

The sigh he releases as he slowly pulls back his hips is almost euphoric. The drag of his warm length through your walls sending tingles all the way down to your toes. Your head spinning as he withdraws to the tip before rocking back inside with a lazy regard that has you wanting to yell at him.

“I shouldn’t even be doing this, you know?” He asks, though you’re not really sure if he’s expecting an answer. He surely knows you’re not able to, not when he fills you completely, when he holds your sanity in the palm of his hand, “You don’t even deserve it. Good pups don’t get cock.” 

Somewhere, the back of your brain certainly hears those words. Instantly, you’re letting out a pained whine even at the idea he would stop. Your poor little fists clambering up around his neck, drawing him closer as you tuck your face inside, “No, no.” 

You’re saying the word for an entirely different reason than before. Your walls drawing him in deeper with every slow roll of his hips, begging him not to leave you. His head rolling up against your g-spot with every single motion, little cries leaving your lips all the same.

“No?” He chaffs with a little exhale from his lungs. His entire demeanour not giving away how good he’s feeling in the slightest, leaving you to flounder in your pleasure alone, “So you’re telling me that even after you’ve been pitiful, coming to my home with a mutts cum leaking from your poor little cunt, I should let you get away with it? Really?” 

You don’t know what to say to that, really. A hazardously loud moan being the only thing able to leave your lips as he sends one particularly sharp thrust inside, the sound only muffled by the press of your lips to his throat. 

“Really? You can’t even apologise properly to your alpha?” He scoffs, his achingly slow thrusts pausing, “Fine.” 

Unable to have any time to process, to think before he’s pulling back his hips– a threat that he’s going to leave you–, you’re already blubbering. A high pitched whine along with the chase of your hips urging him to stay inside. To not leave your desperate little form. “‘M sorry! ‘M sorry! Please!” 

He pauses once again, half of his cock outside of you. The hand holding your leg high against your hip leaving little patterns across the skin for support, “For?”

“F-for– um–” You try to think, though it’s so hard. It’s always hard when Hoseok takes control like this. When it feels like he has your mind twisted around a little string, “S-sorry for l-letting Min’s cock in me b-before coming… a-and disrespecting you…” 

“Why?” Slowly, he lets his cock sink inside again, and you can’t help but let out a breath of relief.

You swallow, throat dry. Mouth opening and closing as you work for your answer. Eyes practically lighting up when you manage to come to it all on your own. Head pulling away so you can look at his face directly, “Cause I’m your bitch.” 

The smile that lights up his face makes you feel all warm inside. Has all your nerves melting in a matter of seconds now that you for sure know he isn’t mad at you, and that you know he doesn’t plan on pulling away anytime soon. 

“Good girl.” His praise sends your cunt fluttering in waves, his free hand raising up to pat your hair. Though before you can focus on it too much, his hips begin working inside you again. Bullying your cunt with the sheer length of him alone, with the skillful press of his hips, the slow grind once fully buried, on his own. 

“It’s not your fault though, is it?” His breath feels warm against your ear, his head tucking beside your own as he continues to speak. Talks you through everything just like he always does– making you feel high as a kite, but also firmly planting with him. Teetering between two worlds just like you need when your head gets too muddled up with confusing thoughts. 

“You’re just my dumb little girl. I like you a little stupid though, so that's okay.” Maybe if the circumstances were different– maybe if you hadn’t been fucked already once today– you would have argued back. Would have done something other than moan and nod your head along to whatever he had to say. “It’s Jimin's fault isn’t it? He just whines like he’s in rut and you’re too sweet to say no.” 

He nips the shell of your ear, his arm kicking your leg up slightly, resting it higher up on his forearm. Spreading you out even further for him. Making sure the pleasure-pain from the stretch and overuse combine into something for you to get drunk on. 

“It’s too much responsibility for you, isn’t it?” His tone is light again, his hand coming down between your bodies to rub at your poor, neglected clit. His thumb ribbing swift circles into the bundle, your legs wobbling as you whine, “Your cunt is.” 

Slowly, his thrusts become sharper. The lazy draw moving into powerful, precise thrusts that you can't manage to do a single thing against. Nothing other than fist at the back of his neck, let your measly claws attempt to sink into his skin, “Just let any mutt slip inside with enough begging. I shouldn’t let you have any control over it, should I?”

He grunts with each thrust, finally letting you hear his pleasure. How you’re making him feel whenever you attempt a pathetic little rut of your hips against his, trying to match his unforgiving pace. “It’s okay, I’ll take good care of it. Make sure your cute little pussy knows who it belongs to. Who it should spread its lips for.” 

The change in his pace has you reeling. Has you forgetting every ounce of the outside world. Theres no ‘rest of the backyard’, no Miss Oswald that could walk over and catch you fucking her hyrbid. Nothing but the pressure of Hoseok’s hips rutting against yours and the sound of his low grunts in your ear. “Alpha!” 

He groans, the sound vibrating right in your ear, as you accept your place. As you respond to the non-existent question in the air.  “Exactly.” 

His hips move with purpose now– driving into you over and over again. The movement not daring to pause for even a moment. Completely and utterly consumed. Each and every push in acting as a whip into your core, while every withdrawal acts as though it is moving to keep you in your place. Your whiny hips continue their attempt to keep up with him, to try and match his pace. 

The cord inside of you winding tighter and tighter, drawing entirely taught as you try to bite against the skin on his neck. So close and close and close and close and– 

“You gonna let Jimin rub up against your ass, pup? He looks like he needs it.” The world freezes around you. His thrusts stopping right when you were on the precipice, his words sending ice down your back as you wind your head back from his shoulder, eyes slowly drifting over to follow Hoseok’s gaze. 

Fuck. 

Jimin is standing there, right next to the trellis as he stares at the two of you. His mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, pupils blown wide as the flush on his cheeks. His hand wrapped carelessly around his cock– clearly having been caught stroking it himself when he thought Hoseok wasn’t paying attention. 

Flushed tip dripping with pre-cum, ears now standing at alert as both of your eyes fall on him. His feet taking one step back, then two– 

“Stop.” It’s Hoseok’s voice that makes him freeze in his place, his hand still firmly gripped around his cock. One eyebrow raised as he slowly resumes his motions inside of your cunt, not a care in the world for the pitiful pup who got caught with their hand down their pants. Meanwhile you’re still caught breathless, trying to do anything but flick your gaze between the golden’s face and his leaking cock. So red and pretty and just absolutely desperate. 

 “I would explain yourself now.” Hoseok’s voice cutting through the air, absolute authority on the edge is what finally tumbles Jimin out of his stupored state. His voice ringing out in high whines, tail wagging low as his ears pin back to the base of his skull. 

“It’s not fair!” His voice is the same pitchy, depraved thing as always. His frame quickly rushing towards your paired bodies. Unconcerned for his cock until he saddles up to your side, haphazardly grinding against your leg, already. Pre-cum smearing against the skin, perhaps another attempt at marking you while Hoseok’s cock plugs you up directly.

“I did such a good job! Such a good job at filling you up!” He complains relentlessly, wiggling his frame until he manages to get it behind you with the help of Hoseok manoeuvring you to step out a little from the wall of the house.“A-And you just! Look!” 

He whines again, practically pitiful as he shoves your skirt over your ass, your hands having dropped it somewhere along the way. His arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close. His hips starting a solid, jittery grind against the flesh of your ass while you’re just left to catch up with the two bodies now pressed up against you fully. 

“It’s not fair! I worked so hard!” He tucks his face into your neck, whimpering, pathetic. Hoseok’s hand finding its way into Jimin’s fluffy blonde locks, pulling sharply to draw his head away from the column of your throat. 

“Doesn’t explain why you were watching.” There's a snicker in Hoseok’s voice that has the golden’s cheeks flushing an even brighter shade of red, has his mouth opening and closing as he looks for an excuse. 

“B-because!” It looks like Jimin’s going to argue, but your panicked question distracts him from the debate in his heart. The question you found swirling in your mind from the moment Jimin arrived, anxiety clogging your heart as you were brought crashing back down to the earth from the fluffy clouds you once resided in. 

“Wh-Where’s–” 

It’s Hoseok that answers, already knowing where your concern is sure to lay, “Heard her car pull out awhile ago. Had dinner plans with her friends tonight.” His lips coming down, pressing an all too-gentle kiss to your forehead. The perfect pair to the slow glide of his hips. The thing slowly attempting to inch you back up to the sky, along with the stuttered ruts against your rear.

“That’s how I knew he was coming.” A pointed glance was sent over your shoulder to the blonde behind you, his hips slowly picking up as a small ‘oh’ left your own throat. Your hands slowly relaxing to scratch against Hoseok’s neck once again. As you slowly allowed the pleasure to creep back into your spine. 

“How could I not!” Jimin whines, grumbling as he forces his face back into your neck despite the pull against his hair. Maybe liking the pain of it a little bit more than he would ever be willing to admit, “I smelt you all over her! Smelt my cum and her and you!! You’re so mean!” 

The doberman chuckles, “Uh huh. Right. You say that like you have any place to, mutt.” 

“O-of course I do! You’re fucking my mate!” 

“You were getting off to it.” He rolls his eyes, “Are getting off to it.” He corrects with a shrug, his hips picking up from their slow pace as you let out a whimper. Caught in the middle of the two dog hybrids. 

Jimin’s hips rock forwards as he lets out a petulant whine, though when his cock slips between your folds to meet the feeling of Hoseok’s cock, he can’t help but keen for an entirely different reason. His entire spine shaking as his head presses against Hoseok’s precise rhythm. As he feels your hole stretch to accommodate the invading length with a desperation he’s never felt in this way.

“See?” You can hear the smirk in Hoseok’s tone, though can’t focus on it. Entirely enamoured with the feeling of Jimin's cock rutting repeatedly between your legs, attempting to match the way Hoseok rolls his own though with an entirely unrefined, uncoordinated demeanour, “Can’t even think with the promise of pussy. Both of you pups are the same.” 

You whine, hear Jimin attempt to rebuke it in the background but can’t do much more than that. The heady, spiralling feeling flooding back with so much force you can’t think. Don’t want to. If the drool on your shoulder tells you anything, it’s that your hyrbid is in much the same state. 

When Jimin’s hips begin to move with more meaning, more insistence– only then do you gasp. His hips angling in an attempt to push his way inside of your used cunt as well, stretching you ever so slightly in a way that has your entrance burning and your nails digging into Hoseok’s shoulders. A yip in your voice, yet your body obediently staying in place. 

A growl from Hoseok stops the motion entirely. A sharp tut on your hip pulling you away as he bares his teeth at the younger hybrid. As he warns him to not even attempt doing such a thing. 

And much to your surprise– Jimin’s concession is immediate. The baring of his throat, the small whimper in his voice sounding so loud in your ears. 

“No.” The doberman hybrid grumbles, his hips picking up their pace once more. The scrape of his cock along your walls making you forget about the fight you were almost concerned would break out, “Bad dogs don’t get pussy.” 

The words are a command, and Jimin knows it. Flashes his neck and whines even more as if to actually say sorry. Doesn’t move closer again until Hoseok slowly eases you back. “You’re lucky I’m even letting you do this much. You don’t deserve it.” 

Jimin nods his head quickly in agreement, though you’re not sure if he actually processes the words. His hand pressing his length between your legs again, resuming his grinding like nothing had ever happened in the first place. 

This is entirely beyond you– the whole exchange. The apparent battle for dominance fizzling away as Hoseok keeps you in his grasp. As he fucks his cock into you with purpose, with meaning now that he put both of his pets in their place. 

“I’ll punish him later, pup. Don’t worry.” He grunts, lips pressed into your hair. Shutters running down his entire spine as he hears the both of you slowly begin to fall apart. To submit to your places within the pack just like he knows you both need to to feel safe. To feel complete. 

Both of your moans ringing out loud into the air– Jimin’s desperate as he clings to you. Sweat soaking his brow. Yours angelic, the prettiest thing Hoseok’s ever heard. “You’re both just babbling babies, huh? Don’t know what to do unless someone tells you.” 

You’re brought to the precipice all too quickly once again. You’re head shaking in agreement, while Jimin hazards a half-growl that doesn’t really mean anything. Your walls desperately clinging– clamping around Hoseok’s length. Legs shaking every time you feel both Hoseok thrust into your core and Jimin fuck himself between your legs at the same time. All while Hoseok’s knot slowly grows larger. Pulls against you whenever he pulls out, incessant pressure whenever he pops it back inside.  

With the two of them working together, it's not a question how you’re brought to the edge so easily. Why you’re already tumbling over the edge even though you know you’re supposed to without Hoseok’s permission. Your vision clouding at the corners in white, a sharp inhale being the last breath you take before your orgasm overwhelms you completely. 

Two bodies surrounding you, you press forward into one and lean back into the other. Your hips kicking, stuttering while Jimin attempts to hold them in place. Hoseok’s thrusts becoming jerky in their own right as waves and waves of pleasure drown you.

Distantly, as you continue to ride out your high, you feel something stretch you to the very brim. Heavy coats of white painting your insides as a knot burns against your entrance. Locking him against you, keeping you stuffed full as more and more and more cum floods you. Makes you whimper and try to hold on. 

Slowly you drift back down to earth, your lungs attempting to follow in your footsteps as you try to catch your breath. As the fuzz leaves your ears and the sounds of Hoseok’s growls fill them instead. 

With shaky muscles and a flushed face, you try to look around. Try to use your limited movement to the best of your ability to see what has him worked up. What has Jimin whimpering like a kicked puppy in an attempt to appease him. 

Tilting your head behind you as much as you can muster, you finally see it. Hoseok’s hand wrapped around Jimin’s aching cock, right at the base. Right where Jimin’s knot had attempted to inflate right before Hoseok pulled him away from you. Before Jimin was able to cum even a little bit. 

“Don’t deserve it.” He grunts, fist wrapped around tight. Maybe almost painfully– you’re not sure, but Jimin’s tail still seems to be batting at a mile a minute. High and excited as he keens in desperation. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Jimin doesn’t know what he’s apologising for, that much is clear. Only that he is and that his hips are bucking into the tight grip rather than away from it. “Please– please, I was so close. So close!”

“You really think you deserve to cum?” You feel Jimin nodding his head, his fluffy hair pressing against yours. It’s unfortunate that Hosoek’s already landed on his decision.“Cute. Too bad.” 

His fist finally releases after a traitorously long minute– a loud whine from Jimin signally he had done so. His orgasm completely denied. “What? What! I’ve been good! I deserve to!” 

“Funny.” Hoseok snorts, his attention finally returning to your shaky, wrecked form. He can’t do anything but coo at the tired look in your eyes, the way your thighs barely seem to hold you up anymore. 

“I-I’ll–!” Jimin is acting before thinking, practically frantic as he gets down on his knees to your side. Assisting Hoseok in lifting your leg higher even though it causes a creaky sound from your lips. “I’ll show you! I deserve it!” 

Before you can even manage to get a word out, you feel the softness of Jimin’s tongue against your cunt. The muscle gently licking your hole, where Hoseok has you stretched. Giving it attention that practically sets your nerves on fire, driving you almost into oversensitivity. 

You whine at the feeling, your remaining grounded knee practically giving out though Hoseok calms you before you have time to complain. Hand coming up to brush down your hair, lips finding yours to give you a soft peck. “It’s okay. He’s trying to soothe you. The ache. Dog hybrids do it for each other.” 

Oh. 

You attempt to look between your joined bodies to find the mop of blonde, though are hardly able to as he continues his soft, planned licking. A new found flutter traveling from your core at the attention, the care he provides. 

Soon, you feel the same shutters travel down Hoseok’s spine as his licking moves to the part of the knot he can still reach. Lapping oh-so carefully between your two combined bodies, your heart rate beating just a tad bit faster than before as he seems to get lost in the motion. Forgetting the point of what he was doing as he tastes your combined essence. 

“Okay, okay.” Hoseok finally grunts out, pushing Jimin’s head away. The dog hybrid coming up with a beaming smile, a combination of saliva and your arousal coating the area around his lips. 

“See? I’m good.” He announces, too proud. Hands on his hips, tail beating erratically at his spine. Somehow, you manage to nod your head in agreement. “So I get to cum now?”

Hoseok looks between you– slowly slipping away you– and Jimin, letting out a sigh. “Later. I need to get my omega home now. Into a nice bed while my knot goes down.”

You giggle softly as Jimin visibly deflates, grumbling to himself about something or other your brain couldn’t seem to deem as important. All you could figure out was the heaviness in your limbs and the urge to cuddle nagging at the back of your skull.

“‘T’s okay Min, cuddle now. Please?” Your voice is scratchy as you ask, “Did a good job cleaning, so– so I’ll help later. After cuddles.” 

Though Jimin’s ears perk, he keeps his down trodden demeanour. Following obediently behind as Hoseok lifts you up fully, making sure to keep his knot securely inside so it doesn’t tug on your poor hole. 

The walk back to your house is a blur, along with how you managed to get into your own bed changed into Jimin’s clothes. Your mind only half alert as you settle into the covers, both dog boys tucked around you securely. Keeping you safe. Keeping you loved. Keeping you warm. 

Well, until the illusion of peace is startled when Jimin sits up, a new argument clearly fresh on his tongue, “My! Omega!” 

Hoseok, sleepy as ever– hardly still conscious with his face tucked into your hair, teeth absentmindedly gnawing against your neck. “What?”

“You said my omega! But she’s mine!” 

He only laughs, tutting softly as he laces his fingers in Jimin’s hair, pulling him down. Forcing his face into the other side of your neck. Where Jimin’s mate mark would go when you eventually let you. 

“Our Omega.” 

Jimin grumbles, “Fine.” There's a few seconds of silence settling over you three once again, the feeling of their nibbling bites leaving marks against your skin drawing you closer and closer to falling asleep. “But I had her last.” 

You groan, pushing your face deeper into Hoseok’s chest. The older hybrid just chuckling, clearly more playful than dominant at the moment. Baiting Jimin even further, “I had her first, though.” 

And before you know it, a pillow is whipped around from behind your back, hitting Hoseok square on the side of the head. 

Well, if you thought having one dog hybrid as a roommate was difficult, good luck living with two.

❆ : Ctrl the Cold 2025 M.List

₊˚⊹ 𐂯┊: notes: I just love hybrid fics man what can I say, they're straight dopamine to the veins. in fact, this fic was supposed to include 3 scenes, but by the time 2 were finished and I found myself at almost 15k I said 'Lily you gotta wrap it up' LMAO!!

I hope you enjoyed, and please let me know any thoughts you may have about this fic, or any others I have posted!! I love to yap and talk about characters/ write drabbles for them! Have a great day and see you next friday for the next fic in the event <33

It was as though the entire eighteen months did not happen. Hybe, their own kingdom, welcomed them with open arms, fans were roaming the streets in show of their unwavering support for the group and media from all over the world were broadcasting of their return. Likewise, the boys headed straight to the company as soon as they stepped out of the military compound as though they couldn’t wait a single second to reclaim their thrones.

Except for the apparent changes in their bodies as they adapted to the rigorous routine of the military, it was like nothing changed. It was evident by the way he was shamelessly staring at you as the meeting presided. Unwavering. Unblinking.  You could feel the hair at the back of your neck stood up from the crushing uncomfortableness brought by his unwanted attention. You kept your gaze fixed forward, refusing to meet his eyes, except for that one slip—when you caught him sitting back, arms crossed, eyes heavy on you. Taehyung chuckled lowly at the sight of his hyung who looked like he was barely constraining himself. Meanwhile, you wanted to leave the building and perhaps if not for the ironclad contract, the country.

You had gone without this for eighteen months.

You thought those months were enough to extinguish whatever fire he had for you.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

You should have known that a man such as Kim Namjoon wasn’t someone who let go so easily as evident by the way he persevered to lead BTS from a small company’s gamble to a worldwide phenomenon.

You should have known that he was someone who held promises in high regard, especially when it came from you.

“And so, that concludes our meeting!” Bang PD announced with a clap before addressing Namjoon and Taehyung. “Welcome back, boys and let’s take over the music industry once again.”

The staff cheered for them, some clapped their backs, congratulating them. You, on the other hand, were already one foot out of the room, so close to freedom when Bang PD called you. You groaned inwardly. There just went your escape. “I’m sorry for pulling you out of the TXT team. I know how much you like working with them. But you know how particular Namjoon is,” he sighed, his tone apologetic. “He didn’t want to proceed with his schedule if his usual team is not there.”

You didn’t know how to react. It wasn’t that he was particular with his team. No. It was just that he was particular when it came to you. You must admit that the entire time you spent working for them was one of the best years of your life. Despite the job being demanding, the boys made it worthwhile with the salary, benefits and of course, the friendship you built with them. The job honestly opened a lot of doors for you, doors that you could walk through any moment had it not been for one foolish mistake.

Everyday felt like living your dreams. You were literally living the life people dreamed of until he turned it into a nightmare. Or was it you who sabotaged yourself? Was it you who flew too close to the fire only to find out that the fire would rather burnout than let go?

It honestly started with a simple, harmless admiration.

You were with them almost every single day. You weren’t blind. You saw how the boys held this unexplainable charm that inevitably drew the fans. You noticed. But it was harder not to notice Namjoon more. He was charming, polite, a true leader in every sense of the word, intelligent, and well… he was like a man written by a woman.

As someone who had to work closely with his face, you could see the dark bags in his eyes, the tiredness that could only be hidden by makeup. He was always quiet while you worked with him, only greeting you a quiet good morning before closing his eyes and letting you do the work while the other members filled the room with noise and energy.

The next schedule with him, you were sure to buy him coffee after asking around the staff what he preferred. When you placed it on the table in front of him, he blinked at it, bleary-eyed.

He looked surprised, blinking his sleepy eyes before slowly drinking the coffee, hiding his dimpled smile. It became a quiet ritual after that. You’d bring the coffee; he’d give you a warm smile and a soft “thank you.” And each time, those simple gestures were enough to warm you far more than the drink ever could. It started with coffee.

Then came the conversations—short at first, until one day he asked about the book in your bag. The next thing you knew, the two of you were trading thoughts about novels while you brushed powder across his skin.

He smiled more now. His eyes seemed brighter. And in those moments, it was easy to believe he was warmer too.

If there was a thing such as a slow burn, yours was probably the slowest.

You didn’t even think your crush would turn out to something more, and at that point you just truly felt bad for the guy. He was falling asleep from working too hard. You’d been pulled from your usual schedule and assigned to another group, accompanying them overseas for an entire week. By the third day, you were exhausted, halfway through a late dinner in your hotel room, when your phone lit up.

Where are you?

You stared at the unknown number.

I’m sorry. Who’s this?

A pause. Then—

Namjoon.

Before you could even process, another message came through.

Where are you?

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen.

I’m in Japan. Do you need anything?

When will you come back?

On the 28th. Why?

The next day, you were asked by the company to come back immediately. You weren’t told why.

When you walked in the makeup room once again, you heard someone muttered thank god.

Namjoon was already there, one leg crossed over the other, glancing up from his phone—not at you, but at your reflection in the mirror. His gaze was sharp, unblinking, the kind of look that pinned you in place.

Looking back, that should have been the first red flag.

You weren’t assigned to another group since then.

 Suffice to say, it was the beginning of Namjoon monopolizing your time —one subtle scheduling change at a time, until every shift, every day, every hour seemed to circle back to him.

“What are you two?” Hoseok once asked, the ever-present smile in his face was as wide as ever.

His question caught you off guard you until he clarified that he was asking about you and the group’s leader. You said that you were friends. Hoseok lost his smile right then and there.

You weren’t delusional to hope that a simple harmless crush of yours would turn into a relationship. First, you didn’t think you would survive being in a relationship with an idol and second, Namjoon didn’t even like you.

You shrugged off that peculiar interaction.

“You should come to the party!”

You were already shaking your head before they could even finish their sentence. Parties weren’t your scene, and after the exhausting wrap on their album shoot, all you wanted was to go home and collapse into bed.

“Just stop by, noona! We promise we’ll have the drivers take you straight to your apartment!” Jimin pleaded, leaning forward with that disarming smile that made it harder to say no.

“I don’t want to be an imposition, really—” you began, already rehearsing your polite refusal.

“I’ll give out a bonus if you come,” Namjoon said suddenly, his voice cutting cleanly through the room.

You turned to him, startled. He’d been quiet through the entire exchange, absorbed in his phone—or so you thought. But now his eyes were on you, calm, unreadable, as if he’d been listening the whole time.

“…I’m going.”

Jimin whooped in victory. Namjoon just went back to his phone, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth in the mirror.

It was where it all truly went down.

The party was exclusive only for Hybe, everyone was having fun with all the drinks, food and the music. The members were obviously enjoying themselves as they should. They deserved it after the crucial several months of back-to-back schedule. You’d been content to ride the wave of celebration for a while, but the alcohol was beginning to blur your thoughts, the heat of the room pressing in. Fresh air seemed like the only solution. You weren’t sure why the balcony called to you, but you went, slipping out into the cool night. The muted bass of the party thudded faintly behind you as you inhaled deeply, the crisp air clearing your head.

Leaning against the railing, you tilted your head back to admire the stars—until a puff of smoke curled into the air on your right.

You turned.

There, half-swallowed by the shadows, stood Namjoon. The glow of the ember lit the edge of his face, the cigarette resting casually between his lips. His eyes met yours through the haze, unreadable.

You blinked, owlishly.

He looked at your lips, heat in his eyes apparent. It was quiet, no one dared to say a word. Namjoon stepped closer to you, his thick thighs enclosed by dark slacks and he didn’t stop until he was just a shy inch from you.

Your eyes were at his chest, and ever so slowly, you met his draconic eyes.

He smiled.

And you were gone.

His hand was on the back of your head, the other tilting your jaw up to meet his as he kissed you.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t soft. It was hungry, ravenous, dangerous. Namjoon drove you back until your spine hit the wall, hidden in shadow. His lips devoured yours, his tongue claiming without asking, playing with yours as if it already belonged to him. He tasted right—alarmingly right.

His hands roamed lower, gripping your thigh, thumb tracing along the strip of skin your dress exposed. The restraint in his touch was thin, trembling.

“I’ve wanted to do this,” he growled against your mouth, “every single fucking day.”

A beat.

Your breaths filling the air.

“…What’s stopping you?”

That was your second mistake.

The night was a blur.

Not because it was unmemorable, but because everything happened so fast.

Before you knew it, you were in his apartment. You heard the door click shut behind you, and as ominous as it sounded, you remembered thinking you just sealed your fate. Namjoon was looking at you, the apartment dark saved by the moonlight from the floor to ceiling window.

His hand slid across your jaw, his eyes fascinated by you.

You touched his hand, grappling with a semblance of control even when his erection was pressing against your stomach. “I..I don’t usually do this-”

His smile was slow, dangerous, the kind that promised nothing good.

“Good.”

It was all he said before he lifted you by the waist and hoisted you up the table. He pushed your legs apart, his hips in between them as he kissed you, his lips soft against yours. You couldn’t help but moan as he peppered kisses down your shoulders then his lips landed on top of your breast.

He was patient, but not when it came to this as he ripped down your bra and suck on your nipples like he had been starving for so long. His fingers went down to your core, pressing on your clothed clit and without any preamble, ripped your panties.

“Fuck, baby, you’re wet just for me,” he growled before he lifted your legs over his broad shoulders. He thrusted his tongue while sucking your clit. He was animalistic, hungry, savage as he made you come and come again until your begged him to stop. At one point you did try to crawl off the table only to be stopped by his strong arms.

“Where are you going, baby? We’re not yet done,” he crooned at you as he fingered you, too overstimulated to notice that you didn’t once discuss about protection.

“N-Namjoon–”

“Yes, baby girl?” he whispered and you heard zipper and the buckle of belt. You looked down and your eyes widened at his size.

“I…I don’t think that’s going to fit..”

“Of course it will,” he assured and wondered what you were talking about when you were made for him.

He guided the bulbous head of his cock, bumping your clit every so often. You mewled from the sensation. You were a mess. He knew it and he loved it.

“Namjoon…baby, please daddy–”

“What do you need baby?”

“Y-your cock. Daddy please!”

“Hmm,” he pushed the head of his cock in you and you knew you came a little from being so overstimulated, his thumb rubbing your wet clit. “I only take what’s mine,” he murmured. “Are you mine?”

“D-daddy –”

“Are you mine, baby girl?”

“Y-yours –”

You didn’t even finish when he slammed in you. you were squeezing your tight cunt around his hard cock. You could feel everything. You could feel the vein, the hardness and how deep he was in you. To Namjoon, this was nirvana. He could feel himself already becoming addicted. Obsessive, even. This was why he never allowed himself to indulge on his desires.

He was an obsessive man.

He never expected it to feel this fucking good. His fingers were going to leave marks, your neck would display his ownership.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby. You feel incredible.”

He could feel you tremble as he shuddered out of his orgasm, his hot cum inside you.

You remembered waking up the next day with your body sore and his arm wrapped around you. You didn’t know how you made it out of his apartment quietly, but you did.

Shame burned through you, vivid and suffocating. You kept replaying the night in your mind—his hands, his voice, the way you’d let go of every line you’d sworn you wouldn’t cross. It wasn’t just unprofessional. It was reckless.

He must think you were the kind of person who let desire dictate their choices. You couldn’t even bring yourself to blame him if he did.

So when your phone began lighting up with message after message from him, you didn’t open a single one. You didn’t have to—not when you’d already decided you were taking the month off. No work, no meetings, no chance encounters in dim-lit rooms with him standing far too close.

“What do you mean I am off the group’s shoot?”

The manager exhaled heavily, like he’d been dreading this conversation. Around the conference table, the other staff avoided your eyes, staring down at papers, coffee cups, anything but you.

“Y/N,” he began carefully, “I wish I could give you a better answer, but… BTS specifically requested for you to be exclusive to them.” He hesitated before adding, “They said Kim Namjoon is… very particular.”

And there it was. The consequence of your actions. The price for leaving his bed.

The weight of it settled in your chest, cold and suffocating. You didn’t have to ask why. You already knew.

It only worsened from there. Namjoon wanted you around all the time—on sets, in meetings, in the shadows of every event. You weren’t just working with BTS anymore; you were orbiting him, tethered by something you didn’t remember agreeing to but somehow couldn’t break free from.

You were starting to suffocate. How could you even know that that horrendous mistake would turn your life into a nightmare?

You didn’t want to be in this situation, much less being in a pseudo-relationship with the leader of one of the biggest groups in the world. You wanted your old life back. In fact, you tried to break it off whatever was between the two of you one dinner.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you said, barely able to meet his eyes. “It’s not… right. I want things to go back to normal.”

Namjoon, with that practiced calm that made you want to scream, simply asked, “And what happens if the industry finds out you left because you fucked one of the members… and you’re in a relationship with one of them?”

You blinked at him, pulse skipping. “You’re not my boyfriend—”

He tilted his head slightly, setting down his chopsticks with deliberate slowness. “You’re right,” he said, voice soft but unyielding. “A husband and wife sounds better. More ironclad.”

Your stomach dropped. “Are you insane?” you asked, half-hoping he would laugh and tell you this was all some sick joke.

But he just shrugged, like the idea of marrying you on paper to keep you locked in his orbit was the most natural thing in the world.

The air in the meeting room was already taut, but the moment the door opened, the tension doubled. Seokjin walked in during his rare break from service—still in casual military uniform, the air of authority he’d gained during service clinging to him.

You and the other staff scrambled to your feet out of habit, but Seokjin’s eyes didn’t waver from Namjoon.

“Stay,” he said—not to the room, but to you specifically.

You froze, halfway standing.

His gaze slid back to Namjoon. “Are you changing our plans because of her?”

Namjoon leaned back in his chair, hands folded loosely on the table as if this was nothing more than a routine discussion.

“She’s going to leave once I’m in there.”

The bluntness of it hit like a slap.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Seokjin’s eyes cut to you sharp, assessing before returning to Namjoon.

“That’s not a reason to disrupt the schedule,” he said, voice clipped.

“It’s reason enough for me,” Namjoon replied calmly, though his eyes flicked toward you like a silent warning.

And suddenly you understood: This wasn’t just about enlistment. It was about making sure you had nowhere to run.

And now, you saw an out. A rare opportunity for you to be free from him.

Eighteen months of freedom.

Eighteen months of breathing space.

Seokjin rubbed his forehead, the kind of motion that said he’d been dragged into too many of Namjoon’s storms before. He leveled his gaze at his younger brother.

“This isn’t you, Namjoon.”

“Is she not going to run?” Namjoon asked, voice calm, but the words were like a blade. “If I enlist?”

Your stomach sank. Hypothetical, he said—except you knew he already believed the answer.

Seokjin exhaled through his nose. “What if we get her to sign a contract? Will that be enough?”

Namjoon didn’t hesitate. “I want her to promise me that she’ll marry me after.”

Your head snapped toward him. “What?!”

He didn’t even flinch. He just looked at you—steady, deliberate—like the idea was no more outrageous than asking you to pass the salt.

“Promise me,” he said quietly, “and I’ll go.”

What would a false promise cost you, right?

This.

This was what it cost you—eighteen months of deliberate silence.

Eighteen months of ignoring every call, every text, every midnight voicemail where his voice cracked as he told you he couldn’t sleep without you. That he was wasting away. That he didn’t know how to breathe in a world where you didn’t look at him.

And maybe you should’ve felt something—guilt, pity, even the faint ache of what used to be but you didn’t. You were just counting days, waiting for the lock on your cage to rust.

Your contract was almost up. One more month and you could be free from HYBE, from the constant eyes, from him.

You’d already mapped out your exit like a military operation. No forwarding address. No lingering contacts. No chance encounters in dim-lit corridors with him standing too close.

You thought he got over you now.

You were wrong.

 “It’s just for one two days. Think of it as the last thing you’ll have to do for the company before you leave,” Bang PD said with a smile before leaving the room. You sighed, shoulders sagging, and turned—only to freeze.

There he was, blocking the hallway like he’d been waiting all morning just for this exact moment.

You blinked, owlish and unprepared, words stuttering in your throat. What did you say to someone you’d ghosted for almost two years? Someone whose messages you’d ignored, whose calls you’d silenced until the sound of his ringtone felt like a warning siren?

“W-welcome back, Namjoon,” you managed, voice too soft, too unsure.

He didn’t return the greeting. His eyes stayed locked on you, dark and unreadable, his arms folded across his chest as though he had every second in the world to stand there and dissect you.

“You’re resigning?”

It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t even a question, not really. More like a quiet confirmation of something he already knew.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

A beat passed.

“Okay,” he said finally, turning slightly to let you pass. “See you in the shoot.”

And that was it. No anger. No plea. No demand.

For a second—just a fleeting second—you thought maybe he really had gotten over it. That maybe eighteen months had dulled whatever hold he thought he had on you.

The shoot happened to be six hours away from Seoul. The company car dropped you off with your things in front of what seemed to be a rest house.

It was too quiet to be a shoot.

You were used to chaos—the constant hum of chatter, the thud of heavy equipment being hauled around, cars lined up outside ready to transport anything that needed moving. But now? Nothing. Not even the faintest echo of footsteps.

Peculiar didn’t even begin to cover it.

But still, this was your last work for the company. After this, you were done, you told yourself. You just had to suck it up.

You opened the door only to be met with silence. Despite the house being homey filled with paintings and books, there was something eerie about it that you just couldn’t put your finger to. You walked deeper into the house, your phone on your hand calling your co-worker about where they could possibly be.

“Honey, what shoot? We are all in a break.”

You froze. “What?”

A low, velvety whisper brushed against your ear. “Welcome home, baby.”

You gasped, spinning around only to find Kim Namjoon standing far too close. Shirtless, his broad chest damp and glistening, grey sweats hanging low on his hips. His hair was tousled, droplets still sliding down his temple.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “I didn’t know you’d be this early, but I cooked just in case. Come on.”

Before you could process, his hand wrapped around yours, warm and firm, pulling you toward the kitchen.

You struggled, twisting your wrist. “W-what’s going on? Where’s the shoot? W-ha—”

Namjoon chuckled, finally stopping. He turned to face you, closing the distance in a single step, his hand sliding to your waist until your bodies were flush. His breath was warm on your skin as he dipped his head to inhale at your neck.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured. “I barely slept in there, did you know that? I was losing my mind not being able to get to you.” His grip tightened, possessive. “Ah, but regardless… you’re here now.”

You attempted to push him away to no avail. “Namjoon, seriously, where is everyone? My team was supposed to—”

“They’re not coming.” His tone was casual, almost lazy, but it landed like a brick in your chest.

Your phone was still in your hand. You glanced at it, thumb hovering over the screen to call again only for him to pluck it away with ease. He set it down on the counter like it was nothing.

“You…” Your mouth went dry. “…you set this up.”

Namjoon didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in again, brushing his lips against your temple. “Do you know how many strings I had to pull to make sure you were here alone?” he murmured, almost proudly. “No interruptions. No distractions. Just you and me.”

The warmth of the house now felt suffocating. Your gaze darted toward the front door, but Namjoon’s body shifted subtly, blocking the way without even touching you.

The air between you crackled with something you couldn’t quite name—part longing, part danger.

You swallowed hard. “Namjoon… what do you want from me?”

He grinned then, eyes crinkling in a way that would’ve been charming anywhere else, with anyone else.

“Your promise, my dear wife.”

You froze. “That was… I didn’t mean it, Namjoon. We would never work out, and you know that.”

His gaze darkened—not with anger, but with a strange, unshakable certainty. “You know what I realized in there? I realized that I want… no. I crave a family. I was hoping the seed I kept on planting in you would bear us a child, but maybe it wasn’t time. I was so disappointed every time your period came. But we have all the time in the world now… wife.”

Your stomach churned. “I’m not your wife. I will never be your wife—”

“Baby,” he interrupted softly, almost pitying. “You already are. Didn’t you think I wouldn’t… pull strings for you?”

You shook your head, taking a step back, but his hand caught your wrist with the precision of someone who had imagined this moment a thousand times.

“What strings?” you demanded.

Namjoon’s smirk deepened. “Immigration can be so… accommodating when the right documents cross their desk. You signed things you didn’t read, remember? When you thought it was just for a work visa?” He leaned in, eyes locked on yours. “Turns out you signed our marriage license, too.”

The room tilted. The paintings on the wall blurred. “No—”

“Yes,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your jaw, as if comforting you. “And now there’s nowhere for you to go. Korea is home. I am home.”

You tore your wrist free, stumbling back, breath ragged. “You can’t—”

“I already did.” His voice was gentle, final.

And then, as if to seal it, he reached over to the counter and slid a small velvet box toward you. Inside was a simple gold band.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Kim.”

It was as though the entire eighteen months did not happen. Hybe, their own kingdom, welcomed them with open arms, fans were roaming the streets in show of their unwavering support for the group and media from all over the world were broadcasting of their return. Likewise, the boys headed straight to the company as soon as they stepped out of the military compound as though they couldn’t wait a single second to reclaim their thrones.

Except for the apparent changes in their bodies as they adapted to the rigorous routine of the military, it was like nothing changed. It was evident by the way he was shamelessly staring at you as the meeting presided. Unwavering. Unblinking.  You could feel the hair at the back of your neck stood up from the crushing uncomfortableness brought by his unwanted attention. You kept your gaze fixed forward, refusing to meet his eyes, except for that one slip—when you caught him sitting back, arms crossed, eyes heavy on you. Taehyung chuckled lowly at the sight of his hyung who looked like he was barely constraining himself. Meanwhile, you wanted to leave the building and perhaps if not for the ironclad contract, the country.

You had gone without this for eighteen months.

You thought those months were enough to extinguish whatever fire he had for you.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

You should have known that a man such as Kim Namjoon wasn’t someone who let go so easily as evident by the way he persevered to lead BTS from a small company’s gamble to a worldwide phenomenon.

You should have known that he was someone who held promises in high regard, especially when it came from you.

“And so, that concludes our meeting!” Bang PD announced with a clap before addressing Namjoon and Taehyung. “Welcome back, boys and let’s take over the music industry once again.”

The staff cheered for them, some clapped their backs, congratulating them. You, on the other hand, were already one foot out of the room, so close to freedom when Bang PD called you. You groaned inwardly. There just went your escape. “I’m sorry for pulling you out of the TXT team. I know how much you like working with them. But you know how particular Namjoon is,” he sighed, his tone apologetic. “He didn’t want to proceed with his schedule if his usual team is not there.”

You didn’t know how to react. It wasn’t that he was particular with his team. No. It was just that he was particular when it came to you. You must admit that the entire time you spent working for them was one of the best years of your life. Despite the job being demanding, the boys made it worthwhile with the salary, benefits and of course, the friendship you built with them. The job honestly opened a lot of doors for you, doors that you could walk through any moment had it not been for one foolish mistake.

Everyday felt like living your dreams. You were literally living the life people dreamed of until he turned it into a nightmare. Or was it you who sabotaged yourself? Was it you who flew too close to the fire only to find out that the fire would rather burnout than let go?

It honestly started with a simple, harmless admiration.

You were with them almost every single day. You weren’t blind. You saw how the boys held this unexplainable charm that inevitably drew the fans. You noticed. But it was harder not to notice Namjoon more. He was charming, polite, a true leader in every sense of the word, intelligent, and well… he was like a man written by a woman.

As someone who had to work closely with his face, you could see the dark bags in his eyes, the tiredness that could only be hidden by makeup. He was always quiet while you worked with him, only greeting you a quiet good morning before closing his eyes and letting you do the work while the other members filled the room with noise and energy.

The next schedule with him, you were sure to buy him coffee after asking around the staff what he preferred. When you placed it on the table in front of him, he blinked at it, bleary-eyed.

He looked surprised, blinking his sleepy eyes before slowly drinking the coffee, hiding his dimpled smile. It became a quiet ritual after that. You’d bring the coffee; he’d give you a warm smile and a soft “thank you.” And each time, those simple gestures were enough to warm you far more than the drink ever could. It started with coffee.

Then came the conversations—short at first, until one day he asked about the book in your bag. The next thing you knew, the two of you were trading thoughts about novels while you brushed powder across his skin.

He smiled more now. His eyes seemed brighter. And in those moments, it was easy to believe he was warmer too.

If there was a thing such as a slow burn, yours was probably the slowest.

You didn’t even think your crush would turn out to something more, and at that point you just truly felt bad for the guy. He was falling asleep from working too hard. You’d been pulled from your usual schedule and assigned to another group, accompanying them overseas for an entire week. By the third day, you were exhausted, halfway through a late dinner in your hotel room, when your phone lit up.

Where are you?

You stared at the unknown number.

I’m sorry. Who’s this?

A pause. Then—

Namjoon.

Before you could even process, another message came through.

Where are you?

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen.

I’m in Japan. Do you need anything?

When will you come back?

On the 28th. Why?

The next day, you were asked by the company to come back immediately. You weren’t told why.

When you walked in the makeup room once again, you heard someone muttered thank god.

Namjoon was already there, one leg crossed over the other, glancing up from his phone—not at you, but at your reflection in the mirror. His gaze was sharp, unblinking, the kind of look that pinned you in place.

Looking back, that should have been the first red flag.

You weren’t assigned to another group since then.

 Suffice to say, it was the beginning of Namjoon monopolizing your time —one subtle scheduling change at a time, until every shift, every day, every hour seemed to circle back to him.

“What are you two?” Hoseok once asked, the ever-present smile in his face was as wide as ever.

His question caught you off guard you until he clarified that he was asking about you and the group’s leader. You said that you were friends. Hoseok lost his smile right then and there.

You weren’t delusional to hope that a simple harmless crush of yours would turn into a relationship. First, you didn’t think you would survive being in a relationship with an idol and second, Namjoon didn’t even like you.

You shrugged off that peculiar interaction.

“You should come to the party!”

You were already shaking your head before they could even finish their sentence. Parties weren’t your scene, and after the exhausting wrap on their album shoot, all you wanted was to go home and collapse into bed.

“Just stop by, noona! We promise we’ll have the drivers take you straight to your apartment!” Jimin pleaded, leaning forward with that disarming smile that made it harder to say no.

“I don’t want to be an imposition, really—” you began, already rehearsing your polite refusal.

“I’ll give out a bonus if you come,” Namjoon said suddenly, his voice cutting cleanly through the room.

You turned to him, startled. He’d been quiet through the entire exchange, absorbed in his phone—or so you thought. But now his eyes were on you, calm, unreadable, as if he’d been listening the whole time.

“…I’m going.”

Jimin whooped in victory. Namjoon just went back to his phone, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth in the mirror.

It was where it all truly went down.

The party was exclusive only for Hybe, everyone was having fun with all the drinks, food and the music. The members were obviously enjoying themselves as they should. They deserved it after the crucial several months of back-to-back schedule. You’d been content to ride the wave of celebration for a while, but the alcohol was beginning to blur your thoughts, the heat of the room pressing in. Fresh air seemed like the only solution. You weren’t sure why the balcony called to you, but you went, slipping out into the cool night. The muted bass of the party thudded faintly behind you as you inhaled deeply, the crisp air clearing your head.

Leaning against the railing, you tilted your head back to admire the stars—until a puff of smoke curled into the air on your right.

You turned.

There, half-swallowed by the shadows, stood Namjoon. The glow of the ember lit the edge of his face, the cigarette resting casually between his lips. His eyes met yours through the haze, unreadable.

You blinked, owlishly.

He looked at your lips, heat in his eyes apparent. It was quiet, no one dared to say a word. Namjoon stepped closer to you, his thick thighs enclosed by dark slacks and he didn’t stop until he was just a shy inch from you.

Your eyes were at his chest, and ever so slowly, you met his draconic eyes.

He smiled.

And you were gone.

His hand was on the back of your head, the other tilting your jaw up to meet his as he kissed you.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t soft. It was hungry, ravenous, dangerous. Namjoon drove you back until your spine hit the wall, hidden in shadow. His lips devoured yours, his tongue claiming without asking, playing with yours as if it already belonged to him. He tasted right—alarmingly right.

His hands roamed lower, gripping your thigh, thumb tracing along the strip of skin your dress exposed. The restraint in his touch was thin, trembling.

“I’ve wanted to do this,” he growled against your mouth, “every single fucking day.”

A beat.

Your breaths filling the air.

“…What’s stopping you?”

That was your second mistake.

The night was a blur.

Not because it was unmemorable, but because everything happened so fast.

Before you knew it, you were in his apartment. You heard the door click shut behind you, and as ominous as it sounded, you remembered thinking you just sealed your fate. Namjoon was looking at you, the apartment dark saved by the moonlight from the floor to ceiling window.

His hand slid across your jaw, his eyes fascinated by you.

You touched his hand, grappling with a semblance of control even when his erection was pressing against your stomach. “I..I don’t usually do this-”

His smile was slow, dangerous, the kind that promised nothing good.

“Good.”

It was all he said before he lifted you by the waist and hoisted you up the table. He pushed your legs apart, his hips in between them as he kissed you, his lips soft against yours. You couldn’t help but moan as he peppered kisses down your shoulders then his lips landed on top of your breast.

He was patient, but not when it came to this as he ripped down your bra and suck on your nipples like he had been starving for so long. His fingers went down to your core, pressing on your clothed clit and without any preamble, ripped your panties.

“Fuck, baby, you’re wet just for me,” he growled before he lifted your legs over his broad shoulders. He thrusted his tongue while sucking your clit. He was animalistic, hungry, savage as he made you come and come again until your begged him to stop. At one point you did try to crawl off the table only to be stopped by his strong arms.

“Where are you going, baby? We’re not yet done,” he crooned at you as he fingered you, too overstimulated to notice that you didn’t once discuss about protection.

“N-Namjoon–”

“Yes, baby girl?” he whispered and you heard zipper and the buckle of belt. You looked down and your eyes widened at his size.

“I…I don’t think that’s going to fit..”

“Of course it will,” he assured and wondered what you were talking about when you were made for him.

He guided the bulbous head of his cock, bumping your clit every so often. You mewled from the sensation. You were a mess. He knew it and he loved it.

“Namjoon…baby, please daddy–”

“What do you need baby?”

“Y-your cock. Daddy please!”

“Hmm,” he pushed the head of his cock in you and you knew you came a little from being so overstimulated, his thumb rubbing your wet clit. “I only take what’s mine,” he murmured. “Are you mine?”

“D-daddy –”

“Are you mine, baby girl?”

“Y-yours –”

You didn’t even finish when he slammed in you. you were squeezing your tight cunt around his hard cock. You could feel everything. You could feel the vein, the hardness and how deep he was in you. To Namjoon, this was nirvana. He could feel himself already becoming addicted. Obsessive, even. This was why he never allowed himself to indulge on his desires.

He was an obsessive man.

He never expected it to feel this fucking good. His fingers were going to leave marks, your neck would display his ownership.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby. You feel incredible.”

He could feel you tremble as he shuddered out of his orgasm, his hot cum inside you.

You remembered waking up the next day with your body sore and his arm wrapped around you. You didn’t know how you made it out of his apartment quietly, but you did.

Shame burned through you, vivid and suffocating. You kept replaying the night in your mind—his hands, his voice, the way you’d let go of every line you’d sworn you wouldn’t cross. It wasn’t just unprofessional. It was reckless.

He must think you were the kind of person who let desire dictate their choices. You couldn’t even bring yourself to blame him if he did.

So when your phone began lighting up with message after message from him, you didn’t open a single one. You didn’t have to—not when you’d already decided you were taking the month off. No work, no meetings, no chance encounters in dim-lit rooms with him standing far too close.

“What do you mean I am off the group’s shoot?”

The manager exhaled heavily, like he’d been dreading this conversation. Around the conference table, the other staff avoided your eyes, staring down at papers, coffee cups, anything but you.

“Y/N,” he began carefully, “I wish I could give you a better answer, but… BTS specifically requested for you to be exclusive to them.” He hesitated before adding, “They said Kim Namjoon is… very particular.”

And there it was. The consequence of your actions. The price for leaving his bed.

The weight of it settled in your chest, cold and suffocating. You didn’t have to ask why. You already knew.

It only worsened from there. Namjoon wanted you around all the time—on sets, in meetings, in the shadows of every event. You weren’t just working with BTS anymore; you were orbiting him, tethered by something you didn’t remember agreeing to but somehow couldn’t break free from.

You were starting to suffocate. How could you even know that that horrendous mistake would turn your life into a nightmare?

You didn’t want to be in this situation, much less being in a pseudo-relationship with the leader of one of the biggest groups in the world. You wanted your old life back. In fact, you tried to break it off whatever was between the two of you one dinner.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you said, barely able to meet his eyes. “It’s not… right. I want things to go back to normal.”

Namjoon, with that practiced calm that made you want to scream, simply asked, “And what happens if the industry finds out you left because you fucked one of the members… and you’re in a relationship with one of them?”

You blinked at him, pulse skipping. “You’re not my boyfriend—”

He tilted his head slightly, setting down his chopsticks with deliberate slowness. “You’re right,” he said, voice soft but unyielding. “A husband and wife sounds better. More ironclad.”

Your stomach dropped. “Are you insane?” you asked, half-hoping he would laugh and tell you this was all some sick joke.

But he just shrugged, like the idea of marrying you on paper to keep you locked in his orbit was the most natural thing in the world.

The air in the meeting room was already taut, but the moment the door opened, the tension doubled. Seokjin walked in during his rare break from service—still in casual military uniform, the air of authority he’d gained during service clinging to him.

You and the other staff scrambled to your feet out of habit, but Seokjin’s eyes didn’t waver from Namjoon.

“Stay,” he said—not to the room, but to you specifically.

You froze, halfway standing.

His gaze slid back to Namjoon. “Are you changing our plans because of her?”

Namjoon leaned back in his chair, hands folded loosely on the table as if this was nothing more than a routine discussion.

“She’s going to leave once I’m in there.”

The bluntness of it hit like a slap.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Seokjin’s eyes cut to you sharp, assessing before returning to Namjoon.

“That’s not a reason to disrupt the schedule,” he said, voice clipped.

“It’s reason enough for me,” Namjoon replied calmly, though his eyes flicked toward you like a silent warning.

And suddenly you understood: This wasn’t just about enlistment. It was about making sure you had nowhere to run.

And now, you saw an out. A rare opportunity for you to be free from him.

Eighteen months of freedom.

Eighteen months of breathing space.

Seokjin rubbed his forehead, the kind of motion that said he’d been dragged into too many of Namjoon’s storms before. He leveled his gaze at his younger brother.

“This isn’t you, Namjoon.”

“Is she not going to run?” Namjoon asked, voice calm, but the words were like a blade. “If I enlist?”

Your stomach sank. Hypothetical, he said—except you knew he already believed the answer.

Seokjin exhaled through his nose. “What if we get her to sign a contract? Will that be enough?”

Namjoon didn’t hesitate. “I want her to promise me that she’ll marry me after.”

Your head snapped toward him. “What?!”

He didn’t even flinch. He just looked at you—steady, deliberate—like the idea was no more outrageous than asking you to pass the salt.

“Promise me,” he said quietly, “and I’ll go.”

What would a false promise cost you, right?

This.

This was what it cost you—eighteen months of deliberate silence.

Eighteen months of ignoring every call, every text, every midnight voicemail where his voice cracked as he told you he couldn’t sleep without you. That he was wasting away. That he didn’t know how to breathe in a world where you didn’t look at him.

And maybe you should’ve felt something—guilt, pity, even the faint ache of what used to be but you didn’t. You were just counting days, waiting for the lock on your cage to rust.

Your contract was almost up. One more month and you could be free from HYBE, from the constant eyes, from him.

You’d already mapped out your exit like a military operation. No forwarding address. No lingering contacts. No chance encounters in dim-lit corridors with him standing too close.

You thought he got over you now.

You were wrong.

 “It’s just for one two days. Think of it as the last thing you’ll have to do for the company before you leave,” Bang PD said with a smile before leaving the room. You sighed, shoulders sagging, and turned—only to freeze.

There he was, blocking the hallway like he’d been waiting all morning just for this exact moment.

You blinked, owlish and unprepared, words stuttering in your throat. What did you say to someone you’d ghosted for almost two years? Someone whose messages you’d ignored, whose calls you’d silenced until the sound of his ringtone felt like a warning siren?

“W-welcome back, Namjoon,” you managed, voice too soft, too unsure.

He didn’t return the greeting. His eyes stayed locked on you, dark and unreadable, his arms folded across his chest as though he had every second in the world to stand there and dissect you.

“You’re resigning?”

It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t even a question, not really. More like a quiet confirmation of something he already knew.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

A beat passed.

“Okay,” he said finally, turning slightly to let you pass. “See you in the shoot.”

And that was it. No anger. No plea. No demand.

For a second—just a fleeting second—you thought maybe he really had gotten over it. That maybe eighteen months had dulled whatever hold he thought he had on you.

The shoot happened to be six hours away from Seoul. The company car dropped you off with your things in front of what seemed to be a rest house.

It was too quiet to be a shoot.

You were used to chaos—the constant hum of chatter, the thud of heavy equipment being hauled around, cars lined up outside ready to transport anything that needed moving. But now? Nothing. Not even the faintest echo of footsteps.

Peculiar didn’t even begin to cover it.

But still, this was your last work for the company. After this, you were done, you told yourself. You just had to suck it up.

You opened the door only to be met with silence. Despite the house being homey filled with paintings and books, there was something eerie about it that you just couldn’t put your finger to. You walked deeper into the house, your phone on your hand calling your co-worker about where they could possibly be.

“Honey, what shoot? We are all in a break.”

You froze. “What?”

A low, velvety whisper brushed against your ear. “Welcome home, baby.”

You gasped, spinning around only to find Kim Namjoon standing far too close. Shirtless, his broad chest damp and glistening, grey sweats hanging low on his hips. His hair was tousled, droplets still sliding down his temple.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “I didn’t know you’d be this early, but I cooked just in case. Come on.”

Before you could process, his hand wrapped around yours, warm and firm, pulling you toward the kitchen.

You struggled, twisting your wrist. “W-what’s going on? Where’s the shoot? W-ha—”

Namjoon chuckled, finally stopping. He turned to face you, closing the distance in a single step, his hand sliding to your waist until your bodies were flush. His breath was warm on your skin as he dipped his head to inhale at your neck.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured. “I barely slept in there, did you know that? I was losing my mind not being able to get to you.” His grip tightened, possessive. “Ah, but regardless… you’re here now.”

You attempted to push him away to no avail. “Namjoon, seriously, where is everyone? My team was supposed to—”

“They’re not coming.” His tone was casual, almost lazy, but it landed like a brick in your chest.

Your phone was still in your hand. You glanced at it, thumb hovering over the screen to call again only for him to pluck it away with ease. He set it down on the counter like it was nothing.

“You…” Your mouth went dry. “…you set this up.”

Namjoon didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in again, brushing his lips against your temple. “Do you know how many strings I had to pull to make sure you were here alone?” he murmured, almost proudly. “No interruptions. No distractions. Just you and me.”

The warmth of the house now felt suffocating. Your gaze darted toward the front door, but Namjoon’s body shifted subtly, blocking the way without even touching you.

The air between you crackled with something you couldn’t quite name—part longing, part danger.

You swallowed hard. “Namjoon… what do you want from me?”

He grinned then, eyes crinkling in a way that would’ve been charming anywhere else, with anyone else.

“Your promise, my dear wife.”

You froze. “That was… I didn’t mean it, Namjoon. We would never work out, and you know that.”

His gaze darkened—not with anger, but with a strange, unshakable certainty. “You know what I realized in there? I realized that I want… no. I crave a family. I was hoping the seed I kept on planting in you would bear us a child, but maybe it wasn’t time. I was so disappointed every time your period came. But we have all the time in the world now… wife.”

Your stomach churned. “I’m not your wife. I will never be your wife—”

“Baby,” he interrupted softly, almost pitying. “You already are. Didn’t you think I wouldn’t… pull strings for you?”

You shook your head, taking a step back, but his hand caught your wrist with the precision of someone who had imagined this moment a thousand times.

“What strings?” you demanded.

Namjoon’s smirk deepened. “Immigration can be so… accommodating when the right documents cross their desk. You signed things you didn’t read, remember? When you thought it was just for a work visa?” He leaned in, eyes locked on yours. “Turns out you signed our marriage license, too.”

The room tilted. The paintings on the wall blurred. “No—”

“Yes,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your jaw, as if comforting you. “And now there’s nowhere for you to go. Korea is home. I am home.”

You tore your wrist free, stumbling back, breath ragged. “You can’t—”

“I already did.” His voice was gentle, final.

And then, as if to seal it, he reached over to the counter and slid a small velvet box toward you. Inside was a simple gold band.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Kim.”

The director ponders why Jungkook was fighting so hard for you specifically. Being a big name  in the industry, Jungkook cost millions and was the highest paid in any movie franchise or television series he starred in. He directed a few movies himself, and even assisted in producing them. He was the reason as to why a few celebrities had careers today - he had an eye for talent.

Jungkook’s current eye was now on you - a fresh face. Your acting was good and you had the potential. You went to college for acting and all; a degree not everyone had. Your heart was in it, you just needed the opportunity.

Jungkook was going to be that opportunity for you. He watched the way your eyes widen as you walked into the audition room, script in hand. You were immediately nervous when your eyes locked with his that it caused Jungkook to smile with how innocent you were.

So new and naive to the world of cinema - anyone would take advantage of such naivety. 

“Fine. If you think she’s good, then I’ll give her a call.” the director throws his hands up. Jungkook wasn’t a fool. He put on many celebrities - Kim Taehyung was one of the highest paid actors a part of a soap opera right now. The man hadn’t even come to the audition for himself, but instead as support for his friend. It was Jungkook who spotted the deep voiced man and asked him to audition for a role and said “Jungkook sent me”.

When your phone rings with an unknown number you hadn’t recognized, you assume it was either a spam call or a call from your agent telling you that you didn’t get the role but “there will be other roles available”.

You weren’t expecting to get a call from the same director as a week prior telling you that you got the role. You had forgotten how to breathe when the news was given to you that when the director asked if you were still there, you almost fainted.

“I’ll get in contact with your agent and pass her the details. In the meantime, Jeon Jungkook-” Your heart instantly pounds at the name. “-will be speaking with you soon. I hope it wasn’t bad that I’ve given him your contact information.”

“No!” you nearly scream, and you want to slap yourself. “I mean no, it’s not an issue.”

“Good.” the direct chuckles. “Jungkook has a good eye for talent, Ms. Y/L. He chose you himself.”

Your heart jolts and your eyes widen.

“If things go as planned, you could be just as big as him one day.”

Just as big as Jeon Jungkook one day.

Jeon Jungkook - thee Jeon Jungkook - had picked you. The award winning actor who’s graced your screen since you were a teenager had chosen you. You out of hundreds of female leads.

Upon your arrival at the audience, you were already nervous. You were in a room full of beautiful women, some you recognized. You contemplated turning around and going back home to this very apartment you rent for far too much than you can truly afford.

But you hadn’t. You stayed for hours and once your name was called, you entered. You audience and you got the role.

All because of Jeon Jungkook.

You could faint right now, your eyes swelling with tears. This could be the moment you studied so hard for. The acting classes you took daily cost you to work night shift, along with you studying in college for acting. You took your dream seriously and now…

“It’s paying off.” you say to yourself. You’re in complete silence now, head against your satin pillowcase. You’re staring up at the ceiling.

Your phone begins to buzz against your chest. You’re alarmed by the amount of notifications that are coming all at once.

Instagram notifications were coming through rapidly, all too quickly for you to grasp as to why. You open the app and find out for yourself.

You were an actress, yes, and you did have a bit of a following. You posted behind the scene pictures to your instagram sometimes and it garnered you over 10,000 followers.

You were shocked to see the following count rise from over 10,000, to nearly 100,000.

“W-What…?”

You understood why. The post shows up right as you click “home”. 

Jeon Jungkook has followed you. He had uploaded a picture of him with a script in his hands, smiling. His lips are a rosy pink and the lip-piercing adds a touch of attractiveness - how was that even possible? 

jeon.jk can’t wait to start filming our new horror movie “one way or another” with @yn. we’re both going to look good covered in blood 😭

Your breathing quickens. 

Breathe.

Breathe.

“Oh fuck.” you gasp out, palms sweaty. This was an exact reminder that this was all real. Jeon Jungkook acknowledging you publicly. He appeared excited to work with you - fuck, he was the one that chose you.

Not to forget that Jungkook also said you were going to look good covered in blood.

“Oh fuck.” you repeat.

You’re running, your feet nearly getting caught on the pavement. The sky is dark and cloudless, and the street lights don’t do enough to shine your path. 

Your heart is racing outside your chest and you feel as though your body is going to give out any moment now. You want nothing more than to stop and catch your breath, but you don’t. You don’t dare to.

Your footsteps are not the only ones you hear. The ones behind you are catching up - growing closer and closer. You don’t look back - that would only distract you. You could only wish that they are further than what they sound.

A loud screech releases from your throat when your hair is being pulled and you’re set backwards and right onto your back. Your manage to not hit your head on the way down, but your body is soaked in mud.

“Why are you running?”

That voice.

Your ankle is grabbed tightly and you’re being dragged. You continue to scream and cry as the man drags you closer to him. You attempt to kick your feet and to free yourself from this crazed man, but you’re unable to.

“Stop fucking screaming.” the man roars suddenly, his yells echoing off of the trees. “You,” a hand is slammed against your lips. “are only alive because I want you to be.”

Your heart pounds with how close the man was.

With how handsome, too. A handsome man like him didn’t do things like this. Handsome men with good jobs and money didn’t stalk you. They didn’t threaten your livelihood.

They didn’t chase you in the middle of the night, either - yet here he stood.

“Please.” you shake your head, crying. The tears finally spilled down your cheeks and your vision of the handsome man was blurring. “Please…”

“You’re so pretty when you cry.” the man laughs. His thumb rubs away a stray tear. “You’re pleading now because you’re scared. Where’s the woman that fought me earlier?”

You cry harder when the man shakes you roughly, now screaming in your face.

“Where is she? Where is she?!”

Your eyes grow wide when the man clenches your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. His dark eyes stare a hole through you. Almost if he was looking right through you - inside of you.

“Open your mouth.” the man commands.

You stiffen. Slowly, your eyes drifted to the side.

The director is seated in a chair. He’s watching the scene unfold, intrigued with how well you are acting. He doesn’t seem fazed that Jungkook had deviated from the script.

“I said,” Jungkook, in character, hissed. Without much thought, he squeezes your cheek until your mouth opens. He forces two of his fingers inside of your mouth and you’re entirely distraught to do anything. “open your mouth.” he repeats.

DId you somehow forget this scene? You’ve read the script countless times - there was no way this was in it. You’re far too shocked to do anything and neither Jungkook nor the direct stop. 

“Let me see what that mouth of yours can do while you’re afraid.”

Your chest rises and falls, eyes widening. Jungkook’s fingers force themselves deeper inside of you, holding onto your limp form.

“Cut!”

You gasp when Jungkook’s fingers remove themself from your mouth. He wipes them onto his pants without a care and smiles at you. “You okay?”

The demeanor changes instantly. Jungkook’s eyes soften and the hardened expression you witnessed before is gone entirely. 

This was all an act, of course. Jungkook was an actor. Of course he wasn’t some psychotic psycho chasing you through the woods.

“Y/N, you’re a natural.” the director calls from his chair. “I’m actually shocked by how well you’re doing. We’ve filmed all day now so we should have enough.” he says, clapping his hand. “Need everyone back here first thing tomorrow morning. Jungkook, Y/N,”

Your eyes turn back to Jungkook who is now standing. He offers you his hand - it’s covered in makeup to hide the tattoos - and you hesitantly take it.

“I’m sorry about the sudden change in script.” Jungkook murmurs to you. “I was told to improvise. He likes raw reactions.”

Raw reactions.

You nod your head, cheeks warming. “No problem, really.” you assure, yet you’d be lying if you say the change in script didn’t terrify you. It all seemed too real, even with countless people around you watching. Jungkook had a way that made you feel like it was only you and him around - and that’s just with the little scenes you and he acted in already.

“Intimacy coordinator wants to meet with the two of you.”

You bite your lip.

You knew that this was a horror film and there were scenes you’ve never done before. Sex scenes to be precise. You’ve read the script and you were left an embarrassed mess when you had to read the lines over with Jungkook, but he was professional. He made it easier for you with how polite and reassuring he was.

“You’re doing great.” Jungkook says as you and he walk down the grassy hill towards the trailers. 

Jungkook had his own trailer and much to your surprise, he had even rented you one. Typically, there was a trailer for people to share, but you’ve never had your own. It was never in the budget for the films you’ve done.

“Thanks.” you smile at him. “I was hoping I wouldn’t fall on my ass before you got to me.”

Jungkook chuckles. “You’re a natural on camera.” he says, and the compliment causes your body to warm up. “You can tell that you’re accustomed to the horror vibe.”

You nod your head a bit. “I try to be. I’ve been in corny horror movies though.” you joke. 

You recall when you and Jungkook had officially met to go over the script and he mentioned he enjoyed ‘Attack of the Killer Space Beetles’. You were immediately embarrassed, but Jungkook had actually watched and enjoyed it. He recounted scenes from the movie that even you forgot about. 

“Corny movies are only a stepping stone to your big break.” Jungkook says. He places a hand onto your shoulder and squeezes it gently before bringing you closer to his side in a sideways hug. 

Meeting with the intimacy coordinator had only reminded you that you’ve indeed never experienced anything like this. She was sweet in asking for your opinions - if you felt comfortable in the amount of sexual activity that would be happening behind the camera.

 A sex scene was new to you, but not to Jungkook. That also caused more nerves to be added onto your shoulders. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself too much in front of him and the rest of the crew.

Jungkook, however, was more supportive. He insisted that things weren’t as they seemed and most outcomes were just illusions.

“So since you’re new,” the intimacy coordinator states. “you’re possibly wondering how scenes are executed on set. These are modest garments.”

The coordinator shows you different skin-color shades of garments. “They’re strapless things with a barrier inside of them. Do you want to feel?”

Though you’re humiliated, you are also intrigued. You touch the garment and hum as you nod your head. You suppose this is how things are done - so you wouldn’t actually be feeling Jungkook.

“For men, we have them wear something called a modesty pouch.”

Jungkook leans back into his chair. He watches the way your eyes examine all of the garments, genuinely intrigued by it all as the intimacy coordinator explains to you how everything is done. Your naivety with how everything works is what causes Jungkook’s lips to form a small smile - you were cute, he thinks. This was like a whole new world to you that you’ve never been a part of; one that he was showing you.

“We have different types of garments you could wear and try on. Since you are new, we’ll have to find your size.” you nod along to her speech.  “And we’ll also have to work on what we call “faking it”.”

“Fake moaning.” Jungkook nods his head at your confused look. 

“We have to make it look real while we’re filming so the final product appears as such. But as you can see, it’s all fake at the end of the day.”

For the next hour, you were explained step-by-step of how intimacy works, camera angles, faking sounds and all. Once the meeting was over, you felt that this was something you could actually do without feeling like such a newbie.

“Feel better?” Jungkook asks. 

You and Jungkook are side by side now as you make your way out of your own trailer. You changed back into your clothes and decided that it was best for you to head back home. The evening sun casted a burnt orange type of hue over the set entirely.

“Yes.” you nod your head with a soft grin. “I can’t wait to watch the movie when it’s all done. I want to redeem myself from my past work.”

Jungkook snickers. “You’ll be amazing. Trust me.” he assures. “I waited to ask if you wanted to grab dinner and go over the script.”

You blink a few times, uncertain. Your stomach was rumbling and you could go for food right now - but did you truly want to go over the script? “What scenes did you want to go through?”

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “A few. Especially if we’re going to get told to keep improvising.”

Improvising. Your mind flashes with the way Jungkook looked and sounded earlier, followed by the way he forced his fingers into your mouth. It was eerie, especially when you didn’t know it was happening. You’re positive, however, that the raw reaction the director was looking for was highly evident.

“It shouldn’t be an issue, I guess.” you shrug your shoulders. You didn’t want Jungkook to think you weren’t passionate about the project - you were!

This is how you and Jungkook found yourselves, eating takeout while attempting to go over the script. You willingly drink the wine Jungkook gives you, admitting to yourself that it actually was an amazing taste - he told you it was thousands of dollars and you cannot comprehend just how someone could spend that much on it.

“Okay, let’s get back to the script.” you say after another sip of wine. “Where did we leave off?”

Jungkook turns a few pages before looking up at you. “We should try an intimate one. Get it out of the way so tomorrow it’ll be easier to perform.”

Nodding your head, you take a deep breath. You had read this scene countless times to memorize your lines. Watching Jungkook get into character was amazing. Even while practicing, he still gives a stellar performance.

“I missed you.” He says, taking a few steps towards you. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I-I haven’t.” you say. This scene involves you being in bed, but you and Jungkook are in his living room, so the couch would have to do.

“Yes you have. Are you afraid of me?” Jungkook comes closer until he’s hovering above you, dark eyes tracing over your body. “You know I’ll never hurt you.”

You flinch when a hand comes near you. “I-I…you told me you’d kill anyone who touched me. That’s not normal.” you quip.

“I can’t help how I feel!” Jungkook hisses. He plops down besides you, his eyes softening. “Please, baby…I’m sorry. Just give me another chance. You know I’ll never hurt you. Sometimes I get angry and…”

This was where the intimacy got started. Jungkook’s lips are on your neck immediately, kissing at the nape of it. His hand places itself onto your inner thigh and he squeezes.

“You drive me crazy.”

Your eyes close for a moment, swallowing. Jungkook kisses up your neck, hand growing closer and closer to you.

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” you murmur. “...you-”

You stop immediately when Jungkook’s hands touch your clothed heat. He cups it in his palm, your cheeks warming.

“Sssh…” Jungkook hums, continuing to rub. You weren’t wearing any safety garments - Jungkook knows this. You’re unable to move as he continues to rub. “...just let me.”

Jungkook squeezes your cupped heat, eyes flickering to see your reaction. Your shy face appears bewildered and you’re unable to move.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks. That wasn’t part of the script, and neither was him touching you. “Does it feel good?”

“Jung…kook?”

You say his name so sweetly that it causes him to moan.

“I like the way you say my name.” Jungkook admits. He’s so close to your face. It’s warm with embarrassment and nerves. This wasn’t part of the script - was he improvising again? Even this is too much.

“W-What are you doing?” you ask. He’s close like he was before, his eyes dark with someone else that you couldn’t put your finger on. Your heart is pumping so loudly, your thighs quivering.

“We’re going to be around one another for months. You and I have to look like we’re intimate on camera.” Jungkook’s tongue swipes along your neck. The hair on your skin rises. “We mind as well get comfortable.”

Comfortable…

The way Jungkook’s hands forces it’s way into your pants, you’re entirely stiff. You’re afraid to move, especially when his fingers rub along your clothed heat through your panties. A soft gasp comes from your lips.

“It feels good, right?” Jungkook hums against your neck. His tongue slides up towards your ear, his teeth nibbling slightly on it just to tease you further. “Talk.”

“Is this…okay?” you ask him, as if you aren’t the one that should be assured. Jungkook looks into your eyes and it drives him crazy. Those sweet, innocent eyes. Such naivety behind them.

“Of course this is okay. You feel good, don’t you?” Jungkook asks.

You nod your head a bit. It felt good - but you and Jungkook were co-workers. You didn’t want to go too far with him and have things be awkward on set later on. Nor did you want him to think you were a groupie who is willing to jump his bones at any given moment.

“We’re going to have to act in front of the camera, Y/N. You’re going to have to moan…” Jungkook murmurs. “I want you to be completely comfortable for me. It’s just us.”

You don’t move when Jungkook tugs your pants down and discards them on the floor. His eyes are intense, watching you the entire time. He places his hands back between your legs, continuing to rub your wet core through your panties.

“You’re new to this.” Jungkook chuckles. “But it’s just you and me. I want you to be comfortable enough for me, okay? Tell me how you feel.”

You aren’t new to sex, but those hookups weren’t Jeon Jungkook. You were self-conscious already. You’re positive he’s done this with countless women - all beautiful models and actresses. You were just you; a newbie in the world and you’re positive you look it.

“It feels nice.” you mumble.

“Yeah?” Jungkook chuckles again, just because you were so cute. “And now?” 

Pushing your panties aside, Jungkook slides his fingers across your wet clit. He rubs a bit more profusely, hissing as just how good he knows your pussy feels. He knows it's tight and would milk him for everything he has.

“In order to look convincing on camera, we’re going to have to experience it behind the scenes.” Jungkook explains. “Don’t you want this? This movie is going to be big.”

Jungkook wouldn't say he was manipulating you. You could push him away and say no - he just knows you won’t. You did want this. He was going to open doors for you that would’ve remained closed if it wasn’t for him.

"The scene we’re acting out is a bit aggressive, but not all of them are.” Jungkook assures. His cock tightens at just the thought of handling you the same way his movie character handles yours. “You trust me right?”

Slowly, and slightly unsure, you nod your head.

“Good.” Jungkook removes his hand from your clit. “Get up. And strip.”

Jungkook was blurring the lines between reality and the script. But you wanted to be good - good enough for him to realize that he didn’t make a mistake in choosing you.

“Yes, sir.” you nod your head, following along with the script.

Jungkook watches you peel off the remaining clothing. Your bra falls right besides your panties, erect nipples staring back at him.

“Go up the stairs and to the right. That’s my bedroom.” Jungkook instructs. “We can’t act this scene out on the couch.”

You can feel Jungkook watching you as you do as he says. Being fully nude before him is nerve wrecking and you just hope you can appear sexy as you’re supposed to. You and him were actually going to do this - there’s no garments to hide either of your parts from one another.

“You think I’d allow anyone else to have what’s mine?” Jungkook hisses. He removes his belt as you sit on his bed, innocent eyes looking up at him.

“N-No, sir.” you murmur back.

“Exactly. I’d kill anyone who thinks they’ll take you away from me.” Jungkook pushes his pants off. You don’t want to stare at the obvious bulge in his underwear, but it’s hard not to. “How should I punish you then? You tried to run away from me.”

You swallow. “Sir-”

“How about you get on your knees?”

You lick your lips. Your character is supposed to be frightened, doing whatever it takes to survive Jungkook’s character - the obvious bubbling psychopath. Witnessing you on your knees, naked with those eyes causes something in Jungkook’s chest to rumble. His cock throbs, wishing you’d touch him already.

“I’d do anything, sir.” you say. Your soft hands lift up to touch him, sliding up his bare legs until they are on either side of his thighs. 

“Open your mouth.” Jungkook demands. His free hand is placed on your chin. “Wider.” he instructs over and over until your tongue is out.

You’re trembling when Jungkook pushes his underwear out. This is something you’ve never done. Oral sex wasn’t something you were interested in with simple hookups. His cock is big, veiny with a wet tip. Without warning - though you should’ve expected, he rubs his tip against your tongue. It’s salty and at the first sign of your hesitance, Jungkook tightens his fingers on your chin.

“You’re doing good.” Jungkook instructs. “You’ve sucked on a lollipop before, right? Treat it like that.”

This was Jungkook talking to you, not his character. His breathing increases when you listen. You were such a good girl - and your compliance would be rewarded. He could make you into the perfect actress - highly awarded just like he was. In due time, of course.

You do as Jungkook says, licking his tip just as you would a lollipop. It’s new to you and you aren’t sure if you’re doing it correctly, but Jungkook’s gasping lowly so you assume you are. Your eyes flicker up to look at him for reassurance.

“You’re doing good.” Jungkook says as if he knows. “Just…take more of me, yeah?”

Jungkook thrusts himself deeper into your wet mouth, groaning when you allow him to with little resistance. His hand holds onto your cheek. “Stay like this, okay. Let me…”

Jungkook begins to pump his cock in and out of you slowly. His moaning increases, his dark eyes fluttering every so often. You’re shocked with how wet you were, your thighs clenching together. Doing this for Jungkook and witnessing how good it makes him feel makes you feel good.

“You’re so beautiful taking my cock.” Jungkook speaks, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. “You’re so good.”

Jungkook picks up the pace, as does his moans. Watching the way your wet mouth takes his cock deeper and deeper with little resistance, even if he can see the whelming tears forming to your eyes with how overwhelming it was. Fuck, you were such temptress.

“You’re such a good girl, Y/N. I promise you’d have it all. Just be good to me, okay?” Jungkook’s cock is so deep in your mouth that you cannot physically respond, but a hum vibrates from your throat and sends Jungkook into a frenzy. 

You’re unsure how you haven’t gagged more than a couple times with how deep Jungkook was, growing more aggressive by the second. You’re breathing through your nose heavily for air, your eyes glossy.

Jungkook spills entirely into your throat, the salty, warm substance causing you to actually gag. You swallow it, unsure what else to do after he removes his cock from your mouth. You finally breathe from your lips, blinking away the tears from your eyes.

“Look at you,” Jungkook hisses. “turn around.”

You were going by the script again. Once you can see again, you do as you’re told. You already know what’s next - the belt still in his right hand. You had to prepare for when you and him do this scene you suppose.

Jungkook wraps the leather belt around your neck, tightening just enough that it isn’t choking you. He forces you onto your feet.

“This is what I do to whore’s who don’t listen.”

You’re forced onto the bed. You immediately know what position to get into, having read the script. And Jungkook thinks you’re such an obedient person that it drives him crazy.

You aren’t sure how this scene was going to play out in front of the camera, but Jungkook isn’t hesitant to slam a hand directly on your bare ass. You yelp at the sudden action - and the sensation of it.

“Count.” Jungkook demands.

“One.”

SLAP!

“Two.”

SLAP!

“T-Three…”

SLAP!

SLAP!

SLAP!

Your thighs are quivering, forced apart so Jungkook could watch the way arousal trickles down your thighs helplessly. Your ass is stinging, a pleasurable feeling you’ve never experienced until now. 

Jungkook yanks at the belt and you’re forced upward and against his chest. You struggle a moment, eyes widening. 

“You’re wet.” Jungkook says against your ear. “You like this, don’t you?”

You nod slightly, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“That’s okay.” Jungkook assures. “I want you to feel good, too.”

Jungkook’s free hand slides between your legs. He doesn’t allow you to move and his grip onto the belt is firm. He likes the way you helplessly lean against his chest while his hand rubs along your wet clit.

“Let’s see how well you take my fingers.”

Jungkook’s fingers are intruding, but he doesn’t care. He slides them between your folds and  right in you. You’re tighter than he thought, fully taking him entirely. 

You gasp at the feeling, your pussy clenching instantly. Jungkook doesn’t intend on being soft with you - no. It’s what you were going to have to get used to. This wasn’t a soft movie - it was hard. It was intruding and invasive - showcasing just how obsessed Jungkook’s character was with yours.

Your pussy is squelching so loudly that Jungkook adds another finger. You’re moaning helplessly, your thighs aching too close to stop the overstimulation but Jungkook isn’t going to allow it. He forces his knee between your legs to assure you stay exactly like this.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, a hand on his wrist. “s-slow down, please. I-i can’t-”

“Shut up.” Jungkook hisses. He was enjoying fucking his fingers into your pussy. He can feel it - the throbbing and clenching and unclenching. 

“I have to…” you’re breathing heavily. Your eyes squeeze shut and your hands, to no avail, are attempting to pry Jungkook off of you. His hand only tugs on the belt.

There’s pressure building up in you. You felt as though you had to pee and you weren’t going to humiliate yourself and do that now. “P-please…!”

“Let go, Y/N. I know you feel it.” Jungkook’s voice is so deep that it tickles something in you. He wasn’t going to release you - not until you did what he said.

You have no control over the pressure that builds and builds until your body forces it out. It sprays entirely onto your thighs and onto the silk bed sheets.

“Such a good girl you are, Y/N.” Jungkook shakes his head, his wet fingers removed from your hole.

Jungkook isn’t going to let you regain any peace - not when you and he had to perfect your roles. When you feel something else at your entrance, you’re too overstimulated to say anything.

Jungkook enters you. You’re so wet that he slides past your walls effortlessly. He groans, feeling your wet pussy around his cock is mind blowing. You were amazing, he thinks, so wet and willing. He finds pleasure in knowing that it was him that is going to discover you and all your talents.

Jungkook begins to pump, forcing you onto his bed so he can get a better grip on you. Your legs are forced apart and your head is shoved into the wet sheets. You’re unable to form words and your eyes are still shut. He’s so deep, pounding into you with every ounce of aggression the script calls for.

“You’re going to be a star, Y/N. I’ll make sure of it.” Jungkook hisses. He’s positive that you’re only half listening, the other half of you babbling and moaning to yourself. But he’ll make sure to tell you once more in the morning. 

Your hands grip the sheet, unsure if you were going to be able to handle another orgasm, but Jungkook wasn’t going to stop until you both were there.

Your ass bounces against his abdomen, your wet pussy gushing with more and more juices that he’s unsure just how this was possible. You’re creaming around his cock, so good that he’s positive you’re cumming over and over again.

“You love this, don’t you? You get to get fucked by me and have the world at your hands. You and I…” Jungkook speaks, now more to himself. To think about it, he could be your guide. Someone to protect you from harm in this industry - you were new and naive. Anyone could take advantage of you. “...I’ll protect you, Y/N. Make sure no one has their way with you.”

You whimper once more when you feel another sensation flowing though you and Jungkook are chuckling with delight. You’re limp, forced to allow Jungkook to have his way with you.

“Maybe we should become the next power couple, huh? Dominate the industry…the perfect actress I can have you be…”

Jungkook’s thrusts become sloppy, satisfied with the possibility of making you the star he knows you can be. The one you and he could be together - fuck, he was going to cum. His eyes squeeze shut, a few more thrusts and-

You feel warmth pool through you and Jungkook falls right on top of you. Your thighs are trembling and your eyes are heavy. You’ve cum more than you ever had before and you had no energy in you to move.

Jungkook is panting, his mouth right against your shoulder. He’s still pumping cum into you, sweat forming on his forehead. One thing for sure, Jungkook couldn’t wait to make you a star.

@investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @minshookie29 @darkuni63 @chimmy-licious

teaser!

Through sleep-heavy eyes, you can barely make out the soft blue light of the clock. You’re warm, surrounded by plush blankets. There’s a comfortable pressure between your legs, but you slip back into a doze before you can register the pleasure creeping through your nerves. 

You wake up properly this time, the clock immediately coming into focus. 2:23am. A quiet moan hums in your throat and you realize your hips are rolling. And you’re fucking soaked. 

Throwing off the blankets, you rub your eyes and assess the damage. In your sleep, you wrapped yourself around the pillows on your boyfriend’s side of the bed. You’ve been humping them for god knows how long, and the damp heat between your legs has darkened both your underwear and the pillowcase.

You groan, frustration prickling. You're sweaty, sticky, swollen, and worst of all alone. When you kissed him goodnight a few hours ago, Hongjoong told you, 

“I'm almost done, baby. I just need to add 2 more layers to this track. I'll be in bed soon, promise.” 

Dirty rotten liar.

Your bare feet drag on the hallway rug and your fingers wrap around the cool metal of a doorknob. He doesn't deserve a knock. You push the door open but stay put, arms folded, squinting when the harsh LED screen stings your eyes. 

He’s exactly where you left him, unfortunately looking even sexier. One hand draped on the keyboard, the other fisted in his hair. His glasses sit too low, displaying the dark rings under his eyes. He sits with one leg tucked into his chest, the seams of his sweatpants stretching between his open thighs. 

Oblivious to you. Of course. 

You loudly clear your throat and he startles a bit, noticing your displeased expression. 

“Shit, I lost time. I’m sorry, I tried to call it quits but I couldn’t leave this unfinished, it doesn’t sound right yet—“

He stops when his eyes land on your lower body. Your thighs tense, instinctively trying to hide the mess in your underwear. But now both of you are keenly aware of the fabric clinging to the contours of your aching cunt. 

“You are supposed to be in bed right now.”

Your scolding lacks force, coming out in a whinier tone than intended. Your voice is thin from drowsiness and want. The corner of his mouth lifts into a fond smirk. 

“Miss me that bad, baby?” 

That sends a shiver from your scalp to your toes, directly through the rising heat in your pelvis. His glassy, sleep-deprived eyes meet yours, pupils dilating. 

You want to tease back, but it’s nearly 3am and your thoughts won’t organize. So you nod, sticking out your bottom lip. Pouting takes less energy. Hongjoong sighs.

“Okay, okay, I’m finishing this bar and then I'll be right there.” 

His eyes snap back to the producing software, fingers dancing over the glowing keycaps once more. Your frustration flares. This is his game— strategically withdrawing his attention, coyly ignoring your signals until you’re begging, drooling, embarrassing yourself. Normally you’d play along, but you’ve been toyed with enough tonight. You cross the room, grab the arm of his chair, and spin it towards you. Before he can react, you straddle his thighs and sit forcefully and lean forward so your lips ghost over the helix of his ear. His shuddering exhale tickles your skin. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

You shift your weight, nestling your boyfriend’s cock between your bodies. He sighs at the pressure that rolls over his balls, and his hips twitch before he can catch himself. You shimmy again, stifling a pathetic sigh when you melt into him. Even soft, his bulge feels perfect pressing against your needy clit.  Head lolling onto his shoulder, you gently rock your hips, instinctively resuming a sleepy rhythm.  Warmth ripples from your core when you feel his heartbeat pulse through his cock.  You moan softly, but stutter when his hands forcefully grab your hips.

“If you’re staying, you’re going to hold still. I'm working.”

“Joongie…”  you whine.

“Don’t argue. Be good.”  his voice lowers. “Let me finish this and you’ll get what you want.” 

Forcing your body to still, you nod and nuzzle your face closer to his neck. The vibration of his pleased purr tickles your nose. He smells amazing–crisp cedar, sparkling citrus, and safety. The song he’s crafting is understated, sensual– melodic guitar swirling with thrumming bass. As he hardens beneath your warmth, you fall into hazy half-sleep, lulled by the creamy sound of his ceramic keycaps. You’re too comfortable to track time, too relaxed to resist the desire that seeps into your subconscious. Your fingers twitch, clutching the thick cotton of his tshirt, and barely audible whimpers slip past your lips. His voice drifts into the current of your thoughts.

“You’re dreaming about me right now, aren’t you? You perfect little slut, soaking your panties in your sleep.”

His arms wrap around you, pressing your pliant body tighter against him.  

“I’m almost done, baby. You’re gonna keep me warm until I’m ready to fuck you, okay? Your needy cunt will take me so easy, just let me in.”  

Your body responds for you, letting your mind stay blissfully quiet. Your clit throbs against his knuckles when his hand creeps between your bodies, pulling the waistband of his sweatpants down. His flushed cock leaks with relief. He groans deep in his throat when your sticky heat envelopes his shaft.  

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet, you’re getting me slick through the fabric.”

Slowly, his hips roll forward, coating the underside of his cock with your arousal. The aching friction scratches at your drowsy mind, but your body releases the tension with a drawn out moan–completely unregulated and saturated in lust that burns through your dreamscape.

Your underwear falls away.  Cool air caresses your damp, swollen pussy, sending a shiver through you. Then a silky, radiating heat glides through your puffy walls. You huff shallow breaths against Hongjoong’s neck, thighs twitching, consciousness flickering.  

“That’s it, honey. Shhh, shh… take Daddy’s cock. God, you feel like heaven.”

He bottoms out with a low moan, one arm clutching you to his chest like you are the only thing keeping him steady. The veil of sleep thins as you stretch around your boyfriend’s length. Your body has been craving this for hours. Finally you have something to hold onto–something filling the prickling emptiness.

“Mmmnnn… daddy…”  you murmur. Your cunt flutters, and the spark of pleasure pulls you into awareness. When you lift your head, a string of saliva stretches between your mouth and your boyfriend’s shirt. His lips capture yours and his tongue guides your bottom lip between his teeth. Oxytocin floods your veins and your hips buck against him helplessly.  

“Ah, ah–I didn’t say you could move.”

Strong arms pinning you in place, he bites down hard enough to make you yelp.

“You’ve got such a greedy pussy. Humping on my dick like a bitch in heat? I thought I trained you better.”

His icy tone cuts clean through your muddled thoughts. You freeze.

“Good. Stay like that.”  

All that escapes your mouth is strangled whine. You divert every ounce of effort into holding still, but you still can’t manage to stop trembling. Tension coils in your belly like a molten hot spring being twisted into shape.  

“Just a minute longer. Be patient.” 

More pathetic sounds seep out of you. Your composure balances on a wire. You try to be good, you really do, but every cell in your body is begging for just a little more. Your walls clench, the deepest part of you acting with a will of its own.  

“Daddy… I can’t, ah– I can’t help it,” you babble. “You feel too good…”

“Shit, baby,” he sighs. Still typing with one hand, he rolls his hips in a circle, unable to suppress a heated groan. “You make it so hard to focus.” 

The agonizing drag of his cockhead against your G-spot melts your brain. You sense nothing but him–around you, inside you, engulfing you completely. Pumping bass vibrates the air. Your body automatically follows the rhythm, pulsing faster and harder, milking his cock from the inside. Your mouth goes slack against his ear and a desperate cry spills out.

“Please.”

He snaps. Growling, he grips you and thrusts so forcefully you see stars. Your contracting muscles rip a gasp from his lungs. His hips snap into you feverishly, all gentleness gone.  

“What, you can’t go a minute without begging? You need more? You’re getting everything—fuuuuuck…”  

His fingers knit themselves into the hair at the base of your skull, tugging so your spine arches into him. His cock punches deeper into your core. Both of you pant like dogs, grunting and whining over the looping track.  

“Take it, baby, take it… oh fuck–”

“Ah–ah–yes—ahhh…” 

He throbs inside you, rapidly approaching the edge. Thighs spasming, thrusts fueled by base instinct, he uses your pussy like a custom made toy. His hand slips under your shirt to grasp your chest and pinch an oversensitive nipple. Your entire body shudders, then clamps like a vice.  

“Oh my god daddy–”

“Yeah? You like that? You’re so fucking tight, holy shit I’m–mmnnngghh fuck baby… cum on me, cum on my cock, come apart for me baby, let me feel it.”  

Your body obeys. Your orgasm crashes into you like a breaking wave, bliss bubbling through every nerve. Your walls pulsate rapidly, tipping your boyfriend over the edge.  Eyes rolling back, he keens your name, lost in his overwhelming release. Slick heat gushes into you and drips onto your shaking thighs. When the spasms of his climax subside, you collapse into each other, floating in a gentle haze. Time fades, until the soft brush of his lips against yours makes your consciousness resurface.  

“Let’s go to bed, baby.”  

You groan in agreement but you’re too fucked out to move. His chest hums with a low chuckle and his hands slide under your thighs. He stands, lifting your body with his so your feet can find the floor. Your nose scrunches in annoyance, but his soft hands coax you to follow him down the hall. He’s perfect in these moments. Dimming the bathroom light so your eyes won’t hurt. Wiping you down with a warm washcloth. Pulling a clean shirt over your head and smoothing your hair. Hongjoong takes care of you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. You are, to him.  

He carries you the rest of the way down the hall. In moments, you’re falling asleep again, cozy and safe, cocooned in your boyfriend’s arms. Finally, he’s right where he’s supposed to be. 

This is a work of fiction. Characters within are based on artist personas and do not represent real people.

Your phone buzzes just as you’re settling into bed.

Incoming Call : San 🏔

You smile immediately, warmth blooming in your chest. You put him on speaker and head to the bathroom, voice soft and sleepy.

“Hi” you murmur.

There’s a pause on the other end. A breath.

Then:

“…Hey.” His voice is low. Rough. Just a little hoarse.

You frown softly. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” A sharp inhale, followed by a quiet exhale. “I just… wanted to hear your voice.”

That makes you smile again, soft and unsuspecting. 

You rinse your mouth, crawl back into bed, and tuck the phone against your cheek.

You laugh softly, cheek pressing to the pillow. “You miss me that bad already?”

“So bad,” he murmurs, almost too quiet.

“I missed you too.” You roll onto your side, voice warm. “How was your night?”

Another pause.

“…Fine.”

There’s something in the way he says it. 

It’s not unhappy, just… distracted. 

Like he’s somewhere else entirely. 

You squint, sensing it now — the air between you feels thick. 

Like something is happening, and you haven’t caught up yet.

Your brows knit at how breathless he sounds. “Are you… working out or something?”

“…Sort of.”

“Sort of?” You giggle. “You sound weird,” you tease, voice gentle.

There’s a pause. Long enough to notice.

Then you hear it — the tiniest sound.

A slick sound.

Wet. Rhythmic. Subtle.

Your mouth parts slightly. “San?”

“Keep talking,” he says quickly. Breathlessly. “Don’t stop talking.”

Your heart skips.

Your voice falters. “Wait… are you —”

“I miss you,” he cuts in, voice heavy, strained, and definitely aroused. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“You’re—oh my god, are you touching yourself?”

He groans — low and unfiltered. Like your voice alone is enough to drag him under.

“Yes,” he whispers. “Fuck, I couldn’t wait anymore.”

You blink at the ceiling, suddenly burning everywhere. “You called me… to jerk off?”

“I called you because of you,” he murmurs. 

“Because I kept thinking about your mouth. Your voice. The way you sound when I—” His breath stutters. “When I’m buried deep inside you.”

Your breath catches.

“Tell me something,” he whispers.

“What?” you breathe.

“Remind me how you taste.”

Your thighs press together instinctively.

“San—”

“I’d be on my knees for you right now,” he murmurs. “You don’t even know. Tongue deep in you, hands keeping you open. I miss the way you shake.”

You press a hand to your chest. Your heart’s racing.

“Your voice, baby. I swear.” His breath catches. “You’re so soft when you’re sleepy. It drives me insane.”

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“.. Are you close?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

“Mhm,” he moans. “Keep talking, please. I’m—shit—I’m right there.”

You bite your lip. Then slowly, softly:

“You’d ruin me if you were here, wouldn’t you?”

He lets out a desperate noise.

“I’d take you so slow,” you whisper. “Just to hear you beg.”

He groans again, sharp and broken. His breathing gets faster.

You hear the subtle, unmistakable sound of his release — his moan is raw, whispered, like he’s trying not to be loud. Like he’s completely wrecked.

You lie there, blinking, flushed all over, heat rolling through you.

There’s a silence on the other end. Just the sound of his breathing, finally slowing.

“…I’m coming over,” he mutters eventually, voice low and raspy.

You laugh softly, heart still racing. “San…”

He groans. “I need you.”

And something tells you this night isn’t over yet.

–

You’re still in bed when your doorbell rings.

Your whole body stills.

You climb out of the covers, heart thudding in your chest, and tiptoe barefoot to the door. 

When you open it, the hallway light spills over San — his dark hoodie pulled over his head, eyes shadowed, lips parted. 

His chest rises and falls like he ran here, not drove.

He doesn’t say a word. He just looks at you.

Then?

He steps in, shuts the door behind him, and grabs you.

You gasp as your back hits the wall.

 His mouth crashes against yours, hot and desperate, like he needs to taste you just to breathe.

“You,” he growls between kisses. “You make me lose my mind.”

His hands roam everywhere — under your shirt, across your hips, gripping your ass like it’s his. You’re lifted onto the wall in one smooth motion, legs wrapping around him on instinct.

“San—” you try to catch your breath, but he kisses you again, rough and deep, before pulling back just enough to speak.

“You sounded so fucking sweet on the phone,” he murmurs, dragging his nose along your jaw. 

“That little sleepy voice. All shy. You knew what you were doing.”

“I didn’t,” you whisper, flushed and breathless.

He bites down gently on your neck. “Liar.”

You squirm in his grip, heat pooling between your legs. 

His hands slide up your thighs and you realize — you’re still not wearing underwear.

He realizes it too.

“Of course you’re not,” he mutters, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I didn’t know you were actually coming over—”

“You think I care?” His voice is gravel now, thick with need. “You think I can sit at home after hearing you like that on the phone?”

One of his hands slides between your legs, fingers dragging through your slick folds. 

You cry out, head falling back against the wall.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Already soaked.”

You nod, breathless. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

That’s it. That breaks him.

He carries you towards your bedroom, mouth on your throat the entire way, and you cling to him like your life depends on it.

When he lays you down, it’s with more reverence than you expect — like even in his desperation, he still wants to worship.

He brushes his nose over your clothed nipple and groans low in his throat, like he’s trying to memorize you.

“Look at you,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect.”

You reach for him, and he comes willingly, laying his body over yours, slotting between your legs. 

You can feel how hard he is — straining through his sweatpants — and your hips twitch up, chasing friction. 

He kisses you again, slower this time, deeper. Like he wants to feel how badly he missed you.

Then he pulls back just slightly. His forehead rests on yours. His breathing's still ragged.

“You want me?” he murmurs.

You nod.

“No. Say it.”

“I want you,” you whisper. “I want you so bad it hurts.”

He groans, like the words physically affect him, and his hand trails between your thighs again.

“I’m not gonna be gentle this time,” he mutters. “I can’t be.”

You whimper. “Then don’t be.”

And then he sinks two fingers into you — slow but firm, curling just right — and your whole body arches off the bed.

He watches your face, eyes dark. “This is what you wanted, right? To drive me crazy? To have me aching for you?”

You nod again, mouth open, gasping.

He leans in close, lips brushing your ear.

“Well, baby,” he murmurs, voice like velvet and smoke, “you got me.”

“Take this off,” San growls, tugging at your sleep shirt, not even waiting for you to comply. 

He peels it up and over your head like he owns it — like you’re his — and throws it somewhere behind him without looking.

You’re bare now. Completely.

And he just stares.

Chest heaving, jaw clenched, like he’s trying to hold himself back — but he can’t. Not anymore.

“You drive me so fucking insane,” he mutters, running both hands down your ribs, to your hips, spreading your legs wide with his knee. “You know that?”

You whimper when his fingers return to your center, teasing just barely. Your back arches. His eyes drop to watch every reaction.

“Already soaked for me again,” he whispers. “And I’ve barely even touched you.”

You reach down, grabbing at the waistband of his sweats. 

“Please,” you gasp.

“Please what?”

“San—”

“Tell me,” he snaps, voice low and commanding. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you in me,” you cry, breath shaking. “Please, San. I need you.”

He exhales hard through his nose — then strips. 

His hoodie and shirt go first, then his sweats and boxers in one tug, revealing his hard, leaking cock, already red at the tip. 

Your mouth waters.

He strokes himself once, twice, eyes still locked on you.

“Turn around.”

You blink. “..Huh?”

“I said turn the fuck around.”

The edge in his voice sends shivers down your spine. 

You scramble onto your hands and knees, and he grabs your hips immediately, pulling you back toward him until your ass is pressed to his cock.

He drags the head through your folds, just once — and groans like it physically hurts to hold back.

Then he thrusts in.

Hard.

You cry out, head dropping to the mattress as he bottoms out in one deep, punishing stroke. 

His hand grips your hip, the other tangling in your hair, pulling your head back so he can lean down and growl into your ear.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” His hips slam forward again. “Wanted me so desperate I couldn’t wait another second?”

You moan, hands fisting the sheets. “Yes—”

“Wanted me to ruin you?”

He sets a pace that’s relentless — deep and unrelenting, every thrust dragging across the most sensitive part of you. 

Your body jerks forward with each one, and you swear he’s somehow deeper than ever before.

“San—fuck, yes—” His grip crushes you tighter. “Say my fucking name.”

You sob it again and again, lost in the rhythm, and he keeps pushing. 

Keeps driving into you like he’s chasing something buried inside your core.

Your legs start to shake. You're so close.

“Not yet,” he growls, he growls, yanking you upright so your back presses hard against his chest “I said—not yet.”

He keeps fucking into you while his hand slides between your legs, rubbing your clit in fast, devastating circles.

“Hold it,” he growls. “Hold it until I say.”

You’re gasping now, practically sobbing from how full you feel — how stretched and raw and desperate you are.

“I—I can’t—”

“Yes you can.” He licks the shell of your ear. “You’ll come when I tell you to. Be good for me.”

And somehow… you obey.

He fucks you through it — deeper, harder, his hand still working you mercilessly — and just when you feel like you can’t take it anymore, he growls:

“Now. Let go. Fucking come for me.”

Your orgasm hits like a wave breaking, loud and wet and devastating. Your entire body arches, thighs trembling violently as you convulse around him.

You don’t even hear yourself scream his name — too lost in the pleasure — but he does.

And it snaps something in him.

He pulls out and flips you over, not even giving you time to recover before he thrusts back in — face-to-face now, eyes burning.

“I’m not done,” he whispers

You can barely breathe, so overstimulated, so full. But you take it — you want it — because the way he’s looking at you? Like he needs to own every piece of you?

It’s worth everything.

He chases his own release now, hips slamming into yours at a punishing pace, his mouth all over your throat, jaw, chest.

“I love this fucking pussy,” he grunts. “You’re made for me. You know that?”

You nod, crying out again as he fucks into your oversensitive cunt. “Yes—yes, I’m yours, I’m—”

“That’s right.”

He buries himself deep one last time — so deep you swear he’s in your soul — and groans your name as he spills inside you, his body trembling against yours.

For a long moment, he doesn’t move. 

Just breathes. Heavy, ragged, still inside you. One hand on your jaw. The other clutching your waist.

Then?

He kisses you. Deep, slow, reverent.

And when he finally pulls back, eyes soft, he strokes your cheek gently.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You nod, dazed. “I think you rearranged my spine.”

He laughs softly, presses a kiss to your forehead, and pulls out slowly, careful with your sore body. 

Then he disappears into the bathroom — and comes back with a warm towel.

He wipes between your legs so gently it makes you tear up a little.

Then he crawls back into your bed with a whispered, “C’mere, baby.”

And you fall asleep wrapped in him — ruined, wrecked, and held like something precious.

—

That morning you wake to the smell of butter and maple.

The early morning light is filtering in soft and slow, and the sheets are tangled at your waist, your body sore in all the best ways. 

Your thighs ache. Your neck has faint bite marks. You feel like you were worshipped… and maybe a little destroyed.

You blink sleepily.

And then you hear it — a gentle clatter from the kitchen. Something sizzling. Then a muttered curse.

You smile. San.

When he appears in the doorway — shirtless, sweats low on his hips, hair pushed back from his face — he’s holding a tray. 

Plates stacked, two mugs, something golden and syrupy filling the air behind him.

He’s grinning like he knows he’s being hot about it.

“I made you breakfast,” he says, voice raspy with sleep, setting the tray on your lap. “Don’t freak out.”

You blink at it. Pancakes. Eggs. Fruit. Even whipped cream??

Your brows knit. “…San.”

He’s climbing into bed beside you, already grabbing a strawberry off your plate and popping it into his mouth like he didn’t just cook a five-star brunch.

You narrow your eyes. “How do you even know where my whipped cream is? You’ve literally been here like .. twice.”

He smirks around the bite. “What, you think I don’t pay attention?”

You stare him down.

He leans closer, hands slipping under the blanket over your lap. “I paid attention to a lot last night.”

You swat at him. “San! I’m eating!”

“You’re trying to eat,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder. “But I made the mistake of seeing you like this — hair all messy, no bra, all cute and sore — and now I’m distracted.”

You flush, tugging the blanket up to hide the fact that you are, in fact, still completely naked beneath it.

He feeds you a piece of pancake — literally feeds you — and you groan at the taste.

“This is so good.”

He hums. “Yeah?”

You nod through your bite. “You’re annoyingly good at this. I was prepared to lie to protect your pride.”

San chuckles and presses a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll take that as a win.”

You’re halfway through eating when his hand starts creeping again — under the blanket this time, fingertips grazing the top of your thigh like it’s casual.

You shoot him a look. “Don’t.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You are literally touching my thigh right now.”

“I’m admiring it.”

“San.”

“Mhm?”

You squint at him. “You’re obsessed with me.”

“I literally am,” he says, no hesitation, dipping down to kiss your bare shoulder again. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” you say. “And it’s so distracting.”

He bites back a smile and leans in close, lips brushing your ear.

“You wanna know what’s distracting?” he whispers, hand slowly sliding higher. “The fact that I spent all night in you — and I’m still hard just thinking about it.”

Your stomach flips.

You grab your fork again with shaky fingers and murmur, “Eat your pancakes.”

But you already know this breakfast-in-bed is about to become a part two of last night — once again… you won’t be finishing your meal.

—

After the breakfast-that-you-did-not-finish (because San decided you were the real meal), he finally lets you rest — for like, ten minutes.

You’re still under the covers, half-limp with sleep and soreness when you feel him climbing out of bed again. You hear the water start in the bathroom.

Then he comes back to the doorway, shirtless, damp towel in one hand.

“Come shower,” he says gently.

You crack one eye open. “You go. I’m dead.”

He smirks. “If you’re dead, then you won’t mind if I carry you.”

You narrow your eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

And then he does. Pulls the blanket off of you and lifts you like it’s nothing, making you yelp as you cling to him.

“SAN!!”

“You left me no choice,” he teases, voice smug in your ear as he carries you into the steam-filled bathroom.

The water’s already perfect — warm, a little hot — and when he steps in with you, he moves so carefully, hands steady at your waist.

You let the water hit your back, sighing at the heat, and close your eyes for just a second — until you feel his fingers in your hair.

Your eyes blink open. “…What are you doing?”

“Washing your hair.”

You eye him skeptically. “Are you washing my hair or do you just want to touch me again?”

San blinks, expression a little too innocent. “Can’t it be both?”

You groan, laughing despite yourself. “I knew it.”

He smiles as he lathers shampoo in his hands and starts working it into your scalp with surprisingly gentle, practiced fingers. 

The way he massages your head, runs his fingers through every strand, careful not to tug — it feels so soothing you actually sway into his chest.

“Mhm… I take it back,” you murmur. “You can do this forever.”

“I plan to,” he says softly, voice near your temple. His hands slow a little, sliding down, rinsing out the shampoo as you lean back.

He keeps going — conditioner, a few more forehead kisses, and now his thumbs are brushing under your eyes, wiping away the faint smudges of leftover makeup.

He does it like it matters. Like he’s memorizing you.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” you ask softly, heart hiccuping.

“Because I’m lucky as hell,” he says without even blinking.

And just like that, you’re melting all over again — but not because of the hot water.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pull him in slow, press your lips to his under the falling spray. 

It's slow, slow — the kind of kiss you sink into with your whole body.

He hums against your mouth.

The kiss deepens, steam curling around you both, and you feel him grip your hips like he might forget what he was doing.

You pull back just enough to whisper, teasingly: “You're getting distracted again.”

San smirks. “You literally taste like vanilla and warm water. How am I supposed to focus?”

You laugh into his shoulder. “Finish rinsing me, San.”

And he does.

But the way his hands keep slipping a little lower? You’re pretty sure you’re not leaving this shower untouched.

—

The shower ends with your back pressed lazily to his chest, both of you reluctant to step out into the cooler air.

You’re the one who finally reaches for the knob, sighing. “We should get out before we start round 2 just from steam.”

San grins behind you, shameless. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You swat his thigh without looking.

He helps you out first, careful with his hands as always — but the moment your feet hit the mat, he’s already reaching for a towel.

“Sit,” he murmurs, patting the bathroom counter like he owns the place.

You arch a brow. “I can dry myself off.”

“Please?,” he says with a glint in his eyes, already kneeling a little to start at your legs.

You give in — because you're sore, and he’s impossibly warm like this. 

Gentle and full of affection. His hands work slowly, drying every inch like he’s mapping you all over again.

He glances up at you, curls damp and stuck to his forehead. “Still mad I carried you in here?”

You give him a small smirk. “No. But only because your massage game is elite.”

“Elite, huh?” He drags the towel up your thigh, fingers lingering too long before he slides it higher. “Do I get a trophy?”

“You’re already trying to earn one,” you mutter.

His only response is to kiss the inside of your knee.

You twitch slightly. “San…”

“Just drying,” he says — entirely unconvincing, because his hand stays exactly where it doesn’t need to be.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, blushing.

But still — you don’t stop him.

He stands slowly, now using the edge of the towel to press soft, careful dabs to your chest, your arms, your neck. 

He trails it up to your face, and your breath hitches at how gentle he gets — like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

His thumbs brush beneath your eyes again, drying what little water clings to your lashes. 

Then he leans in and kisses your temple. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.

You're smiling now. You can’t help it. “I thought you were drying me off.”

“I am,” he murmurs against your skin. “But you’re very… distracting.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re the one making this impossible.”

He hums and wraps the towel around your body fully now, pressing it snug at your back like he’s hugging you and drying you at the same time.

You lean into him. “You really can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you — eyes soft, adoring, almost like you’re something rare and glowing. His voice is quiet but honest: “Nope. And I don’t plan to learn how.”

Your chest squeezes, heat curling all the way down your spine.

He presses a kiss to your nose now. Then your lips. Then murmurs: “C’mon. Let me get you into something cozy.”

You smile, letting him lead you — wrapped in his towel, in his arms, in his attention.

And the truth is: You don’t want him to stop touching you, either.

—

That evening, your living room is dim, the only light flickering from the soft glow of your TV — low volume playing some show neither of you are watching.

You’re straddled on San’s lap, facing him, your thighs resting on either side of his hips, one of his old hoodies swallowing you whole. 

The fabric smells like him — faint cologne, detergent, that warm scent you know better than your own by now. 

He’s shirtless beneath you, just lounging in some gray sweats, all tanned skin and quiet muscle, his arms looped loosely around your waist.

Your fingers are tangled in his hair, gently twirling one around your finger as you talk — about nothing, really. 

Something dumb. Something comforting. You don’t even remember how the topic started.

And you’re not really paying attention to your words anyway — not when he looks like this.

His bare face is unfairly beautiful. His jaw is sharp and clean from shaving.

The light catches the slope of his nose, the tiny beauty mark just beside his left eye, the sleepy droop of his lashes as he listens to you — and God, his lips. Full, soft, kiss-bitten from earlier.

You feel like you could cry just from looking at him.

You run your thumb gently across his cheek. He closes his eyes briefly under your touch.

And then — too soon, too cruel — he shifts slightly beneath you and murmurs, 

“I have to leave soon.”

Your smile fades. “What? Why?”

He exhales slowly, rubbing his hand down your back like he’s trying to soften the blow. 

“I have work in the morning. Early.”

Your heart drops a little.

You blink at him, lips parting. “But… can’t you stay tonight?”

“I want to. I really do.” His voice is soft. Regretful. But firm.

You feel your chest tightening already, throat beginning to ache with the heat of unshed frustration.

“I barely get to see you anymore,” you whisper.

“I know.” He brushes his knuckles against your thigh. “I hate it too.”

Your arms slowly wind around his neck, pulling yourself into him, burying your face into the crook between his shoulder and jaw. 

You don’t say anything at first — just hold him there like if you’re quiet enough, he’ll change his mind.

He strokes your back gently.

“I’m not leaving yet,” he says, voice quieter now. “I’ve got a little time.”

You cling tighter. “Can you sleep over again? Just for tonight?”

A pause. It lasts too long.

“I can’t,” he says, and this time it sounds like it hurts him more than you. “If I don’t go home, I’ll be late.”

You nod, but you’re not ready to let go. Your arms stay locked around his neck. You hate how warm he is. How safe. How rare.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you murmur brokenly.

His hand slips under the hoodie, spreading wide across your back. He cradles you there, holds you tighter. 

“Aw, baby…” he whispers, leaning his head into yours. “I’m gonna make time for us. I promise. This isn't always going to be like this.”

You sniff, but you don’t cry. Not yet.

“Don’t promise if you can’t keep it.”

His voice cracks. “I will. Even if it means losing sleep. I’ll be here. I want to be here.”

There’s a long silence between you two. 

Just the sound of his breathing against your neck and the quiet, creaking shift of the couch when he leans back again.

Then you whisper something, voice soft and a little bitter:

“…And stop calling me when you’re jerking off, okay? It makes me want you even more.”

That surprises a low chuckle out of him — hoarse and heartbroken.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, a soft, rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“But I love calling you,” he admits. “It’s the only way I feel close to you when I can’t be here.”

You sigh, cupping his jaw, thumb brushing over the faint stubble.

“You don’t need to call me to feel close to me, San. You are close to me. Always.”

He nods once, eyes shimmering just slightly.

Then you both fall into a long, warm silence. He holds you. 

You stay in his lap, hoodie swallowing your bare legs, his fingers tracing soft circles on your thigh like he doesn’t want to let go.

You know he’ll leave soon.

But not yet.

So you press your lips to his cheek. Then his nose. Then his mouth.

You whisper, “I’ll wait for you.”

And he says, “You don’t have to wait long.”

But still — the ache stays.

Because even when love is strong… it still hurts to say goodbye.

—

Just as you’re about to send a second (far more graphic) threatening text, the distant growling of the engine you’ve been conditioned to loathe carries from down the street. The glaring red chassis approaches, catching sharp angles of sunlight. You shrink into yourself, more so embarrassed by the thump of the obnoxious EDM track that blares from the thing unfiltered. When he pulls up curb side, all Ray-Bans, white grin and windswept blonde tresses, you hurry over, leaning through the drawn down window.

“Do you have any idea how much of a wanker you look right now?”

He kills the ignition, the gratuitous music dying out. Passers-by double take, their faces awed. You wonder which is doing it; the car or the man. Hyunjin pouts, Ray-Bans sliding down his nose.

“Also, you are so fucking late,” you hiss. “I can’t believe you.”

Unable to bear being the centre of attention any longer, you about-face and march towards the mall, through throngs of people. You hear the abrupt slamming of a car door, the electronic beep of its locks, rushed footsteps that catch up just as you make it to the revolving entrance.

“Are you, like, seriously mad?” He grabs your shoulder.

“Yes! You were the one that went on so hard about being on time, blah, blah fucking blah, yet I was the one left waiting like a tool. Then you have the nerve to make an entrance like that?” you gesture vaguely towards the BMW. “It’s so—”

“Man, I’m sorry,” he pouts again, now holding both your shoulders. “I didn’t think I was that late.”

You roll your eyes, shrugging out of his grip, stepping into the revolving glass segment that he quickly hops in with you. He guides your paced steps by hands on your shoulders—again—and once out of the spinning death-trap, slips his arms down and around your waist from behind, pulling you against him.

“Don’t be mad,” he coos, “I’m super sorry. I’m the sorriest I’ve ever been—”

You struggle half-heartedly. “Release me, demon.”

“I’ll make it up to you?” he speaks into your neck, squeezes you tightly, and despite yourself, you laugh (squeal)? Staying angry with Hyunjin is about as feasible as ice cream withstanding the sun.

“Please, kitten?”

And your struggle ceases momentarily; in all the years you’ve known him, he’s never addressed you like that. Something base and wanting throbs in your chest, and while it’s far from the first time you’ve experienced such a sensation in his company, it is the first time it’s caught you off guard. He unwinds himself from around you; you step away quickly, glad of the space.

“Fine,” you clear your throat. “You’re forgiven.”

Hyunjin grins, smug with his victory. “Knew you couldn’t stay mad.”

“Shut up.”

You start walking; he falls into pace with you. The mall is as busy as one expects it should be, and while you definitely have an objective for today, you’re not averse to looking around. Anonymous jazz plays quietly over the mall speakers, shoppers go about their business in groups or alone, the bravest of them with kids in pushchairs or toddlers on leads. Teens outmanoeuvre the elderly when there’s a crowd jam—usually nearest the shop fronts—and the scent of commercialism hits in targeted waves: perfume at the beauty outlet, fresh cookies at the bakery, soap at the hipster store.

Your name is called as Hyunjin nudges you. “I, uh... didn’t actually look like a wanker back there, did I?”

“Kind of.”

He grimaces. “Wasn’t what I was going for.”

You scoff into your palm. “Should put that on a bumper sticker: ‘this car makes me look like a wanker, sorry.’”

“Oh yeah, you’d love that, huh?” he laughs.

“It’d be a marked improvement.”

He glares at you, the glint of mischief in his dark eyes. The nature of your relationship never up for debate when you’re with him like this; easily, comfortably. Whatever struggles come from taking in the angular planes of his stunning face are yours alone.

“Jerk,” he deadpans.

You poke your tongue out at him. “Bitch.”

***

“Hyunjin!”

You can only reason that clothing shops make their chairs so goddamn uncomfortable by deliberate design: buy something and get the fuck out, is the key takeaway. Sat on the horrid plastic thing and calling Hyunjin’s name into the men’s dressing room, you wonder if he’s ignoring you on purpose.

Taking mercy on your posture and rising, you call to him again. “Are you done or did you find Narnia?”

Inside the dressing room is a long row of cubicles draped by dark velvet privacy curtains. Chic spotlights beam down from the ceiling, leaving white spots in your eyes when you leave them focused for too long. You rub them when just that happens, resigned to action. That shirt should not have taken this long to try on.

The end most cubicle is the only one drawn over; you head to it, detecting the grumbling grunts of a struggle the closer you get.

“Everything alright in there?” you ask dubiously.

“Wh— Why are you in here?” Hyunjin complains from inside. “I’m fine!”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

More struggling resounds from beyond; there’s a thump against the wall. You bite back a laugh.

“Do you need help?”

“Why do people just fucking lie about sizes?” he whines, and after a moment, the chaos stops.

“Okay. I’m coming in.”

“Don't you dare—”

And in pulling back the curtain to slip inside, what awaits you is not quite what you expected. Having tangled himself in something of a makeshift strait jacket, the man’s right arm is elevated uncomfortably, the shirt constricting him by bicep and shoulder. His left hand holds the hem that’s ridden up his torso, too small to apparently drag over his chest. Quite how he managed it, you can’t begin to imagine, but regardless, he’s thoroughly stuck.

“Well...”

“Don’t,” he sighs. “Just help me.”

His complexion tinctured a rose shade of mortification, he begrudgingly allows you to assess the state of things. Force seems like the most obvious solution, and so you instruct him to turn around. Now facing the floor-length mirror, he grimaces when you tug the back of the shirt, the material pinching his skin when you drag it up.

“Ouch, damn it, be careful!”

“How the hell did you even get this on?” you huff, his temporary discomfort an afterthought at best.

“It has a zipper, but it got stuck. Fuck, watch it!”

“Oh, you better stop complaining, Hwang Hyunjin. I’ll leave your ass here to rot.”

He whines exaggeratedly. “I don’t want to die like that. I’m too young and pretty.”

Which he is, but validating that would be a fatal mistake. It’s not like you’re ignorant to the toned planes of his muscled back.

“Where’s the zipper?” you ask, giving up on force.

He turns awkwardly, the dressing room hardly allowing for such manoeuvring.

“At the front. Here—” with his free hand he tugs down the collar, exposing the locking mechanism.

“Need a gentle touch with these things,” you mutter, stretching out the fabric to allow for a straight pull. A little easing and working of the zipper, and it budges slightly.

“It’s coming. Just a little more—”

“God, please,” Hyunjin wails.

Thoughtless is the way you brace your other hand against his abdomen, firm and warm under your palm, more so than is probably usual in light of his self-inflicted stress and tension. Your eyes meet for a brief second—a fleeting recognition of the touch, of the sensation—and you bring focus back to freeing him. A final guided pull of the zipper brings it sliding from chest to hem, the relief immediate as the shirt falls open on him. His arm comes down and he sags against the mirror, and in his blissful reprieve he must not notice the way you unashamedly take in the way he looks half-dressed: the sheen of exertion on his tan skin, the ridges of his abdomen relaxing and contracting with his heaving breaths, the glow the spotlights cast on him. For the simple fact is that Hyunjin is a model of a man, his beauty enough to render the busiest of minds an empty void. And in that void, when robbed of sense or shame, you’ll admit to seeing to the matter of your own relief, the last such occurrence being when, shower fresh, he opted to walk around your flat bearing nothing but a damp towel slung low around his svelte hips. You were fully (and unwittingly, on his part) apprised as to the impressive endowment of your best friend, and with the emergence of such information, a date with your toys was a given.

“Thank fuck for that,” Hyunjin groans, rubbing his sore shoulder.

You pull yourself together. “You’re welcome.”

“What would I do without my little kitten to save me, huh?”

Your swift escape from the dressing room is somewhat cowardly, but with your composure already in so fragile a state, stopping to address the sudden use of this infernal pet name doesn’t strike you as the wisest of choices.

“Meet you outside,” you call over your shoulder, your rushed pace through the clothing shop matching that of the pounding in your chest.

Back in the mall proper, the arousal lingers, setting you on cool edge. Sure enough in yourself to know that nothing outside true relief will ever alleviate it, and you’re not likely to get that until you’re home alone, you settle on pacing. It helps somewhat; staying in motion, not stewing.

When Hyunjin emerges from the shop empty handed some moments later, he’s all smiles once more.

“Where next?” he asks brightly.

Focus is good, you suppose.

“Need new shampoo,” you sigh.

Falling into stride, you walk the upper floor of the bustling mall, knowing vaguely the route to the nearest beauty outlet. It’s warmer up here, you think. Hard to tell what’s responsible for your sudden flustering.

Hyunjin frowns at you pointedly.

“What?” you ask.

“Why new shampoo?” he pouts. “I like the stuff you use now.”

Not particularly taken with the idea of explaining that your current drugstore brand appears to have an unholy drying effect on your ends, you simply shrug.

“Just feel like a change. Do I need your permission?”

And in the moment that follows, you’re drawn close into a sudden embrace secured by his hand around your nape. Standing a head taller than you, it’s no task for him to take a deep inhalation from your crown, the sensation a bolt of hot lightning down your spine. When he breaks away, you shove him by the chest, albeit weakly.

“What the hell was that?” you gripe, heat in your cheeks.

“You smell good.”

“What?”

“Your shampoo,” he presses, “makes me feel some kind of way, I swear. Don’t change it.”

You wonder how much of what he’s saying is true, how much is purely for the gag. He finds no small amount of pleasure in teasing you, such has always been the case, but when his ribbing crosses the boundaries of physical space, things get murky. You ache for validation from him on a level too intimate to entertain, and when he so recklessly manhandles and compliments and asks things of you...

“Don’t sniff me,” you deadpan, turning from him and pacing ahead, unable to summon the cool collectiveness of character that nonchalance requires.

He catches up quickly. “So you’ll keep it?”

Your silence attests to your surrender. He hums in knowing victory, a gentle elbow nudging you. Would he find such delight in it all if he knew how sorely you pined?

Several minutes of walking—you stroll straight past the beauty outlet—and a particularly intriguing shop front comes into view.

“Hold up,” you poke his arm, then point. “Want to go in there.”

He follows your direction, his face drawing notably vacant. Valid, you suppose. It’s not every day one visits an ‘adult store’, and when one does, they’re probably not with their bestie.

“You, uh, don’t have to come with if you don’t want.”

His brows pull together under blonde locks, hands shove into his pockets. “What do you need in there?”

“I just want to see,” you reply honestly, having had it in mind to forgo the sex toy section in favour of perusing the lingerie; a few nice bras never go amiss, and on the vibrator front, you’re as stocked as is needed. Yet in light of Hyunjin’s apparent trepidation, an idea altogether mischievous dawns on you.

“Wait out here, man,” you laugh, pat his shoulder. “I appreciate it’ll be a little much for you.”

Hyunjin sneers, “Fuck off. I’m coming in,” and with that, strides into the adult store without so much as a falter. Not even remotely surprised by his rising to the presented challenge, you follow him inside.

A little revenge for the suffering he’s inflicted, perhaps?

***

Never one to unnecessarily primp and preen, the sensation you find yourself amidst is decidedly foreign. It feels like confidence—tall and strong, it has your back unwaveringly—but is tinctured with a giddy anticipation that has you reaching for your phone to take a picture.

You look indescribably good. The thin black straps of the lace bralette criss-cross neatly over your chest, the deep plunge accentuates your cleavage. Dainty frills run the hem of the item to decorate your upper ribs, as they do the matching silken thong it comes with. The band pinches your hips in just the right, appealing way, offering a satisfying snap against your flesh when you pick at it, intrigued. Such extravagance isn’t in your nature, but even you possess a level of self-awareness when it comes to knowing one’s strengths; lingerie might just have to join them.

A steeling breath in, and you peek beyond the dressing room curtain, glancing up and down the empty room.

“Hyunjin?”

His name carries through the space, but no response comes. You shift nervously.

“Hyunjin!”

“What!?” he hisses.

“Could you come here?”

A second of silence, then he whisper-shouts, “You lose the last of your marbles? That’s the women’s dressing room!”

“There’s nobody else here, just come through! I need your eyes.”

“No way.”

Irritated, you resort to dirty tactics.

“Fine. Forget it. Guess I don’t really need a second opinion on this lingerie.”

Something of a gamble to hinge his compliance on a promise of seeing your semi-naked form; there’s nothing to say he’s even remotely interested enough to be enticed. And if he is, what questions does that raise? Amid this minor—terribly belated—crisis, Hyunjin appears from around the corner.

Oh, God.

Too late to tell him to turn back, he hurriedly crosses the room, darting into the cubicle and drawing the curtain back with a sharp drag. Pressed to the wall to make room for his entrance—this one is even smaller than the last—it’s only when the rush of stealth passes to leave the muted sound of your combined breaths that you realise the proximity; the gravity.

Hyunjin visibly swallows. Close enough that you see the way his pupils dilate when the moment stills and he rakes a gaze from your toe to top, lingering where the lingerie clings snuggest. His jaw locks firm.

“What do you think?” you whisper, unsure if his looming is intentional or not.

He wets his bottom lip by brief dart of tongue and shakes his head. “You really want my opinion?” he asks, his voice a tone of gravel hitherto unheard.

He steps forward inasmuch as the space will allow; more of a shuffle, a readjustment of stance. Your body throbs when his arm props beside your head; caged in and feeling every inch the prey to his predatory nature, your knees all but threaten to give out.

“I think you know exactly how fucking hot you look.”

And his other hand steadily drops to the curve of your waist, a touch so featherlight it may well pass for hovering. Desire curls around you, and in its wake you arch from the wall, seeking closeness to him. The corner of his mouth is pulled up in a grin, your breath catches tight in your throat. It’s equal parts mercy and wickedness when he touches you with intent, a glide from waist to hip that settles at the band of your thong. An inaudible sigh when he picks carefully at the thin strap, your lips parted in such voracious wanting of the man, yet he gives nothing so obvious away. In snapping the material against your flesh, you all but whimper, for as slow and controlled as this is—as he is—it still feels to be happening too fast.

He drags in a heavy, shuddering breath; arm removed from the wall, both hands travel up your sides, across your prickling navel, to your chest where he traces the lace of the bralette with fingertips.

“Hyunjin...”

Your whisper falls to another whine when he cups your breasts gently, the swell of your cleavage so appealing to him. In pushing them up and together, the bralette tightens, and he watches with so intense a darkness you can hardly stand to keep from throwing yourself at him. The ache between your thighs is now so unbearable you wonder how you’ll even make it home at all; he leans to your ear, soft blonde tickling your feverish skin. Lips against your lobe, he speaks softly:

“Did you think you could get one over on me, kitten?”

And he drops back, all contact lost. The sting of neglect is so brutally sharp, you’re too stunned to consider what his knowledge of your trivial gulling even means. In the light of day, it might suggest that he’s well aware of the effect he has on your libido and state of mind, that he acknowledges what sexual tension lives between you; what just transpired certainly attests to that.

“Meet you outside,” he states coolly, surreptitiously readjusting his groin before he throws back the curtain and steps out.

It takes a moment for the bleak reality of it to settle: your best friend has just left you so high and dry, you’ve never nursed such concentrated arousal, such thick and heavy wanting. If he had asked, you’d have given yourself to him. You’d have let him have his way in any and all manners.

Was the point of that exercise not to regain a sliver of power? How had it backfired so badly? How had he so easily turned it on its head? How much longer will you dance around admitting that you crave him?

Dressing yourself in a daze, you suppose falling back on old faithful is about all that’s left to do.

You’ll never let you down, after all.

***

Saying a frosty goodbye to Hyunjin was far from pleasant, yet utterly necessary.

You hadn’t even required excuses by which to take your leave of him; he didn’t question it. It had crossed your mind that he might be aware of how severely he’d overstepped this time, and his reluctance to press you on the matter of your departure was a direct result of that. At some point then, could you expect an apology? Would you even want it, considering the precedent you set for the tense back and forth?

Too highly strung to give reasonable thought to any of that in this moment, once back in your apartment, the plan extends to nothing much more complicated than aided masturbation; you’re going to fuck yourself until you can no longer feel your legs, and that should bring you back to a semblance of coherent self.

Spread legged on your bed, you’re almost halfway there. The silicone of the vibrator is inexplicably smooth inside you, the drag so delicious (even if it is lacking in ways only the real thing can manage). A self-taught expert in edging to the closest degree of release, the steady hum of the toy takes you to the precipice: you drag yourself back from it by total removal, accustomed to traversing the peaks and valleys of your pleasure threshold. Some might say it’s a lonely affair, and in the most obvious ways, it is, but when needs come knocking and all one has is their own enthusiasm, what else can one do but fantasise about their best friend and play back how it felt to be touched by him?

Fully absorbed in your own tryst, you don’t hear the gentle knock on the door. Neither do you hear its creak when it opens, nor the steps that you would otherwise recognise well.

Your name is called softly; opening your eyes to the visage of your best friend in your room, the response is one of panic. Senses returned, you startle to a shriek that sees you scooting up the bed.

“What the fuck!?”

He lifts his hand, a set of keys dangling from them. Right; you did give him those.

“What are you doing here?” you breathe, registering beyond the shock that he’s wearing the same jeans and shirt you saw him in earlier. Did he even go home?

“Thought I’d check in on you,” he says, that same tone of gravel laced deeply. “Seemed a little off today.”

“Get out.”

He shakes his head. “Can’t do that.”

“Seriously, you need to leave, I’m—”

“What?” he cocks his head. “Fucking yourself?”

As if requiring the blunt observation to even remember you’re holding your vibrator, it falls limply from your hand amidst the choke of mortification. Hyunjin perches on the end of the bed, thoroughly unfazed by your semi-nakedness.

“This is why you ditched me?” he asks coolly.

You swallow, unsure how to answer. Telling the truth of it would give so much more away than he knows.

“Because of what happened in the dressing room?” he presses. “The little game you tried to play with me?”

“It wasn’t a game.”

“What was it, then?”

“I... I don’t know.”

He skims a hand through his loose blonde locks, a huff of breath through his nose. If nothing else, he seems at least to be amused as he sighs, “Do you think you’ll ever be honest with me?”

Your heart pounds unforgivingly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he stares you down, “the way you try to hide everything. Do you really think I can’t tell when you’re keening for a fuck?”

You can only watch in disbelief when he repositions on his knees, a few crawled paces bringing him to your feet where he stops, hand poised expectantly over your ankle. He searches your face for the nod; when you give it by the subtlest of motions, he wraps a grip around it, stretching your leg out to drag you to the mattress proper. He crawls over you, his frame so deliciously all encompassing.

“Always wondered what you’d look like underneath me,” he muses, knuckles skimming your cheek. “Fantasies didn’t come close.”

“Hyunjin...”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he breathes. “Why did it have to come to this?”

You puff a resigned laugh, thoroughly humourless. “How was I supposed to do that? You’re my best friend, Hyunjin. Best friends aren’t supposed to want to fuck each other.”

He lowers himself, the space between your mouths so infinitesimal you feel the way his lips shape the words when he whispers, “Says who?”

And when he kisses you, it’s a spiral of immediate wanting. The brushing of lips melts to tongues slick and hot, such pent-up yearning as you’ve nursed for so long manifesting in the way you open yourself to him so readily. Futile to attempt concealing the scalding degree of your desire, your thighs open and legs hooking around him draw him close. He holds his weight on his hands, pushing back and away with tender pillowy lips that curve into a smile of wicked intent. He disappears down your body, repositioning between your legs still opened for him; one hand pressing your navel, the other guiding left thigh up and apart. On eye level with that which he craves most, his curse is one of unadulterated appreciation:

“Fuck, kitten. So pretty.”

The climb to orgasm already underway and with Hyunjin’s knowledge of such intimacy, he’s slow to get you there. Gentle fingertips part you and explore, the soft flick of his tongue an unhurried glide that edges you carefully. The relief comes in tangible waves that, though so desperately wanted, threaten to crush you: so it is that the cap of a shaken soda bottle will explode so violently.

“God... taste so good.”

“Hyunjin—”

He hushes you softly. “I know.”

And the coil of pleasure tightens to straining as he suckles with lips formed snug around your throbbing clit, as he eases middle finger inside you to stimulate the wet tenderness therein. Your reaching for the pillow to clutch at and whine into is intended to spare you from further mortification; your best friend is moments away from making you come brutally, and he knows it.

“Oh my god— ngh—” your muffled cry is encouraged to fill the room when Hyunjin reaches up, snatches the pillow to toss it aside.

“You’ve made me wait this long and you’re going to try and hide from me?” he scoffs, a particularly deep plunge of his slim digit drawing a heavy moan from you. “That’s better. Just like that.”

His mouth returns to where you need it most, and just as your body is wracked with the first tell of orgasm: everything stops.

Confused, defeated as the promise of release tragically diminishes, you look down at the man still poised between your thighs.

“What are you—”

He kisses your inner thigh, eyes hooded. “Didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?”

And perhaps you should have foreseen this; his nature has always been to tease, to lead, to draw out. Why should he be any different where matters of sex are concerned? Even more so when the events leading to this very moment were themselves steeped in such illicit chasing?

While you consider yourself a self-taught expert in the craft of delayed gratification, Hyunjin appears to have been taught by certified masters. Some period of time later and the man has thrashed all sense of coherence from you with the repetition of bringing you to near-orgasm, only to pull it out from under you with a promise of more. With this one, you don’t mind admitting to balancing on the verge of tears. Your body aches, your muscles a mess of involuntary trembling that Hyunjin soothes by reassuring touch.

“Hyunjin, please—”

He quirks a brow at you, detaching mouth from your centre. “But you’re doing so well, kitten.”

“I— I can’t... can’t take anymore—”

A lazy finger stretches you and roams your sensitivity, the glide comically easy with your sopping arousal.

“You should give yourself more credit,” he rasps, “four ruined orgasms and you’re still keeping it together.”

“I’m not,” you plead, “I’m really not. Just let me come, please.”

“Love the way you sound when you’re this desperate, kitten.”

“I need it so badly, fuck—”

 Instinct brings your hand down to offer yourself some relief; it’s promptly swatted away, Hyunjin’s disapproving tut follows.

“You want to come?” he taunts. “Fine.”

And the assault on your aching core comes with such swiftness you can hardly withstand it. Caressed by tongue and smothered by puffy lips, the euphoria that starts as the slow unravelling of your very fibre is no longer denied; it gains momentum and drops you from a breathless height, vision starring as you liquefy amongst the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had.

Quivering form held in place by hand still over your navel, Hyunjin drives you through it, the slow, steady pump of his fingers indicative of his unwavering attention. Even as the comedown calls to you, he perseveres.

“Hyunjin—”

What should be post-coital content is instead steamrolled; Hyunjin is relentless, his ministrations unforgiving. Unable to gulp down a breath or keep your limbs from trembling, you clutch the sheets beneath you.

“It’s too much, it’s too— ngh, fuck—”

A searing second orgasm plucks your soul from body; Hyunjin grins against you, even the hot of his breath proving to be too much in all your overstimulated state. Thrown from pillar to post, the void you’ve so often visited alone in your stupors of lust settles over you like a heavy blanket; you’re present, but unthinking beyond the man that, in this moment, owns you.

“Good fucking girl,” he praises, mercy given when he rises from between your legs to kneel over you. Unsure when he even removed his own clothes, you’re thoroughly taken with the sight of him naked; his cock hangs thick and heavy, and it seems to you an unreal prospect that you should be expected to take it.

Not that you won’t give it your utmost, soldier that you are.

“Turn over for me,” he instructs.

Breathless, boneless, you make some form of attempt to do. On your weakness, Hyunjin guides you to your front, a whispered reassurance offered, “You’re doing so well, kitten.” Hands and knees imprinting the mattress, a drag of large palm down your spine arches you just so. Presented to him, for him, the initial breach is grounding in ways you hadn’t anticipated: Hyunjin is ludicrously well endowed, and every inch he sinks, even despite your blatant arousal, is met with bated breath. He draws tight when he bottoms out; your knees buckle, he keeps you suspended by curve of hips.

“So soft,” he groans, “fuck, you fit right around me—”

And the pace he sets is one of acclimatisation, steady and firm as he finds familiarity in the way you take him, as you melt into the way he drags in and out. Mattress creaks accompany the soft smacks of skin, your broken sighs an encouragement.

“Harder—”

Hyunjin hisses, your presented cheeks are squeezes appreciatively amidst a snap of hips.

“Don’t stop,” you press, “you feel so good—”

He groans low. “Fuck, yeah. Keep talking.”

“You’re so hard, so fucking big—”

He preens, reaching over you to slide a gentle grip around your throat. He pulls you up and back against him, his snapping forcing each staggered breath from your lungs.

“Do you like getting split open, kitten?” he pants in your ear. “Like it when I fuck you raw?”

“Mhm, feels so nice, please—”

He releases you for you to fall to the mattress, and where your knees buckle again, this time there is no assistance. He follows atop you, the pressure of his palm over your shoulder blade keeping you pinned. Fucked into the bed with such fluid strength you’re rendered unable to speak—much less think—the new angle allows for a deeper penetration, a third strong orgasm when the drag of his length gets you there. Somewhat mercifully, yours brings his, the tremble to his form and blush of his complexion indicative of his surrender.

“Oh fuck, fuck— I’m going to come so hard—”

“Inside me,” you plead as his strength fails and he covers you with his body, his chest to your back and your shoulder subjected to open-mouthed attention. Buried into your skin, he fists the sheets beside your head, throaty groans of his unfiltered desire accompanying his sharp, shallow thrusts that fill you up.

The moment of stillness is occupied by your laboured breathing, the respective pounding of your hearts. Silence holds as he rolls from you, and while you would normally seek to engage in much-needed clean-up, you can’t even stand to move. It’s a surprise, then, when Hyunjin rises and disappears to your en-suite, returning with a towel. Too exhausted to entertain embarrassment when he firstly dries the sweat from your skin, then parts your thighs to dab up the worst of what leaks from you. He does it wordlessly and with a tenderness you thought him incapable of; when he’s done, he returns to your side.

Unsure what to say now that the urgency of lust has passed, you’re glad when Hyunjin speaks first.

“That was pretty unreal.”

You gently laugh your agreement. “Yeah.”

He turns to you, seeking your gaze. When you give it, the sincerity there is yet another unexpected turn of his character.

“I’m glad,” he says softly.

“You are?”

He nods. “At the risk of sounding like an arrogant prick, I always kind of thought this would happen. You could cut the tension between us with a blunt spoon.”

“You say that, but I thought it was just me that felt it.”

He quirks a brow, amused.

“You give absolutely nothing away,” you explain. “Until today, I was resigned to forever pining after my best friend.”

“Well,” he sighs, pulling you into his chest, “now you can forever pine after your boyfriend.”

Warm in his embrace, against his skin, there’s something almost elegant in the way he so nonchalantly presents and decides on the status now shared between you. From bestie to boyfriend, in so simple a sentence as that. And why dispute it, when the idea brings you to such delight? To be able to call him more than just a friend is a fantasy hitherto ignored. Now it’s your reality.

“Need to go back to the mall tomorrow,” he mumbles among the calling of sleep. You look up at him, confused.

He grins lazily, the very picture of mischief. A soft kiss pressed to your forehead, his nose brushing down your temple when he whispers in your ear:

“You and I have unfinished business with that lingerie, kitten.”

you shove the feeling down immediately and sit up. it’s not a big deal. he’s just the neighbor. family friend. the golden boy your parents trust with literally everything.

including, apparently… you.

you pull on shorts and an oversized tee before heading downstairs, the smell of coffee already drifting through the house.

your parents are in full departure mode bags near the door, your dad checking his watch, your mom doing that last-minute “did we forget anything” loop through the kitchen.

“there she is,” your mom says when she sees you. “good morning, honey.”

you mumble something back, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. and that’s when the front door opens. you don’t need to look to know it’s him.

there’s just… a shift.

a presence.

footsteps that are heavier than your dad’s but familiar enough that your body recognizes them before your brain does.

“morning,” jungkook says.

his voice is warm. easy. confident.

you look up.

and there he is.

black hoodie. gray sweats. hair slightly messy like he ran a hand through it on the way over. he looks annoyingly good for someone who probably woke up ten minutes ago. your parents light up immediately, of course they do.

“jungkook! perfect timing,” your mom says, walking over to hug him.

he hugs her back easily, smiling that polite, respectful smile he always pulls out around adults.

“ready to escape?” he teases your dad. your dad laughs. “don’t tempt me.”

you watch the interaction over the rim of your mug, trying very hard not to notice how broad his shoulders look under the hoodie.

or how his eyes flick toward you for half a second. just long enough to acknowledge you’re there. then back to your parents.

golden boy mode activated.

“seriously,” your mom says, lowering her voice slightly like you’re not literally five feet away. “thank you again for keeping an eye on her.”

your jaw tightens. keeping an eye on her. like you’re twelve.

jungkook glances at you then quick, unreadable before looking back at her.

“don’t worry,” he says easily.

then, with the smallest curve of his mouth:

“i’ll take good care of her.”

your stomach flips.

you hate that it does.

you roll your eyes dramatically. “i’m standing right here.”

your dad chuckles. “we know, we know. but humor us.”

jungkook’s gaze returns to you. steady and amused. like he’s enjoying this way more than he should.

and you suddenly feel very aware of yourself. of your bare legs. of the oversized shirt slipping slightly off one shoulder.

of his eyes noticing.

your mom starts running through instructions food in the fridge, emergency numbers, don’t forget to lock the doors--while your dad grabs the last suitcase.

you half listen, half don’t. because jungkook moves closer. not touching.

just… near.

close enough that you can feel his warmth at your side, close enough that his shoulder almost brushes yours when he shifts.

your pulse picks up. it’s ridiculous. he hasn’t even done anything

“you good?” he murmurs quietly, low enough your parents can’t hear.

you glance at him.

he’s looking down at you slightly, expression calm, but there’s something else under it.

something observant.

like he’s already reading your mood.

“i don’t need supervision,” you mutter. his mouth twitches. “didn’t say you did.”

“you literally did.”

“your parents did.”

“same thing.”

he leans a little closer.

voice softer.

“relax,” he says. “i’m not here to babysit you.”

your stomach drops. because the way he says it doesn’t sound reassuring. it sounds like a promise of something else.

before you can respond, your mom claps her hands together.

“okay! we have to go or we’ll miss the flight.”

quick hugs happen. your mom kisses your cheek. your dad squeezes your shoulder.

then they’re grabbing bags, heading for the door. jungkook helps carry the last suitcase out like the perfect son-in-law prototype he is.

you follow more slowly. the driveway is bright with late morning sun. car doors slam. last reminders are shouted. then your mom points at jungkook again. “call us if she gives you trouble.”

you groan. “mom-”

jungkook laughs under his breath. “i’ve got it,” he says. your dad gives him a knowing nod. and then they’re in the car. engine starting. waving goodbye. you stand there, arms crossed, watching until they pull out of the driveway and disappear down the street.

silence settles.

thick.

sudden.

different.

you don’t realize you’re still staring at the empty street until you feel it--

him. behind you. close. very close. “so,” jungkook says.

low. you turn.

and nearly collide with him. he didn’t step back. you didn’t either. for a second you’re just… there. face to face.

his eyes drop briefly to your mouth. then back up. heat floods your chest instantly. “guess it’s just us,” he finishes.

your throat feels dry. “…yeah.” a slow smile spreads across his face. not the polite one. not the neighbor one. this one is different.

more cockier and aware.

“try not to get into trouble,” he says softly.

you scoff, defensive immediately. “i don’t get into trouble.”

his eyebrow lifts.

amusement flickers in his eyes.

“we’ll see.”

and for the first time since your parents left--

you realize something that makes your pulse spike.

this week isn’t going to be normal.

not even close.

the kitchen still smells faintly like citrus cleaner and whatever protein shake powder he’d dumped into the sink earlier.

you’re perched on the counter stool with one knee pulled up, a glass of water sweating in your hand while jungkook moves around like he owns the place.

it’s distracting.

not just because he looks good --which he does, annoyingly so but because he’s comfortable.

too comfortable. your kitchen. your house. and somehow he’s the one acting like you’re the guest.

he shuts the fridge with his hip, twists the cap off a bottle of water, and drinks half of it in one go. his throat moves when he swallows, head tipped back slightly, damp hair still clinging to the sides of his neck from the gym.

you look away. immediately. because staring would be obvious.

“you should eat,” he says, voice casual.

“i just got back from my run.”

“exactly.”

you roll your eyes. “i’m not five.”

“didn’t say you were.” he leans against the counter across from you, forearms braced behind him, posture loose but deliberate. like he knows you’re looking. like he wants you to. “what do you want?” he asks.

“for what?”

“lunch.”

you shrug. “i don’t know. takeout?” he makes a face. “what?”

“you had takeout yesterday.”

“and?”

“and you complain about feeling tired all the time.” your eyes narrow. “are you judging me right now?”

“i’m observing.”

“that sounds like judging.”

he smiles a little. cocky. “i could cook,” he says. you snort. “you? cook?” his eyebrow lifts slowly. “you’ve seen me cook breakfast,” he reminds you.

“eggs aren’t cooking. that’s survival.” he pushes off the counter, stepping closer. you feel it immediately --that shift in space when someone enters your personal bubble. your pulse does something stupid.

“i make a pretty good stir fry,” he says.

“wow. impressive.”

“you’re rude.”

“you’re bragging.”

he stops right in front of you. close enough that you have to tilt your chin up slightly to meet his eyes. close enough that you can smell his body wash again — clean, warm, faintly masculine — mixed with the lingering scent of sweat from the gym.

it shouldn’t smell good. it does. “you always like this?” he asks quietly.

“like what?”

“defensive.”

your spine straightens. “i’m not defensive.”

“sure.”

you cross your arms. “i just don’t need someone telling me what to eat in my own house.”

“your parents asked me to make sure you were taken care of.”

“i can take care of myself.”

his gaze drops briefly — your crossed arms, your legs, the flush creeping up your neck — then returns to your face.

there’s something different in his expression now. less teasing. more focused. “i know you can,” he says.

pause.

“doesn’t mean you always do.” your chest tightens. you hate that he’s not entirely wrong. you look away first.

“fine,” you mutter. “cook whatever you want.” his mouth curves slightly, like he just won something.

—

you expect him to move away.

he doesn’t.

instead he reaches past you toward the cabinet behind your shoulder. your breath catches. his arm brushes your side — barely — but enough that heat sparks under your skin. he grabs a bowl, then another, still standing too close. on purpose.

definitely on purpose.

“you’re crowding me,” you say.

“you’re sitting in the middle of the kitchen.”

“it’s my kitchen.”

“still in the way.”

you glare at him.

he just smiles. cocky. patient. infuriating.

—

cooking with him turns out to be… worse than you expected. because he’s competent. like actually competent.

knife moving quickly through vegetables, movements efficient, confident, controlled. you lean on the counter watching, pretending you’re not impressed.

“you can help,” he says without looking up.

“i am helping.”

“watching isn’t helping.”

“moral support.”

he chuckles under his breath. “come here.” you hesitate. then slide off the stool and step beside him. he hands you a cutting board. “slice those.”

you pick up the knife. “i know how to cut vegetables.”

“we’ll see.”

you start chopping. after about ten seconds he reaches over, stopping your hand. his fingers wrap lightly around your wrist.

warm.

firm.

your pulse jumps instantly.

“like this,” he says. he shifts behind you. close. too close. one hand guiding yours, the other resting lightly against your hip to adjust your stance.

your brain goes completely blank for a second. you can feel his chest near your back. his breath near your ear. “relax your grip,” he murmurs. your throat feels dry. “i am relaxed.”

“you’re not.”

his fingers slide over yours slightly, correcting the angle of the knife. the contact lingers longer than necessary.

definitely longer.

heat spreads through your stomach. you pull your hand back quickly. “i got it.” his eyebrow lifts. “didn’t say you didn’t.”

“you were hovering.”

“i was helping.”

“controlling.”

“guiding.”

you scoff. he smiles again. god, you want to wipe that smile off his face.

—

you end up back on the stool while he finishes cooking. watching him.

again.

it’s embarrassing how easy it is to just… look at him. the way his shoulders move under his shirt. the flex of his forearms when he stirs the pan. the concentration on his face. you catch yourself staring at his mouth when he tastes the sauce.

you immediately look away.

he notices. of course he does. “hungry?” he asks.

“…maybe.”

“good.” he plates the food and sets a bowl in front of you without asking what you want. like he’s decided for you. you hate that a tiny part of you likes it.

you take a bite.

it’s good. really good. you try not to react. fail slightly. he sees. “told you,” he says. you roll your eyes. “don’t get cocky.”

“too late.”

—

for a few minutes you eat in comfortable silence. then he speaks again. “you dating anyone right now?”

you blink. “…what?”

“it’s a question.”

“why?”

he shrugs. “curious.”

you narrow your eyes. “since when do you care about my dating life?”

“since your parents asked me to look out for you.”

“that has nothing to do with dating.”

“it does if some guy’s wasting your time.”

your stomach flips unexpectedly. you poke at your food. “…no.”

“no what?”

“no, i’m not dating anyone.”

he nods slowly. “recently?”

you hesitate. “…kind of.”

“kind of?”

“it didn’t work out.”

“why not?”

you sigh. “he was annoying.”

jungkook’s mouth twitches. “that’s descriptive.”

“he just… didn’t get me.”

“how?” you shrug, staring down at your bowl. “he thought i was too much sometimes.” jungkook goes still.

“too much?” he repeats.

“like… opinionated. stubborn. emotional.” you laugh lightly, but it comes out a little forced.

“you know. difficult.”

there’s a quiet pause.

then--

“that sounds like his problem,” jungkook says.

your eyes lift. his expression is serious now. focused. “not yours.”

something warm spreads through your chest before you can stop it. you look away quickly.

“…you don’t have to say that.”

“i’m not saying it to be nice.”

his gaze stays on you. steady. intent. “you’re not too much,” he says. your stomach flips hard. “you just need someone who can handle you.” your heart starts beating faster.

“…handle me?”

the corner of his mouth lifts.

“yeah.”

pause.

“you’re a little bratty sometimes.” your head snaps up.

“excuse me?”

he chuckles softly. “you are.”

“i am not.”

“you argue about everything.”

“because you’re wrong about everything.”

he leans closer across the counter. “and you hate being told what to do.”

“i don’t—”

“you do.” his voice drops slightly. “especially when you know you should listen.”

heat rushes up your neck. “you’re unbelievable.”

“and you’re predictable.”

“i am not predictable.”

“sure.”

you glare at him. he just looks amused. patient. confident. like he knows exactly how to push your buttons. and worse --like he knows you like it.

—

you stand abruptly, grabbing your bowl. “i’m done.”

you move toward the sink. he steps into your path. not blocking. but definitely not moving either. you look up at him. your chest feels tight again. “what?” you ask. his eyes flick briefly to your mouth. then back to your eyes. “…nothing,” he says.

but his voice is quieter now.

rougher.

and for the first time since he got here, you realize something that makes your stomach drop slightly.

this isn’t one-sided.

he’s feeling it too.

and that’s way more dangerous than you expected.

the afternoon settles into something quieter after lunch.

not calm. just… charged.

like the air in the house has shifted a few degrees warmer without either of you acknowledging it. you tell yourself you’re going to go to your room. get space. reset your brain.

instead you end up in the living room, curled into the corner of the couch with your laptop open and absolutely no idea what you’ve been staring at for the last ten minutes.

you hear him before you see him. footsteps. slow. unhurried.

he leans against the doorway, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

watching you.

you feel it instantly --that awareness crawling up your spine.

you glance up.

“…what?”

his mouth curves faintly.

“you’ve been on the same page for a while.”

heat creeps into your face.

“i’m reading.”

“sure.”

you glare at him. “why are you staring at me?”

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

he pushes off the doorway and walks in, dropping onto the opposite end of the couch. close enough that you feel the cushion dip. close enough that your knee is maybe six inches from his thigh.

which suddenly feels like nothing. too close. you shift slightly. he notices.

of course he does.

“relax,” he says lightly.

“i am relaxed.”

“you look tense.”

“maybe because someone keeps hovering around me.”

he chuckles under his breath.

“i live here right now.”

“temporarily.”

“still counts.”

you roll your eyes and try to focus back on your screen.

you fail almost immediately.

because you can feel him looking at you again.

your skin prickles.

you snap the laptop shut.

“what?” you ask.

his eyes flick over your face. slow. intent. like he’s studying something. “…nothing,” he says. your stomach flips. you hate that word from him. nothing. like there’s something he’s not saying. “you’re being weird today,” you mutter.

“how?”

“i don’t know. just… weird.” he leans back slightly, arm draped along the back of the couch behind you. not touching. but close enough that you feel surrounded. “maybe you’re just noticing me more,” he says.

your heart stutters.

“that’s not--”

“it’s okay,” he continues, voice calm, almost amused. “i notice you too.”

the words land heavier than they should. your throat feels dry. “…what does that mean?”

his gaze drops briefly to your mouth. then back up. “whatever you want it to mean.”

your pulse jumps.

you look away first.

coward.

—

an hour later you’re both still in the living room.

you switched to a movie at some point, more for background noise than actual interest.

jungkook ended up closer without either of you acknowledging when.

your feet are tucked under you.

his knee brushes yours occasionally when he shifts.

every time it happens, your stomach does something stupid.

you pretend it doesn’t.

halfway through the movie he nudges your foot with his.

“what?” you say.

“you always sit like that?”

“like what?”

“curled up like you’re five.”

“it’s comfortable.”

“you’ll cramp.”

“i won’t.”

he reaches over suddenly, grabbing your ankle.

you jolt.

“hey—”

he pulls your leg gently, stretching it across the couch toward him.

“there,” he says. “better.”

your heart is beating way too fast.

his hand is still around your ankle.

warm.

firm.

you swallow.

“…you’re bossy.”

“you’re stubborn.”

“same thing.”

“not really.”

his thumb shifts slightly against your skin.

barely. but enough that heat sparks up your leg. you pull your foot back quickly. he lets you. but his eyes are on you now. sharp. focused. like he noticed exactly what that did.

—

“you wanna do something?” he asks after a minute.

“we are doing something.”

“you’re half watching and half overthinking.”

you scoff. “you don’t know what i’m thinking.”

“i know you.”

“you don’t know me that well.”

his head tilts slightly.

“i know more than you think.”

your stomach flips again.

“…like what?”

he studies you for a second.

then:

“you act tough when you’re uncomfortable.”

your chest tightens.

“i don’t--”

“you do,” he says calmly. “you get sarcastic. defensive.”

you cross your arms.

“maybe because you’re annoying.”

he smiles faintly.

“maybe.”

pause.

“or maybe because you feel things more than you want to.”

your pulse stumbles. you look away. “…you’re overanalyzing.”

“am i?” you don’t answer. because he’s not entirely wrong. and that’s the worst part.

—

he stands suddenly.

“come on.”

you blink. “where?”

“outside.”

“why?”

“because you’ve been in your head all afternoon.”

“i’m fine.”

“you’re coming.”

you narrow your eyes. “you don’t get to decide that.”

he steps closer. right into your space. “yeah,” he says quietly. “i kind of do.” your breath catches.

“why?” you challenge.

his gaze drops briefly to your mouth again. then back to your eyes. “because you won’t say no.”

your stomach flips violently.

“…watch me.”

you grab your phone, standing up.

he reaches out, fingers closing around your wrist.

not rough. but firm enough to stop you. electricity shoots up your arm. your heart starts racing instantly. “don’t,” he says softly. your chest rises and falls faster. “don’t what?”

“run away every time something feels different.” the words hit somewhere deep. you stare at him. he’s close. so close you can see the tiny scar near his eyebrow.

the darker ring around his pupils.

his thumb shifts slightly against your wrist. not letting go. not tightening either. just there. steady. grounding.

“…i’m not running,” you whisper.

“you are.”

your pulse pounds in your ears. “from what?” you ask. his voice drops. “from me.” silence stretches between you. thick. heavy. your stomach twists. because you know exactly what he means. and you don’t have a comeback.

—

he releases your wrist slowly. “come outside,” he says again. this time you don’t argue.

—

the backyard is warm with late afternoon sunlight, shadows stretching across the grass.

you sit on the patio steps while he grabs two water bottles from the outdoor fridge.

the quiet feels different out here.

less suffocating.

but the tension between you is still there.

maybe worse.

he sits beside you, shoulder brushing yours lightly.

neither of you moves away.

for a few minutes you just watch the sky shift colors.

then he speaks.

“why do you think you pick the wrong guys?”

you blink.

“…what?”

“earlier,” he says. “you said you haven’t found someone who gets you.”

your stomach tightens.

you shrug. “i don’t know. bad luck.”

“no,” he says softly. “not luck.”

you glance at him.

his expression is thoughtful.

focused.

“you go for people who don’t challenge you,” he continues. “or people you think you have to prove something to.”

your chest feels tight again.

“…you don’t know that.”

“i do.”

“how?”

his eyes meet yours.

steady.

“because you’re used to being the one in control.”

your pulse jumps.

“i am not controlling.”

“not controlling,” he corrects. “independent.”

pause.

“but you still want someone who can handle you when you push.”

your breath catches.

the words land deep.

too deep.

“…and you think you’re that person?” you ask, trying to sound unimpressed.

his mouth curves slightly.

“maybe.”

your stomach flips.

you hate how confident he sounds.

how certain.

“you’re cocky,” you mutter.

“you like it.”

“i do not.”

he leans closer.

just a little.

“yeah,” he says quietly. “you do.”

your heart is pounding now. his face is closer. your knees brush. neither of you moves. the air feels thick. charged. you can feel his breath. warm. your eyes drop to his mouth without meaning to. he notices.

of course he does.

his voice drops to almost a whisper.

“see?”

your pulse is racing so hard it feels like your ribs are vibrating. “jungkook,” you say softly. you don’t even know what you’re going to say. his hand lifts slowly.

fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. gentle. intentional.

the touch lingers. your stomach flips violently.

“you know this is going somewhere,” he murmurs. your breath catches. the world feels very small suddenly.

just you.

him.

the space between your mouths. he leans in slightly. not all the way. giving you time to move. you don’t. your eyes flutter. your heart is pounding.

and for a split second you think he’s going to kiss you-

then he stops.

forehead almost touching yours. breath mixing. “not yet,” he says softly.

and somehow that feels more dangerous than if he had.

the argument starts small.

so small you don’t even realize it’s turning into something bigger until it already has. you’re both back inside after the backyard moment ,--after the almost kiss, after his stupid not yet that’s been replaying in your head on a loop you can’t shut off.

you’re restless. on edge. and he’s watching you too closely. like he knows. like he can see exactly what’s happening under your skin.

you grab your phone from the counter, scrolling without actually reading anything.

he leans against the island across from you, arms crossed. “you’re quiet,” he says. “i’m fine.”

“you don’t look fine.” you sigh sharply. “why do you keep doing that?”

“doing what?”

“analyzing me. watching me. acting like you know what i’m thinking.”

his jaw tightens slightly. “because you’re obvious.”

your head snaps up. “i am not obvious.”

“you are when you’re flustered.”

heat shoots up your neck immediately. “i’m not flustered.”

his eyebrow lifts.

“you’re impossible,” you snap. “you’re defensive again.”

“because you keep pushing.”

“maybe because you keep running.”

your chest tightens.

“i’m not running from anything.”

“you are,” he says calmly. “from this.” his hand gestures lightly between you. the implication lands heavy. dangerous. “there is no this,” you say quickly. his eyes narrow slightly.

“right.” the sarcasm hits a nerve. “you’re so full of yourself,” you mutter.

“am i?”

“yeah. you think every girl wants you.”

his mouth twitches.

“most do.”

your stomach flips with irritation.

“god, you’re insufferable.”

“and you’re lying.”

“about what?”

his voice drops.

“about not feeling this.”

your pulse jumps.

“you don’t get to decide what i feel.”

“i don’t have to,” he says quietly. “your body does it for you.”

your heart stutters. you hate that he’s right. you hate that he knows it. “you know what?” you say sharply. “maybe you should worry less about me and more about your own ego.”

something shifts in his expression then. subtle. but real. “my ego?” he repeats. “yeah. you walk around like you’re some perfect golden boy who has everything under control.”

his jaw tightens.

“that’s what everyone thinks,” you continue, words coming faster now. “you’re always helping people, always so patient, so nice--”

“you think that’s fake?”

“i think you like the attention.”

silence.

heavy.

you realize you crossed something.

but pride keeps you going.

“and maybe you think you can control me the same way,” you add.

his eyes darken slightly.

“control you?” he says quietly.

“yeah. telling me what to eat, where to go, acting like i need supervision.”

he pushes off the counter slowly. steps closer. the air changes instantly.

“your parents asked me to look out for you,” he says.

“i didn’t.”

“no,” he agrees. “you didn’t.”

you swallow.there’s tension coiled in his posture now. not anger exactly. but restraint. tight. coiled. you look away first.

“i’m getting snacks,” you mutter, turning toward the pantry.

—

you stand there staring into the shelves without really seeing anything.

chips.

granola bars.

cereal boxes.

your chest still feels tight from the argument. from the way his voice changed. from the way he looked at you. footsteps approach behind you. you don’t turn around. “we should go out,” he says.

“no.”

“yeah.”

“i’m not going anywhere.”

“you are.”

you scoff. “you’re unbelievable.”

“put your shoes on.”

you turn then, glaring. “why?”

“because you need to get out of the house.”

“i don’t.”

“you do.”

his voice isn’t loud. but it’s firm. decisive.

the same tone he used earlier when he said come outside. your stomach flips. “…fine,” you mutter.

—

the walk to the convenience store is quiet. the sky is darker now, evening settling in with soft streetlights flickering on. you’re hyper aware of him beside you. his shoulder occasionally brushing yours. his presence steady.

grounding.

you hate that word.

grounding.

inside the store, fluorescent lights buzz overhead. you grab a basket, wandering down aisles without really thinking.he stays close. not hovering. but close enough that you feel him whenever you move.

you reach for a bag of chips on a higher shelf. before you can grab it, his hand reaches past you.

his chest brushes your back slightly.

heat shoots through you instantly.

he hands you the bag without a word.

your fingers brush. linger. you both feel it. neither comments.

—

you’re near the drinks when it happens. a guy steps into your space. too close. “hey,” he says, smiling. you blink, surprised. “hi?”

“you come here a lot?” you shift slightly, uncomfortable. “not really.” he leans closer. too close. “you’re beautiful,” he says. your stomach tightens. you glance past him instinctively. jungkook is already moving. his hand lands on your lower back.

firm.

possessive.

pulling you slightly toward him.

the guy notices immediately.

jungkook’s voice is calm. low. but unmistakably sharp. “she’s with me.” the tension in the air shifts instantly. the guy hesitates, eyes flicking between you. “…oh. my bad.” he backs off. jungkook doesn’t move his hand. not until the guy is completely gone.

your heart is racing. “i could’ve handled that,” you say quietly. “i know,” he says. but his hand stays on your back another second longer.

then slides away.

the absence feels noticeable.

—

the walk home is different. quieter. charged. jungkook’s jaw is tight. his posture tense. you can feel it radiating off him. inside the house, you set the snacks on the counter.

neither of you moves for a second.

then he speaks. “you okay?” you nod. “…yeah.” he studies your face. like he’s checking. like he needs to be sure. something warm spreads in your chest. you look away quickly. “i told you i could handle it,” you mutter. “i know.”

“then why did you—”

“because i wanted to.”

the words land heavy. you turn toward him. he’s closer now. you didn’t notice him step forward. your pulse jumps. “you don’t have to protect me,” you say softly. his eyes lock onto yours. “i know.”

pause.

“i want to.”

your heart stutters. the air feels thick again. charged. dangerous.

“jungkook…” you whisper.

his hand lifts slowly. fingers brushing your jaw. tilting your face up. your breath catches.

his voice drops.

low.

rough.

“you have no idea what you're doing to me,” he murmurs. your stomach flips violently.his other hand slides to your waist. pulling you closer. your bodies touch. full contact. heat explodes through you instantly.

“you push,” he says softly. “you argue. you act like you don’t feel it.” his thumb brushes your bottom lip. your knees feel weak. “but you do,” he murmurs.

you nod slightly before you can stop yourself. that’s all it takes.

he kisses you.

hard.

controlled.

like he’s been holding back all day.

your hands grab his shirt instinctively. his grip tightens on your waist. pulling you flush against him. the kiss deepens. heat spirals fast. dangerously fast. his mouth moves against yours again and again, slower now, more deliberate.

like he’s savoring. your head spins. his forehead presses briefly to yours. breath uneven.

“last chance, tell me to stop,” he murmured. but you didn’t.

you shake your head immediately.

that control in him snaps.

his fingers curled around your wrist, tugging you forward before you could second-guess the heat pooling low in your stomach.

jungkook didn’t give you time to think--his mouth crashed against yours, insistent, all teeth and desperation.

You gasped, and he took advantage, slipping his tongue past your lips like he’d been waiting years for permission. you clutched at his shoulders just to steady yourself.

one hand slid up your side, fingers pressing into your ribs like he was memorizing the shape of you. the other cupped your jaw, tilting your head back just enough that you had to rise onto your toes.

Jungkook groaned, low and rough, when your nails scraped against the nape of his neck.

“fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, and then he was walking you backward, never breaking contact, until your hips hit the edge of the kitchen counter.

the cold marble bit into your thighs, but you barely registered it--not when jungkook’s hands were sliding under your thighs, lifting you onto the counter like you weighed nothing. his hips slotted between your legs, and you arched into him instinctively, your breath hitching at the hard press of him against you.

he laughed, breathless, his lips trailing down your throat. “you’re so-” he bit lightly at your collarbone, and you jerked, your thighs tightening around him.

“fucking responsive.”

you didn’t have time to retort. jungkook’s mouth was on yours again, swallowing your whimper as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him.

the friction was maddening, just enough to make your toes curl but not enough to relieve the ache building inside you.

you rocked against him, desperate, and he broke the kiss with a sharp inhale. his eyes were blown wide, pupils swallowing the warm brown you loved so much.

“bedroom,” he growled, and before you could nod, he was tapping your ass twice--a silent command.

you didn’t hesitate. jumping down, you wrapped your arms around his neck, and Jungkook hooked his hands under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly.

your legs locked around his waist as he carried you down the hallway, his mouth hot against your neck.

the trip felt endless and too short all at once, every step sending a jolt of anticipation through you.

when the back of your knees hit the mattress, jungkook dropped you onto it with a quiet thud. he followed immediately, his weight pressing you into the sheets as his lips found yours again. there was no hesitation now, no teasing--just hunger, raw and unchecked.

his hands were everywhere, tugging at your clothes, his touch leaving trails of fire in their wake.

you reached for the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel skin, but he caught your wrist, pinning it above your head with a smirk. “patience,” he murmured, though his breathing was just as ragged as yours.

you arched beneath him, trying to free your wrist, but jungkook only tightened his grip. his free hand slid down your side, slow and deliberate, until his fingers brushed the waistband of your pants.

He paused, his gaze locking onto yours, and you knew--this was the last chance to stop.

you didn’t.

jungkook’s fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your pants, his touch searing even through the fabric.

you gasped, your hips lifting off the mattress involuntarily, seeking more of the pressure his hand denied you. he chuckled, dark and satisfied, his thumb tracing slow circles just above the sensitive skin he hadn’t quite reached yet.

“you’re so fucking eager,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

“like you’ve been waiting for this forever.”

you wanted to snap back, to tell him he was the one who’d been driving you insane all night, but the words died in your throat when his fingers finally slipped lower, brushing against the damp fabric between your thighs.

your back arched, a broken sound escaping your lips as jungkook pressed his palm firmly against you, his eyes never leaving your face. “fuck,” he breathed, his own hips grinding down into yours, the hard line of his cock unmistakable even through his sweats.

“you’re already-”

you cut him off by surging up, catching his bottom lip between your teeth.

jungkook groaned, his control slipping for just a second--long enough for you to twist your wrist free from his grip. you didn’t waste the opportunity.

your hands shoved at his shirt, pushing it up until he had no choice but to pull it off, the fabric hitting the floor with a soft rustle.

his chest heaved as you dragged your nails down his stomach, reveling in the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

“who’s eager now?” you taunted, though your voice was shaky, betraying you.

jungkook’s eyes flashed, and before you could react, he flipped you onto your stomach, his body pressing yours into the mattress. one hand tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath catch, while the other yanked your pants down your hips in one rough motion.

the cool air against your bare skin was a shock, but not nearly as much as the feel of his teeth grazing the curve of your ass.

you whimpered, your fingers clutching at the sheets as his tongue replaced his teeth, laving over the spot he’d just bitten.

“jungkook--” you choked out, but he ignored you, his hands spreading your thighs wider as he settled between them.

his mouth was relentless, kissing and biting his way up the inside of your thigh until you were trembling, your nails digging into the mattress.

when he finally, finally dragged his tongue over your clit, you nearly sobbed, your hips jerking against his face.

jungkook growled, his hands clamping down on your hips to hold you still. “stay,” he ordered, his voice rough, and then he didn’t give you a chance to disobey. his tongue circled you, slow and deliberate, before he sucked lightly, just enough to make your vision blur.

you were already close, teetering on the edge, when jungkook slid two fingers inside you without warning. your cry was muffled by the sheets as he curled them, his thumb pressing against your clit in tandem.

it was too much—not enough—you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but writhe under his touch. jungkook didn’t let up, his pace relentless, his mouth trailing wet kisses along your spine as he murmured filthy praise against your skin.

“that’s it,” he coaxed, his fingers fucking you deeper. “come for me.”

your body tightened like a coiled spring, every nerve alight as jungkook's fingers worked you mercilessly.

you tried to muffle your cries against the pillow, but he wrenched your head back by your hair, forcing you to take gulps of air between choked moans. "no hiding," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear.

"i want to hear every fucking sound." his fingers crooked again, hitting that spot inside you that made your thighs tremble, and you shattered with a sob, your back arching off the bed as pleasure ripped through you.

jungkook didn't let up, dragging out your orgasm until you were limp, your muscles twitching with oversensitivity.

he pulled his fingers free with a wet sound, and before you could recover, he flipped you onto your back.

the smug look on his face would've pissed you off if you weren't so desperate for more. his sweats were tented obscenely, the fabric straining against his cock, and you reached for him instinctively, but jungkook caught your wrist. "ah-ah," he tutted, pressing your hand back into the mattress.

"my turn." his fingers hooked into your panties, dragging them down your legs so slowly you wanted to scream.

when they finally hit the floor, he knelt between your thighs, his gaze raking over you like he wanted to memorize the way you looked—spread out, wrecked, his.

jungkook's fingers traced idle patterns up your inner thigh, stopping just short of where you needed him most.

you whimpered, bucking your hips, but he just smirked. "so greedy," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your clit—just enough to make you jerk.

then, without warning, he gripped his cock, stroking himself slowly as he watched you.

the sight of him—veins standing out along his length, his tip flushed and leaking—made your mouth water.

"you want it?" he asked, though the way his voice cracked betrayed how badly he wanted it too.

you nodded frantically, reaching for him again, and this time he let you.

his breath hitched when your fingers wrapped around him, your thumb swiping over the slickness at his tip.

jungkook’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, his eyes fluttering shut for a second before he forced them open again, dark with need.

“fuck,” he gritted out, his hand covering yours to guide your strokes, showing you the pace he liked—slow, then rough, his grip almost painful as he dragged your hand up and down his length.

you could feel the way his thighs trembled, the way his abs flexed with every movement, and it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between your legs.

jungkook suddenly stilled your hand, his fingers tightening around yours.

“enough,” he rasped, his voice wrecked. before you could protest, he was pushing your thighs apart wider, his hands sliding under your knees to hook them over his shoulders.

the position left you exposed, vulnerable, and you barely had time to register the blush creeping up your chest before he leaned down, his tongue dragging a slow, torturous line up your slit.

you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as he licked into you, his mouth hot and insistent. he groaned against you, the vibration making your back arch off the bed, and you tugged at his hair desperately. “jungkook—please—”

he pulled back just enough to smirk up at you, his lips glistening. “please what?” he taunted, his breath fanning over your clit.

you whined, your hips bucking, but he held you down effortlessly, his grip bruising. “don't worry i know what you want”

you swallowed, your throat dry, and jungkook’s patience snapped. he ducked his head again, his tongue circling your clit with ruthless precision while his fingers slid back inside you, crooking just right. your moan was loud, unrestrained, and jungkook drank it in, his free hand clamping over your mouth to muffle the next one.

“shh,” he murmured against your thigh, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. “you’ll take it quiet, yeah?”

you nodded frantically, but quiet was the last thing you could manage when jungkook added a third finger, stretching you deliciously.

his mouth was relentless, his tongue flicking over your clit in quick, sharp strokes that had your toes curling into the sheets. the pressure built too fast, your orgasm cresting before you could stop it, and jungkook knew—of course he knew.

he pulled his fingers out abruptly, leaving you gasping on the edge, your body trembling with denied release. “no,” you sobbed, your nails digging into his shoulders. “jungkook, don’t—!”

he ignored you, rising onto his knees to shove his sweats down just enough to free his cock. the sight of him—thick, flushed, the tip dripping—made your mouth water. jungkook gripped himself, stroking lazily as he watched you, his chest heaving.

“you ready?” he asked, though the way his voice cracked made it clear he was barely holding on.

you nodded, spreading your legs wider in invitation, and jungkook’s control snapped. he lined himself up, his tip pressing against your entrance, and then he was pushing in, slow and relentless, until his hips met yours.

the stretch was exquisite, the burn making your breath hitch. jungkook paused, his forehead dropping to yours as he fought for control. “fuck,” he panted, his fingers digging into your hips. “you feel—” he cut himself off with a groan when you clenched around him, your body adjusting to his size.

then he was moving, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in, the force of it driving the air from your lungs.

jungkook set a brutal pace from the start, his thrusts deep and unforgiving, his hands keeping you pinned beneath him.

every snap of his hips dragged a moan from your throat, every grind of his pelvis against yours sent sparks shooting up your spine.

he leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss as his hand slid between your bodies, his thumb circling your clit in time with his thrusts.

the dual stimulation was overwhelming, your orgasm building faster than before, your nails raking down his back in desperation.

jungkook groaned into your mouth, his hips stuttering. “come on,” he urged, his voice ragged.

“let go.” his words tipped you over the edge, your body clamping around him as pleasure crashed through you in waves.

jungkook followed with a broken moan, his hips jerking erratically as he spilled inside you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder.

for a long moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing.

then jungkook shifted, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him, your body draped over his chest.

his fingers traced lazy patterns up your spine, his heartbeat loud beneath your ear.

"fuck," he muttered finally, his voice rough, "that was—" he broke off with a breathless laugh, and you felt his chest rise against you as he inhaled deeply.

you lifted your head just enough to see his face—his lips swollen, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat—and something possessive twisted in your chest.

jungkook caught you staring and smirked, his thumb brushing your lower lip.

"what?" he murmured, his fingers tangling in your hair to tug lightly. you didn't answer, just leaned down to kiss him again, slower this time, your teeth catching his bottom lip when he tried to deepen it.

jungkook groaned, his hips jerking beneath you, his half-hard cock pressing against your thigh. "you're insatiable," he breathed, but he didn't stop you when your hand slid between you, your fingers wrapping around him.

he hissed through his teeth as you stroked him slowly, his grip on your hair tightening. "thought you were done," you taunted, though your own voice was shaky.

jungkook's eyes darkened, his free hand sliding down your back to grip your ass. "never with you," he growled, flipping you onto your back again with terrifying ease.

you gasped as he settled between your thighs, his cock dragging against your clit before he pushed back inside with one smooth thrust.

this time, he took his time, his movements languid, his mouth hot against your neck as he murmured filth into your skin.

the slow drag of him was maddening, every inch of him pressing against spots inside you that made your vision blur.

you dug your nails into his shoulders, your legs locking around his waist to pull him deeper.

jungkook groaned, his forehead dropping to yours. "you're gonna be the death of me," he muttered, but he didn't speed up, just kept that same torturous pace, his hips rolling against yours in slow, deliberate circles.

when your orgasm hit, it crept up on you, washing over you in waves until you were shaking, your thighs trembling around him.

jungkook watched you fall apart beneath him, his lips parted, his own release following soon after with a choked gasp, his fingers digging bruises into your hips.

afterwards, he collapsed onto his side, pulling you against his chest with a sigh. "fuck," he breathed again, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"we should—" he gestured vaguely at the mess between you, but his arms tightened around you when you tried to move. "later," he mumbled, his voice already thick with sleep.

you laughed quietly, curling into him as his breathing evened out. outside, the moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light across the rumpled sheets and tangled limbs. jungkook's fingers twitched against your waist even in sleep, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go.

you closed your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you under.

you wake up slowly. not all at once. first there’s warmth. heavy. comfortable. your brain registers it before your eyes even open — the weight across your waist, the heat along your back, the steady rise and fall of someone breathing behind you.

someone. your stomach drops. memory hits in flashes.

his mouth. his hands. the way he said your name.

your eyes snap open.sunlight spills softly through the curtains, pale gold across the sheets.

you’re in his bed. no. he’s in yours. his arm is wrapped around you, hand resting low on your stomach, fingers splayed like they belong there.

your body is pressed against his chest, his legs tangled loosely with yours under the blanket. and you’re very aware that you’re not wearing much.

heat rushes to your face instantly.oh my god.oh my god. last night wasn’t a dream.

your pulse starts racing. you stay completely still, afraid to move, afraid he’ll wake up and you’ll have to face him immediately. but then—his arm tightens slightly around you.

a soft exhale against the back of your neck.

he’s awake. you know it before he even speaks. “…you’re thinking too loud,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

your heart jumps into your throat. “i—” your voice cracks. you clear it quickly. “i’m not thinking.”

he hums quietly behind you.

“liar.”

his nose brushes lightly against your hair.the intimacy of it makes your stomach flip.panic mixes with something warmer. dangerous.

you shift slightly, trying to create space.his arm tightens again, pulling you back against him. “don’t,” he says softly. your breath catches.“jungkook…”his hand slides slowly along your waist, settling again just above your hip.

not sexual. not demanding. just… there. grounding. possessive. “you okay?” he asks quietly. the question hits you harder than you expect. because he sounds careful. not cocky. not teasing. careful. you swallow.

“…i don’t know.” honest. he’s quiet for a second. then he shifts, propping himself up slightly behind you. “look at me,” he says gently.you hesitate. then turn. your heart stutters immediately. his hair is messy from sleep, falling over his forehead, eyes still heavy but focused completely on you.

there’s no regret there.no awkwardness.just intensity. and something softer underneath. your chest tightens. “…we—” you start. his mouth curves faintly. “yeah,” he says. heat floods your face. “that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“wasn’t it?”you blink.he studies you. serious now. “you think that came out of nowhere?” he asks quietly. your stomach twists.

“…i don’t know.” he brushes his knuckles lightly along your arm. slow.reassuring. “i’ve wanted you for a while,” he says. your breath catches. you stare at him.“…what?” his expression shifts into that familiar confidence again, but softer. less sharp than usual. “you’re not exactly subtle,” he adds.

your eyes widen. “i am subtle!” he huffs a quiet laugh. “sure.” you shove his shoulder weakly. he catches your wrist easily.

holds it. not trapping. just holding. his thumb traces lightly over your pulse point. your heart is racing again.

“…are you freaking out?” he asks.you hesitate. “…a little.”

he nods slowly. “okay.” no judgment. no teasing. just acceptance. it makes your chest feel tight in a different way.

“do you regret it?” he asks after a second.

your stomach flips violently.because the answer comes immediately. “no.” his eyes soften. his grip on your wrist loosens, sliding down to your hand instead. fingers threading with yours.warm.steady. “good,” he murmurs.

silence settles between you again. but it’s different now. not tense. not awkward. full. you study his face.

“…are things weird now?” you ask quietly.

his eyebrow lifts slightly. “you think i’d let them be weird?” your stomach flips.

“you’re very confident.” “about you?” he says.

“yeah.”

heat spreads through your chest.you look down at your joined hands. “…what does this mean?” he tilts his head slightly. “what do you want it to mean?” you hesitate.

your heart is pounding. “…i don’t know yet.” he nods once. “that’s fine.” his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles. “we’ll figure it out.”

we.

the word settles deep.warm.safe.you look back up at him. “…my parents are going to kill us.” he grins. full cocky now.

“they trusted me to take care of you.”

you scoff. “this is not what they meant.” “debatable.” you laugh despite yourself. he watches you for a second, something soft flickering in his expression.

then he leans forward. presses a slow kiss to your forehead. gentle. protective. your stomach flips again.

“…you okay?” he asks one more time. this time you nod. “…yeah.”and for the first time since waking up, you actually mean it.

because whatever happened last night—whatever this is now—it doesn’t feel like a mistake.it feels like something that was always going to happen.

🩸• The apocalypse unleashes its hell before much else can happen, and before you know it, you two are out surviving in a ruined world riddled with horrifying monsters and mutations, hiding out inside Green Home as you form the group together with the rest and try to fight off the monsters inside the building along with it infecting and warping others into gruesome, inhumane figures.

🩸• This boy's absolutely damaged and drained from all he's been through before moving to Green Home, and so it takes a lot of energy for him to slowly, slowly break out of his shell and reach out to you in return. But he will. He just needs time and patience, and Hyun-Su will find himself making the tiniest amount of small talk when you're together with the rest of the surviving group in the apartment complex. Or, most likely, it'll be him giving you most of his food when you're eating by silently and gently pushing it over to you, no eye contact, no words.

🩸• Before you, he didn't have the slightest will or reason to live, and so the only idea he can think up while dragging himself around the wreck of Green Home along with the rest of the group of survivors is to follow you around and protect you. The way he wants to die is for you, shoving himself into the way of the monster or whatever else the danger is to take him instead. Hyun-Su's absolutely fine with that idea...

🩸• Until he starts falling in loveee- 😏🖤

🩸• Everyone gets used to the sight of this boy following around after you like a moon-eyed puppy, having a tall, slightly dropping shadow trailing behind your own whenever you go somewhere to find food or weapons or whatever you've been sent to find. From Season One, where Lee Eun-Hyuk tries forcing him to do everything and using his monster side as an advantage, if it involves steering clear of you or putting you in any danger, boy's had enough. Hyun-Su will defend himself in his own quiet but intense way, his dark glare bleeding into Eun-Hyuk's with a few mumbling words of a threat before he wanders off to find you again.

🩸• Hyun-Su does consider trying to completely leave you alone, since everyone's aware that he's dangerous with his monster brimming to the surface from inside of him and his other symptoms and dangerous instability being infected, but it feels like the worst form of torture. He's alone again, in a world grimmer than the last, and he has no idea what to do with himself except feel like crying and telling you everything about everything when you sit by him and ask him if he's doing alright.

🩸• I think that this guy would be mega touch-starved after living in isolation for so long after all the bullying and tragedies with his family, so having you as a comforting voice of reason and warmth is something he can't help but melt into after you've been unspoken friends during the apocalypse and doesn't have the fight left in him to reject you if you try to clean bloodstains and patch up his wounds after a nasty confrontation. After that, it's safe to say that out of the whole group of survivors together in Green Home, he'll always be naturally apprehensive and distrusting towards them all, but if it's you that's trying to point something out or is worried about something; let him go get his weapon, he's coming with you.

🩸• His general aim and instinct is to protect good people and be some source of help and comfort that's been so unfamiliar to him personally, but with you, instinct is boosted 10000000% because it's you. You're too good for this world, way too good for him, and if you die, he dies. This concept basically becomes something Hyun Su isn't even fully aware of until the point where you might almost die somehow being confronted by monsters with the others, which is where you'll witness himself having a full-on freak-out in his mind and using all his strength and darker, monstrous side to come out on top to save your life.

🩸• After the danger's gone and you're alone in a quiet room to recover and process what happened, that's all the time you need to make it official, hugging him tightly and thanking him, while Hyun-Su shakily pats your back in return before giving up and hugging you back equally as tightly, staying in a protected embrace as long as time will let you.

🩸• There's so much raw love and trust and protection in a relationship with Hyun-Su, it's unbelievable 😭 he's so clingy and sweet and ridiculously romantic in private with you until you point it out, which results in a blushing red sight and not being able to look you in the eye in bashfulness for about a straight hour before he gets over it. In public, it's still obvious that you're together, with smaller signs of affection and togetherness like holding hands, or doing that coupley thing where you whisper together in the back corners of rooms or give each other brief, subtle looks that say everything you need to understand what it means and where to run or go or something.

🩸• At first, he is a little reluctant to get too close to you because of that lingering fear of accidentally hurting you or his monster side popping out to ruin everything, but with some time and small steps, he'll eventually give up trying to be overly cautious and let him be wholly soothed by you, which was the biggest relief of all for him.

🩸• But just as you're getting properly closer and in touch with each other as romantic partners as well as best friends and survivors in this mess together, his monster alter ego personality will find it the perfect time to mess around with his head and find a way to overpower Hyun-Su, meeting you properly in the process.

🩸• Now, his monster side is a whole other story when it comes to personality, but if you think that means you'll be left alone or hated or something, think AgAiN, and then again, because no :)

🩸• Hyun-Su's monstrous side is darker, daring, dangerous, and with you, madly possessive and protective. I mean, he won't even try to hold himself back from taking things to extremes and spilling as much blood as necessary if he gets a weird vibe from someone around you, or if someone outrightly tries to attack you. Even if it's a monster like him, there's enough threat in thrashing them through a few solid walls and leaving some biting words behind before stalking off.

🩸• Monster Hyun-Su's a massive starer by the way, so those unnervingly blue eyes are going to be a sight you'll have to get used to, like literal inches away from your face when you wake up, studying you for wounds, or just studying you in general. There's something about you that's just so fascinating to him, and this side of him literally does not know what boundaries are, so he's all up in your face studying you in curiosity with a soft but dark smirk on his face, while you're just "😐"

🩸• Kind of gross but Monster Hyun-Su has the weirdest affection ever. Like, he enjoys feeding you when you're hungry, mostly questionably bloody-looking things until you get it in his head that you're not Hannibal Lecter and just want a breakfast bar or something 😭 and when this guy goes to hug you, it'll be ridiculously tight, sometimes his wing breaking out of its shell to wrap over you, which is kind of sweet. Until he goes to kiss you and it's not a kiss at all, it's more him living up to his monstrous reputation by licking at your skin like some kind of dog until you squeal and push him away, which he always finds hilarious. Meanwhile, normal Hyun-Su's mortified 😂

🩸• Normal Hyun-Su and Monstrous will most likely make an agreement between them to make sure you're kept alive and as unharmed as possible, protect you from any sort of danger, so if you thought you had a shadow following after you before the split between them, you've got a much more threatening one now, so it'd be very hard for much damage to come to you at all. And good luck if you want some time alone to wander and think by yourself, because if he doesn't straight-up follow you out with no buts like usual, he'll be watching you somewhere close at all times.

🩸• I feel like Hyun-Su's monstrous side would find it funny to make you jump, like falling down out of nowhere from a building or something right in front of you when you thought you were alone or something stupid like that. You'll give him an annoyed glare of protest, and he'll just smirk smugly and teasingly with a fake-innocent shrug of "something wrong?"

He looks down, shy and face red with embarrassment,” you know y/n, y-you can- if you want- you can call me- k-kookie. It’s probably easier than- than Jungkook since it’s only like 6 letters and Jungkook is 8- saves you some time- and it’s cute or whatever..”

His voice trails and you’re smiling too much to see the blush on his face.

“Okay kookie,” you feel your own heartbeat a little faster than usual,” can I take a shower?”

Jungkook smiles,” I’ll make pancakes while you shower.”

Jungkooks making Micky mouse pancakes and he feels a little relieved that Yoonji hasn’t come out yet. She was not a morning person so he figured you two have more time to yourselves before she wakes up. He cuts up some strawberries and patiently waits for you to come out.

You get out of the shower and change into your cozy clothes, a brown pair of shorts with heart back pockets and a matching brown zip up hoodie with a big teddy bear on the back. You felt cute and wanted to see Jungkooks reaction to your outfit since he always dramatically clenched his heart and called you his cute alien princess.

But before you go, you quickly go into his room and grab the lego set sitting lonely on his desk. Last night you felt terrible about his confession but today you’ll make up for it. After all the comfort he’s brought you, you think it’s only fair to comfort him too.

You walk out and see him, your chest tightens and you feel happy,” Kookie.” You called out to him.

Jungkook quickly turns to you, he sees you and wants to run up to you and kiss your cheeks because you just look so fucking adorable.

He doesn’t though because he spots the legos in your hands and he recognizes the twinkle on your eyes that means you won’t back down. He won’t deny you of course, he wants to build his gauntlet and he wants you to whine and ask for help when you get stuck.

“Okay okay- let’s eat first.” Jungkook says, heart in flames in his chest and a big smile on his face.

Once you both finish eating, Jungkook sets up a movie and you two begin building your own little set. You have your brave face on in case Yoonji comes out and decides to tease Jungkook but to your surprise, Yoonji still hadnt made an appearance yet. You sigh in relief since you don’t have to use your brave face anymore.

You were about to ask Jungkook for help but was interrupted by a loud string of banging and grunting coming from the hallway. Bam gets up from his spot on your lap to investigate making you feel cold.

“Jungkook come get your horse dog,” The voice whines and Jungkook jumps to go get Bam since he was always extra friendly.

“Bam,” Jungkook calls out and chuckles when he sees Bam on top of Yoongi who was trying to take his shoes off,” house!”

Bam whines but listens to Jungkook, he solemnly walks off, probably back to your lap but Jungkook knows you’ll welcome him back with kisses and cuddles.

Yoongi scoffs and notices the pink pair of shoes sitting so peacefully next to Jungkooks shoes.

“You have someone over?” Yoongi already knows the answer since that’s all Yoonji talked to him about the night before.

“Yea,” Jungkook smiles down at your shoes, something about the way they so lovingly sat there made his heart float in his chest,” I thought you were getting back tomorrow?”

“I finished early.” Yoongi gets up and makes his way to the living room.

“Oh,” Jungkook walks with Yoongi,” come meet y/n.”

Yoongi hums, he’s nervous to meet you since Yoonji cried about you, she painted you a horrible bitch who treated her like shit. Yoongi was ready to tell you and Jungkook off since no one disrespects his sister and gets away with it.

Except, the instant he sees you, Yoongi feels like the world around him stopped in its tracks, he sees flowers and he hears angels sing at the sight of you and instantly forgets what Yoonji said about you. He knew you were cute because Jungkook only ever described you as such but he didn’t know you were this cute. You sat there blinking with your big round eyes and Yoongi swore that he would give you the world if you wanted it.

He doesn’t understand why he feels this way, he just knows that from this day on if you ever frowned Yoongi would hunt down whatever it was that hurt you. He practically pushes Jungkook out of the way to get to you, who was sitting so lovingly on his couch looking at him with those puppy eyes while you tried to stick those little Lego pieces together.

“Hyung this is Y/n,” Jungkook sits next to you,” y/n this is Yoongi Hyung.”

“Hi.” You smiled and Yoongi stutters over his words, there’s something about you that makes him want to bring his camera out and immortalize your whole being.

He shyly smiles and offers you some cake that he brought from Japan. Yoongi has a scowl on so you can’t really read his expression but his intensity makes you say yes. You grin and Yoongi feels his face buzz with a blush. He turns around almost robotically to fetch the cake he was going to save for the launch party of his photo book but he thinks he’d rather you have it. You decide to follow Yoongi and help him with the cake. Which sets Yoongis heart on fire, because he couldn’t believe how nice you were to offer.

Yoonji on the other hand, finally comes out of her room when she hears Yoongi. She wants to see Yoongi tear into you and Jungkook for being so mean to her. But to her utter dismay, he wasn’t yelling at you at all, he was chuckling at something you said, pathetically blushing. Yoongi didn’t even notice Yoonji either, all he did was nod his head her way, mumbling a soft morning.

Yoonji made her way to the couch to sit next to Jungkook, he tenses but keeps doing what he was doing. Yoonji has her arms crossed, foot tapping away in anger. She was expecting Yoongi to defend her, but no, Yoongi cut a big slice of cake for you with a shy smile on his face. Yoonji felt abused, threatened almost. She couldn’t believe her own twin would completely ignore her and for someone like you? She scoffs which gets Jungkooks attention, he looks up from his legos to see her staring directly at you and Yoongi. Yoongi had brought out his duffel bag now, the same one he takes with him to bring back all the random things he sees on his trips. He digs through it and Jungkook can’t help but smile when he sees how big and curious your eyes were.

“Hyung and y/n are getting along really well aren’t they?” Jungkook comments as he watches Yoongi show you all his souvenirs from Japan like a child showing their parents something they found. He was just a little jealous but then he remembered that Yoongi has a knack for cute things. That’s why his studio has a bunch of cats that he adopted and random cute plushies he’s found. Jungkook can’t be jealous when you’re getting well deserved attention.

Yoonji wants to scoff again, you’re even taking away her own twin,” They’re not even talking or whatever.”

True. Yoongi was just shly and silently showing you and you’d nod your head in approval, but Jungkook could see the connection you two had. He smiled to himself and continued building, totally and completely ignoring Yoonjis tantrum.

You return with your piece of cake and Jungkook eats half of it when you're not looking, just because he can and because he really liked the way you pout when you notice it was almost gone. You were afraid though, that Yoonji or even Yoongi might make comments regarding you but Yoongi kept offering you more and Yoonji completely ignored your whole existence.

Jungkook almost doesn’t want you to leave but you’ve been there all day and you think if you're there any longer Yoonji might have a stroke from how hard she was glaring at you. So you leave for your own apartment but Jungkook still feels the reminiscences of you all over his own apartment. He laid in his bed and it felt empty, no one to cuddle with, no one to squeeze either. He’d check the time on his phone only to see the picture you two took at the gym. Jungkook looks at his desk and sees the one Lego flower you let him keep.

You were everywhere but he didn’t mind it one bit.

In fact, Jungkook kind of liked the idea of you being everywhere around him.

He wants you around him all the time.

Jungkook sighs, he decides he’s going to give your snack ideas a try since you’ve been trying new things for your diet and he loves the snacks you’ve had him try before. He goes to the kitchen and sees Yoonji peeling an apple. She’s humming to herself happy that you were finally gone and Jungkook smiled to himself but seconds later feels a tightness in his chest, he couldn’t forget how she acted with you. Jungkook was disappointed and that’s when he decided now is a good time to tell her, he knew something had to be said.

Otherwise he’d be just like Taehyung.

He walks up to Yoonji and clears his throat to get her attention.

“Noona can we talk?” She smiles at him, thinking he came to apologize.

Yoonji continues what she was doing, not thinking too much about what he had to say, “Sure.”

Jungkook stands tall, like a brick wall since he knew how this confrontation would go down so he stays strong,” Yesterday you said something to y/n that didn’t really sit well with me and-“

“Oh that? I was joking.”

Jungkook bites his lip,” was the salad a joke too?”

“What?” She played dumb.

“When you ordered y/n the salad, was that a joke too?”

Yoonji opened her mouth to defend herself but Yoongi suddenly walks in, yawning loudly and putting his two cents in.

“Yoonji you ordered her a fucking salad?” Yoongi goes to sit next to Jungkook as he rubs his eyes, clearly still feeling tired from his nap. He didn’t think he’d have to deal with his sister’s actions on the day he gets to rest, yet here she was acting as if they stabbed her in the heart.

“Oppa have you seen her?” Yoonji whines when Yoongis glare was directed to her,” don’t get mad at me! Jungkook was going to feed her junk food! She’s fat as it is! I’m the one helping her!”

“Noona but it’s none of your business what y/n eats,” he said gently knowing Yoonji could turn herself into a victim if she so pleased,” it was her cheat day anyways so she’s able to eat different foods on those days like on-“

Yoonji scoffed,” I don’t care, she’s still fat and shouldn’t have them-“

Now yoongi scoffed, clearly offended Yoonji chose to disrespect his new friend,” Yoonji that’s enough, it’s not your place to say what other people eat.”

Yoongi looks at his twin who was full on pouting with giant crocodile tears starting to stream down her face. He then looked at Jungkook who was biting his lip, and looking a little worried over her fake tears.

Yoonji whispered, which made Jungkooks heart ache with more worry,” Why are you guys even ganging up on me? I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“We’re not,” Yoongi scoffs,” Yoonji just ask next time? Don’t assume shit.”

Yoonji felt her heart break a million pieces, all she wanted was to help you. She rubs her eyes and throws her apple away before storming off into her room. She slams the door shut and Yoongi wants to groan at her dramatic tantrum but he doesn’t since he knew she’d probably cry even more if he did.

“Kid, don’t worry,” Yoongi pat Jungkooks back to reassure him since he was awfully quiet now,” she’ll get over it.”

Jungkook sighed, he knows but it still doesn’t stop his heart from hurting. He doesn’t like being the type of person to make people cry, especially Yoonji. Ever since they were kids he would protect her and make sure no one would make her cry, But Jungkook found himself feeling extremely tired of it. His head hurts and all he can think about is getting a fluffy hug from you.

Jungkook goes back into his room to lay on his bed, forgetting all about his snack. He’s extremely bored and regrets letting you go home. He pulls his phone out to text you but he sees a notification that you posted on your Instagram account. He clicks on it and quickly likes it before staring at it for a while. It was a picture of you showing off your new yellow dress. He doesn’t remember taking this one for you but he assumes it was Yoon who did. That of course didn’t help the jealousy that ran thick in his heart since he was your camera man. Jealousy aside he could feel his heart squeeze, tight with happiness.

Jungkook sighs into his pillow, he misses the heck out of you now. You’ve instantly made him forget about the anxiety that plagued his chest and you haven’t even spoken to him. All he did was see your picture and he felt like everything would be okay. Jungkook screenshots your post and comments too many heart emojis under it. His fingertips are practically numb with adoration for you.

He lovingly hums, pulling out his switch so that he can distract himself from the familiar growing feeling in his chest, forgetting that he was going to text you. Jungkook hasn’t felt like this since highschool, it almost overwhelms him so he tries to think of other things that won’t give him a heart attack. But as he’s pulling weeds in animal crossing, he gets a text from you. His heart feels the same as it did when he did that marathon, it won’t stop its rapid beating as he quickly opens the text from you.

Alien Princess 💖:

Do you want to go watch a movie tomorrow?

Jungkooks heart bungee jumped in his own chest, snapping him awake to text you back with the biggest smile he’s ever worn before. He’s too impatient to see you tomorrow though.

He wants to see you tonight.

Kookie💪🏻👁👄👁:

How about we go tonight?

Kookie💪🏻👁👄👁:

I’ll pay 🤑

Alien Princess💖:

The movie I want to see isn’t showing tonight ☹️

Alien princess 💖:

But we can go get dinner if you want 🥺💖

Jungkook texts you an ‘okay’ and ‘I’ll pick you up soon.” Before he gets ready, he makes sure his hair is perfectly puffy since he knew you liked dudes with fluffy hair. He grabs his wallet and rushes to put his shoes on, but it wasn’t until he was sitting and tying his shoelaces when he realized something that made him sit there for just a little bit.

The last time he felt this excited to get ready like this, was in highschool before his first date ever with his crush. Jungkook looks down at his shoes, did he perhaps have a crush on you? Is this why he’s been so excited at even the mention of your name?

NAH

He shrugs and continues to tie his shoe, you’re his best friend who he absolutely adores and would cuddle and maybe kiss you if you wanted him to. Jungkook grabs his keys before getting up to look at himself in the mirror that hangs on the wall that Yoonji said was the ‘Fit Check station.’

He nods his head and shrugs once more.

Just normal best friend feelings.

──────────•❥❥❥•─────────

A/n: Uhm….we love yoongi !!!

Also I’m going to start “cleaning up” the Taglist since it’s kind of a lot and by cleaning up I mean I’m taking off accounts that I see aren’t really interacting/reading with the fic:( sorry

🏷: @novastarpie @kookiecrumb @gethatcake @soeur-de-ame @moodyroom @3greasy-shirt3 @kmpac @artistkoo @lovelykookiee @hoebihoeshi @suzysuee @pimpnameyannie @cuteipat @bruisedscrewedandtattooed @bbtsficrecs @yvesismywife @luvjeongjaehyun @mrcleanheichou @bngtn-vault @hey-itslulu @claireesaa @4evahevah @tinyoonsblog @babygirl-panda19 @yeonjun4beagles @yady24 @eternalkoo @betysotelo18 @lillypads-brokenstems @little-body-big-mess @che-er-ful @canarystwin @baekfast-club @pennyllanne @jakey-sims @aminaob-blog @jungoomoles @peachy-tata @nikkitasevoli @minseok-mochi @sweetcheeksdna @zorosluv @hisokascrunchyhairstrands @faeviii @bri-mal @girlsforgloss @miharus-world

You could feel it in your body, you were starting to grow tired.

Then, your foot catches on a raised root, and you fall forward. You try to catch yourself, but your arms give out and you land flat on your face. A soft groan leaves your lips, and you roll over onto your back.

The two ghostfaces stand over you, knives glinting in the faint moonlight. One leans down, the mask so close you could see the warped reflection of your own terrified face in it. The blade presses against your throat and you freeze as you look up at them with pleading eyes.

“Please… let me go.” You whimper.

One of them raises a knife. You shut your eyes tight, waiting for the end…

Then, the ground under you disappears as you’re lifted up and thrown over one of their shoulders. You flail, legs kicking uselessly in the air, fists pounding against a back that's all muscle. “Put me down!”

And they do.

The other popped open the car trunk and you were thrown in. Your wrists and ankles were tied with ropes and a thick piece of duct tape was pressed against your lips before the trunk shut.

—

“How troublesome, making us chase you all around town.” One of them, who you recognized as Jungkook, said.

You were now on a bed, in some what appeared to be, an abandoned warehouse. Your wrists tied to the headboard, completely vulnerable to the two men. The other, Taehyung approached you, sitting on the side of the bed.

“I think that made you wet, didn’t it?” He chuckled, the tips of his fingers trailing up your thigh. “I bet you loved it. You’re a little slut for horror movies, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not!” You protested, instinctively keeping your legs together.

“No? Then if I stick my hand in your panties, you won’t be wet?” Taehyung taunted, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“D-don’t touch me!” You tried to pull away, but your wrists were tied too tightly.

Taehyung’s fingers danced along the waistband of your pants. “You can say no all you want, princess. Your body tells a different story.”

Then, he slipped his hand inside your panties. His long fingers easily found your clit, rubbing slow circles against it. A moan slipped past your lips.

“Wet. Soaking. Wet.” Taehyung dragged his fingers up and down your vulva, feeling the wetness around his fingers. “Even your panties are drenched, slut.” He turned to Jungkook. “Look.” He gripped onto the waistband of both your pants and panties, and ripped them off you, before his fingers dug into your ankles and he forced your legs wide open. “Look how soaking wet she is.”

Jungkook whistled at the sight, scooting closer to you, two fingers sliding into you without warning.

A sharp gasp escaped you. “Ah—Jungkook—”

“Who?” He shrugged. “Jungkook can’t save you from what we will do to you.” He pumped his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right to make your back arch off the bed. “That’s right, don’t fight against it. You love it, we know you do.” As Jungkook fingered you, Taehyung went to cut off your top. The cold steel of the knife brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he sliced through the fabric. You were completely naked now.

Taehyung leaned down, pulling his mask up slightly, as his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking on it as he played with your other boob with his free hand. Jungkook added another finger, stretching you further.

“Ah, don’t—“ You moaned. “Please, please stop—”

They ignored your pleas.

Taehyung’s tongue flickered over your nipple before his tongue dragged across your breast, then moving to the other, making sure your chest was wet from his tongue.

Jungkook’s thumb ran circles around your clit as his fingers continued to pump into you at a relentless pace.

“How about you show us how well you take cock?” Taehyung challenged, now gripping onto your breasts, causing you to whine. He didn’t wait for you, he just whipped out his cock.

You shook your head, but he dug his fingers into your cheeks, making your mouth open wide. He slid into your mouth, not giving you any time to adjust, pushing himself deep until you gagged. He set a brutal pace, fucking your face as Jungkook’s fingers continued between your legs.

You groaned as his cock stuffed your mouth, sliding in and out of your mouth at a rapid speed, your eyes tearing up but you still took it.

Taehyung pulled out, slapping his cock against your cheek. “You love cock, don’t you?”

“Yes.. I love cock.” You admitted.

“Good girl.” Taehyung praised you. “Suck on it then, show me how much you love it.” And you did.

As your head bobbed back and forth on Taehyung's length, Jungkook pulled his fingers out, replacing them with the head of his cock. He pushed in, slow and steady, stretching you inch by inch.

You greedily spread your legs as far as you could, desperate for more. He buried himself into you all the way, letting you adjust around his cock. Then, he started to move, slowly, savoring how your soft and warm walls squeezed his cock so well.

Taehyung’s precum started to spill from your mouth, running down in all sorts of directions. At the sight, Taehyung groaned, pushing your head down further.

Jungkook picked up the pace, hips snapping against yours, the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room.

Taehyung’s cock popped out of your mouth, finally freeing your mouth, soft rapid gasps escaped your lips as Jungkook fucked into you. Jungkook’s grip tightened on your hips as he pounded into you.

“Fucking hot— look at that those tits jiggle— shit.” Jungkook’s fingers dug into your hips more as his cock dug in and out of you.

“I know.” Taehyung hummed, pressing his thumb onto your clit, hard. You could feel your clit trapped in between Jungkook’s cock and Taehyung’s thumb, causing a pressure that made your mouth stay wide open, your tongue resting over your bottom lip.

Jungkook hissed, he was practically bouncing as he slammed his cock into you, your body bounced up and down with him at the strength he was pounding into you.

“Pussy so good, can’t believe it’s free, could do this all day, so fucking good.” Jungkook’s words tumbled out, feeling himself lose control.

“Look, look how good your pussy is taking him.” Taehyung’s hand propped your head up slightly, forcing you to look down to watch Jungkook’s cock disappear into your body, over and over again. “See that?”

You whimpered in response.

You took in the sight of you and Jungkook’s bodies connecting; his cock glistening with your wetness as he pulled out, then disappearing back inside with a rough thrust. Your lips clung around his cock, moving with him with each entry and exit.Oh and you were so wet, seriously, a pool of wetness had formed under your ass from the constant dripping.

It was such a dirty sight. So, so dirty.

And it drove you wild.

You were so close. The coil in your stomach tightened more and more with each of Jungkook’s thrusts.

“Cum…” Was all you could say.

“No.” Jungkook replied, pulling out completely, denying your orgasm.

You whined, about to protest but Taehyung stuffed your mouth with his fingers, shushing you. “Don’t be greedy, now. You’ll get what you want.”

“That’s right.” Jungkook joined. “You don’t get to cum until we tell you you can.” He said as he undid the rope around your wrists. Your arms immediately fell to your sides, feeling sore.

“Come here. Ride this cock. And you better not cum.” Taehyung commanded, laying flat on the bed, pulling you onto him.

The sudden change made the room spin around you for a little bit, before your focus shifted back to the man underneath you.

You obeyed, sinking your hips down as Jungkook kept Taehyung’s erection in place as you lowered yourself onto him. A soft groan left your lips as your walls stretched around him again. Taehyung’s hand gripped onto your hips, guiding you to move back and forth.

You left out a shaky moan as you rode him. This all felt so dirty, but you just couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop.

Taehyung’s face wasn’t staring back up at you, but instead Ghostface did, a shiver ran down your spine as you rode him, the masked face making your arousal skyrocket. Not one but two ghost faces were using you in some twisted fantasy of yours, but you didn’t know if that fact was hotter, or the fact that both your boyfriends agreed to do this for you.

Jungkook’s hands found your breasts, kneading them, pulling and pinching your nipples. “You look so good riding him.” he praised. “Like you were made for this cock.”

You moaned at his words, riding Taehyung a little faster now.

“Such a good little slut for us, aren’t you?” He kissed your neck, sucking on it as he squeezed your breasts. The plastic mask dragged across your skin as he kissed your neck, causing you to shiver.

A gasp left your lips as Taehyung smacked your ass.

“Twerk on it for me, Princess. Show me what you can do.”

And you did.

You lifted your hips and began to twerk on him, your ass jiggling as you did. The sound of your ass smacking against Taehyung’s thighs echoed throughout the room.

Taehyung groaned, arching his back as he gripped onto your thighs, 

“Fuck yes, just like that.”

“So hot.” Jungkook’s hand traveled to your throat, squeezing it lightly as he kissed you. You whimpered against his lips.

“You’re doing so well….” Jungkook whispered against your lips. “Such a good girl for us.”

Fuck, getting fucked by ghostface shouldn’t make you this horny, but it did.

Taehyung could tell that you were growing tired, and he took the lead, planting his feet on the mattress firmly before he started to thrust up into you, the head of his cock hitting your good spot with each thrust. You let out a strangled moan, your body trembling with pleasure.

“Taehyung! Ah—”

“Who?” Taehyung chuckled. “Ghostface is fucking you now, darling. Not Taehyung.”

Your walls clenched around Taehyung’s cock at his words. You were so close, the coil in your stomach tightening, threatening to snap at any second. You were panting heavily, your body trembling with anticipation.

“Please… I need to cum…”

“Not yet.” Taehyung thrusted into you so hard that your body bounced up and down his cock, you had to hold onto Jungkook to keep your balance or else you’d fall.

You were going to lose your mind at how good it felt.

The two ghostfaces looked at each other, before Jungkook moved behind you, pushing you forward so you were now lying on top of Taehyung. You panted against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, still thrusting into you.

“You want to cum, don't you?" Jungkook’s voice sounded from behind you. “Then, cum.” He lined up his cock, pressing into you.

The stretch was overwhelming, your mind going blank as you were filled by both of them. The two men inside you made you feel so stuffed. You cried out, your nails digging into Taehyung’s shoulders as Jungkook began to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed, matching Taehyung’s rhythm.

They found a steady rhythm, moving in perfect sync, a relentless joint attack on your pussy.

“Look at that, dirty pussy handles two cocks at the same time so well.” Jungkook laughed from behind you. “Do you like that?”

“Like… so full…cock..” You babbled, your eyes rolling back as you got lost in the pleasure. Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth.

“Such a mess.” Taehyung cooed, wiping the drool from your chin with his thumb.

Then, the two of them took turns, one would pull out almost completely while the other thrusted deep inside you, then they’d switch, a continuous, addictive rhythm that had you seeing stars.

Everything blurred around you, the only thing you could focus on was their cocks, the way they filled you up so completely, the way they moved inside you, the dirty sounds of your wetness echoing in the room.

“Look at our little slut, loving two ghostface cocks.” Jungkook growled in your ear. “You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Made… for… cock…” You managed to say between moans.

“Yeah?” Taehyung grunted, his hands squeezing your ass. “And who owns this pretty little pussy?”

“You do! Both of you!” You sobbed, your back arching as they hit that perfect spot. Tears ran down your cheeks, it felt so good. Too good. Your tears trickled down Taehyung’s mask.

“Who owns this pretty little pussy?” Jungkook repeated, slapping your ass.

“You do!” You cried out. “Ghostface owns my pussy!”

“Good girl.” Taehyung praised, thrusting up into you harder.

They went at it for a while longer and you allowed them to, letting them use you in whatever way they pleased to. Your body was limp, your mind foggy with pleasure as you just laid there, your eyes closed, your mouth slightly agape as you panted heavily. They were using and abusing your pussy and you loved it.

“Cum.” One of the guys said, you weren’t even sure if it was Taehyung or Jungkook, but you didn’t care. You finally let go.

Your orgasm surged through your body, leaving you trembling and breathless. Your walls clenched around their cocks, milking them both. A loud cry sounded from as you squirted, your body convulsing as you rode out the waves of your climax on their cocks.

They continued to fuck you through your orgasm, their thrusts becoming erratic as they chased their own release. With a few more powerful thrusts, they both came, filling you with their cum.

They stayed inside you for a moment, their softening cocks buried deep within you. Then, they pulled out, a mix of their cum and your wetness trickling out of you. You collapsed onto Taehyung’s chest, your body spent.

But who was he to say no to the universe when it threw such a precious gift his way? Not many valuables decorated your place, but the real gem was right there, tucked under the sheets, sound asleep.

Jungkook tried not to wake you. He really did. Once he lifted the covers, however, there was no going back. Your shirt followed, then your shorts. He found himself climbing onto your bed, warm hands ghosting over exposed skin. The rough pads of his fingers brushing your nipples, tongue tracing your slit. Just a whisper, a bite he hoped would satiate his hunger.

Yet it grew instead of dwindling, until he could no longer bare it. A squeeze was not enough; neither was a taste. You awoke a carnal thing inside him, and if he could, he'd spent the whole night devouring; lick you up and down, stick his cock in every hole. Make you come all over him, in so many different ways.

Unfortunately, he couldn't wait anymore, and had no time either — not in these circumstances. If you woke up, they're be no guarantee you wouldn't run off and slip right out of his grasp.

This was love at first sight, a bond written in the stars. And surely true love could not be unrequited — he just fell first. There was nothing wrong with a little push to set you free and make you follow suit.

With his weight on your body and his cock inside you, though? Different story.

Right?

"'M sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Ah."

The feverish mumbles sounded pathetic in contrast to how hard he was pounding you, to the oppressive grip he had on your wrists. Pinned down, with nowhere to run, your pretty eyes wet with fear.

You clenched around him, dripping, warm and heavenly tight. The initial fight or flight response slowly died out, letting helplessness settle in. It tangled beautifully with surrender, awakening deeper instincts the moment your eyes locked.

Still, what a brutal awakening that was. 

Jungkook knew. Spilling apologies into your lips, fucking you faster, one contradiction after another making his cock throb.

"I'm sorry, you feel so good, f-fuck, I'm sorry," he groaned.

You looked stunning when ruined. Trembling under him, flushed, torn between pleasure and what was right or wrong.

"I can't— haah— stop, I can't, I'm sorry."

It was almost like a prayer, and your cheeks still glistened with tears, making it so much worse. Making the heated pleasure curl deeper in his gut.

He was gonna come.

Hips stuttering, he pressed his forehead to yours. Your attempts at not giving in were futile; he could feel your cunt fluttering, leaking around his shaft. Your unsteady breaths mingled, little, wounded noises breaking past your lips. Poor thing. This must have been such a confusing experience, such a hard fall. His heart ached for you.

"Baby," he gasped, comforting, "j-just a little— longer— fuck, almost there. Such a good girl, you can take it."

Your back arched, thighs shaking around his slender waist. Nails digging into the tender, tattooed skin of hand.

Mixed signals. Green light, red light. His cock broke the system, and his cock was going to fix it.

The way your cunt clamped down on it had it twitching, the slick sounds of his assault divine. His stomach clenched, thrusts turning sloppy, words pouring out weak and airy.

"Good girl, come with me, come on my cock."

A gasp. Right into his mouth, and then a scream.

Jungkook whimpered, the thread he was hanging on by snapping violently. He stayed buried inside you, filling your cunt up with thick spurts of cum, leaving no space for anything but him; mind, body and soul.

"Fuck!"

Glossy, dark eyes stared into yours, refusing you privacy. He watched you come down from the high, still half hard in the heat of your pussy, everything between you messy and wet. Too good to make him want to be anywhere else ever again.

His skin already felt hot and sweaty, but his cheeks stood out, flushed, a nervous shyness peeking through his expression.

"I know this is kind of backwards... but can I take you out sometime?"

You blinked, and blinked, like he was speaking an alien language. Jungkook had enough grace within himself to understand that perhaps the system needed time to adjust to operate on new wires.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"It's okay. You'll have plenty of time to think once we get home."

The phrasing seemed to catch your attention. Lost, defeated, you let your cheek hit the pillow, swollen eyes falling closed. Too tired to fight. Jungkook's chest constricted, hurting. Had you only realized there was no need to fight, not him or yourself, you wouldn't feel so burdened.