𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄
652 posts
P34rluv - NANAS FAVOURITE - Tumblr Blog
Since Tumblr deletes genuine Palestinian blogs, here is a list of verified fundraisers!
Please donate if you can.
Do not hesitate to reblog and share! 🙏🏽
(Click here for Part 2).
IMPORTANT: Bear in mind that I do NOT verify fundraisers. I am not Palestinian, and I do not speak Arabic! They have been vetted by Palestinian users!
1) Mohammed Al-Habil (@mohammedfamily123) and his family (€4,519 / €50,000). Verified and vetted by @/el-shab-hussein.
2) Mahmoud Helles (@mahmoud92hells) and his family (€757 / €50,000). Verified and vetted by @/90-ghost.
3) Asmaa Sheikh Youssef (@asmaalshaikh-blog) and reunion with her fiancé (€3,001 / €30,000). Verified and vetted by @/90-ghost and @/ibtisams.
4) Muhanned Shaheen (@mohanedshaheen) and his family (€2,658 / €35,000). Verified and vetted by @/90-ghost.
5) Momen Al Ostaz (@mo98h) and his family (€11, 213 / €70,000). Verified and vetted by @/el-shab-hussein
6) Tawfik Satoom (@tawfiksatooom) and his family ($14,089 / $40,000). Verified and vetted by @/ibtisams.
(Make sure to donate to his PayPal, as well! It will end in three days!)
It will help every one of them to reach their goal and to evacuate safely.
Thank you!
(06/19/2024)
Divider by: @cafekitsune
street kings (m) (teaser) | myg/kth
title: street kings (m) pairing: racer!yoongi x reader(f), racer!tae x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; street racing au summary: power struggles are something you're used to seeing in your fast-paced part of town. but when you have ties to both sides of the biggest one yet, things turn... interesting. note: okay uhh.. the tae pic dropped and so did all my fucks given? is that a good excuse to whip out a spicy muy caliente taegi plot? lmao note 2: thank you all so much for being patient with me! life has been moving very fast and there's still a lot going on. but i'm writing every night! hopefully that means more and more stuff can drop in the next half of 2024. warnings: multiple explicit scenes, mmf explicit scene, violence, blood mentions, alcohol/drug mentions, tense situations, power struggles, reader is a baddie but who is shocked, taehyung needs his own warning, yoongi needs his own warning, unsafe driving conditions, fast-paced scenes, crashes, what in the challengers, jk (unless??) smut warnings: to be smacked here on drop day but i'm already struggling to keep it together bc they both cannot get enough of reader goodbyeee drop date: as soon as i’m done! playlist: pov ur in the middle of a street racing power struggle word count: projecting 10k✌️
"you can't convince me to pick a side.. but i won't stop you if you try."
⟶ who's ready to rumbleee! | 🏙️ join the taglist 🏙️ | masterlist
accounts on twitter that you can follow that are mobilizing fandoms and spreading info about palestine and the boycott:
HYBE Boycott Updates
ARMY for Palestine
Carat For Palestine
Engene for Palestine
MOA4PALI
flover4Palestine
p1eces for peace
StayForPalestineGlobal
KPOP4Palestine
Atiny for Palestine
LUNÉ for Palestine
Shawol4Palestine
Ahgases For Palestine
Fearnot 4 Palestine
this pride, i learnt about the Palestinian trans woman Oscar Al-Halabiye, dancer and resistance fighter against the israeli occupation in Southern Lebanon. she named herself Oscar after Lady Oscar from the "The Rose of Versailles", a Japanese manga series written and illustrated by Riyoko Ikeda.
her story is documented in Cinema Fouad(1993). zionists use pink washing to reinforce their genocidal terrorist narrative when queer Palestinians have been fighting against the occupation since the very beginning. you can watch it here with english subtitles. long live the intifada!
Basically
MILF • JJK series Masterlist
Description: Find a MILF, sleep with her and be done with it. It was meant to be a simple frat boy challenge. One of many challenges. But what Jungkook didn’t expect was falling for this particular target. __________________________________________ >Pairing: collegefuckboyJK x milfOC named Siri
>Genre: one of my angstier fics, fluff, smut, happy ending
>Overall story Warnings: language, frat boy/fuckboy behaviour at the beginning (there is character development of course! one of the better JK developments amongst my fics), drug/alcohol use, major peer pressure, insecurities, miscommunication, cheating (OC's ex, not JK or OC), cutie preschoolJimin to start with (he's the best son ever!), R18+ smut; unprotected s*x, oral (both ways), bed s*x, couch s*x, shower s*x, against a door, on a high building rail, cowgirl, doggys.
>Notes: OC is 5yrs older than JK and is Korean in this fic (for once!). She is named Siri/Serena/Serenity in ALL my stories. >>> when there's more than 2 people talking, the layout of the dialogue is like a script with their initials; its how I used to write when I started writing fics and I just can't be bothered to edit all of them. I still do it occasionally with my newer works, mainly because I like to know whose talking first without having to say 'he said' or 'she said.' DON'T copy my storyline or take any part of my work please.
-> BTS Masterlist
Chapter 1 - coming soon!
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
More chapters coming...
there is nothing better than rewatching the love story of a food researcher and a ceo falling for each other while her best friend and his secretary also fall for each other when your mental health is down
GAZA NEEDS YOU. DON'T LOOK AWAY. YOU CAN SAVE LIVES. Below are some VETTED campaigns to support the people who have been experiencing an active genocide for almost a full year. DONATE DONATE DONATE. If you cannot, share widely.
(June 1)
Help Iyad and his family (@iyadsobhei) - Iyad is an elderly man who has been living in dire conditions with deteriorating health; he needs to evacuate with his wife and eight children. This fundraiser currently has NO FUNDS.
Help evacuate Hani's family (@skatehani) - A dear friend, and a Palestinian skater trying to evacuate 10 members of his family; he has lost his father to injustice. Less than halfway to his goal.
Help Husam and his family (@husamthaher) - Husam desperately needs to save himself, his wife, and 3 young children.
Ahmd needs urgent evacuation (@ahmd-iyd) - Ahmd has lost his livelihood to this genocide, and needs funds to help his family evacuate and rebuild their life.
Help Mahmoud Abu Hamam and his family (@ma7moudgaza) - A college student who desperately needs to evacuate to Egypt.
Help Iman’s family find safety (@imaneyad) - Iman has a family of 7 who need to find safety.
Help Mahmoud's family evacuate (@mahmoud0qassas) - Mahmoud and his family need to get to Egypt. His brother in law needs medical attention ASAP.
Support Ruba and Amal's family's urgent evacuation (@rubashaban @amalshabn) - Ruba and Amal's family are lacking the basic necessities of life; they have an elderly father who desperately needs to be evacuated for medical care.
Help Omar evacuate (@omarsobhi) - Omar is a 20 year old Palestinian student who wants to save himself and his family from this genocide.
Support Fahmi and his family (@fahmiakkila) - Fahmi's life has been turned completely upside down, and he now finds himself responsible to save his parents, sisters, & brothers - 7 members.
Save a displaced Gazan Family (@ranibra) - Rania is married with five children, her husband needs medical care. She is now responsible to save her children. Help them evacuate.
Save little Yusuf and his family (@ahmednabubake) - Yusuf is in an intensive care unit fighting for his life in Gaza; he needs urgent evacuation alongside his family.
Save a family trapped in Gaza (@mohamedalanqer) - Mohammed Alanqar and his family are living in fear, urgently needing financial assistance to escape to a safer environment.
Help Gazan children survive (@aymanayyad81) - Fadi Ayyad, an 18-year-old from Gaza seeks the funds to help his family survive these gruesome conditions.
Save Tawfik and his family (@tawfikwaleef) - Tawfik is an engineer from Gaza who urgently needs to escape Gaza with his family.
Help Tahseen and his family (@tahseenmush) - Tahseen and his family are from northern Gaza and need urgent help to survive this genocide.
Help Nader's family to evacuate from Gaza (@nadershoshaa) - Nader and his family, consisting of six members, are currently displaced in the south; help them evacuate and survive.
Don't ignore this list—your support is URGENTLY needed. Each fundraiser here is an opportunity to help, and it has been made easy for you to find these fundraisers. You can easily save lives. Pick at least one to support. Once again, your donation can save lives. If you can't donate, please share these campaigns.
FIND MORE CAMPAIGNS HERE
إذا انت من غزة و بدك إضافتك إلى القائمة التالية - اضغط هنا
Okay you support BTS but don't support their music?? You're pro Palestine but you write about jungkook and complain how his group is silent?? Pick a damn side and make up your mind!!
I'm getting a lot of hate right now but I'll keep my mouth shut about it and answer just this once.
I love BTS. There's nothing that can change it. You can still be in love with people after they've hurt you, and I'm saying this as a figure of speech. I'll continue to love them even though they're silent but this is not about me and this is not about BTS. This is about Palestine. I'm sad because imagine the impact it could have on Palestine if BTS spoke up right now, we know the power they hold. And yes, I'm not actively supporting their music rn because of HYBE. But it doesn't mean they're bad people, just cause HYBE has turned into a greedy, ethic-less company. My moral code won't let me support any music that comes through HYBE rn. Maybe someday I'll go back to streaming the songs and albums under HYBE but right now? My moral code won't let me.
It would have a huge impact if they spoke up. It's disappointing that they aren't. But people bashing pro Palestine armies for boycotting HYBE and still supporting the boys, as well as using BTS's silence while they're in the military to promote their own fandom and spreading bullshit— stop it and pay attention to what we can do to help Palestine.
Hi everyone,
For those of you who are seeing us for the first time, this project— @ficsforgaza—aims to raise funds for Palestine by connecting readers with fanfic authors, fan artists, and other fandom creators. If you are interested in joining the cause, you can read more about what we’re doing and how to get involved here.
As of today, we have officially raised over $2,000! We wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who has been a part in this initiative; raising so much money in under two weeks simply proves that fandom can (and does) make a difference, and that we are working toward a worthy cause. We are beyond proud of what our community has come together to do ❤️
We have even more good news: we are no longer shadowbanned! This means that our blog should now be visible to a wider audience since we are searchable. Additionally, our posts should show up in the tags. Please continue to share and reblog our posts; we hope what we have accomplished thus far is merely the beginning!
young, dumb, and full of.. (l. hs, p. sh, s. jy, p. js)
pairing. female reader x heeseung x sunghoon x jake x jay
genre. what in the hentai is this? AU, I don’t know either, multiple partners, M/F, she works hard for the money, pwop
warnings. cnc(do not read if that makes you uncomfortable. thanks.), explicit smut.. pure filth, profanity, 🎥 and we’re rolling- in public, y/n is a famous pcorn star, hyung line are all pretty terrible, nct side characters, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.
wc. 8000+
a/n. thank you for 10,000+ followers🩷
smut warnings. it’s porn- literally, it’s supposed to be unrealistic, dom hyung line, chikan(hyung line taking advantage of a sweet little angel on a train, that’s basically it), use of ‘little one/princess/slut/whore/baby’ etc, degradation, groping, fondling, forced handjob, fingering, breast play/torture, mind break, manhandling, spitting, oral, double penetration, anal(going in dry), choking, hair pulling, crying, rough sex, unprotected sex, cum shots galore. enjoy.
—————————
“Pigtails?”
Scrunching your face up, you yawn as you get a look at the minimal makeup on your skin. A little brush of mascara, lipgloss that could appear to be merely chapstick, and a light wash of tint to awaken your tired appearance at this hour.
“Don’t I look a bit..”
“Young?” The stylist behind you cackles, nodding to the call sheet on her vanity. “Did you not read about today’s concept?”
“You know I never bother with looking over those anymore, just do what the boss tells me to do.”
Speaking of- Jaemin shows up right on time with coffee in hand to wake you up for today’s shoot.
“Drink up, you’re going to need it.” He warns mischievously.
“Oh great, is it that time of the month already?” Aggressively stirring your iced cold brew to melt together, you reach for the call sheet. “Another gangbang?”
“You know it.” He hums, waving over your appearance. “Anyway can add some fake braces? She’s supposed to be really innocent and virginal.”
“I could but they may not last through deep throating.” The stylist quips, adding ribbons to your pigtails.
“Who’s working with me today?”
“New guys.” Jaemin leans against the vanity, nodding toward the entrance. “They should be arriving soon, Johnny hand-picked them himself.”
“New guys for a group scene?” You frown.
“They’re no amateurs, and they’ve been killing it with the streams.” He lets you know, diverting his attention to the door opening. “Here they come.”
Four new guys, great. These group shoots can be hard enough with your experienced costars, why the fuck would Johnny choose amateurs for this.
“Guys, over here!” Jaemin shouts, motioning for the four confused men to approach.
Ah the nerves radiating off of them could induce a damn panic attack. Just great. The shortest of the bunch breaks out into a wide smile, dragging his palms down his hips to absorb the sweat that’s collected on them.
“Good to see you again guys,” Jaemin waves, peering over their clothing. “You know, I was going to have you fitted but what you all have on right now could work perfectly for this shoot. If you’re okay with getting a little messy?”
They shrug and nod, taking in what each is wearing. “I would have tried a little more if I had known..”
“No no this is perfect.” Jaemin snaps, waving over the four. “This is even better than my original idea. The four of you look like hooligans.. menaces to society.”
“Oh that’s great.” The one with the big smile chuckles nervously, heavy Australian adding charm along with the continuous way he bounces on the balls of his feet. “We’re the bad boys in town.”
“That’s right, and the star of the show,” he turns back to face you, proudly framing your face to display a prize. “She’s the good girl, never been kissed, hasn’t ever taken a cock.” Peering over his shoulder, he winks at them. “Which we all know is a fucking lie.”
“Jaemin.” You whine, adjusting the robe that’s been slipping from your shoulders. “So the new boys are here to cause trouble?”
Their ears perk up faster than dogs when a can of food gets cracked open. Four alert eyes widen, throats bobbing up and down. “There’s that look, we have some fans here I see.” Jaemin chides. “You’re all familiar with the legend then.”
“Uhh,” mumbled sounds and a few whispered ‘yeah’s meld between the four, shifting their gazes away.
“Don’t be shy, you’ll be getting to know each other from the inside out soon.” He winks again, motioning for them to step closer.
“You’re so vulgar.” You sneer, pinching his exposed bicep.
“Are you not the one with a golden dick award for most impressive anal gape sitting on your coffee table?”
“Right next to my starlet of the year.” You smirk, returning your attention to the four newcomers forcing their nervous smiles to not chatter.
“Nice to meet you guys, welcome to the team.”
“I’m Jake,” that smooth accent comes out more confidently now, despite the tremble racking down the hand that he holds out for you. “It’s an honor to have this opportunity to film with you.”
“I like him, he’s respectful.” Shaking Jake’s hand, you ignore the ‘for now’ Jaemin whispers. Turning to the next who introduces himself at Jay, more quiet and cold when he bows with his hands clenched behind his back.
“Sunghoon.” A sharp smile follows, bowing his head before taking your hand. “Very excited to work with you.”
The last of the group holds the most intense eye-contact, sleek gaze carrying a silent confidence as he takes your hand and lays a kiss against your knuckles. “My name's Heeseung, really hope we get to work more together in the future.”
“Wow, must be my lucky day.” You flirt calmly, scanning them up and down. “Maybe Johnny knew what he was doing.”
“Yeah, Heeseung here hit 500 million viewers on stream last week.”
“Wow that’s a lot.” You say surprised, taking time to look him up and down. “You must be giving them something worth watching.”
“All of them do really good in the polls too.” Jaemin continues, pulling on a hat that he insists on wearing while filming and directing. “Should be a really good video outcome, I think our audience is ready for some fresh meat. Specifically to watch you get pounded by some new blood.”
“Look up vulgarity sometime.” Rolling your eyes, you lean back in the makeup chair. “Should I get dressed now?”
“Yeah, let’s get this going soon. Don’t want to lose light and have to make it look less authentic.” Whispering to the stylist, he instructs to keep your school uniform a bit unrealistic, slutty. This is porn afterall.
“Boys, come with me. We all have to earn our stripes here unless you’re the one taking cock.” Ordering the new group to follow him to set, you smile and wave them off. The tallest one, Heeseung, pursing his lips at you before heading off.
“He’s trouble.” The stylist says with raised eyebrows.
“You know the rule, no fucking outside of work.” You sigh, moving to the rack of clothes to be fitted.
“And I know those rules get broken around here.”
Brushing off that comment, you adjust the plaid skirt hugging your waist tightly, dragging out a pair of white cotton panties. The look is supposed to be innocent of course, even if the skirts far too short to cover up the bottom half of your ass. Leaving the top buttons of your blouse open to show-off cleavage, you pull on knee high socks and loafers. It’s the typical naive sweet innocent school girl look- perfect for this scenario.
“You got a real bus for this?” Entering the set , you fix the backpack straps on your shoulders, walking up to Jaemin. “Talk about budget.”
“We’re big time now, and also it was the cheaper option.” He notes, messing with the camera lens. “Building an entire set would have wasted time.”
“Alright, what’s the rundown?”
“Right,” he stands up straight, fixing his cap again. “Come here guys.”
The four stand up and huddle together, most trying to avoid looking at you. “Obviously we’re filming a chikan scene, so don’t worry about acting much. I just need you to fuck. We want cock sucking, a lot of groping, cover her mouth.” Motioning to you, he cups your jaw to use you as a prop. “I expect you to cum multiple times too, on her face, tits, ass, panties, make a fucking mess alright?”
Panic fills their faces as they nod along. You’ve become more than used to this after working under Jaemin’s directions for the past year. “I’ll have to intervene once in a while to change your positions for certain shots, we like to get some up close point of view ones. The viewers really love that, but for the most part I want you to do your thing.”
Letting you go, he directs where you’ll start off outside of the bus. “You’ll see her standing alone on the platform looking clueless, headphones on, playing on her phone, completely dumb and oblivious to her surroundings. That’s when you’ll set the plan in motion,” he points at Heeseung, fingers snapping. “You, the big one, you’ll be the ringleader. You’ll see her first, and tell your buddies that this is your conquest today. That’s when you’ll corner her on the bus and start harassing her, threatening her to succumb.”
Sunghoon hides a pout fast when Heeseung gets chosen. “We all get to fuck her right?”
“Of course.” Jaemin assures. “And don’t hesitate to stick it in her ass, use the fuck out of her. I want a lot of footage for this one.”
“If I can’t speak up I’ll pinch you to stop.” You add, knowing they’ve gone over the rules and do’s and don’ts with Johnny before being allowed to participate in one of his productions.
“Yeah, she’s a pro.” Jaemin, being the proud director he is, flicks your chin. “No one in this industry can take cock like our little princess.”
“Well, when you put it that way, I can accept your vulgarity.” Doing a quick spin on your foot, you bounce excitedly. “I’m ready to go, oh and I’m all prepped too so don’t focus on foreplay too much.”
“We won’t be having a closed set today either, the extras will be coming in just a minute here so try not to focus on them. Concentrate on the scene, I want it to feel really raw and gritty. We’re here to make a depraved masterpiece, got it?”
Heeseung claps his hands, nodding, shooting a thumbs up at the director. “Won’t let you down.”
“Good, because if you do,” Jaemin grins manically, stepping back to get behind the camera. “Those contracts will be altered.”
It must be so nerve wracking to be a male performer entering the adult industry. All you had to do was fuck your boss on camera and you were the companies new starlet by the next week.. but then again, you’re being sold for much more than just your body. It’s all about the face, the moans, the pretty way you cry, how many dicks can be stuffed inside of one of your holes. Even the pigtails currently styled in your hair can make or break a scene. Whereas a man is simply viable for his giant cock- their careers in this world hold more longevity even if their pay hardly compares to yours.
Luckily you’ll never have to experience that, all you have to do is ride cock and look good enough to make horny losers cum off that alone.
“Let’s get some shots of you first.” Jaemin instructs, filming you walking around with your favorite playlist turned on. Carelessly twirling your hair around your index finger as you walk back and forth in front of the bus doors and place one foot in-front of the other to walk along a painted line.
“Pose right there, a little concern in the face.”
Furrowing your eyebrows, you peer over your shoulder as if a group of feral young barbaric men are ready to eat you up when they see you turn and reveal the bare backs of your thighs. White cotton underwear tucked beautifully between your ass. The four onlookers watch you work, already building up a sweat off the way you taunt and tease the camera alone.
“We’re really doing this.” Jay mutters, stealing a sneaking look at Jake next to him. The other dryly swallows, adjusting his dick to press against his stomach under his belt.
“I really wanna fuck her.”
Sunghoon says lowly behind his hand, doing his best to ignore the extras that walk onto set. Harder to ignore when he estimates more than 30 men have entered the small area.
“Let’s do our best, can’t be too different from jerking off on live in front of millions of strangers.” Heeseung encourages his friends, having met them when joining the streaming company a year ago that called for attractive young men desperate to make good and fast money.
“Hee’s right, this is our big break.” Jake adds, straightening up when Jaemin points at the four of them.
“Enter from over there and make your way to the platform.” Yelling loudly, he gets everyone on set in order before calling out ACTION!
It’s time to turn it on, what you’re really known for. Connecting with the camera in a way that allows your fans to feel like they’re the ones getting to fuck you. That’s what they love about you, what keeps them coming back to your videos when they need a quick nut.
It helps that Johnny insists on only hiring attractive men to participate in his videos. Who doesn’t love to watch good looking people fuck? That’s why you made it a priority to audition for his company above any other.
It’s hard not to get excited when you can feel four sets of eyes watching you, following each and every small step you take waiting for the bus to arrive. Each of them are too good looking in such unique ways. Jake has that eager to please smile, bright eyes that look ready to grant you any wish. Jay with that sharp jawline, straight nose and dark lethal gaze, terrifying how one look from him could scorch your feet to the ground. Sunghoon, clearly the perfect one, not a single minuscule flaw on his gorgeous face, built as if he came straight from a Ken doll manufacturing company(but well equipped with Ken’s missing part).
And Heeseung, the one with looks that could kill. Quickly you lock eyes with him before twisting away and anxiously swallowing. The short memory of his soft lifts grazing your knuckles tingles up your spine, thighs tightly pressing together where you stand recalling the way he peered up at you. That indescribable look behind his eyes that made your gut coil, spiked fear and a rush of arousal all at once. Of course he’d be appointed the main, his energy alone could get you on your knees faster before he could even finish bellowing out the order to do so.
It’s fitting how exhilarated and uneasy you feel, perfect to build up what’s about to happen as soon as you enter this bus.
The four boys appear on camera looking exactly the way Jaemin envisioned. A group of delinquents decked down from head to toe in baggy clothes, worn hoodies, ripped jeans, bulky shoes covered in scuff marks from running around and eating shit off a skateboard. They look ready to get up to no good, emphasized by the way Heeseung nudges into Sunghoon’s side and nods toward your unaware figure. His chin tipping in to whisper and signal for Jay and Jake to follow their lead.
From a viewers standpoint, this is the norm. An average after school activity of illegal reckless teenage behavior. Because this is such a busy route at this hour, more than easy to get away with murder in broad daylight amongst a full cart.
Motioning to his friends, they make their way to get behind you. The headphones in your ears keep you clueless to the scheming taking place only a couple of steps away. Two men barricade your sides as you enter ahead of the rush onto the bus, ushered to the furthest back corner as too many pile in and force their weight to fit in, rather suffer the time squished together than wait longer for another ride.
Jake and Jay manage to stay by your side despite the pushing and shoving to enter, keeping a close position next to you with their arms reaching up to grab onto the metal bars nearby. Sunghoon speaks silently with one look, shoulder to shoulder with Heeseung where they stand in front of you blocking your view of the rest of the occupants. It’s perfect on screen, a successful trap to leave you with no way to escape.
The fear written all over your face only amplifies how terrifying all of this is for you. Grasping the straps of your backpack tight enough to leave indentations against the insides of your fingers, nibbling your bottom lip with your gaze trained on the pairs of shoes facing you. Swarmed by the scent of hair gel, cologne, minty mouthwash each time Jake breathes against your ear. It’s torturous to wait for the cart to fill up with each of them taking in your appearance, nodding in approval to each other that you’ll do just fine right now. A birds eye view gets the perfect shot of how small you look surrounded by them, helpless, a little prey counting down the seconds for your predators to pounce.
The shift of the cart has you stumbling forward, cheek crashing against Sunghoon’s chest in front of you. His tongue clicks disapprovingly, shoving your shoulders back to launch you into Jake’s chest who took the opportunity to stand in your place. Further suffocating you between their warm worn down clothing.
“You should be careful little one.” His accent sounds huskier whispering against your earlobe, hands finding your waist to hold you in place.
“Ah-it’s okay,” you attempt to shimmy away, gripped tighter to not let you budge.
“Stay your pretty little ass right there.” He says shortly, wrapping an arm around your torso to press you flat against him, his other hand rushing down to bunch the side of your skirt together. “Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be walking around like this by yourself?”
“You’re lucky we ended up on here with you.” Jay’s deep tone speaks quietly from your side, moving close to place his palm under Jake’s arm. “Imagine some of these old motherfuckers had gotten to you first and taken advantage of you.”
“He’s right.” Jake huffs against your ear, lips smoothing down to your earlobe. “Count your lucky stars that it will be us using you however we please instead.”
The same hinted at panic that had been worrying your face implodes, opening your mouth wide to call out for help only for Sunghoon’s palm to slap down and cut you off. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”
The muffled cry for help still manages to make it far enough for the hidden microphones set up around you to catch, something the viewers will really enjoy as your struggle begins.
Jake squeezes in even closer somehow, breathing right into your ear as he scratches down your upper thigh. “I’m a big fan.” He whispers extra quietly, eyelids low. “Can’t wait to cum inside of you.”
Fuck. It’s a good thing Sunghoon has a grip hard enough to leave fingerprint marks behind over the lower half of your face. Having to wrinkle your eyes shut to stop them from rolling up, you’d moan given the chance. Risking this moment on the clock to admit that only makes the wetness trickling from your cunt rush out faster. Panties completely soaked through before you’ve even been properly touched.
“I don’t know.” Jay chuckles softly, grazing his palm lower to cup between your clenched thighs. “I think she seriously can’t wait for us to use her.”
“Is that right?” Sunghoon glares at you viscously. “Here I thought we found ourselves a nice innocent little virgin. What type of virgin gets wet from this, huh?”
“Nah, she’s soaking.” Lifting his hand up between your bodies, Jay shows off how glossy you’ve left his palm, further setting in how humiliated you should feel right now.
“What a darling angel.” Jake remarks, nibbling your earlobe between his plump lips. “Only a virgin could get that wet so easily. We’ve barely started with you.”
Sunghoon’s palm loosens off your mouth, dragging an index finger down the middle of your lips. “If you scream, I’ll make sure you never make another sound again. Got it?” He smiles, charming and handsome, but the sadistic tone he speaks in can hardly go unnoticed. Softly nodding, you whimper when Jake digs his blunt nails into your upper thigh, dragging them up to scratch at the hem of your pantyline.
“Don’t be so mean,” he laughs raspily. “We can play nice if she cooperates. You’ll be a good girl for us right sweetie?”
Heeseung clears his throat, grabbing onto Sunghoon’s shoulder to tug him closer and whisper something. The same dark observant gaze traces over your face as his lips move, no doubt issuing orders as the leader of the crew. Nodding, Sunghoon reaches for his phone, angling the camera at your face before you can look away. “Let’s see that pretty smile.”
“You heard him.” Jay says annoyed, clutching your jaw to force you to look ahead. The sight of sharp teeth behind the phone twist your gut, wondering if he’ll leave bite marks behind to admire tomorrow when you roll out of bed after no doubt using half of the day to recover. “Give us a smile.”
“So cute baby.” Jake hums, dragging his fingers under your panties.
“That’s a face I won’t forget anytime soon.” Sunghoon says menacingly, turning the phone around to display the photo. “None of us will.”
The silent threat is meant to keep your tongue hidden, lips trembling as you take in the distraught look on your face. Jake smiling over your shoulder, Jay leaning in with his nose dug into your cheek allowing his sharp jawline to shine.
“That’s a good girl.”
“Bet you’re always on time for class, never tardy.” Jake adds onto Jay’s commentary. The three of them throw out more degrading words as Heeseung stands guard with his arms crossed over his chest, stoic expression unwavering.
“All these books.” Sunghoon grins, spilling your belongings from the backpack they managed to remove from your shoulders along with the embroidered uniform blazer you had on. “Real studious huh? Top of your class and shit.”
“Hope that means you’re a fast learner.”
Jake maneuvers you to face Jay, dipping his hand deeper inside of your underwear to cup your cunt. “Fuck you’re seriously dripping.”
Muffled whimpers escape under Jay’s burning gaze, sandwiched between the two making fast to feel up your body. The undone buttons give easy access to pop the rest free, one ripping off and hitting one of the cameras like a pingpong.
“That’s a money shot.” Jaemin whispers from his chair, chin in hand while focusing on the scene unfolding. Johnny was right, these new guys hardly needed any type of assistance.
“Can’t believe you can even fit these inside of that uniform.” Jay licks at his lips, rolling your flimsy bra down under your breasts to release your naked chest.
“Please don’t—“
“Shut the fuck up.” Sunghoon laughs breathily. “I don’t care how fucking cute you sound begging. Don’t make a God damn scene.”
“Don’t be shy baby.” Jay nearly salivates, slowly ducking forward with his eyes trained on your face. Pleased by the tears that have begun to well up at the rims. “These fat tits deserve to be seen.”
Soft lips wrap around one of your nipples, biting down roughly until it fully hardens. Jay’s mouth switches back and forth between your breasts, pinching and rolling whichever stiffened little bud his mouth can’t occupy. “Fuck you’re shaking so much.” He mumbles, continuing to assault your tits until the soft wrinkled flesh around your nipples swell. The stimulation shooting waves down to your knees until they lock and you fully slump back against Jake.
“Think she’s gonna cum from this alone.” He speaks up from behind you, amazed by the amount of wet arousal filling up his palm. “Fuck, I need to get inside this pussy.”
Biting down on your shoulder, his chest buries against your back to keep you held up. Freeing himself from the confines of his baggy jeans enough to get them just beneath his ass. He drags your ruined panties to one side, bending at his knees to shove his length against your swollen folds. “Holy fuck.”
“Don’t fuck her without me.” Jay murmurs, mouth too busy leaving teeth marks and bruises on your chest.
“N-no please!” You shriek as Jake ruts against your cunt, hard cock spreading your chubbed folds open. The glide seamless thanks to the amount of slick pouring from your hole.
“That’s it.” Sunghoon grits loudly, bringing his palm back over your mouth. “Clearly you can’t listen for shit. You know what that makes you?”
“A bad girl.” Jake moans all too pleased, humping against your backside to fully soak his cock with your juices. The head smashing against the front of your underwear, stretching out the worn down cotton material with each rough push.
“And do you know what happens to bad little whores like you?” Jay kneads your chest, spitting at your breasts until they gleam with saliva. “They get fucked, hard.”
“N-need to fuck her right now.” Jake whines, holding down a hiss by biting down on the back of your neck.
“Then fuck her already.” Sunghoon growls quietly, grabbing your hand to rub up and down the thick bulge protruding from his sweats. “We don’t have all day.”
“Keep these on.” Jay whispers heavily, yanking on the sides of your underwear until they stretch painfully and cut into your skin, pushing out the fleshy meat to shape the curves of your ass.
A camera angled beneath your bodies captures everything perfectly, from Jay’s hand sweeping between your thighs to glide Jake’s length between your folds, to the aggressive way he hauls one of your legs up for easier access, visibly digging the tips of his fingers into your sensitive flesh.
“Oh fuckkk,” prodding the tip of his cock inside, Jake’s neck loosens letting out a long-winded groan. Eyes clenched shut as he inches in and Sunghoon maintains fierce eye contact with you, hiding a smile when your tears break and roll down to dampen his hand.
“Tighter than a fucking virgin.”
“Is she?” Sunghoon questions, leaning in closer to whisper. “Can’t wait to ruin your tight pretty cunt.”
Gripping onto your wrist harder, he forces your hand up and down over his bulge. The three of them close in on you until you feel like you can no longer breathe without inhaling their musky scents. Sweat mixes with the cologne and body wash clinging to their skin, each of them taking long showers to scrub down clean and smooth before their debut shoot. “The harder you try to put up a fight..” he hisses, unleashing his fully aroused length. “The harder I get.”
“It’s so fucking cute how you keep whining.” Jake agrees, building up a rhythm, hip bones crashing against your ass. “Seriously, I was so nervous.” He speaks extra quietly into your ear, panting short breaths between each word. “But you’re so fucking hot I’m losing my mind.”
The desperation dripping off his tongue causes your knees to buckle, gripping Jay’s chest with your free hand as Sunghoon’s much larger one forces you to wrap around his stiffened girth. Thick heated up flesh swipes back and forth against your palm, jerked forward by Jake’s eager thrust. The whole scene screams delinquent horny young men, as dark the whole scenario is supposed to come across, you can already sense a hit being made. Streams exploding, purchases breaking numbers, the four becoming regulars on future sets that could easily become highly favored by fans.
Hands swarm from your ass to your chest, Jay’s mouth working mercilessly until your breast look pained enough to burst. The nipples ramrod hard, bitten over, skin swollen and puffy around. With an all too pleased gleam passing his gaze, he reaches between your thighs to tease your hardened nub. Using the same effort to raise you onto your toes, digging deep into the cute faux-leather loafer with one leg dangling in the air hooked over his flexed arm.
“You’re seriously such a whore.” He hisses, expertly grazing your clit between two digits. “Getting off to this, aren’t you?
“Uh-huh—“ you manage to mumble dumbly. Rocked back and forth onto Jake’s fat girth. Sunghoon controlling the way you jerk him off, and Jay torturing your clit into a frenzy. The heat budding from between your thighs rises, coiling from your gut to your sternum, chest caving in.
“Cut cut!” Jaemin screams out loud abruptly, instructing everyone to stay put. “I need a good shot of this.”
Controlling the camera above your head, he works the crane to get closer. The shot aimed at the dead look behind your eyes, the typical dumb porn slut look. Only yours is special, what you’re most known for. The eye contact you manage to grab the viewer with through the camera, almost as if you’ve caught a peeping Tom. But instead of appearing angry or upset, you welcome them into this fantasy, living out every perverse sensation and need. This is the shot that breaks the third wall, removes any sense of guilt and reminds you that this is just porn and you should absolutely be getting off right now.
“Rolling!” He howls out, focused on the screen that’s zoned in on your sultry lust-filled gaze. The enjoyment behind the corners of you tweaked up lips, the tip of your tongue dragging across your teeth. Neck arched back allowing Sunghoon’s to grip around your throat, his palm starkly large and veiny in contrast to your delicate décolleté. It’s perfect and beautiful on screen, but really the best view for Heeseung.
Watching on this entire time, he could rip out his tongue by now. Suffering the more he waits and waits and waits. Balled up fist hidden inside the sleeves of his hoodie to keep a cool and calm stature. He knows it will be worth the wait after all this anticipation. Johnny had said when they finished all the paperwork and finalized contracts that most likely his first scene would be with you. Standing here now made it all so surreal, washing his mouth with spit the heavier his tongue grows, in disbelief at the display before him.
It’s a new feeling to get hard watching over his friends have their way with a girl he knows they’ve all beat off to numerous times. None too shy to drop links in the group chat to videos they deemed great for a fast stroke sesh, your face often appeared.
The same face fighting back pleasured moans, forcing your forehead to wrinkle together and scrunch your nose in disgust as tears roll down your cheeks. If he even accidentally brushed his dick up against something right now he’s sure he’d spill over and ruin his briefs.
“Taking cock real good for a virgin aren’t you?” Jay smirks, pushing a finger in alongside Jake to stretch your hole open further. “He looks ready to explode back there.” Wasting no time to add another finger, he jokingly nods to his friend behind you. Tongue lolled out, slobbering over his chin like some starved animal. He thrusts deep, feeding you each inch of his big cock. “I’m going in, cover her mouth good.” He mumbles, chin pointed at Sunghoon.
The taller agrees, dipping his index and middle finger in past your lips. “Hope your mouth’s better than this shit handjob.”
Stretching his digits out as much as he can inside of you, he grunts and pulls out, using the wetness clinging to his skin to coat his cock. “Relax.” He hisses softly, gripping around the middle of his length to force the tip in past your filled hole. The prodding has you kicking off the floor, foot dangling in the air with gurgled yelps emitting around Sunghoon’s fingers.
The position Jay’s managed to get you in makes the glide less painful, giving your entrance a few jabs before finally popping the tip of his cock inside. Wrinkles dig into the skin around his eyes as he passes along his friend's slippery length. The two releasing deep guttural groans when the tips meet inside of you.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Jake moans out raggedly, sounding torn by the grip that blankets around him with Jay’s cock nudged up against his. They move in opposite motions, Jay pulling out whenever Jake thrusts back in, the friction budding against your inner walls pinching at a tense heat in your stomach. Wrapping your lips around the fingers in your mouth to cut off a scream, you suck, hand lazily continued to be dragged by Sunghoon’s grip. His deep breaths resonate from your side, not as desperate as Jake’s blowing into your ear, but loud enough to pick up on.
“G-gonna cum.” Sunghoon says behind pursed lips, stripping your hand off his size to force his cock between you and Jay. “On her panties.”
“God damn.” Jay wouldn’t believe it given any other moment, not being the first time he’s ever fucked with the same girl his friends have. Kissing the backs of his teeth, he slows down to blink the blur away from his eyes and watch as Sunghoon tugs at his cock roughly, white strings shooting out onto your mound and the base of his own length.
It should be gross to feel his friend’s warm gooey cum drip down to his balls as he bends his knees to throw you up and down on his and Jake’s swollen members, but he can’t deny the way his sack tightens up. Eyes rolling back letting out a howl that would without a doubt grab everyone’s attention on a full train in reality.
“Fuck—I’m cumming, I’m fucking cumming.” Jay groans, deep and rumbled. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders for better leverage to really make these last few sloppy thrusts count. Each aim of his slimy wet cock more frantic than the last, the friction of Jake’s size rubbing along the underside of his making his head spin faster. Between the grip on your waist from behind, you get bounced between the two of them. Hole stretched impossibly wide, ripping at the hair lining Jay’s nape to calm your need to shout.
Their ministrations are ruthless, running after sweet release in tandem, unbothered by the muffled shrieks emitting from beneath Sunghoon’s hand.
Jake’s garbled uh-uhn-uh’s puffing against your ear twists through your brain, eyes rolled back desperately dying to get out a scream. Another wave of hot pleasure spills as your resistance shatters and you lick at Sunghoon’s palm, finally letting out a high-pitched scream.
“Take it.” Jay growls huskily, pumping his cock in deep despite Jake’s whining. He slams in one more time, shoving his seed deep enough inside to paint your cervix with the mess.
Slapping at his chest, Jake shoves him away with one hand, fully taking advantage when his length slips out and he has complete free range to go wild inside your pussy. The little pained sounds he’d been letting out turn gruff, belting your waist to drag you up and down his size. The slip and slide on and off his cock even easier with Jay’s load coating him. He pants harshly along the column of your throat, letting out a shattered shout when the first flick of hot tongue laps against the underside of his size.
“Oh shit.” He simpers between grinding teeth. Jay looks up, from between your thighs, tongue dragging aimlessly from your clit to the thick girth burying inside your stretched hole. Sweat and wet slick meld together down his nose, lips dripping with a bit of his own release as he kisses along your pussy folds angrily wrapped around Jake’s cock.
“Shitshit—I’m gonna—c-cum,” he stutters, trembling against your back. The grip on your waist loosening as he topples over.
“Move.” Sunghoon sounds near demonic, throwing an arm around your waist to snatch you away from the two. Ripping you off Jake’s length too fast, cum pours down your inner thighs, hole rapidly convulsing open. “Shhh, shut the fuck up.”
His reputation of being mouthy on stream precedes him, shoving you down onto your knees roughly between curses. “You wanna get caught acting like a fucking whore?”
“Nuh—no,” you shake, giant watery eyes blinking up pleadingly. Biting down harshly, his jaw twitches, resisting the urge to crumble and drag you back up. No one’s made a proper mess of your pretty face yet, and he’s not one to disappoint.
“Didn’t think so.” Pushing his sweats lower, he strokes his length back to full hardness. Sliding the width down the middle of your face, slapping the meat against your cheek until your mouth pops open. “Gonna fuck your little virgin ass.” He grins, popping the tip in and out between your parted lips. “So you better get me all nice and wet, or it’s going to hurt you real bad baby.” Resting the weight of his cock between your lips, he reaches for your pigtails to pull on. Using them like handlebars to hold onto and feed his cock in and out. Pulling the strands of hair between his digits each time your teeth barely scrape along his size.
Subtly reaching beneath yourself to glide the plug free from your hole, you agree to whatever he keeps spewing on about. Lapping up every inch, spitting out globs of messy saliva with a pained expression as if it disgusts you to do as he says. Half torn by your attraction to each of them and by how immoral and wrong this is all supposed to be.
“Never sucked a dick in your life have you?” He spits, looping under your arms to pull you onto your feet. Pressing the center of your chest against a pole, it’s clear for anyone watching at home in the future now that you can easily be seen by the other train occupants. It’s not as if you’re aiming to win an Oscar for best motion picture, maybe an Adult Video nomination for best gangbang at best.
“Nice and open for me.” He huffs against your ear, all of this being picked up by the microphones hidden around. Jaemin would have their horny fanboying edited out later before final production. “Exactly how I like it.”
The shot of the fat tip of his reddened girth testing your rim would make anyone cum by this point if they haven’t. Despite prepping yourself prior to entering the set, he’s big, as expected based on Johnny’s hiring requirements. The bulbous cockhead burns, splitting past your asshole, gripping onto the back of your waist to further arch your ass out. He hisses the whole way watching with intense burning focus as you suck in every last inch.
Hiding his face away against your shoulder, he blinks in a rush, chest trembling against your spine. “Fuck, you’re seriously so tight.”
To mess with him, you subtly circle your hips. Eager to see if he’s all talk after cussing you out to shut up over and over again. “Come in, give me that dick. Ruin my hole.”
Sunghoon has to bite down on his lip to not let out the most pathetic moan. Clutching your waist tightly as he draws out to the tip and repeats the same motion. “Keep talking like that..” he mumbles, going in faster with each thrust. “I’ll seriously never let you walk again.”
“Yeah? Then do it.” Bending lower, the sight before him becomes even more obscene. Plaid skirt flipped all the way up. Ruined white cotton panties stretched out to one side. Cock throbbing pink with raging veins burying inside of your ass.
“Nasty fuck hole.” He growls, slapping your exposed buttcheek. “Fucking whore taking all of it.”
The way you bend completely, ass up in the air for him to use makes his stomach twist. Muscles twitching under his shirt as his hips crash down and your backside ripples upon impact. He can’t pretend that the most revisited window living amongst his incognito tabs isn’t your first on-screen anal. Allegedly the first time you’d ever taken it up the ass, he even has his favorite timestamps memorized for those days he needs to get off in less than 10 minutes. Clasping onto your buttcheeks, he pulls them further apart and slowly sinks in deeper.
Exactly like that part at 13 minutes and 37 seconds when the camera zoomed in on your obscenely stretched out rim, only better because his dick looks so good buried deep inside of your ass.
“Get up.” He rumbles lowly, arms wrapping over your chest. The sudden impact of his hips slamming against you cutting off your breath. Using one of his arms to circle your head, he traps your neck in a firm chokehold. Ramming his dick in deep, the glide in and out smooth with precum bursting from his tip. The warm heat gripped around him mind boggling, more euphoric because he’s been here in fantasies. He’s fucked this ass in place of his palm, but the real thing could only ruin him forever.
“Fuckfuck.” Sunghoon grits thinking about it. Bicep flexing large and cutting off your breathing the tighter he coils around your throat. Cock twitching between your ass cheeks as release pours out, most of it dripping out past his size onto the backs of your thighs, landing in loud plopping puddles on the floor. He has to bite down on your jawline to stop himself from fanboying over getting to fuck your ass. In disbelief after months of jerking off to a handful of his favorite go-to videos that you just so happened to star in(not that he watched his collection 50 more times this week alone). The chance to work with you again in the future can’t be ruined by a moment of weakness, no matter how victorious he feels right now.
“You tighten up so good around my cock.” Licking up to your ear, he cups the sides of your ass to squeeze and bury his fingers into the fleshy meat. Drawing out slowly, inch by painful inch gliding out torturously. “Sucked me dry little one.”
“Fuck man, I’m getting hard again.” Jake laughs, eyeing the bulge forming inside of his jeans.
“Too bad.” Heeseung pushes off one of the poles, arms that had been snuggly crossed on his chest falling to his sides. “Want you all to myself now.” He mostly mouths, making it hard to hear with the message that’s for your ears only. “Come here.”
Pulling your arms to wrap over his shoulders, you strain to grasp onto him, tingling from head to toe with pleasure. The remaining three make more space by creating a wall with their bodies to block any curious eyes, mostly having forgotten that they’re supposed to be acting.
Rule number one: No kissing on the lips. Ever. Can lead to termination.
He gulps, thumbs swiping over the wet and dry tears on your cheeks. It’s not an outlandish or weird rule, of course not. But he can’t ignore how pouty and inviting your mouth looks right now. Glossy with spit, inflamed from taking Sunghoon’s massive width.
He really takes a good minute or longer to touch over your stomach, hands snaking underneath your unbuttoned top. Kneading and squeezing at your soft skin, tracing down to your hips to caress over how round and supple your ass feels in his hands, spilling out between his digits.
There’s nothing to say between the two of you, essentially strangers about to fuck for the first time after taking 3 dicks. You still have to hold back a smile, tucking your chin in when he hauls you closer and squats down to capture your thighs. Exerting more strength than he appears able to and catching you off guard, setting your arms to cling tightly behind his neck. Not many would be bold enough to sink your weight down onto their dick to ride for the first time. The confidence radiating off of him reignites your initial excitement, still heavily trickling wetness.
As much as he wants to throw you up and down his length with nothing to hold him back, he needs to see the moment his cock pushes inside of you. Gently resting your back against the carts wall, he pulls back just enough to direct the tip of his length between your drenched folds. He’s never seen it so angrily engorged, full of blood, veins visibly beating. But he’s waited long enough for this. Pushing lower, he dips in, slit kissing just past your entrance.
“Oh—“ whispering under his breath, he blinks furiously. Tucking his bottom lip in to bite down on. Cockhead gleaming back at him coated with your wet slick. It’s too good already to feel the heat emitting from your cunt, taut skin sucking around him ready to never let go.
“Please.” You whine out, face so fucked out with your head rolling against the wall. Tugging at his hair, you softly moan. “Put it in.”
Fuck.
That’s really all it takes to snap his tenacity in half. He slams forward, hips jolting against yours. A vigorous speed breaking out, hammering his cock in deep. Heeseung grunts wildly, keeping the backs of your knees hooked over his biceps for leverage as he fucks into you without abandon. The once impassive unreadable look on his face morphing to an animalistic rabid one. Eyebrows dripping with sweat, eyes large and fierce, lips pulled back tight bringing out a sharp jawline and cheekbones.
The moans you let out only drive him to fuck into you more violently, filling you with each inch of his thick long cock. He crushes you in, lungs squished by your legs being completely folded. The position allowing him to hit balls deep. The clap of his sack loudly slapping against your gaped asshole, booming off the compacted space around you.
It’s the right angle for the tip to bulge just beneath your navel. Taking a step back from the wall he firmly cups your ass. Fingers digging in hard to keep up his pace, the clapping bounce slapping against his hips and thighs loud, roaring thunderously through the bus. The guys behind him watch on, swallowing to quench their drying throats. It’s so pornographic, the muffled whimpers coming from your mouth buried against Heeseung’s chest. The loud claps of skin meeting skin. The thick wet cock stretching your hole open wide, and the recoil your ass gives with each unrelenting thrust.
“Yes! Fuck!” He groans out too loud, head tossed back. The muscles lining his arms burning with effort. Each squat clenching his ass. “Such. A. Good. Little. Fucking. Slut.”
Each word gets shouted out with a rough jab of his hips, accompanied by your stinging ass smacking against him. He stills, teeth gritted, face covered with sweat. It’s the hardest release he’s had in a long time, not recalling cumming this hard since edging himself for 3 hours during a lonely thunderstorm.
The warm release spills out with your slick, having weakly cum at some point mid-thrust. You scrambled to hold on tight, fearful of losing balance and falling the faster he kept going somehow. Only slowing down to press his cock inside of you one more time before pulling out fully.
It’s a perfect shot to finish off, held over the camera on full display with loads of semen dripping down your inner thighs, pussy lips engorged and wrecked. It’s the climax anyone paying to watch would dream of. To get a close up look at your spread apart legs as Heeseung holds your weight up off the ground with shaking arms. The orgasm still sending shockwaves through his limbs, weakening the last bit of strength he has left.
“AND CUT!” Jaemin’s voice bellows, shoving through the extras that make their way to exit the set. “That was great! You guys did an awesome job.”
Heeseung securely hoists your thighs around his waist, slumping back onto a now emptied seat to catch his breath. “I know uh, aftercare is against the rules..” he mumbles softly by your ear, lightly tracing up your spine. “But is there anything you need me to do?”
“I’ll handle this.” The assistant Jaemin had hired recently, Chenle, rushes over with clean towels and a robe in hand. “You can go off and get cleaned up now.”
Still half-asleep against his chest you try to nod, in dire need of a hot bath to soak in and soothe your limbs after being stretched out in all kinds of directions. Heeseung does his best to help you get back on your feet and get yours arms inside of the robe, taking one of the towels to clean himself off before gathering his bottoms.
“Was nice to meet you, I really hope we’ll be able to work together again in the future.” Near future he wants to emphasize, maybe even his next shoot if he can be so lucky. A solo scene involving only the two of you ideally. Then he could really impress you..
“I’m sure we will.” You smile sleepily, wrapping an arm around Chenle’s shoulders to hold yourself up. “Real soon.” —————————
🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉
arab.org daily clicks
🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉
eSIM Tutorial
🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉
al jazeera live updates
(live page is closed, but link still works to see non-live updates)
🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉
middle east eye live updates
🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉
unrwa donation page
🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉
we lost the whole emo band dawg. rip :((
SERENDIPITY
18+ / mdi
summary: jungkook, god of love and son of venus is given the task by his mother herself to rid the world of you, known as psyche, as your beauty begins to rival her own. unfortunately for all parties involved, jungkook becomes enamored by you upon accidentally pinching himself with his own arrow.
content: cupid!jungkook, psyche!reader, an extremely simplified and smutty version of the og story, afab reader, everyone here is a god/goddess of some sort, side character deaths, the dialogue is very much modern and not fitting of the times, angst(?), fluff, smut, they have sex where she doesnt know who he is multiple times but its consensual, penetrative sex, etc.
wc: 8.6k
a/n: for immersion purposes, psyche will be a reader insert and wont be referred to as psyche throughout the story (but jk will be referred interchangeably as cupid). anyways i read this last week during one of the lit courses i decided to take to improve my writing and really enjoyed it!! i hope u guys enjoy it too<3
masterlist | kofi/patreon
support me through a one time tip<3
"Why did you call for me, again?"
"Jungkook, pay attention!", hissed his mother, holding her fingers to her temples in stress as one of her many servants walked in with the fruit she'd requested, "I need you to use your arrows on someone."
"What? Why? I thought you didn't like me meddling with people's love lives."
"This is different. This one needs a little help," Venus frowned in sheer annoyance, "She is known as Psyche by many, Y/N by her loved ones. She has become quite a figure among the Roman population. Some have begun to worship her beauty. They pray to her, they bring her offerings, they kiss at her feet, completely disregarding the true Goddess of Beauty."
"And where does this concern me?", Jungkook was beyond bored by his mother's ramblings. On a usual day, he would be out and entertaining himself with the many mortal maidens found around Rome, always guaranteeing himself a partner for the day.
Venus shot Cupid a look as her servants fed her by mouth, making him straighten his back and begin paying better attention. Even as the Goddess of Beauty, Venus was known as one of the most menacing Goddesses to exist, holding far too much power among all Gods and Goddesses. Jungkook couldn't help but feel intimidated by her, even as carefree as he was known to be.
"She has far too many admirers. Even Gods are beginning to show interest in her, yet she is lacking in suitors thus far. I need you to shoot your arrow and tie her off to the most hideous creature you can muster. She may seize from being a disturbance this way."
"Okay, so you want me to doom her to an eternity with a monster?", Jungkook tilted his head in curiosity.
Despite being considered the most beautiful entity, Jungkook knew Venus to be one of the least amicable creatures in all of the land. Mortals were blissfully unaware of her cruelty, thinking her to be the most perfect among all Goddesses. However, Cupid, as her son, knew of the misery that awaited anyone who crossed the Goddess of Beauty.
Venus halted her movements in frustration, scaring the servants nearby before turning to Jungkook in annoyance, "Cupid, my son, you will obey my order without question. I gave you those wings, I gave you that bow, and I gave you that arrow. I don't care how cruel you may think me to be, this is an order. You shall not utilize your powers for your own endeavors until you finish your task," she demanded, "Now, go rid me of that wench before I find someone else to do the job."
With a sigh, Jungkook nodded in defeat, fully aware of the type of punishments his mother could deliver should he disobey her orders. Walking over to the window through which he had originally entered, he pulled his bow and arrow from his back, beginning to fly off with his wings as he embarked on a journey to seek out the mighty Psyche that had his mother so worried.
"Y/N, there's another letter from one of your admirers," announced Psyche's mother, placing the letter on the huge pile of gifts provided by the many civilians who came visit their castle with the hope of getting a glimpse of the beautiful girl.
"Mother, what shall I do with all these? There's so many letters yet not a single suitor," you sighed, frustrated at the lack of prospects you'd had so far, "My sisters have both married, yet I am left alone with no one to seek my heart."
"Child, you should be grateful," said your mother, "You are admired through all the land, vied for as if you were a true Goddess. Someone will come for you one day, rest assured," affirmed your mother, petting your hair as she landed a soft kiss on your forehead and took her leave once more.
It was easy for your parents to grow used to the love and admiration you received. Endless people would come and dedicate themselves to their servitude if it meant as much as receiving your blessing – which was absolutely worthless as a mere princess in a land filled with mystical deities.
Your elder sisters had both been married off months back, finding old yet respectable husbands to take them away and care for them as any and all husbands should. You, however, remained alone with your parents, always hoping that a man would be brave enough to court you.
It was unfortunate, really; the way in which your beauty prevented you from receiving any suitors. You had not chosen to be blessed by Venus herself, nor did you ever hope to become her contender in the title of the most beautiful entity in all of creation. Unlike you, she had found a God to sweep her off her feet, gifting her with the fruit of love himself – her son Cupid. Oh, how you wished he'd shoot his arrow and allow you some rest from this endless search for a husband.
~
As weeks passed by, your parents became more and more worried with your state. You were unconsolable, finding misery in every letter your sisters would send in regard to their new lives with their new families. One of your sisters was already awaiting an heir. Despite your endless happiness for your loving sister, your misery at your own situation prevented you from feeling genuine excitement for a new heir in your family. You wanted your own. You needed your own.
Your constant distress caused your parents to seek out a esteemed Oracle in your city, hoping that she would be able to give some insight about your predicament. She would be able to answer the question as though who and when you would find a suitor.
Visiting her was easy enough, feeling intense excitement at the prospect of an insight into who your beloved would be. Your parents seemed indifferent, but simply hoped to ease your endless concerns.
The Oracle took the form of an old woman, one who was known to assert people's future entirely correctly. Thus far, she was yet to be erroneous in her readings. Such magic was impressive to you, leaving you worried for any bad outcome she could possibly see in your future. If she were to find something unfortunate, there would likely be no way to remedy it. However, your parents assured you that the preventive knowledge would allow you to act accordingly and fix your destiny should you need to.
"The great Psyche," smiled the old woman sitting across from you, "I have heard lots about you."
Bowing your head in respect, you introduced yourself despite her knowing you by the popular name of Psyche, "I have heard of you too. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Oracle. I hope to find a favorable end with you."
"I hope for the same."
Taking your hands, the Oracle felt them, closing her eyes in concentration as she went through every crease and contour of your hands, furrowing her eyebrows every so often. Her emotions translated onto you somehow, making your heartbeat speed up and your own eyebrows furrow in worry.
Suddenly her eyes opened, a clear distress showing through them.
"Your destiny is muddled," she began, "I cannot see too well, but your future is grand and ... it will lead to misfortune to those around you."
Your mother stepped in at such words, inquiring for more information, "What do you mean by this? What is it that you saw?"
"Your child may wed a powerful being. One among the strongest to ever be seen. She shall marry a being stronger than a God, one capable of immeasurable destruction should he choose to engage in such acts."
"A God?", asked your father.
"It is uncertain as per what I see," she responded, "All I can see is his aura radiating stronger than the sun. He shall take her and make her his own, not allowing anything to stand in his way," she reaffirmed.
"I-", you began, unable to finish your sentence as your parents quickly stood up and dragged you onto your feet.
"We shall take our leave," your mother said frantically, "We thank you for your service."
No more questions were asked as your parents dragged you by your hand, leading you out of the cursed place.
The Oracle's words had never been wrong, which meant that your future was sealed. You were to wed something that was not a man. Was he a God? There was just no way of knowing. It could've been a demon or monster seeking the most beautiful woman in the land. It could've been a God seeking a mortal to keep in his chambers as he wed a Goddess. Whatever it may have been, you were terrified.
~
"You shall leave," were your mother's first words upon arriving back to the castle.
"W-what?"
"We cannot keep you here. If a being is to come and rip you away, we cannot allow it to destroy our kingdom. Your fate is sealed, but ours remains," said your mother, your father nodding in agreement beside her.
"Where am I to go?" you whispered in disbelief.
"We will take you to the mountains. Maybe the monster shall not find you there."
"Monster? How can you be so certain?"
"Gods mustn't marry mortals, you foolish child. A God would never have to drag you away, as you would go willingly. It must be an evil creature attempting to attain your beauty."
"But-"
"No 'but's, child. It has been decided," your father gave the final verdict, thus sealing your fate even further.
To have hoped for protection from your parents had been foolish. These were the same royalty who had given away their two eldest daughters to the highest bidders, not caring for proper marriages as long as they meant protection for their kingdom. You were equally worthless to them. Should you pose any danger to their kingdom and you would simply be thrown aside, just as now.
The following days proved as a goodbye as your parents prepared your departure. They assured themselves they shall never see you again, so they made arrangements with that idea in mind. Without a care for your wellbeing, they assured themselves this was the best course of action. Your fate was sealed, after all. There was nothing they could do to protect you any longer.
It was only a few days after your visit to the Oracle that your parents made the long and extraneous walk to the lone mountains neighboring the kingdom. Climbing the highest and most lonesome peak, they bid their goodbyes to you, with your mother letting out a few worthless tears as she looked at you one last time.
Your first few days on the mountain had been miserable. You only had enough food to realistically survive a few days, but your parents had reassured you that your husband would come for you soon, likely aware that you were there for his taking. The constant fear of the most odious taking you away made you feel terror you had never experienced. Jumping into the peaks below you crossed your mind a few times, but you knew you'd survive the fall. Your fate did not predict a tragic death, which meant that any fall would not result in demise. Your metaphorical demise would only come in the form of your husband.
All you could do now was wait for him to come, hoping against all hope that he would not be as monstrous as you dared imagine.
Jungkook was beyond annoyed at his current task.
Despite being a God, he did not hold the same almighty powers many other Gods did. His skill was the intertwining of souls, shooting his arrow any time he knew two people were meant to be tied for life.
In all honesty, he did not care for such a task. The thought of tying Psyche's fate to that of a monstrous being did not bother him in the slightest. He felt quite indifferent about it, not knowing nor caring who Psyche was. He doubted Psyche's beauty could possibly be as menacing as his mother had described, but he still felt some sort of intrigue about her appearance.
Fortunately, his curiosity was soon satiated.
After days of looking for Psyche, he finally encountered her, watching from afar as he spotted a lone woman standing on the cliff of a mountain, completely bare as her clothes laid ripped on the small surface of the mountain. It appeared that she had been there for days, likely having ripped off her own clothes in frustration.
Had you been left here for his taking? Destiny worked in mysterious ways, after all.
As of now, Cupid had only been able to see your backside, as you were facing opposite of him. Even from afar, Jungkook could not deny the beauty of your body. Every curve and contour of it had been sculpted to perfection, making the God salivate at the sight. But Jungkook had come here with a task. He needed to take care of his mother's request. There was no time to thirst after the heavenly body before him.
Reaching behind him, Jungkook grabbed onto his bow and arrow, bringing both to the front as he began to aim at you, prepared to shoot when he got the angle just right. After shooting you, he would aim his arrow at the first creature he encountered, let it be a deer or an actual monster. It did not matter much at the moment.
But as Jungkook had said, destiny worked in mysterious ways.
Jungkook had been entirely unprepared for the moment you turned around, facing him yet not seeing him from his hiding spot in the distance.
Your beauty took his breath away instantly, making him falter in his movements as his focus shifted from his arrow and onto you. Your body was the image of perfection itself, shaped perfectly for his hands to drag themselves across every inch of skin. Your curves were begging to be marked by his lips, being just the perfect size for any God to lose himself in them. And your face? Gods, it was the prettiest sight in all of Rome.
Jungkook understood now why his mother had felt threatened by your mere existence. He understood why you had so many admirers, yet no suitors brave enough to make you theirs.
Without realizing, Jungkook's hand had slipped during his daydreaming, making him misplace his hand and causing his arrow to grace him across the chest, creating a gash right by his accelerated heart.
Oh.
Oh.
Fuck.
You ...
Gods, you beautiful thing. You gorgeous, beautiful thing.
The effects of the arrow were quick in turning Jungkook into a mess of himself. His breathing accelerated, his eyes became hooded, his skin rose in goosebumps, his cock stood tall and proud. His entire body betrayed him as he rapidly fell in love with you.
His mission had failed, but he could not care for such things in this moment. Not when he felt such strong emotions of love towards you.
This was rare. His arrows caused people to fall in love, but never had they produced such a strong effect. Never had he seen a man become so immensely enamored so quickly after a shot of his arrow. Perhaps your beauty had bewitched him before his arrow struck? The details didn't really matter much to him. At least not as much as his sheer need to have you did.
But it could not be done so easily.
Gods were not meant to fall in love with humans. Should his mother ever find out and you would both meet your ruin. No, he needed to think this through. He needed to get to you, but not allow you to know of him. If you were ever to see him, you'd fall in love with him instantly.
He did not want to force such a situation onto you, so despite the sheer effort it took, Jungkook took his leave, opting to plan for an appropriate way to rescue you and make you his.
It took a few days for your misery to come to an end.
After endless hours of agony stranded and alone on the peak of that mountain as you awaited your inevitable demise, you finally came to find some peace.
It was a voice, an unknown one, calling to you. It had been during one of the many instances in which you had found yourself wailing at your misery, completely defeated at your situation.
Suddenly a voice called out to you, reassuring words in their tongue.
"Do not fear, Psyche, nor be sorrowful beyond measure... I have come to aid you, for it is impossible that Love should go unrewarded."
Despite the words, there was no heavenly body attached to them. They had simply come from the wind.
"Who are you?", you asked.
"I am Zephyrus, the West Wind. You may never see me, but I am here to rescue you."
"Rescue me? Where shall you take me?"
"I shall take you to my master's castle. He shall care for you there."
"Your master?", was this meant to be the monster who would wed you?
"Yes. His immeasurable love for you shall be proved as he cares for you."
"Is he ... Is he a monster?"
"On the contrary. He is a heavenly body; the most heavenly of them all," reassured the West Wind.
A heavenly body? Could it really be a God?
You needed no time to consider it. You decided to you must go and meet the man who would save you from your misery.
"Take me, Zephyrus. Please."
"With pleasure."
~
You were unsure how you had arrived here, but that was the last of your concerns upon seeing your surroundings.
Currently, you found yourself in the most beautiful of palaces. Everything was made of expensive marble and tailored just to your tastes. As you explored the gorgeous abode, Zephyrus explained your current situation to you.
"You shall be cared for here, by the most competent of servants," the West Wind began, "They will rid you of all the misery you suffered on that mountain. Every bit of suffering your family brought to you shall be undone within this palace.
"Oh, thank you, Zephyrus! You don't understand how grateful I am."
"You shall not thank me. This is all your beloved's doing."
"When shall I meet him?"
"You will meet him tonight, as you lay to sleep," he began, "However, you shall not see him."
That confused you.
"What do you mean?"
"He wishes not to be seen. He will come to you in your barest of forms to reveal his undying affections, but you shall respect his wishes of not being seen. He will show up in the dark as your back faces him. This is his one and only condition," revealed Zephyrus.
"Oh."
It was disheartening, to say the least. But you owed your eternal gratitude to your future husband, so if he requested not to be seen, you would obey such order.
"I understand. Anything for my savior."
~
The next few hours were spent in luxury you had yet to familiarize yourself with.
You were bathed and fed, healed from all trace of injury during your time stranded. You were treated as a Goddess, served by invisible, voiceless servants as the wind aided you in all your needs.
It proved quite lonely, but you were still content at the knowledge that your beloved would come to you tonight.
They dressed you up as beautiful as you could imagine. Your beauty shone through the care you were given, making you appear entirely irresistible to any man who should come your way.
Oh, you were beyond excited to see your future husband. Would he allow passion to take over him when he saw you?
You had not met him yet, but you were already in love. All things Zephyrus had told you about him only made you more excited.
He detailed his feelings for you, telling you the mountains he'd move just for a single glance at you. He told you of the creation of this palace, rushed to be made to your liking just so he could care for you away from all harm.
Oh, your husband just sounded so lovely. Yet you wanted to cause his ruin upon meeting him.
You laid in bed, your natural beauty shining through the care your invisible servants had given you. Your sleeping gown allowed any to see the perfect contour of your curves as you laid in bed awaiting your beloved's arrival, back facing the window as Zephyrus had instructed.
You were not to face towards the window, allowing the dark atmosphere of the room to hide your beloved's identity. However, according to Zephyrus, your beloved would be able to see you through his magic, allowing him to get his fill of your beauty.
It only took a few hours for a voice to emerge through the window.
"Oh, my beloved," sighed the voice, approaching.
"Husband?", you asked, still lying on your side, facing away from him.
"Yes, it's me. I have not wed you yet, but you are correct. You are my wife from now on, beautiful," his steps got closer, stopping at the edge of the bed opposite your own.
"Oh, husband, how long I've waited for you!", you wailed.
He took a shaky breath, climbing the bed as his hands laid softly on your hip. Your hip had been sticking out due to your sideways position, ready for him to grab at it however he desired.
"My beautiful Psyche ... You cannot understand how badly I want you ..." he breathed, hands hesitant as they caressed the curves presented to him, "I've had to hold back from ravaging you for days. Your touch is the only cure to this madness I feel."
Never in your life had you felt such an immediate fire within you. Oh, how badly you wanted to see him and express the same sentiment.
"You shall touch me however you wish, my dear husband. Please touch me ... I am yours," you pleaded.
"Yes? You are mine? Even if you shall never see me, you wish to be mine?"
You winced at such words, sad at the implications behind never facing your husband. But his voice and touch were enough to render you powerless against him, wanting him more than you thought possible.
You whimpered when his hands went to lift up your gown, revealing your nude bottom as he continued to caress at you.
"Yes! I am yours in every way. Please ... please take me. I need your touch more than anything," you pleaded.
With a groan, he positioned you so he could kneel behind you, placing you on all fours for him. It truly did not matter if you faced him or not, as the room was far too dark for you to ever make out his mere silhouette.
His hands were greedy as he felt you up, throwing off the useless gown so he could have his fill of your body. With endless groans and puffs of breath, he touched every inch, kissing his favorite parts as he explored your body.
"You beautiful thing ... No one shall ever have this body ever again. It is mine forever. Do you understand?"
You sighed in pleasure due to his mere touch, "Yes, husband. My body is for you only."
"I am going to officially wed you as I find my rightful place inside you. This will serve as our wedding night. Okay, gorgeous?"
You nodded wordlessly, pushing up against him to encourage his touch further.
It seemed as if he was already nude, as you felt his hardness behind you when he pushed up against you in retaliation.
Oh, it was so big and warm. He would surely be your ruin.
With a groan, he entered you, making your back arch deliciously at such stretch.
"Oh ... My angel ... My beautiful Psyche. You are everything a man could want, fuck. Feel so perfect around me," the God groaned upon entering you, hands digging into your hips as he began canting his hips against yours.
He caressed you like a man in love, whimpering any time you'd get just a little too tight for him. For the first time in your life, you felt like a true Goddess, experiencing worship from a God himself.
"It's so warm and perfect ...", he sighed, "Made for me, yeah? Just for me ... My Psyche, my ruin, my perfect ruin," he murmured as he pressed kisses against your back, a new confession of love behind each one.
Meanwhile, you were rendered wordless. Nothing made sense when you felt such otherworldly pleasure. Were mere mortals meant to experience such bliss? How could you ever outlive such an experience when your beloved was giving you everything and more than you ever hoped from a husband?
Your whines filled up the room, making your husband speed up out of sheer desire for more. He encouraged your sounds, dipping a hand between your legs to play with you with his skilled fingers, drawing cry after cry out of you as his hips refused to slow down.
"You are so beautiful, fuck ..." he groaned, "Men should worship the ground you walk on. I will worship you ... Every day for the rest of our lives I will worship this beautiful body."
Nothing but love flowed between you. Your new husband's obsession with you was more than clear. The God worshiped your body with low cries of your name, hips becoming less and less coordinated by the minute. His godly stamina was no match for the feelings flowing through his body, rendering him weaker than a human man at the sight of his beloved losing herself under his touch.
Your high triggered his own, making him slump against your back as his hips attempted to hump against you throughout the entirety of his orgasm. He whimpered pathetically at the tightening of your walls, crying expletives far too explicit for a God to recite.
You did not fare any better. From the moment your husband laid his hands on you, you became a shell of your former self, your body now a vessel dedicated to pleasure. You had yet to even ask his name, too immersed in the love between you to even remember.
"My beautiful girl," he whispered as he recovered his breath, kissing along the length your back, "I will protect you for the rest of eternity," his lips went down your back, reaching your ass, "going to take care of you in any and every way," his lips eventually reached your cunt, still swollen and leaking out his own essence. He remained quiet for a few moments, likely hypnotized by the sight.
"Oh ...," he groaned upon a tentative lick against your sensitive cunt, "Need you again ... Need this cunt again," he cried, losing himself between your folds.
Losing his train of thought entirely, he held you up on your hands and knees, feasting on your cunt shamelessly. He kissed and licked at you, groaning any time your ass would push back against him, silently begging for more.
"F-feels so good ... Need y-you. Please ...", you whimpered, begging for nothing in particular. Such pleasure had you lacking any critical thought. You were likely the most mindless creature in all of the land as your husband took away all your ability to reason.
"Gonna get you there, gorgeous. Gonna make you cum and make you mine over and over again," he growled against your cunt.
With just a few more moments, you came undone once more, this time falling against the bed in sheer exhaustion. You wished to turn around and seek solace in your husband, but you knew better and opted to allow him to initiate the next contact.
Once more, he spent a few moments worshiping your limp body, kissing and sucking at every corner he enjoyed. Every so often he would mutter low praises to your person, claiming worship towards you. Unfortunately, this ended far too soon, quickly leaving you cold and alone on the bed as be suddenly got up.
"I apologize if that was too much," he chuckled, now from a small distance. You wanted to turn to confirm, but you did not dare disobey his prior order, "I, uh, I must take my leave now, my love."
That was when you truly wished to break his rule and turn to him, pleading at him to stay with you through the night. One night and you were already infatuated with him.
"You're leaving?"
The disappointment must've been clear in your voice, as he instructed you to close your eyes before he turned you around to face him, caressing your cheeks in a loving manner before landing a soft peck on your lips.
"I cannot stay the night with you, beautiful. If you wake up and find out my identity ... I don't know how I shall protect you from that."
"But-"
"It's okay, angel. I will be back night after night, giving you all the love a God can muster. Now I bid you goodnight, my love. I love you," he kissed the back of your palm, quickly disappearing from your vicinity before you could say goodbye.
When you opened your eyes he was gone, window still open and marking his sudden exit. As deflated as you felt at his departure, you also felt immense excitement for the next morning in which you'd see him, promising yourself to be prepared for him every single night to deliver your love to him.
After weeks of becoming your husband's wife, you continued to live a life of pure bliss every night as he made love to you. It was still incomprehensible to you how he would deliver his sentiments in such a carnal way, but you were yet to have any complaints. The two of you would create the embodiment of love together every night, and you looked forward to it day after day.
But it was only the nighttime that brought you such happiness. You'd spend your days waiting for your husband to arrive, hoping for the moment in which he'd be with you and love you. He'd make conversation with you every night after making love to you, making you feel less lonely in those moments. However, you'd remain completely alone the rest of your days.
It wasn't after many pleas that your husband finally agreed to allow you some company in your new palace. Being accessible only through the flowing of Zephyrus' wind, you were completely alone at all times. It had taken vast begging from your part, but your husband eventually agreed to command Zephyrus to fly your sisters out to you, somehow managing to get into contact with them.
The last time you had seen them had been before finding out about your wretched fate through that Oracle. They remained unaware that you had been left stranded at the mountain, likely entering a panic when the news were delivered to them.
Before allowing your sisters access to his palace, your husband had warned you to stray away from their persuasion. Confused, you asked him to elaborate. He then informed you of the way in which they'd likely envy your newfound fortune and somehow wish to cause a rift between you and your husband. As one last warning, he told you to not listen to them should they tell you to unmask his identity. He loved you far too much to be ripped away from you in such a way, he had said.
You did not believe your sisters capable of attempting to sabotage the immense love you had found in the arms of your husband, but you had unfortunately been wrong.
Upon their arrival, they had showed little concern for your sudden disappearance, simply making quips about how much less their husbands provided for them, claiming they deserved more than yourself. They, of course, did not say such things to your face but rather to each other. But the winds of Zephyrus informed you of it all upon their departure. Even during their stay, they demanded you unmask your husband, claiming he must be a hideous creature if he was so insistent in hiding himself from his beloved wife.
You, unfortunately, fell for their trap. The seed of doubt had been instilled within you, making your curiosity for your husband grow more rapidly than ever. As soon as they left, you began pondering on ways to see your husband in a way that would not reveal your betrayal.
The outcome did not matter in the end. Regardless of your husband's appearance, you would fall for him time and time again just from his mere presence. Should he be the most wretched of monsters and you would still love him. His love and tenderness for you had rendered you a woman in love, and nothing would take that away.
But you needed to know. You needed to see him. You had gone far too long without seeing your soul's other half.
~
It occurred just a few nights later. The fated night in which you would finally see your husband.
By an act of the Gods above, your husband had fallen asleep right after a night of rigorous love making, holding you in his arms with the most love a man could hold for his woman.
In the sheer darkness, you managed to make your way out of your husband's hold, sneaking your way to the other side of the room with difficulty due to the complete lack of illumination in the room. After some struggle in the dark, you found a lamp, which you managed to light up with some oil.
Due to the small size of the lamp, you had to come close to your husband in order to properly see him. With hesitation, you walked over to him, holding the lamp right above his sleeping form to get the perfect view of him.
He was ...
He was the embodiment of love itself.
Before you laid Cupid, the most beautiful of all Gods.
Jungkook, as some knew him, slept under the light of your lamp, beautiful wings nowhere to be seen as he retracted them in his sleep.
You became instantly hypnotized by the sight of your beautiful husband. Your heart sped up and your eyes became heavy. His nude form was nothing short of art, and his gorgeous features were some that could never be replicated by neither man nor God.
If you hadn't already been insanely head over heels over your husband, you would've fallen for Jungkook upon a single sight. It had been the most beautiful God who had been making love to you night after night, praying to you as if you had been the deity.
Unconsciously, you grew too distracted by the sight of your beloved, not realizing you had tilted your lamp enough for some of the scorching oil to slip and trickle onto Jungkook's chest, immediately rendering him awake.
With shock in his eyes, he got up in a frantic hurry, clearly not having realized he had fallen asleep next time you. His hands went straight to soothing the burnt skin right by his chest. It didn't take long for betrayal to appear in his eyes, realizing that you had deliberately sought out a way in which to see him while he was fully unaware of your intentions.
"Psyche ...", he muttered, eyebrows furrowed as he avoided your eyes in disdain. You caught sight of tears growing in his eyes, causing pain to gnaw at your chest.
"Jungkook, I-"
He chuckled bitterly at the situation, "I warned you against this time and time again, but you became poisoned by the words of mere mortals who do not hold the love for you I so highly esteem," he took a breath, "I foolishly wounded myself with my own arrow and took the role of your lover. I feared that you'd want to cut off the head that carries these eyes that love you, so I remained a mystery to you. Yet your own love for me did not respect me enough to halt this betrayal. I- I shall take my leave. Goodbye, Y/N," he said before retracting his wings and making his way out through the window once more, hands rubbing at the growing wound on his chest due to the oil that had burnt him.
You stood there wordless, tears in your eyes as you watched your husband fly away.
Your cursed endlessly throughout the rest of your sleepless night, hoping that maybe he would come back tomorrow so you could make amends.
Tomorrow never came, and neither did the next day. From your perspective, time stood still as Jungkook continued not to show up day after day for a week. On the seventh day, your heart grew too sore to continue waiting for him without taking action.
Although you blamed your own greed for him for your betrayal to him, you also blamed the instigators – your sisters.
But they were your sisters no more. They were simply obstacles to overcome in the journey to gain Jungkook's trust back. And nothing would stop you.
A new sense of vengeance took over you astonishingly fast. Without a second thought, you managed to contact each of your sisters individually, making claims of your husband, Cupid himself, becoming unforgiving of your betrayal and demanding your departure, announcing that he would wed your sister instead. Each of your greedy sisters fell for the lie and one by one fell to their death as they attempted to make their way to Cupid's castle.
As for you, you managed to convince the West Wind to fly you off the mountains so you could begin your journey to your beloved. Hurt and disheartened, you spent weeks in search of him, not mindful at all of how battered you became with the passing of time. Any pain would be worth Jungkook's forgiveness.
However, your state of mind and exhaustion led you to multiple attempts at ending your own life, attempting to drown yourself or jump off cliffs, always surviving almost unscathed by some cruel act of the Gods. Without Jungkook's forgiveness life was simply not worth living.
In the meantime, Jungkook found himself in his mother's chambers, healing from the wound you had caused as his mother let out her fury at the discovery of her son's new lover.
"So you decided to wed your mother's nemesis? You decided that you shall bring this wench upon me and tie her to me for eternity?", she seethed as Jungkook disregarded her, too exhausted to respond.
"I shall find that hideous wench and rid the world of her myself," she decided, calling over a few servants to direct them to deliver you to them, "And you," she turned to Cupid once more, "You useless child. I shall birth another one just to spite you for your disrespect."
Those were her last words as she exit the chambers, leaving Jungkook to his rest once more. He wanted to worry for you, but his wound of the heart needed more healing before he could allow himself to go find you for himself. Within him, he thought of you fondly, hoping you'd survive his mother's wrath.
~
It did not take long for Venus to find you and bring you to your knees before her, expressing every foul thought she had of you with no shame.
"You believe to be worthy of Cupid, the prettiest God to lay foot on this world? Fine. Should you complete my tasks and I shall stay out of your way. Should you fail, I will do with you as I please."
Having spent weeks alone in the wilderness, injured in every way imaginable, you could not see a better outcome to such a situation. You agreed without thinking twice, knowing that no fate was worse than your current one.
You were assigned impossible tasks, one by one, as Venus sat back and awaited for your inevitable demise.
Much to her surprise, the divine forces had helped you in the completion of each one.
The first task had been to sort an immense amount of grains before morning. The grains amounted to an innumerable quantity, which proved the task to be impossible. Upon your defeat, you fell asleep halfway through the task, somehow waking up to find ants assisting you in its completion. By the time Venus arrived, she had a frown on her face at the sight of the achievement.
Her anger did not last, as she assigned you the next impossible task with ease.
Upon being ordered to gather golden fleece from magic sheep, you knew that this time you'd truly meet your demise. The sheep were extremely aggressive and known to kill a man in mere seconds. However, by another act of the Gods above, the reeds by the riverbank suddenly advised you to await til morning in order to freely gather the fleece that the sheep had shed.
The completion of this task also brought anger to Venus' demeanor, causing her to provide you with yet another impossible task. The completion of the final task finally led to the hardest of them all; one that would finally render you no longer.
Your final task had been to travel to the underworld and bring Venus a box of beauty. There were far too many intricate steps to be followed, but your love for Jungkook was enough to lead your journey.
Finally, upon your arrival, you held the box of beauty in your hands, ready to deliver it to Venus and finally receive her blessing in wedding her son. But once more, your curiosity grew too big.
Before arriving to the mighty Goddess, your hands took a mind of their own, forcing you to take a peak at the box. If you were to officially wed your beloved Cupid, a little extra beauty would surely be helpful.
Your naïveté finally led you to your final moments, causing you to enter eternal sleep upon a small peek of the box's contents. Still slightly conscious, you laid in your lonesome, unable to move nor think.
In your final moments, all you could think of was your beautiful Cupid and how badly you had hoped to live for him. To live to love him once more.
It took Jungkook a few days after his mother's final warning to him to fully recover from his injury.
Being aware of his mother's anger towards you, his immediate thought upon gaining his energy back was to seek you out and rescue you from whatever threat his mother must've been holding over you. He was unsure if she had managed to find you, but he could not take the risk of waiting to find out, knowing your life was likely in danger.
It took interrogating a few servants in order to track you down, now making it his mission to save you from his mother's disdain.
When he had been informed of the endless grueling tasks you had taken on just for a chance to see him again, Jungkook's heart melted. His love for you had never gone away, but his hurt had blinded him as his wound debilitated him. Now fully recovered, he was able to realize that his endless adoration for you was mutual. Your stubborn desire to see him had not been born out of malice, but out of love for him. He understood now. Had he been denied of your beauty for a single day, he would've lost all sense of sanity.
You were currently on your final task, Jungkook had been informed. Worried about your safety, he set out to take the same journey, traveling to retrieve the box himself in case you had somehow not made it on your own. He grew impressed when he reached the end of the journey and found that you had already retrieved it and were currently on your way back.
Jungkook continued to travel in search of you, growing more worried by the second as he did not find you. The moment he finally encountered you, his wings gave out in him, causing him to fall due to the sudden worry the sight caused him.
You were lying on the ground, vulnerable and alone as you held the box against your chest. You must've opened it, he assumed, knowing your curiosity could easily get the best of you.
Running to you, he held you to his arms, throwing the box aside as he caressed your limp body in his arms.
"Oh, Psyche ... My beautiful, curious girl," he tsk'd, "Your curiosity became your undoing once more," he scolded lightheartedly, tears in his eyes at being able to hold you again.
Leaning down, he pressed a lone kiss to your lips, whispering against them as he did so, "Come back to me, my love. Let me make you mine again."
Within seconds your body regained its consciousness, leaving you disoriented for a few moments. Upon realizing Jungkook was holding you, a look of awe in his eyes, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as humanly possible to you as you cried into his chest.
"Oh, my beautiful girl," he wrapped himself around you, retracting his wings so they'd shield you both from the outside world, "Don't cry for me, my love. I'm here. I adore you more than I can possibly describe."
You wailed apologies into his chest, weaved with many confessions of your love for him. He took them all in with a smile on his face, refusing to let go of you as he memorized the shape of your body against his own.
"Love you so much, my sweet ruin. No one can ever harm you again," he assured, leaving endless kissed against your hair. He finally pulled away, wiping your tears with his thumbs as he looked into your eyes, "Let me take you home, my love."
~
"My beautiful girl ... How I missed you, fuck," groaned the pretty angel as he laid kisses down your neck.
He pushed you up against the wall the moment he flew you back to his recluse palace, rendering you speechless with just a few kisses. Jungkook wasted no time in showing you his love through words and touches, finally able to face you while he loved on you.
Sighing as he kissed down your neck, you molded yourself to his liking, willing to let him do whatever he wanted to you. You were far too enamored by the God, feeling nothing but inhuman addiction to his touch.
"I adore you more than you could ever understand," he breathed out as his hand ripped apart your worn out gown, wanting to finally see you bare face to face. With a shuddering breath, he got his fill of your body, caressing at every inch his eyes went over, feeling the carnal need to memorize every curve.
Turning you around, he pressed you up to his front, grinding against you as he felt you up, groaning breathily into your ear.
"I have wanted your body since I first laid eyes on you," he whispered, hips slow and sensual in their grinding, "I can finally have you however I want. Oh, my angel, I'm going to render you useless by the time I'm done with you."
Your Cupid then grabbed you and led you to the bed, where you positioned yourself on your hands as knees as you usually did. Shaking his head, Jungkook stops you before you settle on the bed, instructing you to turn around and lay face up for him.
"No, beautiful. Turn to me. Want to see you. Want to make love to you while you look at me with those pretty eyes," Jungkook moaned against your lips.
There was not much warning before Jungkook slipped inside you. But it did not matter. Your body welcomed him with no struggle, having become far too thirsty for his touch in the weeks of your separation.
Out of all the times you'd made love, this was by far the most intimate. Jungkook love and caressed you with an inhuman infatuation in his eye, groaning any time you'd so much as look into his eyes as he pounded into you.
"Oh, my Psyche ... Love you so much ... Always loved you. Always needed y-you, oh fuck ..." his eyes closed in pleasure, pressing his face into your neck to breathe you in. His hips were incorrigible, with Jungkook being far too drunk with lust to have any finesse in his movements.
"My Jungkook ... My Cupid ... You pretty angel, I missed you so much, so- oh, so much!", you cried, your eyes becoming clouded with tears all while your nails dug into his back. You could feel the scars from which his wings would retract, caressing them softly.
"Oh ... Oh, angel, d-don't do that- My wings are too sensitive, my Psyche, d-don't ..."
This only encouraged you to do it more, caressing his erogenous zone softly and sensually, causing him to cry against your ear, whimpering in an ungodly way that had your eyes rolling back at just the sound.
Your pretty angel babbled against you, letting out nonsensical rambles about how much he loved you and how he could never let you go again. How he would breed you and give you an heir and bring you both to the land of the Gods with him.
Practically sobbing against each other, still grinding like mindless animals, the two of you found your highs together, continuing to stimulate each other throughout the entirety of your orgasms. Your mutual whimpers filled up the room, making the experience all the more erotic.
Finally, you two laid against each other, breathing heavily as you refused to let go of one another.
You were still beat and battered from your weeks in search of your Cupid, but that was the last thing on your mind. All you cared about was holding onto Jungkook and never letting go.
Holding you even closer against him, Jungkook wrapped himself around you, pulling out with a groan as he spooned you in his arms, breathing in your hair and humming against you. He reassured you about any worry you may have had in regards to your future together, assuring you that your injury to him had fully head and that he could never hold any type of negative feeling towards you for long.
You no longer would have to worry about his mother's schemes, Jungkook assured, as he would go to Zeus himself to grant you immunity amongst all Gods. He'd convert you into a Goddess yourself, he promised, so that he could give you a heavenly heir and grow old with you until eternity. Nothing in this world could ever separate Cupid from his beloved Psyche. Jungkook would never let anything keep him away from his one and only beloved.
"I adore you, my Psyche, my beautiful ruin. I will always protect you," he sighed one last time, eyes growing heavy as you turned around in his arms and cuddled against his warm chest.
"I love you my Cupid," you kissed at the small burn mark the oil of your lamp had left, humming against his chest.
You fell asleep calmly in each other's arms, knowing you'd wake up to an eternity of love between one another.
a/n: im sorry if the pacing seems all over the place but i promise this is how the original story goes 😭
to read short 3.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on kofi or patreon!
content: afab reader, continuation and conclusion of the cupid and psyche lore/story (this is kinda like a pt. 2 honestly oops), impregnation, mentions of oral, jungkook is obsessed with reader its insane, pregnancy sex implied (but not really bc its after one day of the insemination lol), jungkook is a god so yk endless sex, smut, penetrative sex (like three times lol), etc.
wc: 639 (teaser); 3313 (full drabble)
sneak peak:
"Hmm, my beautiful Psyche," hummed Jungkook against you, stretching his body before cuddling further into you, absolute bliss in his voice.
After a night of extraneous love-making, Jungkook finally awoke in your arms, a smile instantly making its way onto his face at the remembrance of the previous night.
After having brought you back to the palace he built for you, he made love to you, finally able to look into your eyes as you both lost yourselves to the pleasure found in each other's touch. The thought of your gorgeous whines for him still made him shudder, having to will his boner away at the memory.
Then he thought about everything else that had happened since your separation.
He recalled all the trials you had gone through this past week, all to gain access to his heart, a heart that had belonged to you from the moment he laid eyes on you. It was hard not to feel immense guilt at knowing how badly you had struggled from the moment he left you alone in that palace, too hurt and stubborn to realize that your love for him would have you risking your life just for one more chance. In hindsight, he should've understood, specially considering that his own heart burned for you harshly enough for him to want to give up his Godly powers for you if he so had to.
Then he remembered the worst part of it all.
His mother was still seething with vengeance for you, not having found satisfaction in your death while completing her useless tasks. Jungkook knew that she never meant to even consider giving her blessing for the two of you to be together. It had all been a ruse to make you find your demise under the false pretense that you would somehow earn Jungkook's forgiveness by the end of it all.
What you didn't know was that Jungkook didn't need to forgive you. His love for you overpowered every other fleeting thought in his brain. One look from your remorseful eyes and he would be on his knees, begging you for forgiveness.
He pondered as he watched you sleep in his arms, blissful yet still wounded by your weeks of pain.
How shall he make up for all the suffering you endured while he recovered from his wound? How could he make amends for making you think for even one second that he'd dare try and live without you by his side?
His experience as a carnal lover had not prepared him for such feelings. There had been no training or preparation for him to understand the way you made his heart rush, the way you altered every aspect of his being.
All he could think about was how you were his beautiful Psyche and how ... how badly he wanted to put an heir in you.
The thought had seemed been sudden, but he had actually thought of it from the moment he found you waiting for him in bed that first night. You, full for him, manifesting the greatest form of love as you grew his seed inside you.
An heir would be the solution to all problems.
An heir would bring you an instant pass to the land of the Gods, forcing Zeus to turn you into a Goddess in order for you to birth a Godly child. It would also make his mother accept the gift he'd bring upon her, unable to deny a child created by the God of love himself. Lastly, this heir would also be his own gift to you – a showcase of his endless love for you and the future he was to create with you.
But most of all, it would quench the thirst Jungkook was currently feeling at the mere thought of marking you as his as humanly possible.
...
find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!
if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3
slipping through my fingers (myg) {series masterlist}
pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!!, fluff, smut summary: you've always thought you had it way too easy. all of a sudden, your life seems to be taking a few unexpected turns. it's time your luck ran out.
[prologue]
1. will i ever see you again?
2. and the hits just keep coming 1.0.
3. the calm before the storm.
4. and the hits just keep coming 2.0.
5. the storm.
6. a one time thing.
7. tba.
say you can't sleep, m | myg
... baby, I know that's that me – espresso by sabrina carpenter
pairing(s): yoongi x reader
summary: Snapshots of a love story centered around coffee and soft skin, heh, isn't that just so suga sweet? Mmmm, I guess so.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; fluff they're cute as fuck; smut (fem reader, fingering + f-receiving oral at work, gasp, doggy, m-receiving oral in a bedroom, whew, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS – Yoongi's POV except final scene in your POV
--
“You don’t like coffee.”
She handed him the iced Americano with an enigmatic expression.
“But I like you.”
Then she walked away.
-
“Oh? I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He looked up from his lonesome table, fully intending to tell the person to fuck off. It was too late and too dark and too restless for him to even think about socializing. He lifted his head and found himself speechless for several seconds. An enigmatic expression paired with a tight black dress. He took another sip of his whiskey to avoid making the pause awkward.
He caught a whiff of a heavy, rich, coffee-scented perfume.
Then he shrugged.
“Can’t sleep.”
She smiled.
-
“You know her?”
She sat a few tables away, wrapped in a tight black dress. A soft white knitted cardigan draped over her shoulders. Demure with a hint of sex. He recognized those black high heels with gunmetal buckles. They had been tossed carelessly by his door last night. He watched her hands dance in the air with her conversation. The man sitting in front of her seemed mildly interested. Black t-shirt, silver bracelets, faded blue jeans. She rolled her eyes and her lunch companion looked similarly annoyed, shaking his head of straight, long black hair. The waiter went by their table, carrying the handheld kiosk.
She tapped her credit card, already prepared.
The young man whipped his hands out in a what-the-fuck motion.
She shrugged.
Her black velvet purse was tucked in her lap, right above her plush thighs that had been wrapped around his neck last night.
“Better than you do,” he replied, and didn’t elaborate.
-
“I didn’t know you knew him.”
She gave him a confused look.
“Why wouldn’t I know my younger brother?”
Oh.
She handed him the iced Americano with a sly smile.
“But I’ll let him know that you were jealous.”
Fuck.
-
“You don’t have to.”
She took his hand and wrapped it around the cold drink, leaving him with a handful of condensation and consideration.
“I want to.”
She was about to let go but his other hand shot up, enclosing the back of hers. He watched her almost hide the way her breath caught. Her eyes shifted. Those parted lips were picture perfect softness that inspired wet dreams. Her skin was even more perfect up close and in the light. A tick of her eyebrow. He didn’t back down.
“Meet me in front of the café at seven tonight.”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Okay.”
-
Date after date, she wore the same perfume and the same enigmatic smile. Night after night, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck he was doing. Day after day, he looked forward to her occasional treat in the form of ice coffee. He admired her audacity to let everyone talk. Both of them deflected the topic when anyone asked. No sense in entertaining unsolicited opinions.
In bed, he closed his eyes and breathed in, remembering the way her soft skin smelled against him.
He was addicted to her perfume.
Then again, he already had a coffee problem so maybe it was all in his head.
-
From across the room, she smiled at him.
He acknowledged her with a nod, sticking his hands in his pockets so they wouldn’t shake.
The eye contact lingered for a moment linger before she turned and walked out the door.
After about ten minutes, he made up some excuse and left too.
-
He kissed the inside of her thigh and looked up.
Her knuckle was against her teeth, biting down lightly, calmly giving him an expression of apprehension and boldness. He cocked his head. She shrugged with one shoulder. He bunched her skirt around her waist.
And stared into her eyes as he licked upwards.
Hot, heavy, and with possessiveness.
She melted against the wall. Lashes fluttering, shivering under him, no sound. Probably because of where they were. The mischief in her eyes glimmered. Her perfect lips formed words both silent and damning.
Keep going.
To be perfectly clear he did not give a fuck about rules, but also he liked his job and didn’t want to get himself fired. Yet. He skimmed his lips over her soft skin and figured that at least it would be a cool story, letting his fingers sink into her shapely hips, toying with the hem of her panties with his thumbs. Her free hand wandered down to hold up her skirt. Helpful. He closed his eyes. Tongue, lips, teeth travelling up in a zig-zag from thigh to thigh. Her coffee-scented perfume faded as the scent of sweet sex prevailed, his index finger skimming over the heat, following the forbidden line.
Absolute silence.
But beneath his lips, her body was singing. Vibrating with pleasure. Pressing her shoulder blades against the wall, rolling her hips towards him. He opened his eyes to see hers under lidded lashes. Slid his finger under, down, the back of his nail drenched, and he pulled it aside, watching her sensual mouth form his name.
He closed his lips around the top and sank two fingers into her pussy.
Fuck, she tasted so good.
The shudder took over him before he could stop it. Delightful shivers as he watched her watch him when he cupped his tongue around her clit. Circling it gently. Coaxing. Slow and steady, admiring the way her slick walls closed in around his fingers. Thrusting deeper. He spread his knees more, wincing as he felt his hardening erection strain against even his loose jeans. She kept her hips still, melting into his momentum, looking hot as hell fully dressed with his mouth as her new accessory. He spied the curl of her pink tongue against the side of her lips. His fingers involuntarily twitched, digging his blunt nails into her thigh. Tongue against nerves. The steady climb to the heavenly high. Quiet breathing becoming labored, his cock aching at the image and taste of sweet evidence.
Her arousal dripping down his throat.
She came to his tongue, pressing the crown of her head against the wall and silently gasping to the ceiling.
No one found out.
At least, Human Resources didn’t let him know they did.
-
He spent a little more time checking out his outfit before leaving his apartment. Bomber jacket, loose shirt, slightly less torn jeans, and his nicest bag, a black leather messenger. Debated on a beanie. Decided against it and took a moment to tie his hair back into a low ponytail. The front pieces were too short to be tied back. He adjusted them in the mirror and out the door he went. Subway and then a short walk. He visited the usual spot, a café by the office, and she was already in line. The cashier seemed to have taken a liking to her, trying to keep her for a few lines of conversation. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care, courteously stepping out of line after she paid and waiting to the side for her order.
He contemplated walking up to her.
This was the first time he had been this early. He was not and never would be a morning person. A lot of the time he had to settle for the shitty coffee from the machine in the break room. He preferred an expert’s hand though, so he did his best to drag himself out of bed to get in line. Big chains had apps to order-and-go, but this was a mom-and-pop store that didn’t have the money for such technology. Honestly, now he was glad about that. A rare occurrence of the universe being on his side.
His gaze must have remained for too long because she looked up from her phone and her head turned, spotting him immediately.
He let his eyes linger when hers did.
A glimmer in her eye. Must be the morning sun. She raised her hand and beckoned him to her.
He stepped out of line and walked up to her.
“I can buy my own coffee, you know.”
The café smelled like stale morning coffee and yet somehow she smelled even better.
“Just let me do this one thing for you, hm?” she smiled.
He didn’t trust himself to respond. Instead, he stood next to her and stuck his hands in his pockets. He noticed several people looking her way but they all quickly reoriented their wandering eyes. It had to have something to do with the way her long black skirt clung to her hips or her courage of wearing a maroon faux fur cropped jacket out in public. Or maybe it was the way her tight black turtleneck clung to her chest.
“You can go on ahead. I’ll drop off the drink for you.”
He half-considered it. Maybe even take a moment to make it obvious for everyone.
Still, he didn’t want to leave.
“I’m still waking up,” he offered as his reply.
They weren’t looking at each other but he was highly aware of her presence next to him. He didn’t sense any discomfort. The café was getting packed. She scooted closer to him as a couple more people moved into the waiting section.
The barista called out her name.
She glided up to the counter. He watched her go, pit-a-pat beating in his chest. Admired every line, the way her hips swayed, the way stray rays of the sunrise made her hair glow. Watched her turn around in slow-motion mental cinema, raising her head, their eyes connecting, the corner of her lips rising when she saw him waiting for her.
She held out the iced Americano.
“Careful, someone might think we’re an item.”
He reached out and let his fingers graze her wrist.
“I think someone already does.”
He was talking about himself but he didn’t miss the pleasure in her eyes when the exchange happened.
-
She was a menace every time.
“I’m going to make sure you’ll need caffeine tomorrow,” she mused out loud.
He raised an eyebrow.
“And how are you going to do that?”
He somewhat regretted asking that.
-
The room was pitch black.
“You still up?”
The presence beside him shifted, facing him, but he wouldn’t be able to see even if he opened his eyes. He didn’t need to though. He knew the way the blanket draped over her arm, exposing the corner of her shoulder, her hair cascading over her neck covered in his invisible kisses and light bites. Her arm over her breasts as she adjusted her hand just under the pillow. The blanket dipped a bit further down the bed, then rose up sharply at her hips.
“Sorry if I seem restless,” she whispered. “I have insomnia sometimes.”
He had offered before, but she hadn’t accepted until tonight. He wasn’t sure what had made her change her mind.
“Me too,” he confessed. “I take a long time to fall asleep.”
Her voice was feathery and soft. Not pitched to act younger or be more appealing. True to who she was and where she was in her life. Her coffee-scented perfume reflected that as well. Dark and smokey and acidic. Full-bodied in every sense of the word. He heard amusement in her soothing voice as she spoke.
“That’s a very polite way of admitting that you’re nervous of the pretty girl in your bed being a closeted psychopath and smothering you in your sleep before taking all of your valuables and skipping town.”
He smiled.
“Don’t worry, I know all pretty girls are psychopaths.”
She laughed. “Won’t fall for my tricks then, hm?”
“I might if you actually tried some of yours on me.”
There was a pause in her breathing. A single flutter of butterfly wings, so slight he almost thought he imagined it.
“You think so?”
He kept telling himself he wouldn’t, but deep down he knew he would.
“Yeah,” he murmured, noncommittal.
There was a pungent silence.
Then he felt her warmth closer. Closer. Warm exhale tickling his shoulder. Her hand settled on his arm. A whirlwind of thoughts. He had always thought, oh, it would be annoying. It would be heedlessly complicated. It would die out quick. And, ultimately, it would be fleeting and unfulfilling.
Like a shooting star during a meteor shower.
“You’re something else, Min Yoongi.”
Meaningless was it was, he found himself making a wish as the weight of sleep swept him away.
-
Of course, he was scared.
Of course, he wasn’t going to acknowledge it or show it. People were fickle, complicated creatures that spent lifetimes trying to explain themselves to no avail. He was one of them. He had long ago accepted that he was part of the problem. Likewise, he accepted that he would never understand. He wasn’t about to encroach on the millennia of human philosophy and twist his brain trying to make sense of it all.
“I should leave.”
Best he could do was write some songs about it.
“Sit,” he commanded in his most inviting tone.
Better not to think about it too much.
He looked away from the stove for a moment to see the unsure shift of her eyes and the hesitation of her parted lips. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” She lifted her gaze.
He held it, but only for a second.
Any longer would have been too telling.
He turned back to the pan and replied with, “You cannot possibly think I’m that rude to kick you out before breakfast. Sit.”
Thinking about it too much would ruin it, anyway. It would make it less true. Convoluted. Muddled by past experiences and endless doubts. He refused to let that happen. He lifted the frying pan, tipping the fried egg onto the freshly made white rice. Set the pan down. Turned around with the bowl in hand, setting it on the counter in front of the barstool next to a small plate of his mother’s kimchi. He saw her hesitate once more. Maybe it was his imagination, or was that a flush of pink at the tops of her cheeks? He pulled out a drawer and added a pair of chopsticks by the bowl. Didn’t take his eyes off her movements.
She reached out and pulled out the barstool, sliding onto the brown leather.
Bowed her head to hide her smile.
“Thanks for the food.”
Yoongi silently let out the breath he had been holding.
-
Just before she walked out his door, she leaned in and kissed him.
She drew back.
“See you.”
He stepped forward and pulled her into a longer kiss.
“See you,” he breathed, missing her already.
-
He couldn’t look at he when she smiled.
Even as the corner of his mouth lifted and his teeth sank into the side of his lower lip.
Dark, smokey, acidic.
Her perfume was so familiar now. It settled into his palette, embellishing the dreamlike image. His hands rested on her waist, fingertips drumming against soft skin. Her fingers danced up his sternum and her lips hovered by his. Breath to breath. Her other palm on his chest. Hips to hips. The moment lingered. Almost to the point of discomfort, and then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
He wondered if he tasted like coffee.
The kiss melted into him. Warmth rushed all over his body. He should be used to it and yet he fell back under her spell. Under her kisses over his face and neck, under her insistent touch. He dug his nails into her back. She matched him, but harder, rougher, her tongue slipping into his moaning mouth as she scratched him up. Perhaps it was a perverted satisfaction but he rather enjoyed knowing that his pale skin would be marred in pink lines of passion. He didn’t want to be precious about it.
She straddled him and pressed her panties into his erection.
He griped her waist and kissed her harder.
-
He enjoyed it when she slipped her arm in his as they walked side by side. He enjoyed watching passerby glance at them with envy, especially when her head leaned against his shoulder. He enjoyed it when she tugged him to her and caught his lips possessively. He didn’t know when he stopped hiding the smile he had when around her. He didn’t know when he stopped wanting to be alone in his free time and instead wanted to fill it with her coffee-scented perfume. He used to work late all the time because there was nothing better to do, but lately there was a better reason to ditch his responsibilities.
It was careless but such was life.
Heh.
He loved to watch her face, and yet there was something about watching her back arch and her fingers curl into the sheets. Something about his hands gripping her hips and driving himself deeper. Something about the image of her ass and thighs bouncing with each forceful smack of body-to-body contact. Just something about it. Tight, wet, hot, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, dragging his nails down her spine, feeling her match his pace. He enjoyed fucking as much as the next guy. This was simply different.
Something about her, maybe.
She threw her head back, her visceral sounds music to his ears, pleasure incarnate, and he could feel each wave threaten to drag him under, into the permanent honeymoon haze. He let it take him, gasping, surrendering, wanting it again already. She moaned with him, clutching his pillows into a jumbled mess.
Fuck, so good.
One shared look.
To be honest, he was proud of the number of used condoms that piled up.
-
“A candle?”
She lifted the heavy glass lid and inhaled. Her eyes widened, sparkling with recognition and delight.
He stated the obvious. “It’s coffee-scented.”
“I love the scent of coffee,” she murmured. He already knew that. “You remember.”
He half-smiled. “Isn’t that your excuse for always getting me one? You like the scent but you don’t drink it?” He couldn’t help but tease.
She gave him a mischievous smirk. “Trying to throw me off your scent? It won’t work.”
He sure as fuck hoped it didn’t. “I’m trying to convince you to stop buying those expensive iced Americanos for me. I’m trying to cut down for my health.”
She frowned. But he shook his head, trying to dissipate any misunderstanding.
“Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t come up with the idea. My doctor did.”
Her gaze narrowed, unconvinced.
He shoved his hands back into his pockets so they would stop shaking. There was no bag or awkward gift wrapping for him to hold on to. It wasn’t his style, but he somewhat regretted it now. He tiled his head, relaxing his face despite the thunder within his ribcage.
“What?”
She replaced the lid of the candle. Her thumb ran across the embossed characters on the paper label. Capitalism had burned a hole in his wallet. He didn’t mind though. She held it close to her chest.
“This is an expensive brand. I’ve seen it at higher end stores.”
He was delighted that she knew. The cheaper brands had smelled far too fake and far too sweet. He wanted that rich bitterness. Dark and smokey and acidic. A scent that reminded him of them. She watched him carefully. He shrugged.
“You get what you pay for.” Chuckled, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Fair, once I considered the culmination of the price of all those coffees. And, anyway, I only wanted you to know that you don’t have to pay a price for my attention. You’ve had it all this time.”
Her eyes widened a bit.
He shifted his weight, about to walk past.
At the last second, he turned his head, pausing to whisper in her ear.
“But don’t think about buying anyone else a coffee, alright?”
Before he could make his escape, her eyes were already locked onto his, her lips centimeters from his.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Min Yoongi.”
-
“What?”
She grinned. Their hands interlocked. Holding tight, even though his back was flat against her bed. Her body hovered over his. She lowered, slowly. He sucked in a breath as he felt her hard nipples brush against his chest.
“You like that?” she teased.
He stared into her eyes, melting into her mischief. “Yeah.”
She pressed her soft breasts flush against him, rubbing back and forth. He closed his eyes, shuddering, her name in his throat. His other hand migrated to her waist and he squeezed her, wanting her to know his desire. Her coffee-scented perfume stuck to his skin, bitter and sweet and addictive, a guilty pleasure he didn’t feel guilty about.
His doctor had advised him to cut back on coffee and alcohol, his other guilty pleasures, so naturally he found himself tangled up in another.
Heh.
His fingers slid up, up, tangling in her hair, pulling her face to his. There was a split second where their eye lines connected under their lashes, and he froze up. She stared back. Centimeters of trembling air between their lips. His entire body could barely contain the want and yet. It wasn’t the first time they had been this close. Far from it.
But this was the first time Yoongi realized he would move heaven and earth for those eyes.
He squeezed her hand.
She squeezed back and closed the distance between them, her eyelids falling. His too, and he realized there was sex and then there was this. This, the goosebumps that erupted over his skin when her fingertips glided down his arm. This, the chain of kisses leaving him in a daze. This, the delicate shock of her lips travelling down his chest. This, the pit-a-pat and pang of something so dirty being so pure. Her mouth enveloped him and coated his cock with a thin layer of velvety saliva. Back and forth, so soft, just right, building a lovely desperation that he savored. Tighter, and he gasped, marveling at the suffocating gentleness that made him painfully hard. Pace so steady it was nearly maddening, his fingers twisting in the sheets, and he sucked in another breath, the air saturated with her scent, hitting the apex and at the same time falling so fully that he couldn’t hide it anymore.
She kept him hard, knowing the precise amount of softness and insistence. He didn’t need to say anything. She thought about him the same way he thought about her. Her hands fanned over his hips, extending the pleasure of orgasm. His exhale a shudder. Their eyes connected again.
He beckoned her back up, breathlessly.
She obeyed. Skin to skin. His fingertips touched her chin, conducting her movement.
He could taste himself in their kiss.
“You like that?” he whispered to her lips.
She smiled against his. “Yeah.”
One torn-open condom wrapper later, and there was nothing better than her legs wrapping around his waist once he was completely inside. Shivering breath, his fingertips grazing over her collarbones, and he was well aware of his own black hair tangled over his eyes. She looked up at with admiration and satisfaction, tightening around him.
“You should come over to mine tomorrow night. Spend the weekend with me,” he found himself saying.
Her expression amused. “Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your landlord.”
He pushed his hair back, cleaning his vision.
“Let that be my problem.”
Her eyes sparkled.
“I’ll think about it.”
Seemed like she already had though.
Slow and tense, leaning down. Deeper. Her legs sliding up, tighter. Each breath drawn in hotter, keeping their electric eye contact, and he lifted one of his hands to wrap around her wrist. She watched him, intrigued. He thrust downwards and she squeezed him all around, meeting his pace, their eyes closing, succumbing to the honeymoon haze in harmony, their wanton sounds melding together like sugar into coffee. Harder. Rougher. Her name falling from his lips and his from hers. His grip on her wrist slipped.
Their fingers interlocked.
He kept the high coming, over and over.
-
The room was pitch black.
“Can’t sleep?”
He stretched his arm over his head. His body was still running hot.
“Don’t want to.”
She hummed. “Why’s that?”
He should sleep but that would tear him out of this dream. “Pretty girl giving me insomnia.”
“Damn. Wish I could help,” she chuckled, curling up against his side.
He hadn’t known it when she walked into his life, light glimmering off her hair and adorned with a sweet smile. Day by day, catching himself watching her walk past. He admired the confident way she held herself, the assuredness in her stride, the sharpness of her wit. Then one day, the morning after a particularly restless night, she had walked right up to him, an iced Americano in hand. She had known his preference. Could have been observation or asking around. Or both. Didn’t matter, as it was clear she took the time and noticed his lingering gaze.
“Why me?”
Her soft cheek against his shoulder.
“You know why.”
He did but he still wanted to make sure. “You weren’t scared?”
She took a moment to recall. “Worst thing you can say is no. You didn’t.”
He turned his head. She scooted up, and now they were looking at each other in the darkness. He couldn’t see shit, but he had already memorized her face in moments, in snapshots of closeness, into dreams he couldn’t help but believe in. She brought her face closer and their lips found each other with him meeting her halfway.
He pulled her closer.
Yoongi had always believed, oh, love would be annoying. Love would be heedlessly complicated. Love would die out quick and, ultimately, be fleeting and unfulfilling, like a shooting star during a meteor shower. And maybe it was all that.
But he could also be wrong.
Kiss after kiss, falling stars in the darkness, and he couldn’t help but believe in wishes.
Maybe he was just too far gone. Too under her spell to be logical anymore. Her leg slid over his hip, their bodies seamlessly against each other and her hand cradled his face, breathing in his air. Her perfume still lingered, dark and smokey and reminding him of how this love started, or perhaps it had rubbed off onto his skin in their passion. He didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it.
“Don’t think about anyone else, alright?” she whispered.
His hand settled around her waist.
His lips touched her nose. Lightly, endearingly. Didn’t she know? She must. Maybe she wanted to hear it from his lips. He didn’t know the romantic thing to say. He was terrible at that. Always was, always would be. Then again, she had already given him the answer.
He smiled.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”
-
“Iced Americano. The largest size, please.”
The barista smiled sheepishly. “Busy day?”
You tilted your head, a stray strand of hair curling around your curved lips.
“My darling needs it.”
--
masterpost
FREE PALESTINE 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 FREE CONGO 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 KEEP EYES ON SUDAN 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 UYGHUR RESOURCES 1, 2, 3 SYRIA RESOURCES 1, 2, 3 ARMENIAN RESOURCES 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 UKRAINE RESOURCES 1, 2, 3 RESOURCES FOR TIGRAY, AFGHANISTAN, HAITI, LEBANON, YEMEN, HAWAII 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 EVERY CHILD MATTERS, LAND BACK 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 JUSTICE FOR NEX BENEDICT 1, 2, 3, 4
Between the Titles
Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader
Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)
warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot) smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink
Length: ~9.5k
Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this
Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.
m.list + support my work
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.
The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.
As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter.
Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement.
It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding.
You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.
Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.
Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.
Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.
But this morning you have notes to write.
Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.
The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.
A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.
Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy—
I’m in Love with Mothman…
Well there it is.
You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.
Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.
When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back.
His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor.
A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.
Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop.
Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”
“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”
His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place.
“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”
“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”
He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough.
“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”
It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.
“What is it?”
Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.
If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.
“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”
“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”
“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”
Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.
As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.
I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.
Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now.
You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.
The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.
“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.
With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”
“Get in line.”
Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.
Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation.
“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”
“Bummer.”
“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.
Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”
“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”
“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”
Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.
“Yoongi,” you sing.
Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”
You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.
“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”
He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.
“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”
He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.
“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”
With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.
If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.
On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.
You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette.
Of course he smokes.
The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it.
“You know those things will kill you, right?”
“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”
“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”
Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”
The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.
“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth. “Have a good night, Y/N.”
With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.
The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.
Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.
Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.”
“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”
But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.
Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.
“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.
“Are they the right copies this time?”
“Double checked them myself.”
You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.
Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.
Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”
The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”
Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs.
Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.
You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.
Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.
Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.
Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.
“What's this?”
“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.
His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”
Of course he has.
Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.
Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.
You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means.
It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.
You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music.
He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach.
The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.
Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name.
Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection.
“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”
“Oh.”
Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct. “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”
“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”
You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.
A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence.
Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.
The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.
You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.
Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.
A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.
“Looking for something?”
Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.
“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.
Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”
“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”
Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance.
“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down.
Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.
“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.
Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.
“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.
“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”
“Oh.”
“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”
The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.
Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin.
Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf.
The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.
A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his.
The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.
“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”
Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.
Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.
To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.
A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.
Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.
Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.
The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else.
At least that’s what you tell yourself.
A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs.
Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation.
“Yoongi,” you say.
“Y/N.”
You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”
“What kiss?” you croak.
Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”
“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.
Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along.
“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.
Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”
Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?”
“Yes.”
“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”
Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.
“Yes.”
“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.”
“And he can hear you, so shut up.”
“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books.
He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.
Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months.
“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk.
“Taehyung.”
“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.
Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs.
“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers.
“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”
“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”
“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”
Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.
After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.
“I’m getting coffee.”
“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.
The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch.
You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.
Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.
Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.
‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’
A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’
‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.
‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’
At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.
“Snooping for secrets?”
“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”
“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”
“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”
Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”
“Nope.”
You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours.
This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.
His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again.
“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth.
He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull.
A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive.
Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.
Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder.
His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.
“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”
Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider.
“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.
Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.
“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.
Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.
Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted?
“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.
You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been.
“They were out.”
With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.
“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing.
You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.
“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.
Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”
“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.”
“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.
“Why not?”
“Because…”
Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.
“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”
You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.
When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”
“Why?”
“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”
“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.
Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”
“If you’re leaving, so am I.”
“Why?” your roommate whines.
“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”
“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.”
You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”
“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.
You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.
“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.
It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.
“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?”
“Go ahead.”
The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.
The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.
Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.
Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.
Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.
You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.
Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen.
He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.
You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.
Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.
An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen.
But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning.
Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.
Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.
There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom.
A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.
You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.
“Yoongi?”
A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.
“Jesus, you scared me.”
“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”
“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”
“This is my job.”
“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”
“Who says it’s stopping me now?”
He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”
You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back.
A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.
“Could have fooled me.”
“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.
“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”
“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”
The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.
“How long? How long have you wanted this?”
Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”
You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.
The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.
“That was months ago.”
“I’m a patient guy.”
You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.
Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”
“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.
“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”
“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”
Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt.
He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg.
You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely.
He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.
His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”
“You thought about this?”
“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”
A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”
“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”
Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”
Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head.
The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.
“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”
Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy.
He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth.
Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.
“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”
The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.
He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.
But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”
Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.
Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.
Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.
“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”
You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry.
It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.
“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down.
“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”
“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”
He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.
You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good.
“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens.
Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.
Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load.
There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side.
You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth.
Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.
He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter.
With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”
“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.
A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”
Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.
Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.
You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school.
After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed.
He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.
You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument.
You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now.
“One of my books is missing,” you say.
“Oh, right.”
Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.
Maybe He Just Likes You
And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’
Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom @yoonguurt
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.
i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi i miss yoongi
SERENDIPITY (teaser)
18+ / mdi
summary: jungkook, god of love and son of venus is given the task by his mother herself to rid the world of you, known as psyche, as your beauty begins to rival her own. unfortunately for all parties involved, jungkook becomes enamored by you upon accidentally pinching himself with his own arrow.
content: cupid!jungkook, psyche!reader, an extremely simplified and smutty version of the og story, afab reader, side character deaths, mentions of attempted suicide, the dialogue is not super fitting of the times, angst(?), fluff, smut, they have sex where she doesnt know who he is multiple times but its consensual, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), etc.
(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)
wc: 841 (teaser); 8.6k (full fic)
release date: may 3rd
or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!
a/n: i decided to do my first jungkook full fic in celebration for hitting 4k followers!! i hope u guys enjoy<3
masterlist | kofi/patreon
support me through a one time tip<3
"Why did you call for me, again?"
"Jungkook, pay attention!", hissed his mother, holding her fingers to her temples in stress as one of her many servants walked in with the fruit she'd requested, "I need you to use your arrows on someone."
"What? Why? I thought you didn't like me meddling with people's love lives."
"This is different. This one needs a little help," Venus frowned in sheer annoyance, "She is known as Psyche by many, Y/N by her loved ones. She has become quite a figure among the Roman population. Some have begun to worship her beauty. They pray to her, they bring her offerings, they kiss at her feet, completely disregarding the true Goddess of Beauty."
"And where does this concern me?", Jungkook was beyond bored by his mother's ramblings. On a usual day, he would be out and entertaining himself with the many mortal maidens found around Rome, always guaranteeing himself a partner for the day.
Venus shot Cupid a look as her servants fed her by mouth, making him straighten his back and begin paying better attention. Even as the Goddess of Beauty, Venus was known as one of the most menacing Goddesses to exist, holding far too much power among all Gods and Goddesses. Jungkook couldn't help but feel intimidated by her, even as carefree as he was known to be.
"She has far too many admirers. Even Gods are beginning to show interest in her, yet she is lacking in suitors thus far. I need you to shoot your arrow and tie her off to the most hideous creature you can muster. She may seize from being a disturbance this way."
"Okay, so you want me to doom her to an eternity with a monster?", Jungkook tilted his head in curiosity.
Despite being considered the most beautiful entity, Jungkook knew Venus to be one of the least amicable creatures in all of the land. Mortals were blissfully unaware of her cruelty, thinking her to be the most perfect among all Goddesses. However, Cupid, as her son, knew of the misery that awaited anyone who crossed the Goddess of Beauty.
Venus halted her movements in frustration, scaring the servants nearby before turning to Jungkook in annoyance, "Cupid, my son, you will obey my order without question. I gave you those wings, I gave you that bow., and I gave you that arrow. I don't care how cruel you may think me to be, this is an order. You shall not utilize your powers for your own endeavors until you finish your task," she demanded, "Now, go rid me of that wench before I find someone else to do the job."
With a sigh, Jungkook nodded in defeat, fully aware of the type of punishments his mother could deliver should he disobey her orders. Walking over to the window through which he had originally entered, he pulled his bow and arrow from his back, beginning to fly off with his wings as he embarked on a journey to seek out the mighty Psyche that had his mother so worried.
"Y/N, there's another letter from one of your admirers," announced Psyche's mother, placing the letter on the huge pile of gifts provided by the many civilians who came visit their castle with the hope of getting a glimpse of the beautiful girl.
"Mother, what shall I do with all these? There's so many letters yet not a single suitor," you sighed, frustrated at the lack of prospects you'd had so far, "My sisters have both married, yet I am left alone with no one to seek my heart."
"Child, you should be grateful," said your mother, "You are admired through all the land, vied for as if you were a true Goddess. Someone will come for you one day, rest assured," affirmed your mother, petting your hair as she landed a soft kiss on your forehead and took her leave once more.
It was easy for your parents to grow used to the love and admiration you received. Endless people would come and dedicate themselves to their servitude if it meant as much as receiving your blessing – which was absolutely worthless as a mere princess in a land filled with mystical deities.
Your elder sisters had both been married off months back, finding old yet respectable husbands to take them away and care for them as any and all husbands should. You, however, remained alone with your parents, always hoping that a man would be brave enough to court you.
It was unfortunate, really; the way in which your beauty prevented you from receiving any suitors. You had not chosen to be blessed by Venus herself, nor did you ever hope to become her contender in the title of the most beautiful entity in all of creation. Unlike you, she had found a God to sweep her off her feet, gifting her with the fruit of love himself – her son Cupid. Oh, how you wished he'd shoot his arrow and allow you some rest from this endless search for a husband.
...
please reply if u would like to be tagged when the fic is released!!
OR read today on ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one<3
The settlers are already planning the names of cities in Palestine.
We are slowly running out of time, we have to take action. We have to demand, we have to scream. There was time to be polite, but It’s over now.
Fire is catching. Let it burn.
i feel like a small kink-that-isn’t-such-a-kink-but-i’m-calling-it-a-kink that kento has is watching you squirm from overstimulation.
specifically your hands during sex.
“move ‘em.” kento grits out, voice shaky as he fucks you from behind. you whine at his command, ignoring it and holding onto the blanket underneath you just a bit tighter. he watches how your fingers crunch the fluffy fabric, body trembling once he gives you a thrust that rubs your g-spot. you mewl, head falling onto the bed with a force on the back of it. his larger hand slides from your head down to your chin, turning it sideways against the bed. “what did i say sweetheart?” he mumbles, halting his movement. his soaked cock stays full into you, wet and sticky cum mushed around where you two meet. you whimper, trying to push back. his tip nudges where you need him, but your wanton moan is greeted with a spank of your ass.
“you’re not listening, hm?” kento quips, rubbing your hot ass cheek and leaning down. your back further arches, “s-sorry, just..” you try to explain yourself, but the teetering moans leaving you as his dick rocks into you do you no justice. “my baby’s so needy..” kento smiles, kissing the side of your cheek, his peppered kisses going down below your jaw, a slick of wetness in its wake. “c’mon sweetie, let go f’me.” he coos in your ear, fresh regal cologne filling your senses. you purse your lips, following his words obediently and letting your hands relax. you didn’t even realize how hard you had clutched onto the bed, hands aching a bit and fingers red.
swiftly, your face is turned straight into the blanket, hands pulled behind you and wrists locked by just one of your lover’s hands. without words, kento begins pounding your cunt how your need it, loud squelches and sounds of the mess that you two have made. your whines and moans fill kento’s head, his eyes stuck on how your ass jiggles with each thrust into you. the skin slowly brightening with juices that leave your soaping pussy. however, his view trails up, feeling your wiggling fingers scratch at his hand. god, you’re so cute. even if he can’t see your lewd expressions, he just knows you’re losing every bit of sobriety you had left, letting yourself go dumb on his cock. your fingers stretch before digging into his skin, but with the thick head of his cock angling just too good, they widen again, matching the sound of your higher moans. “please! please! please— make me cum!” your words rip through you, sobbing and shaking. kento groans, he can get used to studying you like this..
with your head shoved into the pillow, your hand reaches back, lightly pushing at his stomach.
“mmph—give me a second, ohh—”
eyes rolling back into your head, you hand drops as he swings his hips harder, relentlessly prodding at that one spot in your cunt.
“kento!” you squeal, voice muffled and legs shaking, “i’m gonna cum again!”
he shushes you softly, a hand running down the curve of your ass. “i know baby, it’s okay.”
you shake your head, “‘m gonna die, ken—”
he laughs, watching your body shake in tandem with your orgasm. he’s holding your hips in place and he continues, pace never faltering. “you’re okay, sweet girl. just focus on feeling good.”
nanami leans down, kissing your temple. feeling his weight on you makes you drool, the warmth of his body addicting.
“more, please,” you slur, body flattening on the mattress. kento pulls out momentarily, pushing your legs together and sliding a pillow under your tummy before pushing back in.
“fuck!” you cry, hands pulling at his sheets, “fuck you!”
his weight presses you into the mattress. his teeth biting lightly at your ear. “one more baby, come on.”
“cumming ‘m cummin’, you—fuuuckk—”
“yeah,” he groans, feeling your cunt clench around him. he thinks he’s gonna lose his mind. sloppily kissing your cheek, his hand reaches up to grab your jaw, “you’re gonna make me cum sweet girl—where do you want it?”
“inside, please, i need it so bad.” you whine, turning your head to kiss him.
“you’re gonna kill me,” he mumbles, thrusting with a different fervour before dropping most of his weight on you, groaning in your ear.
“take it, baby, ‘s all yours.” you moan as you feel him filling you up, eyes almost crossing at the feeling.
nanami rolls off you momentarily, tucking your hair behind your ear and watching you catch your breath. he breathes out a chuckle, “so dramatic, you asked for this, remember?”
you try faking a frown but fail, your lips forming into a smirk instead. “what if i ask for it again?”
a hand playfully swats the swell of your ass, “you don’t know what you’re asking for, beautiful.”
fail-safe (3)
pairing: yoongi x reader
wordcount: 14k
glimpse: you hear everything you've ever wanted, but you don't know if it's too late.
alternatively, yoongi is consumingly yours all the time.
[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]
[ still angst (but u can breathe now bc it’s the finale), brother’s best friend AND single dad au, jealousy, yearning from all angles, did i say angst alr (mom-wise and brother-wise), fluff, redemption ]
notes: this is it for the chronological series of fail-safe :-) from the bottom of my heart thank you so sooooo much for reading n loving!!! sharing fs with the lot of u is an experience (and era) i'll never forget!!!
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist
Your trip back home isn’t as rough as you expected it to be.
Somehow, there’s a huge difference between coming home alone and coming home with Jungkook. There’s an irreplaceable weight in your chest that still flares even at the mention of Yoongi, the anger you have towards him mixing with the trepidation of holding everything in you, not just him, for another three days. There’s an angry rash around your fingertips just waiting for you to pick on your nails until they’re raw because atleast in that way, you get to forget the way Yoongi’s hand picked up yours in the dark.
There’s an ache in you that not even Yoongi and Hyewon could undo by never having met in the first place. It’s long been there, perhaps even older than Haneul. The ache of unfulfillment in you is bred by everything significant in your life — all from your first argument with your mom because of your lack of direction in life, to your latest heartbreak that keeps manifesting into your first ever.
You're no longer angry recounting the fact that you weren't destined for greatness. Namjoon turned out beyond great, world-renowned even, despite living in the same home that you did. Maybe it's not your environment or your lack of a passion that hindered you — maybe, it's just you alone.
Maybe, some part of you had ached too much from reaching (read: loving) too far up, you're doomed to live the rest of your life unfulfilled. Yoongi's never been yours, but the way your heart withdraws from him is as if he's always been.
You've done your share. You've completed your fill. You've worked yourself to the bone to make anything (not something, and certainly not everything) out of yourself that even if you're not decorated in sports like Namjoon nor celebrated in music like Yoongi, you have a fail-safe to fall back on.
You're earning more than the white collars you could recognize from your old yearbook and even if it's to look after someone, to look after Jungkook and his craft, and neither use your actual degree nor make a name out of yourself — a part of you feels fulfilled.
If being fulfilled meant being in the shadows as a manager; if it meant caring for someone in a professional context yet in a way you've always known with practice, with love, through the years– you'll take it.
You'll take the peace of being fulfilled without a trophy than to be listless trying to compete for first place.
You're fulfilled now to be sitting at the passenger seat of your own car because despite having never been to your place anymore, Jungkook fought with you in order to get his hands on the wheel.
You're fulfilled now, even if you only took Jungkook's silly suggestion (read: insistence) of fake-dating him just so you wouldn't have to face your family and Yoongi alone. You're fulfilled despite having no real place in neither men's lives.
Oddly enough, Jungkook wants to be both. He wants to be fulfilled and compete for first place in a position in your life that he can't even say to your face.
Jungkook holds you right in the middle of the living room, his eyes wide and grin sparkling as if the director had already said action! and the task for him was to act out what being in love looked like, right in front of his female lead's family in her childhood home. (Read: he isn't acting at all.)
“And he’s…?” your mom lets the question hang in the air, eyes trailing from Jungkook’s face, to his bicep, to how his forearm fits snugly against your back and his hand curls around your waist. Your mom visibly looks surprised, although you don’t know if it’s about the fact that you actually came back despite everything, or if it’s because her favorite actor is in her kitchen while she’s sweaty in an apron, or if it’s because said favorite actor leaves no space between the two of you.
“Jeon Jungkook, ma’am. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he greets politely, a little jittery now that he’s face-to-face with her. He’s only heard of the woman she is from you and as much as he tried to picture her from memory, your stories don’t do her much justice. Jungkook’s always loved your kind eyes and your sweet smile, but he knows now where you’ve got it from; in fact, if he turns around right now right after shaking her hand and bowing profusely, you’re showing exactly those to him — that, along with a pair of gazes he can’t place.
Those gazes aren’t kind at all. One is confused and dumbfounded, and the other harbors nothing but hostility and anger.
“Sweetheart, I know you. Who doesn’t?” your mom’s at a loss for breath, mouth still agape as she keeps flickering her eyes between the two of you. She knows that you’re his manager, but what she doesn’t know is why the Jeon Jungkook is in her humble kitchen of all places. He has the most expressive and sincere eyes ever — he can’t possibly mistake your childhood home as a filming set and your waist as a hand rest.
You finally placate her thoughts when you speak, the loaded silence between the three of you (it’s buzzing with tension if you account for the other two) breaking. You actually giggle, your laughter taking the load off her shoulders because you’re happy; you don’t feel an ounce of guilt even if you’re lying to her face.
“We’re dating, mom,” you grin. “Jungkook’s my boyfriend.”
Jungkook smiles automatically, feeling your hand snake towards his own. His palm’s much bigger than yours yet it’s warmer than you’ve ever imagined, the envelope both of your hands make putting you at ease.
Your mom’s gasp bounces across the walls. Namjoon’s head that’s only been lowered the entire time you’ve been back suddenly whips to look at you and Jungkook. The fridge even lowers its hum to make way for the theatrics aimed at you, yet your eyes are fixed on your mom’s and Jungkook’s alone.
You came home for her and with him. You’re not here for anyone nor anything else because it’s merely a play for your survival, only this time, Jungkook’s hellbent on increasing your odds.
Yoongi freezes evidently, hand tightening around Haneul’s bottle as if it would do anything to release the red from his vision. He staggers silently, breathing suddenly ragged as he stares down at the offending steel cylinder. It’s small. Compact. If anything, he figures it would hurt if he were to throw it at anything. Anyone. Someone, even.
“Wow, that’s.. that’s amazing!” she embraces the both of you, making you and Jungkook share a gaze you only laugh through because he actually looks honored.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to let you know personally,” he apologizes meekly for a mistake that isn’t even one in the first place, the humility in his tone making your ears perk. It’s Jungkook onceagain with the apologies towards you that he shouldn’t be making at all, and yet, even in front of your family, he persists.
Jungkook apologizes even for the things he hasn’t done, not because he plans on doing them, but because a large part of him wants to be in the actual situation wherein those mistakes were merely possibilities.
“It’s no problem at all. You’re busy getting all these awards, I know how that’s like,” she jokes, unable to stop smiling. “I’m just glad someone’s taking care of my baby.”
“And I don’t plan on missing a single day, ma’am.”
“Stop that,” she chides, shaking her head eagerly. “You can call me mom.”
Yoongi lets the bottle clatter to the sink.
( ♡ )
Yoongi hadn’t been able to sleep last night.
He’d woken up in a cold sweat hours before his alarm was supposed to go off to cook dinner for everyone, even if it was only yourfavorite. The anxiousness that bubbled in his veins when he was asleep was going to burst and while Yoongi thought nothing of it initially, he realizes in panic that it was actually pointing to something.
He woke up next to Haneul and he was placated momentarily, but the knot tied around his heart tightens twofold when he sees Hyewon on the same bed.
On your bed.
The guilt that filled Yoongi then was enough for the bile to creep up into his throat, making him stagger outside to find Namjoon pacing right outside of his own bedroom. His personal phone’s tucked in between his ear and his shoulder, his hands preoccupied scrolling through whatever it is on his work phone. Yoongi momentarily stops his panic to inquire why the hell Namjoon’s panicking and why did he just see a glimpse of your social media accounts pulled up to the screen, your following list staring your brother in the eyes.
“What? What happened? Is it Y/N?”
Namjoon only looked at him with nothing but pity and guilt, the resentment he had for himself bleeding through the way he shifted his gaze to him.
“She saw you and Hyewon.”
Yoongi hadn’t been able to sleep since.
He didn’t even blink when Hyewon thanked him and said her goodbyes. He wasn’t even fazed when his ex-wife kissed Haneul goodbye and his son only resumed playing with his blocks. Yoongi hadn’t even tended to himself throughout the entire night, surrendering himself to be awake in your couch in the far event that you’d come home.
Yoongi wanted to follow you home, except almost exactly similar to the past, he had chased you out of what’s supposed to be your own home in the first place. The difference now was that he didn’t mean for Hyewon to be on your bed at all, let alone your room, but in the back of Yoongi’s thick skull — he figures that it won’t be enough for you.
Yoongi waits for you all night throughout the morning like a loyal dog waiting for its master, his chest rising up and down in hope yet his chin down in despondence. You do end up coming back home though, but your presence is neither unaccompanied nor for him.
With you is Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend.
If only Haneul hadn’t asked for his bottle to be brought upstairs because he’s watching cartoons on Yoongi’s laptop, he would’ve collapsed on the floor then and there, uncaring of the way everyone else would be looking down on him.
If only Namjoon’s gaze wasn’t flitting to him to gauge his reaction because it’s the first time he’s, or by everyone else rather, hearing that you have a boyfriend, Yoongi would put his hands on his head and curse until his piercing migraine suddenly disappears.
If only your mother wasn’t here, frozen in the kitchen mostly because of what you just revealed and who you came home with, and partly because she’s waiting for him to finish washing Haneul’s bottle, he would’ve thrown up right in the sink.
Yoongi gathers all his pain and keeps it shut within himself until he gets you alone, catching you by the staircase when everyone else has dispersed.
“I’m sorry. Namjoon told me what you saw and-…” he stops himself when you look up at him with an innocent yet empty gaze, the weight of it (or lack thereof) startling him. “Let me explain why Hyewon was there in your bed.”
“I don’t want to listen,” you enunciate clearly, keeping your voice down because both Jungkook and Haneul are a few steps away. You do it for their sake and not for Yoongi’s, the bitterness in your chest physically restricting you to think about his state.
Yoongi pushes on, breath already catching in his throat when you’re still stiff as a stone. You haven’t even made a break for it yet; he only unconsciously held onto you out of fear that you’ll be out of his sight. “She was in the area because her parents are old and they don’t know much about selling their house here a-and well, she knows that I did the same for my parents when they sold ours. Nothing happened. I just helped her with the sale! S-she was playing with Haneul in the living room while I napped a-and, I just… when I woke up, they were right next to me. Y/N, I swear, nothing-…”
You shake your head fervently, the innocence of his reason doing little to break the seal in your stomach. You feel it dropping once again and even if Yoongi’s right, even if he’s saying the truth, the sight alone of him appearing to be a part of a happy family jogs up all the pain.
“I don’t want to listen and you don’t have to explain either.”
“But I hurt you. That’s why I want to explain,” he stutters. Yoongi’s eyes are so glassy, you could see your reflection in them.
“Oh. So you know,” you whisper, teeth harshly digging into your bottom lip. “I hate Hyewon for a lot of things but not for being the mother of your child. That’s out of my reach. I get it. She’s his mom and that’s that,” you admit, the vacancy in your chest and on your ring finger reminding you what Yoongi had never given you the chance for. “What I hate is that you let her sleep in my room. Seeing Haneul in there is good. You and him? That’s okay because I let you sleep in there,” you heave, voice close to breaking because of how you force it to be tamped down. “I hate how you let her sleep in my room, Yoongi. I-I, I fucking hate it because it’s just like that time I caught you practically fucking her in my room.”
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-…” Yoongi sniffles, tears already pouring. The staircase in your house is far too narrow to hold the both of you, let alone your history. “I didn’t think. I didn’t notice, a-and, I didn’t think. I didn’t think at all, Y/N. I thought it was okay for a split second because we looked like-…”
“A family,” you finish for him. “I get it. I do,” you nod your head fervently, your own hand snaking to your lips to stop the sharp inhale that pains you from the inside. “Almost everyone loses their sense of reason when it comes to family.”
“I didn’t notice she already entered the room. But I-I woke up,” Yoongi still swears up and down, adamant on his truth that you aren’t open to entertaining because he’s hurt you far too many times before. “Hyewon and I… we’re not. We’re co-parenting.”
“Still a family.”
“But-…”
“What the hell do you want to hear from me, Yoongi?” you snap, voice finally toning down when you notice faint footsteps coming from the second floor. “Do you— do you want me to agree with you and say that the three of you aren’t a family? And for what, s-so that could somehow excuse you for everything you’ve done? I don’t even know what family’s supposed to mean at this point!”
From upstairs, Namjoon suppresses a sob.
“My mom doesn’t know a single thing about all of this. I-I can’t even cry to her because I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of protecting you, your son that she looks to as a grandson, a-and even your mom who’s her best friend,” you break into tears, ignoring the baby towel that Yoongi keeps on his person all the time that he offers to you. You sound far too defeated, and maybe you actually are, that Yoongi lets you push past him. “Meanwhile, my own brother probably knows everything but his first instinct is to protect you. Not me, his actual sibling. You.”
.
.
.
Namjoon had been waiting for you upstairs. He’s been barricading the door to the bathroom because he knows you can’t go to bed without your nightly shower, and because he knows that out of every space in the house, it must be the only one left wherein you can be truly alone with no hint of Yoongi.
“We have to talk,” he gets out as soon as you make eye contact with him, the towel that’s slung on your shoulder almost falling at the urgency to which he pulls you aside.
“It can wait.”
“I need to apologize,” he pleads once again, gripping your wrist gently like he had always done when you were kids to get you to listen to him.
“And I said it can wait. I can’t stand you right now,” you grit, the tears on your cheeks barely being dried up when Namjoon, unsurprisingly, decides to apologize to you within the same timeframe as Yoongi. They hadn’t planned it at all — the guilt and remorse weighed far too heavy for them to actually communicate.
“Where will you sleep?” he asks instead, exhaling heavily because you’re insistent on not crying again in barely your first night back, again. “Where will Jungkook sleep?”
“We’ll sleep together in a hotel.”
“Hotel?” Namjoon asks loudly, eyes bulging in shock. His voice is far too loud that everyone in the house (and maybe even your neighbors) must have heard him. “That’s nonsense. This is home, Y/N. You don’t have to book a hotel.”
“It is?” you seethe, your closed fists tightening on themselves painfully. “Did you also say the same thing to Hyewon? To Yoongi in the first place?”
“It’s my fault for-…”
You’re unaware that you and Namjoon are neck to neck until your mom chimes in out of nowhere, her gentle eyes asking more questions than she’s actually uttering. “What’s going on?” she switches her gaze between you and him. “Are the two of you fighting?”
“No,” you answer in unison, unable to fit a relieved sigh in between the terse silence.
“It’s nothing, mom,” Namjoon puts a hand on your shoulder, his smile tight and tense. “I was just telling Y/N that she doesn’t have to book a hotel.”
“Why would you book a hotel?” she gasps incredulously, her tone being the exact copy of Namjoon’s just a second ago.
“It’s just crowded in here, mom. That’s all,” you muster a sheepish smile, your posture slouching the more you realize that there’s no way out.
“I can ask Yoongi and Haneul to transfer to Namjoon’s so you can-..”
“No-!” you interrupt her in a hurry, breath hitching at the mention of him. “No, no. That’s unnecessary. I don’t want to sleep in my room.”
There’s a loaded pause between all of you, even between the door that Yoongi has his back on as he listens in.
“You and Jungkook can take my room instead,” Namjoon insists, his offer only barely scratching the surface of the apology that you truly deserve.
“Great. Thanks,” you conclude, already halfway into the bathroom when the sudden thought strikes you, your curiosity (and limit, by extension) getting the best of you to ask Namjoon while your mom’s still here. “How… how much longer are they gonna stay here?”
“I… haven’t asked yet,” Namjoon admits, the animosity you have towards Yoongi not going unnoticed by your mother.
“You need to ask then,” you quip. “This house is too small to have everyone and anyone.”
( ♡ )
Jungkook woke up in peace from sleeping in a bed that isn’t his.
Even before you actually got to shower (and not just sit on the toilet seat whilst trying to compose yourself) since you forgot to retrieve your clothes from your suitcase, Jungkook was already starfished in the middle of Namjoon’s bed. It’s a touching sight atop your own blanket and bug spray that your brother put in for you.
The two of you are far from okay. As a matter of fact, the only people you’re truly okay with in the house is your mom and Haneul; despite knowing that fully, Jungkook still dived in head-first in the middle of your situation. You’ve tried to dissuade him all throughout the five-hour long car ride, and not once did he even budge.
He’s here for you and no one else. He’s snoring in the middle of your sibling’s bed whom you aren’t in good terms with. He’s at ease with you in a province that he’s never stepped foot in, all because he felt compelled to protect you somehow and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Jungkook cares for you, enough to write a note and place it beside him just before he went to sleep, telling you that he’s a messy sleeper and to either jolt him awake to move or just manhandle him to the side so you could also sleep on the bed.
You go for the latter, trying to pry him as gently as you could (but even if you just hauled him like a sack of potatoes, he still wouldn’t wake up because he’s at ease too much; it’s you, of course) before finally calling it a night.
You may have lied awake mulling over the perpetual ache in your chest, but you didn’t cry at all.
Eventually, you fall asleep to the sound of Jungkook snoring.
.
.
.
Jungkook may have slept earlier than you, but he makes sure that you stay in late. (read: he physically tucked you into bed so snugly, you probably can’t even shift your shoulders by a centimeter). He wants to pull his weight around a house he hasn’t even been in, even if you hadn’t asked him to — you’d never do, because even as a manager and not as a fake-girlfriend, you don’t let him lift a single finger. Simply put, Jungkook feels this massive pull, not to perform for you, but serve you.
He finds himself quietly going down the stairs, still in his socks because you had stolen his house slippers just last night and he doesn’t have the heart to ask you to give them back. He’s quickly figured out the kitchen, getting a soup started before he allows himself to sit on the dining table by himself.
It turns out that Jungkook’s not alone at all.
“Hi.”
His ears perk at the soft voice that comes from the side of him, eyes immediately setting on the toddler who’s still dressed in his pajamas and has a similar case of bedhead to him.
“Hey buddy. Nice bangs,” Jungkook chuckles invitingly, pulling out a chair for Haneul to which he gets up on easily by himself.
“My appa cut them for me,” he answers with a smile, shyly pointing to Jungkook’s forehead with an eager finger. “You have bangs too. Who cut yours?”
“My girlfriend. I think she can be a hairstylist one day,” he hums, not feeling guilty over lying to him when it’s only a half, easily-corrected lie. You may not be Jungkook’s actual, real girlfriend, but you did cut his bangs when he asked you to. He couldn’t be bothered going to the salon and you didn’t have the energy to argue with him otherwise, so that’s how he ended up with choppy, viral (it only became viral because he has them) bangs that gained him a few dozen articles or so.
Jungkook doesn’t have kids of his own, but what he does have are several nephews and nieces. He’s the youngest of four children, and that’s perhaps the reason why he could empathize with you. He’s never been through what you have, and although you would never wish for him to do so, a part of him wants to know what it’s like — not because he seeks the pain, but because he wants to know how he could empathize with you better
With Jungkook being Jungkook, it’s perhaps the reason why he’s one of the gifted few people who could strike up a sensible conversation with a toddler and make them laugh without doing anything at all.
Something about Jungkook makes Haneul laugh so loudly, he wakes up almost everyone in the house in peace. Even Jungkook’s attempt at lame jokes tickle Haneul more than the way Namjoon’s ever tried in earnest to make him laugh.
You’ve already slinked past the two of them on the dining table, tending to the soup and the few hundred side dishes Jungkook started on but paused just to talk to Haneul.
“Haneul, don’t believe your uncle-…” you chime over a playful dig that Jungkook makes in your expense, the giggles that had only been filling your ears just seconds ago instantly ceasing when you notice Yoongi standing near you.
“Uncle?” he raises his brow at you, turning his attention to his son. “Haneul, what did I say about talking to strangers?”
“But he’s not a stranger. I saw him in that movie!” he frowns, the immediate awe that slips out of Jungkook’s lips not helping his case in the slightest.
“Still a stranger,” Yoongi smiles tightly, his exhale dragging out as he mulls over the eerily domestic sight of the three of you.
“But he’s Uncle Kook,” Haneul reasons with him, pointing his finger at you. “He’s auntie’s boyfriend.”
.
.
.
Yoongi’s softened a little bit since breakfast.
He was never mad at Haneul in the first place (more like halfhearted because he still stands by his lesson of not teaching him to talk to strangers, even if they’re a worldwide-famous actor, but those are not his words at all) but what he is annoyed about is the scene that he walked into.
It looked far too natural for you to look like Haneul’s mom and for Jungkook to look like him, maybe even better as a dad despite not having children at all, that he thought he was seeing red.
Haneul’s lying on his shoulder as they rewatch Bluey for the second time in the living room, the shadow of your alleged boyfriend walking past him until he registers the accent, later doing a quick turnaround that makes Yoongi ultimately irritated and Haneul more than happy.
“Oh cool. I love Bluey!” Jungkook says sincerely, inviting himself to sit on the lone sofa chair to watch the episode.
“Wow, you’re just so… quirky,” Yoongi mutters under his breath with a roll of his eyes, his snarky remark making Jungkook’s ears tingle. The latter scoffs slyly, making him finally acknowledge Jungkook, albeit sarcastically. “So what do you do, Jungkook?”
Even before he could answer though, Haneul does it for him with an excitement that only comes out whenever he’s talking about his favorites.
“We watched his movies in the cinema, appa! Remember?”
“Did we?” Yoongi narrows his eyes, playing his huff into a cough. He repurposes the tinge of embarrassment that he feels into snark, running a hand through his hair cockily. “I’d for sure remember an actor if they were good.”
( ♡ )
“Where’s your brother? I need him to do the heavy lifting.”
Your mom asks you with an urgency that parents only past the age of forty could possess, her lips already parted awaiting your response towards a question she asked just two seconds ago.
Even if you weren’t engrossed on an episode of Bluey (Jungkook and Haneul put you into it and you get their laser focus now) just now, you still wouldn’t know about your brother’s whereabouts. Yoongi saves you this time, his response piquing both yours and Jungkook’s interest.
“He’s in practice. Joon took Haneul with him so he could learn too.”
Jungkook looks up from his phone sharply, eyes wide in eagerness. He and Yoongi haven’t even looked at each other since yesterday yet their coordination (read: competitiveness) syncs with the other at the exact second, their insistence on tagging along a menial task making you jolt.
“I’ll come with, mom!”
“I’ll come with, auntie.”
It’s not a competition, yet Jungkook jumps up to stand so quickly, his head almost brushed the ceiling. “Let’s go, babe,” he holds out a hand for you, making you clear your throat as you’re still trying to gauge the situation.
“But what about Yoongi? Poor thing, he’ll be left alone,” your mom awes, her pout only deepening when Yoongi pretends to look crestfallen at being overlooked. He doesn’t have to pretend that much because despite not being the biggest fan of grocery-shopping, especially in your area because it always smelled of eggs despite barely carrying any eggs, he’ll jump at any task to impress your mom, and you by extension.
“I don’t think you should worry-…” you start, already being interrupted in an instant.
“Oh come on, Y/N. Two pairs of hands are better than one! They really have to do some heavy lifting because I forget to tell you about that one time your aunts hounded me for-…” she trails off while telling you a story about your supposedly huge extended family, blissfully unaware that there’s two men fighting to open the door for the both of you.
Yoongi’s driving his car as the most spacious option, making Jungkook snicker under his breath as he blames himself for not bringing his SUV which is clearly more expensive than whatever Yoongi’s driving, even if you elbow him lightly by the ribs because you didn’t ask him to do that.
“Mom, what are you doing here? Go sit in the front,” you nudge her, unwilling to sit next to Yoongi in an enclosed space.
“Oh, right! Sorry, I was just used to you always taking shotgun whenever Yoongi’s driving,” she squeals, fondly clapping to herself as she revisits the memory. “Do you remember that, sweetheart? You’d always fight with Namjoon because Yoongi got his license first.”
It may only be your mom who’s leaning against the center console to look at you in the back, but it doesn’t mean that Yoongi’s ever taken off his attention from you.
“I remember,” Yoongi smiles, looking at you from the rearview mirror. “I never forget.”
.
.
.
The grocery store hasn’t changed one bit.
It still smelled of eggs, the lights still aren’t as bright as they should be, and there’s still trinkets that you’ve always been swayed by being displayed near the register.
You’re taking it all in after not having been back for five years, whereas Yoongi strolls right in, but never ahead of you, as if he’s visited multiple times already since he left your town.
Your mom and Jungkook are side by side as he asks her a question you can’t even discern, only getting to know his actual agenda when you hear his sneakers skidding against the floor as he runs towards the pushcarts.
Yoongi, without even knowing the full context, runs after him because he didn’t want to come in second place for whatever it is that Jungkook’s challenging him to.
“I’ll steer the cart,” Jungkook presents definitively, his hand raised mid-air as if he’s being graded for eagerness alone. He looks like he wants to prove himself even if it’s only you and your mom present; no director, no producer in sight who sizes him up.
“No. I’ll do it,” Yoongi argues out of nowhere, his bruised hands reclaiming the cart under Jungkook’s grasp. He’s not even looking at your mom because his gaze is only fixed on Jungkook who’s just two tugs away from actually spitting at him.
“I said it first,” your pretend-boyfriend forcefully pulls the hunk of metal away from Yoongi, the latter coming along with it for the briefest of seconds before he does the same, this time with Jungkook gasping.
“What, are you method-acting for your next role as a cart-steerer?”
Your mom’s a little perplexed at the scene before her, lips parting in both concern and amusement because for a pair of people who haven’t met each other before, Yoongi and Jungkook are oddly competitive. They want to provesomething, anything, and maybe everything so bad, they neglect the fact that they look ridiculous fighting over a pushcart.
“We actually need two,“ she says to no one in particular, thinking out loud as she goes through her grocery list. “I think maybe even three because-…”
“I’ll get it,” Jungkook rushes out in panic, almost bumping into you in the process. You were only gone for a minute to retrieve your phone from the car and yet he already looks breathless, the knot between his eyebrows untangling when he realizes that it’s you. “Oh. Sorry, babe.”
“I’ll get it, Koo,” you murmur, catching the tail end of what your mom said about the pushcarts. Jungkook’s cheeks are tainted pink in frustration and you can’t help but to be concerned, the back of your hand already flitting against his forehead before you know it. “Are you okay? Sorry, the AC in here is not like the AC in the city.”
“Huh, what? Oh no, it’s okay. I just got into this heated cart argument,” he waves you off, eyes rapidly moving between you, your mom, and Yoongi who’s mirroring his exact actions, except for the glaring hint of annoyance with the way he’s standing so close to you.
“Cart argument? What’s-…”
“We need meat.”
You barely even have a chance to digest what Jungkook’s saying to you before you see him glitch right in front of you in a hurry, the only words to register clearly in your mind being your mom’s. She’s absent-mindedly talking herself through her grocery list (as she always does) and yet the two men right next to her hang onto her every word, the speed they take off on giving you no clue to why they’re acting as such.
“I’ll get it, auntie!” Yoongi gets out even before the wheels of his cart could cooperate, momentarily tripping over himself. Jungkook sputters at that, the laughter that builds in his throat being interrupted because he realizes that the other guy is ahead of him and he simply cannot bear that.
“Beef. We need beef, right, mom? How many kilos. Like… ten? Okay. I’ll get it!” Jungkook dashes even if he’s never been in this grocery store before; even if your mom hasn’t said a single word to either of them.
You’re left dumbfounded in the middle of the store, your gaze unable to locate the distinct sounds of both of their sneakers skidding against the floor.
“I didn’t even say anything,” your mom mutters in confusion, eyes flitting to you with a wonder you can’t place because even if the both of you are lost, she seems to have a better idea than you do. “Are they… competing over you, sweetie?”
“Competing? Me? Why would you even say that, mom?” you huff, leaning against the cart as you snatch her list to get the things she’s actually looking for.
“I don’t know,” she lulls, shrugging carelessly before nudging you. “Jungkook’s your boyfriend and well, I assume Yoongi’s always wanted to be in his position.”
“How did you even come to that conclusion?”
“Small town. Few people. Cute girl, cute guy,” she places, the end of her hypothesis being accompanied by a chuckle. When she says it like that, it sounds far too easy — it sounds far too seamless, you almost wish it was exactly that. “I didn’t even take the news that Yoongi was going abroad seriously because I thought it was a joke. I thought he could never move on from here or Namjoon,” your mom pouts, tilting her head when you freeze. “Much more, he could never move on from you.”
“He did,” you answer through gritted teeth, the grip you have on her list making the paper crumple underneath your hold.
Your mom doesn’t know everything. In fact, you don’t even know if she knows anything at all. You don’t despise her for her lack of involvement because you want to keep her from the chaos of your burdens, and you’ve always wanted to keep it that way.
But the way she speaks now, so full of conviction and faith, you find yourself despising it. She speaks as surely as the way Yoongi speeds past the both of you, weaving through aisles to get items she didn’t ask for, competing for and against a higher power (read: you) that Jungkook himself seeks.
She says it so surely, it’s as if she knows about every waking thought that Yoongi’s ever had in your absence.
“It doesn’t look like he did.”
You ponder over your mom’s adoration for Yoongi, most of which you can’t decipher if it’s misplaced or not. You know he’ll always have a special place in her heart and in her home because she’s known him even before he was born because she’s best friends with Mrs. Min.
Yoongi has a place in your life, no matter if it’s in your own or in the lives of the people you love. He probably has a modern penthouse in Namjoon’s life, the decoration in it improving over time. On the other hand, Yoongi probably occupies an ancestral cabin in your mom’s life that’s been well-maintained for longer than he’s ever been alive, the decor in it being handmade and resilient through the years.
In your life, however, you can’t tell how and if Yoongi occupies it in the first place. For the longest time, his place in your life had come in the form of a mansion that not even a single architect nor engineer could ever think of. For a moment too, Yoongi’s place in your heart came in the form of a little house on a vast farm overlooking the mountains and the sea. Throughout all the houses that Yoongi’s shape-shifted to in your life, you doubt now if he could ever turn into them again.
When you think of Yoongi, all you see is your room.
When you see Yoongi, all you could remember is your childhood house and its shortcomings in your life, especially when you needed to come home to it— to him, the most.
“I’ll pay, mom,” Jungkook snaps you out of your reverie, his whine making your ears ring.
“What? No, Jungkook. This is all too much,” you refuse vehemently, trying to fight him from extending his black card any further.
“It’s not. This is for your family anyway. I, I might have even grabbed extra portions for myself because mom said she’ll repeat tomorrow what she did for lunch today,” he grins, momentarily losing himself to the sight of you that he doesn’t even notice he’s in the process of being one-upped by Yoongi.
“Jungkook, baby, I’ll feel-…”
“I paid for it, auntie,” Yoongi announces, making your lips part and Jungkook’s jaw drop.
“You shouldn’t have, Yoongi,” you scold him softly, a whine already building at the back of your throat but he waves you off easily. Your mom’s thanking him profusely in the background, and while Yoongi’s pleased with the attention, his gaze remains on you.
“But I wanted to,” he insists, pursing his lips. “I should.”
“You’re not family,” is what you want to say.
“But I want to be,” is what he wants to scream.
Wordlessly, Yoongi puts a plastic toy ring he bought from the register into your bag. It’s pink and it’s star-shaped, its mold still the same from all those years ago.
.
.
.
You barrel into your mom’s room just to see Namjoon.
You bit at the chance of giving him the stuff he’s asked for from the grocery as per your mom, taking advantage of her focus on organizing the groceries downstairs to have a one-on-one with your brother.
“You have to make Yoongi drive into the city tonight. Either that or he flies to the US. The reunion is already tomorrow,” you seethe, crossing your arms as he sighs in defeat.
“It’s already late. Yoongi’s driving with Haneul, a kid, alone,” he emphasizes, running a hand through his hair as he himself is troubled by you being in a bind over everything. “And he can’t book a flight back on such short notice.”
“Short notice? What, did he just happen to book a one-way flight and not a round trip one?” you snort in amusement, shaking your head in disbelief. The thought actually cracks you up because out of the three of you, Yoongi happened to be the one more adept to websites despite your limited materials back then. Namjoon remains silent, and with how serious he looks, your face falls.
You can’t believe Yoongi at all.
“He did? You’ve gotta be kidding me, Joon,” you groan, throwing your head back. “What, does that mean Yoongi gets to stay in our home while we’re in this godforsaken family reunion?”
Namjoon delivers yet another blow, his revelation making you more enraged than the last.
“Mom invited them.”
“What? Why?!” you exclaim, chest rising in frustration. “Yoongi’s not family, Namjoon. Atleast not for me.”
He doesn’t miss your added remark at the end of your sentence, the underhandedness of it making him look down on the floor.
Namjoon feels guilty, he really does, but he can’t seem to make it right. He couldn’t even fight you in insisting to apologize that night.
For each day that you try to delay the inevitable of confronting him and letting him taking the fall, of letting him apologize, Namjoon feels more like a big failure for an older brother than he already is.
“But he used to be,” he says under his breath, looking up at you with a stubbornness you can’t place. “Your lifetime versus those five years — which one amounts to more?”
( ♡ )
Everyone gushes over Jungkook.
In an altitude higher than the mountainside that you’re in now, the aunts, uncles, and cousins you didn’t even know you have squeal over your fake boyfriend. By the fifth relative, you’ve already got your routine down of letting them hug you and kiss your cheek before holding Jungkook’s bicep, acting as his bodyguard to make sure they don’t squeeze him too hard or not at all.
“Oh my god, Y/N. Jeon Jungkook is your boyfriend?!”
“I knew it, I knew you were gonna have a partner who’s famous! I dreamed about it when you were-…”
“If that’s your boyfriend, then who’s he?” your cousin (?) whispers to you, cutting himself off as he turns his gaze to Yoongi and Haneul. They’re most certainly not your family, meaning that they’re unrelated to everyone present, so what your relatives (some more nosy than others) can’t wrap their heads around is the fact that there are strangers in your family reunion.
It takes one, two times for your mom and Namjoon to explain who they are and what they’re doing here in the first place, the chorus of nods eventually signaling that they’ve moved on. Some of them could even recall Mr. and Mrs. Min from the neighborhood, and Yoongi could only nod.
It’s not that he doesn’t belong right now — he actually feels the opposite. Yoongi feels that he has a place amongst a barrage of relatives he’s not affiliated to by neither blood nor paper, and it pains him; not because he’s scared of belonging, but because you probably don’t think the same way.
Haneul runs to him underneath the umbrella he’s isolated himself at, his son grasping an assortment of cash, food, and juiceboxes Yoongi most certainly did not pack in Haneul’s backpack from the night before.
“Auntie’s family is really nice, appa. Look what they gave me,” he shows everything that his hands could carry, breathing heavily in excitement as he explains that your relatives told him to come back once his hands are empty.
“Oh dear. They really think you’re adorable,” he laughs, pocketing Haneul’s cash (he swears he’ll give it back) and hiding some of the snacks he’s been given so he wouldn’t give himself heartburn eating too many at once.
Yoongi’s smiling from ear to ear, sitting Haneul in his lap as he overlooks the view of your town from above. Everything looks so small and delicate, you’d almost think none of what laid downhill ever even mattered. He didn’t get views like these in New York.
Yoongi didn’t get people like you in New York.
“Mama’s family isn’t this nice,” Haneul speaks out of nowhere, his thoughts uttered out loud directed more-on to himself than it is for his dad. Yoongi stops in his tracks in trepidation, shoulders tensing over what his son just said. “They never play with me like this. Not like auntie.”
He knows Hyewon’s relatives, albeit not that well. Her family members in the US were not this kind, not this warm, even to a child who’s actually related to them.
Yoongi’s stuck in his thoughts the whole time Haneul sips on his juice, finally being snapped into his reality nowwhen you approach their direction. His son waves at you excitedly even if you’ve just crossed paths minutes ago.
“Here, Haneul,” you hold out a container to him, the gentle smile on your face limited to only him yet Yoongi, for a lack of grace, pretends it’s also for him. “I tried my best to make it look like Bluey,” you chuckle, pointing to the mini sculpture made out of the marshmallows and blueberries that your relatives set aside for him.
Haneul beams at you, thanking you profusely. If only he wasn’t sat on Yoongi’s lap and therefore grounded, he would’ve launched himself at you to hug your legs.
Yoongi takes the hat right off his head, putting it on you while you’re crouched next to his son.
“It’s hot,” he explains, his heart continuously speaking beats the longer that you linger beside Haneul and the longer that he giggles in excitement. “I know you get headaches easily.”
( ♡ )
Despite being reachable, Yoongi still yearns for you.
He yearns for you even if you’re only within arm’s reach, sitting near you but never close enough at the long table because with you, he feels safe. He laughs in the background like it’s a sitcom to every joke and every episode of banter thrown around him. He doesn’t feel out of place with your family — he feels out of place with you.
He’s never been a wickedly jealous type. Even when he and Hyewon were still together and she cheated on him, Yoongi felt more resentful than he was jealous. He didn’t feel this type of way; he didn’t feel inferior. He didn’t feel like he was nursing a loss in his life because he has no choice but to. Yoongi had managed to divorce Hyewon because it didn’t work out between them, and that was that.
Yoongi can neither divorce you nor pull away from you because you’ve never been with each other. He harbors no resentment for you and that scares him, not because he wants to hate you so badly, but because he feels as if everything you’ll do to him, he’ll take it.
Yoongi will take it even if you set a plate for Jungkook despite unconsciously forgetting what he’s always disliked eating when you were still kids. He’ll take the serving tray from your hands still, uncaring if eating the tiniest bite of the food you’ve passed gives him an allergic reaction because you were the one who offered.
He’ll take it even if you hold Jungkook’s bicep in a hurry when there’s a bug that’s getting awfully close to your drink. Yoongi would walk to where you sit and dispose of it wordlessly because even Jungkook himself is scared of bugs. He doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him, because atleast now when he looks at you from a distance, you’re sitting in relaxation and you no longer have to hold your boyfriend.
He’ll endure the jealousy that burns through his throat more than the poorly-made, highly-alcoholic vodka your uncle made himself. He’ll hold onto the poison that is yearning and how he’ll feel like his throat would close up because if you were still young, in this setting of free rein, except you were still in love him like you used to be and he’s in love with you like he is now, neither you and Yoongi would be hurting.
Yoongi will take it. He’ll take the nothing that you give him and give you the everything that you don’t ask for anymore.
Five years versus the rest of your lifetime that you spent being in love with him is only miniscule. The suffering that he’s going through now is only a speck of the years you’ve spent in an unrequited love.
Unlike you, Yoongi’s weak. If he were to say it outloud to you, you’ll never agree because you’ve never regarded yourself otherwise. You’ll go on this tangent that you’ve always been weak, influenced by the times that Yoongi had chastised you for your lack of a passion.
To you, Yoongi had been right in a way.
To Yoongi, he’s always been in the wrong.
He’s crying to you now that the both of you are alone, overlooking the small town he used to be keen on getting out of. Now, more than ever, Yoongi wants to stay in it. He wants to stay with you.
“Why is everything with you so hard?” Yoongi whispers, his tears stinging badly from the corner of his eyes to the point that he can only make out shapes. He’s unkempt and frantic as if his life flashed before his eyes and there’s nothing he could do about it, voice strained like much of the times he’s drank himself to sleep.
He resembles Haneul at the moment. He’s always had because there’s not one bit of Hyewon in his son’s features or personality, but he looks especially like him now that he’s crying. The back of his hands harshly dig into his face, sobs bursting right from his throat. “Why do I make everything so hard for us? Why can’t I— w-why can’t I make it right for once?”
There’s a tremble to your chest that you ignore earnestly, the presence of it enough to scare you because it’s familiar; too familiar. Seeing your past play out in front of you in the form of a seemingly content family sleeping on your bed is one thing, but it’s another to see its patriarch crumble in front of you. It’s different to see your past pleading in front of you for just the slightest bit of your attention.
As a matter of fact, it’s different now because you resemble Yoongi the most.
“You never tried,” you seethe, jumping the gun before you even try to decipher what’s in the barrel. It’s a bullet you fire haphazardly that comes from your pocket that you’ve always held onto. It’s a misplaced, misshapen, old bullet that you force into a gun that Yoongi passed onto you.
Right now, Yoongi doesn’t resemble Haneul, and neither does he resemble his ex-wife.
He resembles you with the way his eyes are clearly swimming in hurt while you avoid looking at his, just to relieve the painstaking feeling of guilt and longing compacted into a sob.
“I never tried?” Yoongi exhales shakily, his quivering hands running through his hair to tug on them.“I never tried?”
You hear yourself clearly even if it’s his voice. The tremble and the anger, even all the way to the blind hope.
“I kept trying to reach out to you every single time. Every single birthday, every single Christmas, every insignificant holiday I could search up!” Yoongi cries — he actually thrashes with the way he sobs, shoulders shaking violently. “I didn’t try? If I didn’t try, try looking at every page of my passport to see all the stamps there are whenever fucking Jungkook was reported to be in another country,” he spits his name like poison, the vitriol behind it, however, never catching up to what he feels about himself.
You resemble Yoongi the most because you stand untethered, eyes blurring and lips quivering, yet you only watch him lose himself before thinking of uttering a single word.
“I’m selfish, I’m an asshole, and I’m fucking insufferable. I can’t even apologize to you correctly,” Yoongi lists, chest rising up and down too heavily, he feels like it’ll give out. “But I love you, Y/N. I-I might be every bad thing in your life right now and I own up to that. I’m still trying to be the best for you.”
Not only does Yoongi resemble you — he’s actually become you.
“You can call me the vilest names ever but you can’t say that,” he grits, teeth chattering not from the cold he’s put himself in, but because he can’t stop mentioning your name in between. “You can’t say I never tried because I always have. I’ll never stop becausethat’s what it takes,” Yoongi mutters; because, he says, not if.
“I love you,” he says it far too clearly for someone who’s drunk; far too sincerely for someone who had spent the better part of his life putting it through your head that he can’t return your affection. “I’ve always loved you.”
( ♡ )
You don’t feel good.
There’s a fever that’s starting to bloom from the base of your skull all the way to your toes, the abnormal warmth you feel in your chest making you unable to interact with everyone else outside of your room. Jungkook had left with your uncles before dawn to go fishing in the nearby lake and never would you think to inconvenience him; to tend to someone like you for something as minor as a fever, or for anything at all.
You already have a system down for taking care of yourself when you’re ill. It started when neither your mom nor your brother were home with you, and it was finally perfected when you had to live completely alone in the big city. All you had to do was gather all the energy you have, spend it at the start to get everything you could possibly need and put them all at the side of your bed, and rest until everything no longer hurts.
The major flaw with your system now is that you don’t have the energy at all. You can’t build up the strength to get up, walk across the hall and interact with your relatives, and rummage through groceries to get what you need without being questioned; you can’t build up the sense of importance you have for yourself to ask for help.
Namjoon comes into your room before you could dance around the idea of asking him to get you water, all because he has this innate sense of guilt in him and you could utilize it to your advantage. Your brother gets ahead of you before you could even register that he’s here with you, his eyes sullen and pleading.
“Can we talk?”
“I can’t exactly storm off right now,” you rasp, your voice fading out into a low chuckle.
“Do you want to talk when you’re able to storm off?” he asks sincerely with a small smile, his hand fixing your hair as gently as he could without making your migraine ring further. “If you do though, then you probably might never hear me out again.”
You stay silent because he is right, but Namjoon feels otherwise. He feels as if he hasn’t been doing anything right at all and you existing separate from him is a constant reminder. His career is at its peak but he thinks he could go higher; his relationship with you is deteriorating and he doesn’t think it could possibly be worse.
“I’m sorry for being a shitty brother,” he apologizes, the first thing out of his mouth being the last thing that floods his mind before he goes to sleep at night. “I should’ve never defended Yoongi, even Hyewon by extension.”
The heat behind your eyes isn’t all from your fever. The tears that prick your eyes aren’t because of the pressure in your head, but because of the fact that you haven’t heard Namjoon apologize to you in a long time; you haven’t talked this sincerely for even longer
“I should’ve put you first,” he sniffles, muttering apologies in between his pauses for finding the right words that would make it okay; that would somehow undo all that he’s been an accomplice to. “I should’ve been this reliable, sturdy man of the house. I-I should’ve been more of a father figure to you-…”
“Don’t,” you interject sternly. “You never filled in his shoes and you should never will. You’re only mom’s son and my brother, Namjoon. It’s never been your job to raise me.”
Even after everything, there’s a gentleness to you that Namjoon’s always loved but hate the most now. He hates that even if he’s the one who’s apologizing, you’re the one who’s saying sorry for the things you didn’t even inflict on him. Neither of you wanted to be raised by only a single parent, yet you absolve him of the guilt he’s always felt.
“But I could’ve been better. I wish I was already better from the start.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think how hard life was for you growing up. I-I would’ve given up football if only-…” he trembles, unable to get the last of his sentence out because you shake your head in earnest.
“Stop.”
“But I mean it. If only I-I didn’t get into football, I could’ve been there for you and mom much often. I could’ve been better and-...”
“But I grew up to be okay, didn’t I? You’re the best at what you do. We’ve managed to retire mom early because we put in the work,” you whisper, the shrug of your shoulders feeling more heavy that it should feel because the words don’t come out easily from you.
“But okay shouldn’t have been enough for you,” Namjoon tears up, bottom lip trembling as you try to take in his words that you’ve always wanted to hear at the back of your mind; you hear them now when you’ve already grown up. You hear them now after you’ve already endured the grief. “I— we should’ve given you the fighting chance to grow up more than okay.”
.
.
.
It’s not Jungkook who comes to visit you while you’re nursing a fever, because you’ve temporarily banned him from the bedroom. He only pouted in complaint when you called him, but he didn’t fight you that much either because you’ve called him out for the excitement in his voice to go hiking for the first time.
It’s not Yoongi who comes to visit you while you’re nursing a fever, because Haneul asked him to teach him Go (he’s not even that good at it and being the ever unable to show incompetence and have pride especially when Jungkook’s watching father, he discreetly asked lessons from your mom) so he’ll be able to play with your cousins.
Instead, it’s your mom who visits you. Even if Namjoon hadn’t tipped her off that you were feeling under the weather, she’s already had a feeling this morning.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks, her hands full of everything you could possibly need and more before plopping them at your side. She makes you sit up even before you could complain, handing you a drink with some medicine you didn’t even know she carried
“Just a little fever,” you answer, getting back into your cocoon.
You don’t even attempt to make conversation because you fear that you don’t have it in you to have a heart-to-heart talk with your mom just minutes after you’ve had one with Namjoon.
You don’t even say anything to her except your thanks. Namjoon didn’t even tell her about your conversation, even if he approached her with tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes while saying that it was just allergies.
Your mom feels the guilt spring to her chest even if you don’t utter a single word. She feels the remorse in her eyes when you don’t ask her for anything more. She feels the guilt the most in her hands when you don’t ask her to stay.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel like there wasn’t enough space for your burdens growing up.”
“What?”you scramble to get up in a seated position, eyes hazy from how quick you do it. “Mom, you scared me. Where’s this coming from?”
She shakes her head at your cluelessness, eyes stinging when you genuinely look at her innocently. You don’t know what she’s talking about, even if the thought has plagued her for so long.
“You’re not really okay, are you?”
“It’s… just a fever,” you mumble, your breathing already trembling at the way she looks at you.
She’s looking at you like you’re still a kid; ever so fragile and innocent, it’s as if she wouldn’t let a single thing in this world harm you. She doesn’t know a single thing about your feud with Namjoon and your long drawn-out conflict with Yoongi. What your mom does know is that she doesn’t know a single thing about the heartbreak you suppress, and that thought alone makes her hiccup in tears.
“You’re right, you know? Our house is small,” she says, distinctly recalling the tensioned conversation you had with Namjoon back at home. “It’s tiny but it was far too big for you growing up alone,” she inhales sharply, trying not to sob in front of you. “He wasn’t in the picture. I was working a hundred jobs left and right. Namjoon was trying to make a name for himself,” she shakes her head, so much so that the necklace she’s had since you were children, the same one with yours and Namjoon’s birthstones on it, rattles. “I’m sorry for making you feel that you can’t come to me.”
In just a full day, you’ve heard everything that you’ve ever wanted. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted during the school plays where you had no one from your family, except Yoongi, to watch you become an extra up on stage. He’d always deny that he did show up for you and just say that it’s because he was genuinely interested in a play about a poet he didn’t care about in reality, but you take it nonetheless.
It’s everything you’ve ever prayed for watching Yoongi live a life far too advanced for you as he held Hyewon’s hand after school. It’s what you wanted to hear when you begged him not to leave you behind.
“I-I’m okay. I’m really-…” you stutter, looking away before your tears fall in the fear that they’ll never stop.
Your mom only hugs you tighter.
“I’m here if you want someone else to carry your burdens,” she whispers. “I’m here now.”
( ♡ )
It’s the last day of the reunion when you fully recover, and it’s hours ahead of everyone when Jungkook has to leave by himself.
Without even asking for it, Jungkook grants you another week’s worth of break. You didn’t even plan on asking, yet Jungkook’s willing to give you a month if only you do.
You’ve already arranged for his personal driver to pick him up and take him back to the city. You’ve already packed his bags, along with the multiple containers of food that your relatives (and especially your mom) insisted for him to take. You’ve arranged for your substitute to take care of him for his schedules throughout the week, along with the insistent reminder to call you whenever Jungkook needs you. (Read: he does, with or without a schedule.)
Everything is set for Jungkook to leave except for his driver who’d been roped by your mom to be filled with breakfast first, yet with the remaining minutes left, Jungkook’s still with you on your bed.
He lies on your lap even if there’s plenty of space for him to lie parallel to you on a pillow — and you let him.
“Have you ever thought about kissing me?” he asks in the middle of you texting your substitute, the randomness of his thought already being familiar to you. This time, unlike the few thousand times he’s ever asked you something straight off his mind without refining them, is different.
It’s different now because your pretend-boyfriend asks you if you’ve ever thought about kissing him, while looking like he really wants to kiss you.
“Where’d that come from?” you giggle, looking down on him on your lap.
Not once does Jungkook ever look away from you.
“Dunno,” he shrugs, pointing up at you. “Your lips are close to bleeding and it’s bothering me.”
“Sorry for turning you off,” you snort in laughter, wiping at the tiny specks of blood. Jungkook tuts when you rub at them, feeling for his lip balm out of his pocket.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he stresses, going a little cross-eyes when he applies them for you. His eyes keep goading you, the smile he has on his face widening the more that you look at him incredulously. “Sooo… have you?”
You don’t want to lie to him at all.
“If I answer yes, Jungkook,” you toy around with his hair, setting your phone face-down because you can’t focus on anything else now. “We can never come back from that.”
Jungkook laughs in glee so loudly, Yoongi (who was only passing by; he really, really swears he didn’t just happen to eavesdrop in your room because Jungkook’s driver is all done eating and wants to beat traffic) actually flinches.
Jungkook strains to be closer to you, unconsciously training you to lean down. His lips are far too soft — far too close to you, you could see every line and every nuance in them. He whispers, eyes practically crossing at your proximity.
“And is that such a bad thing?”
( ♡ )
You’re back at home when Jungkook texts you that he’s made it back safe, and that he wants to kiss you again.
You’re back at home when Yoongi asks you if he could use the bathroom first because Haneul spilled milk on him during the drive. You’re in your childhood bedroom when you let him clean up first, and you’re sitting on your childhood bed when you volunteer to put Haneul down because he’s cranky and for some reason, wants to be held by you.
You’re back at home too when Yoongi and Haneul are knocked out for the night, and your mom calls you and Namjoon down for all three of you to talk at the dining table.
You’re back at the home you were raised in, sitting on the dining table that’s creaky when more than two people lean their weight into it, in the space you’ve roamed around alone waiting for them to come home, when your mom talks about wanting to sell it.
“You want to sell?” Namjoon’s eyes widen, exchanging a glance with you who’s as equally surprised as he is.
“Yes. It’s under my name, y’know? Not that… man’s,” she snorts, the off-hand mention of your father making you and Namjoon laugh unexpectedly. Your mom looks at ease as she talks about selling your house, the smile she has one her face being shaped with experience and grace. “I doubt the both of you would want to keep this, and besides, the offers I’ve kept for years now are high. You already know that big-shot companies have been buying out houses here for years now because of the growth potential and whatnot. Who knows, maybe our block will be turned into a mall!” she shrugs, the happiness in her tone infectious.
For someone who’s decided on letting go the house she’s both struggled and strived in, your mom’s beyond excited.
For two adults, who were once kids, who’ve seen the amount of sacrifices your mother’s put into the place by herself, you and Namjoon don’t have any objections.
“Also, consider this as me asking for permission to go on a vacation, even if I’m grown, because some people get so paranoid when I don’t answer calls,” she digs at you and your brother, immediately inciting coughs because you two, in fact, are guilty of worrying over your mom too much. “I’m going on this worldwide trip with Yoongi’s mom,” she grins, pulling out one last surprise. “We’ve talked about it since we were young. She’s earned her stripes working abroad, I managed to raise two amazing children as a single mom. We’ve earned it, I think.”
You and Namjoon share a glance once again, this time more definite than the last. You’ve made up already as far as your mom could tell, and that confirmation is what she needs before finally selling the house you all grew up in.
“You’ve earned it more than anyone.”
( ♡ )
Yoongi’s packing up for their flight tonight when you go into your room to pack up the life you’ve lived there.
“You’re coming with me and Haneul?” Yoongi jokes when he sees you pulling out your own luggage, the tone of his voice highly suggesting for you to become serious. He gets you to smile and that’s big enough of a win as is, the remainder of it more than substantial to hold onto when he’s away from you. Again.
“No, unfortunately. I’m packing up the room and eventually… the whole house,” you answer with a chuckle, voice trailing off when you see the crestfallen look on Yoongi’s face. He looks like someone who’s just absorbed the largest pain to man as he’s trying not to make it obvious. “We’re posting it for sale two weeks from now.”
Yoongi nods tightly, inhaling sharply as he tries to maintain his steady tone. “Then why are you packing up already?”
You could do this tomorrow. As a matter of fact, you could do it tonight because you don’t have to drive them to the airport. You have all the time in the world within two weeks to do this, yet you go into your room now when Yoongi’s still in it.
When Yoongi still hasn’t left, and neither of you know when you’re gonna see each other next.
“I have to get a move on. If I don’t move now,” you trail, voice close to trembling as you open cabinets you’ve never even given the time of day before. “I’m scared that I’ll keep holding onto this house.
Yoongi nods, even if he fully understands — even if he doesn’t want to swallow what you’re saying.
“You want out?”
“We want out — me, mom, Namjoon,” you explain, looking at him properly for the first time since he told you that he loved you. “For the longest time, we’ve held onto this place because we became this house at one point. Namjoon’s this world star, my mom’s traveling the world with your mom-…”
“Oh, they’re finally doing it?” Yoongi interrupts, a smile finally coming to his face at the news. He hasn’t talked to his mom in a month from how busy he’s been, and although he’s always missed her (even if they’re on much better terms than he and his dad could be), he’s happy knowing that your moms have each other atleast. “How about you? What will you be doing?”
“I’ll just be… living day-to-day. I’m not doing anything extremely special, but I’m happy and busy doing it,” you laugh, looking around your room that hasn’t appeared this clean, this warm, since you last stayed in it. “No one’s going to be around here anymore.”
As if on cue, Haneul runs to Yoongi’s arms to be picked up. He knows what the luggages mean and because he’s largely in denial that they have to leave later (as referenced by him crying to your mom and Namjoon), Haneul keeps pretending to sleep so that their trip gets delayed.
Yoongi’s about to put him on your bed even if he knows his son’s antics already, but in the fear that he’ll actually get to sleep and they don’t get to leave (which he isn’t opposed to at all), he keeps him in his arms.
You, on the other hand, take Haneul from him when his arms outstretch for you.
There’s the sentiment of you not having to do it that’s resting at the tip of Yoongi’s tongue but he holds himself back, the image of you and Haneul completely fitting one another, he wants to burn a copy of it to his retinas and designate it to be the last thing he’ll see if he ever goes blind.
Without putting Haneul to sleep on your bed, he goes to sleep in peace in your arms.
“Do you regret it?” Yoongi asks throughout the silence between you, sitting next to you at the edge of your bed. “Do you regret ever liking me?”
“I do,” you answer truthfully, rubbing circles at the Haneul’s back. “I regret knowing you.”
Yoongi takes the responsibility fully, even fuller than the way both your hurt and happiness could make or break him.
“I can’t take back all the hurt I’ve caused you,” he admits just as honestly, turning to look at you. He becomes surprised to learn that you’ve been looking at him the whole time. “But what I can promise you is that I’ll never do anything to hurt you again.”
“I have my share of faults too.”
“Eh. Mostly mine.”
“Mostly yours, yeah,” you laugh easily, nodding to yourself as you continue. “But I held onto you as much as you didn’t hold onto me. That’s my mistake.”
Yoongi stays silent at that, not because he agrees, but because the bias that you’ll never be wrong in his eyes overtakes your humbleness.
“Do you think he’ll remember the entirety of the trip?” you ask, gesturing to Haneul who’s already sleeping like a hibernating bear in your hold. “Or will Haneul just remember that time the power went out because he cried a lot?”
“Oh, he’ll remember everything alright. He’s good with retention and people in general,” Yoongi waves you off. “Even if he didn’t come along the trip— even if we didn’t crash the whole thing, Haneul would remember you.”
“Who am I to him?” you ask in curiosity, lips turning into a straight line before they curve in the slightest. “Appa’s friend, I bet.”
“Not really. You’re a lot of things to me,” Yoongi chuckles, looking at the way Haneul grips you as if you’ll float away if he lets go; he’d do the same too. “More like my first love.”
Yoongi loves you quietly.
He loves you quietly with the way he draws the curtains downstairs when you sleep on the couch, tired and stressed over a solution you couldn’t understand. He loves you with the way he’ll scoop the warmest, freshest, least-burnt portion of rice to your bowl without you even asking for it. He loves you with the way he’s willing to let you walk all over him.
He loves you quietly in the way that not even distance nor time could disrupt him.
Yoongi loves you quietly, it might have been too much.
“Is that a lottery ticket?” he asks suddenly as he spots the familiar face of it inside your luggage, tucked into the discreet pocket where your mother’s letters of encouragement when you went to the big city were also kept
“Oh, it’s still there,” you answer, in surprise yourself because even if this is the same luggage you use whenever you go out of the country with Jungkook, you’ve never noticed that it was still there. “I bought it when you left for the US.”
Yoongi stops in his tracks in retrieving the scratch ticket from the pocket, looking up at you in curiosity. “Why did you buy one that day?”
Haneul stirs in his sleep in your arms, waking up right at the middle of you and Yoongi being lost in each other. He mistakes the silence as a signal that they’ll be leaving already, making a mess of himself as he quickly goes down the stairs to look for your family there and cling to them instead.
You and Yoongi are alone again.
“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, grasping the scratch ticket you used to spend hours looking. “I guess I just needed some proof that fate was against me that day.”
“But how would you even know that?” Yoongi asks, pointing to the card that’s still covered. “You didn’t even scratch it.”
You answer honestly, the reason burnt to the back of his mind.
“Because I knew I would lose my mind if I actually lost.”
“Try,” Yoongi swallows, nudging the ticket closer to you with a gaze that mirrored yours when he left. “Try again. Please.”
You have nothing else to lose.
Yoongi isn’t yours to lose.
You retrieve the same old coin Yoongi gave to you on the same day that he bought you your first scratch ticket, the appearance of it from your luggage making his heart skip a beat.
He doesn’t speak and neither do you, gaze only fixed on the way you scratch the card almost hesitantly, as if you’re still scared of the results of something that you should’ve known five years ago. (Read: you still are.)
When you get to the last digit, you freeze. You comb through the pattern over and over again, yet you still can’t believe it.
You’ve won the highest possible prize.
“Oh.”
“Oh,” you parrot Yoongi, looking up at him as he can’t believe it either.
“You won.”
“I won,” you repeat, running a hand through your hair. You actually laugh, the lump in your throat subsiding. It’s a welcome, albeit loaded, feeling of happiness that comes in between the two of you. “I thought I would lose,” you mutter bitterly, shaking your head.
You didn’t lose. Fate wasn’t against you that day, and yet you still lost yourself thinking subconsciously what the proof of it would’ve been.
“Who would’ve thought, right?” you sigh, eyes drifting to Yoongi. “If only I took that chance years ago, I would’ve won.”
Yoongi smiles tightly, breath faltering in recollection.
“I’m familiar with the feeling,”
Yoongi doesn’t get to finish packing for him and Haneul and neither do you with your whole room, the shift in the atmosphere suddenly making him stand.
He’s breathless and he doesn’t know what for, the rapid beating of his chest making his voice louder than necessary. “Hey, what do you say you take a break? I’ll pack up your room. I have to stay alert anyway for Haneul."
You thank him before leaving him alone in your room.
Yoongi can’t find the strength in him to pack. The only power he has left in him is for him to think of taking everything out from his luggages, the thought of leaving again, this time worlds different than the last when you were begging him not to — he feels like throwing up.
Yoongi’s merely an amalgamation of you. He’s only a compilation of your every word, every feeling you’ve implanted in his heart. He’s filled with nothing but your every triumph and shortcoming; every late night hanging out with you as you attempt to study while he keeps you company, every minute he spent going out of his mind trying to look for you when you ran away from home.
Yoongi loves you silently to the point that he gets out of your room without accomplishing a single thing he said he’ll do just awhile ago.
In the grand scheme of things, Yoongi realizes that he was wrong. He was as wrong as you were right that the moment he leaves home, he’ll spend the rest of his life looking for it.
Even if you left your home like he did, even if neither of you could come home anymore the moment your childhood house gets sold, Yoongi would still search for it. He’ll still search for you. You’re no longer where you were, but you are everywhere that Yoongi is.
He looks for you in Namjoon’s room, to the dining table, and all the way outside, just to ask if he and Haneul could stay for dinner.
Yoongi finds you and Haneul eating sundaes on the pavement outside, with you on the ground and a scrap cardboard underneath Haneul so it wouldn’t be hot for him.
Fate hadn’t been against you five years ago. And even if he’s much too late, Yoongi could only pray that fate isn’t against him now.
He walks over to where you and Haneul are, grabbing another scrap of cardboard to put underneath you.
Yoongi is consumingly yours all the time.