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gimmethatagustd · 4 hours

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AND TAE WAS THEIR FIRST JHSDKFSK WHY DID I NOT EVEN FUCKING THINK ABOUT IT

dirty, dirty boy | kth + knj

For Taehyung, the only revenge sweeter than fucking Namjoon's girlfriend behind his back is fucking Namjoon from the back.

↳ pairing: fuckboy!taehyung x namjoon (from only here to sin)

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | enemies to… enemies with benefits ?? | smut

↳ wc/date: 4.3k | July 2023

↳ warnings: typical ohts!tae level of emotional manipulation, loss of virginity/virginity kink, hate sex, blowjob, anal fingering, protected anal sex, slut-shaming, humiliation, degradation, they're mean to each other in general lol, tae and jk are fwbs (is it really a jai fic if there isn't a taekook moment?), marijuana, sex under the influence (is it really a jai fic without some weed?) so ig it's kinda dubcon if this was real life but in the context of the fic they're both fully aware of their actions

↳ notes: if you know ohts!taehyung then you know that he loves to use his dick for revenge 🤷🏽‍♀️ also, i went back and forth on whether i should write this using third person or second person to refer to the main character in only here to sin. i decided that since some people might read this as a standalone, i would use third person. it also kind of felt weird to say "you" when there isn't actually a "you" character in the story lol. i hope that makes sense/y'all don't mind

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? a fuckboy spotify playlist

“You’re not even just a little bit curious, Joonie?”

Taehyung’s tongue glides along the edge of the rolling paper pinched between his index fingers and thumbs. Little clusters of purple grapes drawn in a cartoonish style are printed onto the thin paper. When he brings his lighter to the twisted tip, the smoke he inhales is sweet.

“No desire to know why your girl thought getting fucked by me was worth breaking her promise to you?”

Taehyung leans his head against the back of the couch and watches Namjoon out of the corner of his eye. The other man sits in a chair diagonal from Taehyung’s spot on the couch. He looks odd in Taehyung’s apartment, wearing tortoise-shell geometric glasses and a cream-colored cardigan. Meanwhile, Taehyung lounges in light grey joggers and a tight white t-shirt with the sleeves cuffed around his bulging biceps.

They’re a funny sight, him and Namjoon. Taehyung is sure of it and can’t help but smirk to himself at the thought of Namjoon’s ex-girlfriend knowing he’s here. He’s sure Namjoon hasn’t mentioned it to her. As far as Taehyung knows, she hasn’t had any communication with Namjoon since she went off to California.

Taehyung knows they’re both thinking about how the last time Namjoon was here, they were beating the shit out of each other.

Taehyung also thinks about how he fucked Namjoon’s girl on the couch right where he’s sitting, but Namjoon doesn’t know that. The asshole might have his suspicions, but he can’t ever know for sure.

That is unless Taehyung tells him. And Taehyung loves it when Namjoon gets all purple in the face, and the veins pop out in his neck. But he also loves knowing what Namjoon doesn’t.

“Shut the fuck up,” Namjoon hisses. His face isn’t quite purple yet, but his neck veins are starting to show.

Taehyung’s mouth shapes into a lazy rectangular smile.

“Make me.”

“You’re so fucking childish.”

Taehyung snorts. When he exhales, smoke rushes from his nostrils. He leans one elbow on his knee and extends his other arm out to offer Namjoon the grape-flavored joint.

“I don’t smoke,” Namjoon declines with a wrinkle of his nose.

It’s ridiculous because Namjoon doesn’t like Taehyung, yet here he is in his apartment, and for what? Their meeting is under the pretense that Taehyung wanted to make amends now that the object of both of their affection is no longer in the picture. The important thing to remember about Kim Taehyung, though, is that he is always honest - you just have to decipher the meaning behind the truths he speaks.

“There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” Taehyung licks his lips and doesn’t miss how Namjoon follows the action with suspicion in his eyes. “C’mon, these were her favorite. S’good; it’ll make you taste like grape soda.”

Namjoon doesn’t comment on Taehyung’s implication that anyone would be tasting his mouth for proof, and Taehyung doesn’t expect him to. He waggles the joint, careful not to let any ash hit the floor.

The funny thing about Namjoon is that he thrives off of controlling the weak people he’s closest to, but he is hopeless when presented with someone just as manipulative as he is. Taehyung figures it’s his nonchalant demeanor that gets Namjoon’s panties in a twist. While Namjoon is high-strung and anxious in his desire to maintain control, Taehyung is more willing to play with his food. He likes feeling around, getting a sense of the situation. He’s willing to be patient, to wait for the opportune moment to get someone right where he wants them.

And Namjoon is nearly there.

With a grunt and an eye roll, Namjoon plucks the joint from between Taehyung’s long fingers and sticks it between his lips.

“Keep your lips tight, but not too tight,” Taehyung guides Namjoon in a soft murmur. “Inhale some air right after you take the hit, but don’t let any of the smoke out. That’s it.”

Namjoon coughs a few times, but that’s expected of a first-timer. Taehyung schools his face, careful not to have any expression that could be read as condescending. If he wants Namjoon to chill out, he needs to avoid bruising his ego. There will be plenty of opportunities for that later.

“See? Feels good,” Taehyung reassures when Namjoon passes the joint back. He has to lean across the coffee table to reach it. “Come sit over here; it’s fucking annoying having to lean like that.”

When Namjoon hesitates, Taehyung draws his lip between his teeth to hold back a grin.

“What? I don’t bite.”

“Shut up,” Namjoon immediately counters, but he gets up and sits beside Taehyung on the couch.

“Relax.” Taehyung blows a smoke ring toward the ceiling. “Ride the high.”

It’s surprisingly easy to get Namjoon to relax once he has a few more hits. Taehyung has been told he has a calming voice, so perhaps Taehyung’s random ramblings aid in getting Namjoon to feel more comfortable. He’s certainly hesitant at first, but they have enough history to fuel their conversation. It isn’t painless, but it isn’t awful. Taehyung steers clear of girlfriend-talk, instead reminiscing about stupid teachers they’d had in school and getting into an only semi-serious argument over their favorite basketball teams.

Yes, Taehyung brought Namjoon over to earn his trust because he’s playing the long game, biding his time until he can truly fuck Namjoon over, but he doesn’t expect that trust to develop so quickly. Too quickly.

“I wish I could talk to her,” Namjoon says with a sigh. He rests his head against the back of the couch and stares at the clouds of smoke they’re blowing into the air.

“Probably not a good idea, my guy,” Taehyung counters.

Namjoon turns his head to the side. He and Taehyung are only a few inches apart, close enough that their shoulders almost touch. There’s a strange look on his face that Taehyung can’t decipher because he doesn’t know Namjoon that well.

“You haven’t reached out to her?” Shock colors Namjoon’s voice and muddles his odd expression.

“Nope.” Taehyung draws out the word and lets it pop at the end.

“Why not?”

He shrugs.

Namjoon lets out a disgruntled sound like he’s frustrated that Taehyung hasn’t wanted any communication with his ex, but he has.

“What would be the point? It’s not like we had anything serious going on. Sorry, but it was a good fuck, and that’s it. And I can get a good fuck from plenty of people.”

It isn’t entirely true, but Taehyung strangles the voice inside his head that tries to point that out to him.

Sex talk must make Namjoon just as uncomfortable as it had his girlfriend because the guy practically squirms in his seat. It makes Taehyung want to roll his eyes, but he’s trying to be nice right now.

“I wouldn’t know,” Namjoon sniffs, and if he could lift his nose fully into the air, Taehyung is sure his snooty ass would.

“I know. It’s cute,” Taehyung says with a crooked grin. He brings the joint to his lips and watches Namjoon through the hazy smoke. “That you’re a virgin.”

It’s Namjoon’s turn to roll his eyes. “Shut the fuck up. Virginities mean nothing.”

“Don’t they?”

“It’s a social construct.”

Taehyung waves a hand once Namjoon takes the joint from him. “That’s all that fancy college talk,” he dismisses. “You’re telling me you don’t care about fucking for the first time? Don’t care who it’s with, when, none of that?”

Namjoon is overcome with a fit of coughs, so he shakes his head instead of verbally answering.

“Then why did you care so much about you and your girl saving yourselves for marriage?”

Namjoon sighs like Taehyung is the stupidest person in the world. It isn’t the first time. “That wasn’t about virginities. That was about not being a fucking slut like some people.”

“Like me,” Taehyung muses. Namjoon doesn’t find it to be as funny.

“Yes, like you.”

Taehyung hums in understanding, but he doesn’t speak right away. Namjoon is confusing. Abstinence before marriage implies sexual purity, yet he finds virginities to be arbitrary. Wouldn’t that make a person’s body count arbitrary, too? College kids and their stupid, contradictory ideas. Taehyung always knew college wasn’t for him, and this type of pretentious bullshit is exactly why.

“What counts as sex for you?” Taehyung leans forward to tap the joint against the edge of an ashtray.

“What do you mean?”

“Y’know, if you’re saving yourself ‘cause you wanna be a prude, how far are you willing to take it? Is a handjob considered sex? Some sloppy toppy? Where’s the line drawn?”

Namjoon grimaces at Taehyung’s crass language. “I don’t know.”

Taehyung hums again and rests the now spent joint at the bottom of the ashtray. He and Namjoon aren’t that high; another joint would be needed to really get them to the level he likes to be at. They’re buzzed, relaxed enough that they aren’t at each other’s necks, but Namjoon’s eyes aren’t even red yet.

Taehyung twists his body to face Namjoon and props his elbow on the back of the couch so he can hold his head in his hand. “So if I sucked you off right now, it wouldn’t count?”

Namjoon nearly chokes, but Taehyung keeps a straight face.

“Excuse me?”

“If I sucked you off, it wouldn’t count as sex?”

The neck veins appear now, but Taehyung thinks they aren’t out of anger. He can’t help but smirk when Namjoon’s eyes fall to his lips.

“It doesn’t matter because you wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” Taehyung lets himself laugh this time because it’s utterly ridiculous how Namjoon goes from calling him a slut to calling him a liar in the same breath. “Like I said before, aren’t you curious why your girlfriend cheated on you with me?”

It’s the Forbidden Topic, but Taehyung thinks right now is an appropriate time to bring it up. He wants to rile Namjoon up, but now his strategy has evolved slightly.

Before Namjoon can answer, Taehyung leans forward to rest his hand on Namjoon’s knee. He squeezes it lightly, then drags his palm up the length of Namjoon’s thigh, making sure to curve his fingertips into the inside of his thigh when he squeezes the muscle.

“Quit it,” Namjoon whispers, but Taehyung notices that he spreads his legs. The movement is almost imperceptible, but it happens.

“She always said she liked my mouth,” Taehyung ignores Namjoon, kneading his thigh as he speaks. “I could show you what’s so special about it.”

He can see it, the fight in Namjoon’s eyes. It’s in the way he looks at Taehyung’s mouth, then to his hand squeezing his thigh, and then back to his eyes. Eyes that Taehyung knows are dark and full of lust, but mostly mischief because this is a game. Fucking Namjoon’s girlfriend had been a game, too. It just hadn’t ended the way Taehyung wanted or expected it to.

“C’mon, Joonie,” Taehyung whispers. He slowly moves off the couch and sinks to his knees on the floor between Namjoon’s legs. “You’ve always wanted to shut me up, right?”

Having Taehyung between his legs must light a fire inside of Namjoon because he blinks a few times as though he’s just woken up. It’s cute how his cheeks flush a deep pink, the color intensifying as Taehyung’s long fingers begin unbuckling his belt. Taehyung wants to ruin him.

“I need you to say it,” Taehyung murmurs. Even though Namjoon willingly lifts his hips, letting Taehyung pull his jeans and underwear down to free his cock, Taehyung needs verbal confirmation. He watches Namjoon with curiosity as he brings his cock to his mouth and flicks the head with the tip of his tongue. Taehyung hasn’t sucked a dick in ages; he’s normally the one choking someone with his cock. Luckily, being out of practice won’t matter in this situation. Namjoon is already folding, and Taehyung has barely done anything.

Namjoon’s bright eyes narrow into a hateful glare. “Fuck you.”

“Oh, now we’re gonna do that?” Taehyung teases. “Let’s worry about me sucking you off, and then we can talk about fucking, okay, Joonie?”

He molds his lips around the tip, and Namjoon lets out a deep groan. He throws his head against the back of the couch and digs his fingers into his own thighs to keep himself rigid.

“Fuck, fine, do it.”

Taehyung hates when people tell him what to do, but he’ll give Namjoon a pass this time. Slipping the man’s cock down his throat is more interesting than getting into an argument. Funny how life works. He’s way too giddy with the excitement of finally getting at Kim Namjoon, the man he’s hated more than anyone else for nearly a decade.

Taking it all at once is a mistake, though. Namjoon is more tightly wound than Taehyung had anticipated. The moment his cock hits the back of Taehyung’s throat, Namjoon practically starts crying. Taehyung eases up on his approach, going slower and not applying too much pressure. He doesn’t want to be an asshole about it, he really doesn’t, but the hum he makes around Namjoon’s cock is the closest thing to laughter that he can do with a dick in his mouth. He manages maybe two bobs of his head before he has to pull off.

“Damn, Namjoon,” he huffs, voice low and thick. He rests his chin on Namjoon’s thigh and slowly drags his hand up his cock, avoiding the tip. “You’re such a virgin. It’s kinda embarrassing; I’m sorry.”

Namjoon covers his face with his hands, and Taehyung can see where his blunt nails dug half moons in his thighs. “Fuck you, Taehyung.”

“Mhm, you said that already.” Taehyung runs his tongue up his cock just to be mean, though he’s a bit afraid Namjoon might kick him from the way his body twitches. “You’re not fucking anyone with this pathetic thing.” He squeezes the base of Namjoon’s cock, also to be mean. “I’m not opposed to fucking you, though I thought you didn’t wanna be a slut.”

Taehyung expects Namjoon to cuss him out even more, but he just stares at Taehyung’s tongue as it licks around the head of his cock. Heat builds in the pit of Taehyung’s stomach, but he does his best to ignore it. He needs to stay focused on Namjoon. Namjoon, who has yet to refuse Taehyung’s offer.

With a quirk of his eyebrow, Taehyung sits back on his heels. “Unless you want it?” Silences. “Oh, you want it.” Taehyung bites his lip to suppress a grin, but the cockiness bleeds through his tone anyway. Namjoon already looks fucked out, and for once, the little bitch has nothing to say. It’s great; Namjoon deserves a taste of his own fucked up medicine for being such a controlling asshole in his last relationship.

“Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do since you’re too nervous,” Taehyung holds up his hand when Namjoon starts to protest. “I’m going to my room to get a condom and some lube. If you’re still here when I get back, I’m gonna split you open, aight, Joonie?” Taehyung pats Namjoon’s knee and stands up.

Taehyung is enjoying the fact that he rendered the man speechless a little too much. Part of him wouldn’t be surprised if Namjoon has his dick shoved in his pants and the door swinging behind him by the time Taehyung returns to the living room. It wouldn’t matter either way, he figures as he retrieves the items he needs from his bedroom nightstand. The damage is done regardless; it doesn’t matter how far they take it now. Besides, Taehyung wasn’t going to swallow, and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to let Namjoon nut on his face. He’s got more self-respect than that, wouldn’t let Namjoon have the pleasure.

To his pleasant surprise, Namjoon is right where Taehyung wants him - sitting pretty with his pants and underwear in a pile on the floor. He’s kept his t-shirt on, but the cardigan is gone and that’s just fine with Taehyung. The important parts are exposed and that’s all he can really ask for.

“Don’t fucking say anything,” Namjoon hisses but it’s whinier than it is biting.

Taehyung holds up his hands, one of them clutching the lube and a condom. “My lips are sealed, Joonie baby. Now turn around and get on your hands and knees.”

Fuck, Taehyung never could have imagined how good saying that would feel. He doesn’t even bother hiding his triumphant grin as he strips down to only his t-shirt, mirroring Namjoon.

Namjoon looks hot spread out for Taehyung on the couch. Despite his sharp tongue, the man is completely pliant for Taehyung as he massages his lubed-up fingers inside of him, one by one. It doesn’t take long for Taehyung to find Namjoon’s prostate. He pays special attention to the spot for a bit - just long enough for the burning tension to build inside of Namjoon and slowly drive him mad. But eventually, Taehyung steers clear of it despite a whine from the man spread open.

“No way I’m letting you come now,” Taehyung grunts, using his knees to push Namjoon’s legs wider apart.

It’s been a while since Taehyung has had to prep someone. Usually, when he and Jungkook fucked, Jungkook did all the work himself. Said he liked to put on a little show for Taehyung, and Taehyung isn’t ever going to deny his best friend anything.

So maybe he rushes a bit through it, making fingering less like foreplay and more like true preparation - merely a task that must be completed before they can move forward with the night. There’s no need to be sexy or passionate; Taehyung is doing this to make a point. He fucking owns Kim Namjoon’s ass.

“You ready?” Taehyung huffs, trying his best to sound as unaffected as possible while he rolls the condom on. It’s difficult to keep steady when he slowly slides his cock in between Namjoon’s ass, letting it drag up the curve. He rolls his hips forward to chase the pleasure, even if it’s minimal compared to what he’ll soon have.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Namjoon bites back.

Rather than respond to his smart-ass comment, Taehyung lines his cock up and pushes through the stubborn muscles - slow enough to not hurt Namjoon too badly but fast enough to knock the air out of him.

“Oh god,” Namjoon gasps in a voice much higher-pitched than Taehyung would have expected. Taehyung lands a stinging slap on his ass.

“Don’t fucking clench,” Taehyung commands with a hiss, using both hands to spread Namjoon’s cheeks to better watch the way his cock, shiny with lube, slides further inside him.

It takes a few shallow thrusts before Namjoon lets out a broken-sounding sob and completely melts into the cushion. His body rocks forward as Taehyung deepens his strokes, pulling almost all the way out to slide back in again, angling his hips to hit Namjoon’s prostate with each stroke.

Grabbing a fistful of Namjoon’s sandy-blonde hair, Taehyung twists the man’s head to the side and pushes his upper body into the couch. When he squeezes his fist and gives a slight tug, a ragged groan rumbles from Namjoon’s chest. Taehyung already knows this isn’t going to last long. Namjoon is trembling like a leaf, and Taehyung is still going slow by his standards. It’s fine; Taehyung isn’t looking for something drawn out and sensual. He wants to fuck Namjoon hard and fast just because he wants to be able to say that he did.

“Someone likes to be manhandled, hmm?” Taehyung snickers. Without slowing the pace of his thrusts, he leans forward to press his chest against Namjoon’s back. “Can you do something for me, Joonie?”

Namjoon bites into his lip so hard the skin turns nearly white. Another tug on his hair almost forces out a moan, but he keeps his teeth clamped down to muffle the sound.

“Oh, c’mon, Joonie,” Taehyung whispers against his ear.

Taehyung’s lips brush against the curve of it before he slips his tongue out to tease the tip down to Namjoon’s earlobe. After a few flicks, he sucks it into his mouth, nibbling on it until Namjoon’s lip falls free, and a moan that sounds more like a sob escapes him. The wrecked sound makes Taehyung’s cock twitch inside him.

“Good boy.” His praise drips poison as he straightens up to kneel between Namjoon’s legs once again. He still bucks into Namjoon, but his thrusts have slowed to a relaxed, steady pace. “Now, are you going to do what I want? It’s a good thing. I promise.”

Namjoon nods as best as he can with Taehyung’s fingers still digging into his scalp.

“I want you to touch yourself.”

Namjoon lets out a whimper, but he obeys. One arm remains raised above his head, hand squeezing the arm of the couch to both ground himself and prevent his head from hitting it when Taehyung thrusts particularly hard. His other arm snakes between his body and the couch cushions.

Although Taehyung can no longer see Namjoon’s hand, he knows he’s done what he asked by the way his arm starts to shake with the effort of fisting his hand up and down his cock.

“See? That. Wasn’t. So. Bad.” Taehyung punctuates each word with a brutal thrust. He lifts Namjoon by the hair just enough to slightly elevate him from the cushions. The position allows Namjoon to rest on one elbow and jerk himself off more easily.

“Y’know, next time, I think we should invite your pretty princess over, don’t you think?” Taehyung usually isn’t the type to talk during sex, but a sick part of him enjoys how Namjoon tenses with… embarrassment? Humiliation? Something, every time Taehyung mentions his ex-girlfriend. “Could fuck her and make you watch.”

Namjoon lets out a whimper in response, and his eyes squeeze shut.

“No? Not into that?” Taehyung lets go of his hair to hook his middle and ring fingers into the corner of Namjoon’s mouth. “Of course, you’re a greedy little bitch. You can’t just sit back and watch. That’s fine. Maybe she’d like two cocks up her pussy.”

Taehyung brings a stinging slap to Namjoon’s ass. By this point, he’s drooling around his fingers.

“She’s pretty tight, though. Not sure she could handle it.”

“F-Fuck y-y-ou,” Namjooon stutters.

Taehyung is sure it’s meant to be biting, but he says it through the most debauched moan once Taehyung slips his fingers out of his mouth that all the statement does is turn Taehyung on more.

“You’re the only one getting fucked,” he points out with a grin Namjoon can only catch out of the corner of his eye.

“T-Then, d-do it, you piece of s-shit,” Namjoon says with a shallow breath.

He’s going to come soon. Taehyung can tell by the way he slumps face-first into the couch. It’s perfect timing because Taehyung’s steady pace is starting to slip. He leans forward and wraps his arm around Namjoon’s waist, batting his hand away from his cock to replace it with his own.

“Ohh f-fuck.” Namjoon’s moans are muffled by the cushion, but Taehyung’s pressed close enough against him that he can just make out the other man’s pathetic cries. “Taehyung.”

“C’mon, Joonie, that’s right.”

Namjoon’s cock is slick with precum. Taehyung pays special attention to the head, squeezing it and rolling his palm over the tip, doing his best to match his hand’s movements with the rhythm of him pounding into Namjoon. His whimpering makes every nerve ending in Taehyung’s body tingle with pleasure; he can practically see himself crackle and pop like a live wire as Namjoon falls apart under him.

“You gonna come for me, Joonie?” Taehyung digs his teeth into Namjoon’s shoulder just hard enough to make him squirm. “Come all over yourself ‘cause I fuck you so good?”

When Namjoon doesn’t respond, Taehyung slides his fist down to squeeze the base of his cock. The action makes Namjoon jolt with a cry of frustration.

“Fuck! Taehyung, fuck y-you-”

“I wanna hear you say it. Fucking say it, Joonie.” Taehyung pushes Namjoon deeper into the cushions. “Or do you want me to stop?”

“No!” It’s pathetic the way Namjoon whines. Taehyung has to bite his bottom lip and focus on the pain there to stop himself from coming.

“Then fucking say it.”

“Fuck, okay,” Namjoon is panting, and his voice wavers with each brutal thrust. “You fuck me, so, fuck, so good. Ohh, Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, please.”

It only takes a few pumps before he feels Namjoon shiver and lock up beneath him, and warmth spills into the palm of Taehyung’s hand.

Knowing that he’s fucked Kim Namjoon, the man he hates most in the world, is a pleasure so deep that only sweet revenge could foster it. But knowing Kim Namjoon had moaned his name when he made him come? It’s enough to simultaneously send Taehyung over the edge and inflate his ego.

“Shit,” Taehyung curses as he comes. “Fuck.”

Slumping into Namjoon’s back, Taehyung’s weight pushes him all the way into the couch. They’re sweaty, and the cum on Taehyung’s hand is disgusting; it’s always his least favorite part about fucking guys. It’s messy and sticky, and he doesn’t know what to do aside from smearing his hand on Namjoon’s t-shirt in a poor attempt to clean himself up.

With a deep breath, Taehyung lifts himself up to a sitting position to allow Namjoon to roll onto his back. His glasses are askew, barely hanging onto his face, and his hair is a mess. He looks utterly wrecked, and Taehyung knows it’s not just his ego telling him that.

“Good?” He asks with a smirk. Namjoon’s answer won’t matter because they both know the truth.

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jjungkookislife #ddb #happy things ✨

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gimmethatagustd · 4 hours

Text

Daddy's Home Fest

There's no better time than when daddy is home.

DILF BTS is coming to a Tumblr near you Spring 2024!

♡ Title: Care For You

♡ Pairing: Alpha Gang Boss!Yoongi x Omega Maid!Seokjin

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: gang au, dead dove, parent au, a/b/o | angst, fluff, smut

♡ Summary: As the leader of the infamous Bangtan, Yoongi is untouchable and lives life as he pleases. He thinks he has it all until the tall and broad shoulder omegan maid, Kim Seokjin walks into his office and makes Yoongi second guess what he wants in life.

by @sweetestofchaos

♡ Title: Daddy, Daughter, and Dewey Decimals

♡ Pairing: Single Dad!Namjoon x (f)reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: Parent AU, Fluff, Smut, Mutual Pining

♡ Summary: I adored the daddy and daughter duo that came to visit me every week at the library. Sunhee was cute and vivacious and her dad was every single woman's dream. A simple request, one late night, and a slip of the tongue revealing it wasn't just one-sided attraction.

by @remedyx

♡ Title: Dirty Laundry

♡ Pairing: Seokjin x f. reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: Slice of life, established married couple, PWP

♡ Summary: When you come across your daughter and Seokjin having a princess-themed tea party, you can't help but fall in love with your husband a little more. It helps that you find him absolutely ravishing in the little pink dress he wears too.

by @sailoryooons

♡ Title: Love Blooms

♡ Pairing: Jin x Hoseok

♡ Rating: MA

♡ Genre: Divorced, single father AU | angst, fluff smut

♡ Summary: Summary: Divorced and lost, Jin grapples with self-discovery and single fatherhood. Then, sunshine arrives in the form of Hoseok, helping him explore his desires and build a found family. Their love faces challenges - ex-wife drama, societal disapproval - but together they prove love and acceptance can bloom even in unexpected gardens

by @downbad4yoongi

♡ Title: Lose You to Love Me

♡ Pairing: Yoongi x f! Reader

♡ Rating: 🔞

♡ Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

♡ Summary: Yoongi thought he had everything. The woman of his dreams whom he gave everything for. The sweetest Princess who became his whole world the minute she was born and a career he can say he's happy in but what happens when it all comes crumbling down when one small secret blows his marriage open?

by @jmvore

♡ Title: Off Limits

♡ Pairing: Female Reader x Seokjin

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: smut, porn with very little plot

♡ Summary: You are visiting your family over spring break and discover that the family you used to babysit for are separated. Does this mean Mister Kim is no longer off limits?

by @theharrowing

♡ Title: podcast

♡ Pairing: single father!Namjoon x f! reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: single father AU | fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

♡ Summary: You and Namjoon keep bumping into each other at multiple instances, as if destined to. In a world where past loves and current responsibilities intertwine, Namjoon navigates the complexities of single fatherhood, cherishing the moments with his daughter, Nari, while reflecting on lost love through his popular podcast, "A Loveless Lover." A chance encounter at a daycare center brings him face to face with you, sparking a connection rooted in compassion and shared moments of vulnerability. As their worlds collide, the possibility of new beginnings looms, challenging Namjoon and you to confront the past and consider the future with newfound hope.

by @hobipaint

♡ Title: sakura 🌸

♡ Pairing: king!yoongi x (f) reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: mature, fluff, angst, pining

♡ Summary: yoongi could never figure out how could a sakura tree bloom right on his son’s seventh birthday. logically, atleast, for his kingdom’s soil wasn't blessed enough for beautiful flora; however, when his inspection rounds reveal a trip totally unexpected, and in a crescendo of buried memories, his love for the tree gets as bright as the petals of the blossom.

by @liveyun

♡ Title: Shatter With Me

♡ Pairing: Model!Jungkook x Surrogate!f.Reader

♡ Rating: MA 18+

♡ Genre: Best Friend's Husband, Surrogacy AU | heavy angst, smut, mild fluff

♡ Summary: Your best friend, Jiyoon, and her husband, Jungkook, have faced years of hardship trying to start a family. In a last-ditch effort to have their dream life, they seek solace in surrogacy. Wanting to see your best friend smile, you offer to become the bright beacon at the end of the tunnel, giving them what they have always wanted. But what happens when you begin to shine your light on their darkness? Things aren’t always as they seem—happiness can be a façade, shattering under the lightest pressure.

by @colormepurplex2

Daddy Jungkook came home April 24. Read here!

♡ Title: Since Day One

♡ Pairing: teacher!jimin x teacher! f. reader

♡ rating: 18+

♡ Genre: enemies to lovers, coworker au, single father au

♡ Summary: Being a Pre-K teacher is no easy feat, but Jimin is always up for the challenge. However, on his first day on the job, he makes an enemy in the parking lot before he even sets foot inside the building. Looks like this school year won’t be all sunshine and rainbows after all.

by @jjungkookislife

Daddy Jimin came home April 6. Read here!

♡ Title: baby fangs

♡ Pairing: Jimin x Jungkook

♡ Rating: Explicit/18+

♡ Genre: Urban fantasy, vampires, strangers to lovers, angst, smut

♡ Summary: As a human, Jungkook thought life was meaningless. It isn’t until he dies that he finds something worth living for: the family he never had.

by @gimmethatagustd

#btsfests

338 notes · View notes

gimmethatagustd · 5 hours

Text

Shatter With Me | Waving The White Flag

↳ Model!Jungkook x Surrogate!f.Reader ⤜ Surrogacy, Best Friend's Husband ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 18,286 ⚠️ Crass language, talk of infertility, drinking, very mild bullying and references to cruel behavior/words, talk of surrogacy, at-home medical procedure, genital touching (non-sexual), planned pregnancy, talk of pregnancy termination/abortion, BIG hurt feelings, open palm slapping, accusations of infidelity, rejected/unwanted drunken kissing that could be viewed as dubious infidelity

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon) ◅ Back to story masterlist

Jungkook

Jungkook never thought he’d be haunted by such a small, seemingly insignificant thing. A tiny pastel pink line. Singular. Just like all the ones before it. He’s lost count of exactly how many, but it’s been years; every month, the same outcome. A singular pink line telling him he’s failed. He knows that’s a bit harsh, but it’s how he’s starting to feel—like a complete and utter failure.

“We’ll try again next month,” Jiyoon offers, dropping the offending piece of plastic in the bathroom trash before giving Jungkook a tight smile.

“Have you given any more thought to trying IVF again?” Jungkook asks hesitantly, knowing that’s a sore subject. But, dammit, he’s not in the proper headspace right now to think better of it.

Jiyoon glares at him, her pouty pink lips drawing taut. “I told you not to ask me that ever again. Now, get out. I’d like to take a shower.” When Jungkook doesn’t immediately move from his perch on the bathroom counter, she tags on a frustrated, “Please.”

Jungkook hops down, his socked feet swishing over the tiled floor as he retreats into the master bedroom. The door forcefully shuts right on his heels, echoing the hollow ache in the center of his chest. He promised himself that if it didn’t happen this time, he’d just try harder next time.

Yet, there is only so much he can do. Pushing any harder might widen the rift slowly forming between him and his wife. Already, Jiyoon spends more time at work than with him. Her glares of irritation any time he seeks intimacy outside of their strict ovulation schedule are like holes being punched into his resolve.

After nearly two years of trying, he sought medical answers a year ago. Jiyoon was quite cross with him when she found out he went to the doctor, but he needed to know if it was his fault they were having trouble conceiving. The numbers were standard, slightly higher than average even. The utter devastation on Jiyoon’s face, he’ll never be able to forget that day. Because if he isn’t the problem…then that means she is.

It’s his fault. He wasn’t even thinking about that potential. Jiyoon hasn’t been the same since. That’s when the schedule came into play. That’s when she started to pour far more energy into waiting for the perfect moment instead of just enjoying their time together.

Jungkook can see the disappointment, the guilt that eats away at her each time that single pink line reveals itself. He wishes more than anything there was a way to change it, something more he could do. Yet, she refuses to consider the option of IVF, not after the horror story she heard from her friend Dani. She refuses to even talk about it.

There has to be another way; he’s just not sure what it might be. Jungkook is at a loss, and it feels like the weight of the world is sitting heavy right between his shoulders. The shower kicks on in the bathroom, and Jungkook decides to busy himself by making Jiyoon a cup of tea for when she gets out. He knows she’ll want to spend some time relaxing before bed, and tea always helps.

💔💔💔

Not a day goes by that you don’t think about your best friend, Jiyoon, and the unfortunate circumstances that have befallen her and her husband. It’s not a secret amongst your peers that they’ve been trying to start a family with no luck for several years. It breaks your heart every time she gives you a shake of her head when you look at her with hopeful eyes.

Today isn’t any different. You’re sitting at your desk, absently clicking through the latest portfolio files you got from Namjoon, when Jiyoon walks by your desk, heading toward hers. She’s half an hour late this morning, something that’s pretty routine every few weeks. It’s like clockwork. You’re aware of the ovulation schedule that she and Jungkook keep and know that she allows herself extra time the morning after taking a test to steel herself against the disappointment that will come from the pitying stares in the office.

You catch her eye as she settles into her desk chair, and she gives you that subtle shake of her head. There is tension in her shoulders, and her bottom lip looks like she’s been chewing on it in irritation, but she turns around and gives you her back before you can think to question her about it.

“Morning, Jiyoon,” Namjoon says as he steps out of his office. Namjoon is also well aware of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Jiyoon and Jungkook. It’s why he doesn’t hassle her about being late, something you’re endlessly grateful for.

Jiyoon is your only friend, and you are very protective of her. Well, that’s not entirely true. The protective part is, but she’s not technically your only friend. She’s just the longest friend you’ve had and the one you hold closest to your heart—your best friend. Though, even still, everyone else are really just people you know through Jiyoon or from work. Maybe that’s sad, but you don’t mind it.

“Jiyoon!” Dani squeals from the other side of the office. The bubbly, energetic woman flits across the room, looking every inch like a fairy with her blond pixie cut, petite stature, and buttoned nose.

“Oh gosh, hey. Come here!” Jiyoon swings her chair toward Dani as she beckons her forward, letting you catch a glimpse of her profile. There is a smile on her face, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s strained or not. Jiyoon has always been beautiful, with not a single wrinkle or blemish in sight. Looking at her body language, it’s even harder to tell.

Giggles punctuate their whispered words as Dani crouches beside Jiyoon’s chair, their heads pressed close together. You watch as Dani slips something into Jiyoon’s hand before she stands and waggles her brows down at your friend.

“Have fun,” Dani sing-songs as she prances away from Jiyoon’s desk. Her gunmetal eyes meet yours, and her face sours before she disappears beyond your cubicle.

“What’s that?” you ask a beat after she’s gone and before you can curb your curiosity, tinged with mild jealousy. Dani has made it clear before that she doesn’t like you very much, only tolerating you for Jiyoon’s sake. So, it’s no surprise that you don’t find yourself included when it comes to anything involving Dani—it’s something you’ve chalked up to her own jealousy, perhaps at the fact you’ve been Jiyoon’s friend for so long.

Jiyoon flicks her eyes in your direction before stuffing whatever Dani gave her into her purse. “Just some antacids,” she says, giving you a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

All suspicions disappear as you take in the controlled curve of her lips. She looks miserable. “Oh,” is all you can manage before Namjoon calls everyone’s attention to the front of the room.

“Good morning, everyone. Let’s start this week off on the right foot. We have reports to file and new contracts to negotiate…”

You and Jiyoon have always aspired to work for a marketing and media agency together. So, when the opportunity presented itself, you both were elated to land jobs with Kim Exclusives, one of the most popular management companies for up-and-coming artists, models, and influencers.

That was seven years ago, and your time here has only solidified your friendship with Jiyoon. She met her husband, Jungkook, through the agency. He was one of the first models signed to Kim Exclusives, and you and Jiyoon both handled his portfolio and schedule for a year before she had to give you sole leadership over it once they became intimately involved—the whole conflict of interests thing.

“Are we still meeting tonight?” you ask Jiyoon as the day draws to a close. She’s still diligently working away at her computer, and you stand outside her cubicle with your bag on your shoulder.

“Hmm? Oh. Umm, yeah, I guess. I might be a bit late, though.”

You peek over her shoulder. “Is that the new Song profile?”

“Yep,” she pops the end of the word, keying you into thinking she's not in the mood to chat right now.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you guys later then.”

Jiyoon makes a noncommittal sound, already focused back on her work. You miss the days when she would give you more than a few passing words. Even on her good days, it seems like she’s growing further and further away from you. It’s hard not to feel guilty over the bitter and lonely feelings you get when you think about it. It’s not Jiyoon’s fault that you don’t have more close friends to turn to. But sometimes you wish you meant as much to her as she does to you.

As soon as that thought crosses your mind, you mentally kick yourself. It’s not fair for you to think that. You know Jiyoon cares for you; she’s just had a rough few years, and you shouldn’t be making it about yourself.

Feeling truly like a shit friend, you continue to chastise yourself over the next two hours as you commute home and get ready for tonight. Five minutes away from the pub, you consider calling Jiyoon and canceling. But, just as you pull out your phone to do that, someone calls your name from down the sidewalk.

You turn to see Taehyung and Jungkook waving at you from across the street. Well, there goes your intention to cancel.

“Hey! Have you heard from Jiyoon?” Jungkook asks as he and Taehyung jog across the street.

You press your lips into a thin line, confused. “Did she not come home?”

“Ah, no. She said she was working late and that I should just go ahead and meet up with you and Taehyung. She’s, uh, well, she’s not answering my calls. We—this morning…sorry, just, have you talked to her?”

Doing your best to keep your eyes on his, you give him an honest answer, “She was still working when I left the office. I haven’t heard from her since.” Losing the battle against your will, your eyes sweep over your best friend’s husband. He’s just as gorgeous as he always has been. His hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him, licking at the collar of his denim jacket. As the lead on his contract, you know he recently landed a massive campaign with a new clothing company, their emblem stitched onto the breast of the coat. Jungkook looks every inch the model he is; his friend no less so.

“Hey! Happy Birthday!” Taehyung greets you as your eyes swing to him.

Warm embarrassment kisses your cheeks. You hate your birthday; you hate being the center of attention. “Thanks,” you murmur, giving him a tight smile.

“Oh, yeah, happy birthday,” Jungkook tacks on. He rubs the back of his neck, giving you an apologetic look. “Should we go ahead and go inside?”

“Yeah, sure.” As Taehyung leads the way inside, you type out a quick text to Jiyoon asking how long she’ll be.

Thirty minutes later, you’re sitting in a mildly withdrawn personal bubble of silence as Jungkook and Taehyung chat about work and sip on fingers of liquor. You’re normally not so silent with them, as they have been clients of yours for years but you’ve also grown to think of them as friends. It’s just you have a lot on your plate right now, Namjoon just added three new clients to your work portfolio, putting you at juggling almost a dozen. You don’t mind the added workload, it helps keep you busy, but it does mean you have to switch around your schedule a great deal and have less time to spend with Jungkook and Taehyung who are two of the longest portfolios you’ve managed. They have a joint ad campaign coming up for the whiskey they’re sampling right now and are trying to decide if they actually like it or not.

Over the years, you've learned that advertisements are just that—a cleverly crafted piece of media to highlight a product. The models in a hamburger ad could very well be vegan, but they’re paid to make you believe otherwise. So, even if they decide they don’t like the whiskey, money will say they do.

Taehyung is a bit newer to Kim Exclusives, a model by complete accident. He came into the office once with Jungkook, just friends hanging out with each other, and the moment Namjoon saw him, he had to have him. A few weeks later, Taehyung was added to the roster of elite models under Kim Exclusives, booking just as well as any veteran.

“It’s a little too smokey for me, I think,” Taehyung comments. “What do you think?” he asks, setting his glass on the table and startling you out of your thoughts.

“What?” You blink up at him, totally lost.

“Give it a taste.” He taps the rim of the glass. “Tell me what you think,” he encourages, pushing the glass closer to where your hands are clasped together on the table.

You don’t really want to try the whiskey, but the expectant looks on Taehyung and Jungkook’s faces make you pick up the glass and take a tentative sip. It burns across your tongue, coating your throat in a fiery, smokey blend of burnt spices. The flavor sits like ash in your mouth.

“It’s, uh…”

“Not great, right?” Jungkook gives you a lopsided grin, his shoulders stretching the seams of his jean jacket as he shrugs. “It’s okay to be honest about it.”

You slide the glass back across the tabletop toward Taehyung. “Yeah, it’s not great. It might be better on ice, but I’m not a big drinker, so I think it’s hard for me to judge it fairly.”

They both seem satisfied with this response and resume their conversation about the whiskey and the new campaign. You check your phone, wondering where Jiyoon could possibly be. There is no response to your text.

You’re picking at the frayed edge of the paper coaster that’s slowly growing waterlogged from the condensation dripping down your glass of ice water when Taehyung taps on the table in front of you, trying to capture your attention.

“Isn’t that right?” he asks.

“Sorry. Is what right?” You feel heat bloom in your cheeks at being caught not paying attention yet again.

“You’re healthy.”

That statement has confusion replacing your embarrassment. “Healthy?”

“Let me backtrack,” Taehyung says, leaning back in his seat and throwing an arm over the back of Jungkook’s chair.

“Taehyung, really, this isn’t the time—”

“Ahem,” Taehyung interrupts Jungkook’s protest. “Hypothetically speaking, if your best friend and her husband were to inquire of you about the possibility of surrogacy, what would you say?”

The dots aren’t connecting for you, and his blunt question makes you feel like you missed something important. “Surrogacy?” You don’t mean to sound like a broken record, repeating what Taehyung is saying, but you’re thoroughly having a tough time understanding.

“Listen, you don’t have to answer that,” Jungkook states, shaking his head at Taehyung and giving him a pleading look that says to stop while he’s ahead.

“Are you and Jiyoon looking into a surrogate?” you ask; everything suddenly clicks into place, and the question tumbles from your lips before you can stop it.

Jungkook grips the back of his neck and grumbles something incoherent towards Taehyung before he blows out a heavy breath and his eyes slowly rise to meet yours. “Not exactly, no. We haven’t talked about it yet. It’s just something I read about today. But, honestly, you don’t have to answer the question. Taehyung is just being a dick—”

“I’d do it.”

Your response leaves Jungkook with his mouth open and jaw slack as he stares at you in bewilderment.

“See, I told you. She’s perfect. Young, healthy, and someone you know and can trust,” Taehyung tots off, waving a finger in the air.

“Wait…are you serious?” Jungkook asks, pointedly ignoring Taehyung.

You’ve never considered being a mom before, at least not in that sense. It was always an assumption that it wouldn’t be in the cards for you—the whole lack of a love life thing being the crux of it. You’ve barely had a handful of boyfriends, much less a long-term commitment that would lead to a family. But, when it comes to Jiyoon, you’d do just about anything for her. So, if she asked you to carry a baby for her, you know, without a doubt, you’d do it.

“Y-yeah. Yes,” you state with more confidence. “I’d do that.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jiyoon bustles in through the bar's front door, her lilting laughter drawing everyone’s attention. She has her phone pressed to her ear, and she’s smiling at whatever the person she’s speaking to is saying.

“Okay, yeah. Tomorrow sounds great. See you then,” Jiyoon says before ending the call and pocketing her phone. “Oh, Taehyung is here.” It’s a bland statement, Jiyoon’s eyes flicking over Jungkook’s best friend before landing on her husband. “Did you order me a drink already?”

Jungkook clears his throat, trying to compose himself before speaking. “Babe, hey. Um, no, I wasn’t sure when you’d get here. You weren’t responding to any of my calls or texts.”

Jiyoon slides into the empty seat beside you, across from Jungkook, and gives you a quick smile before wrinkling her nose in his direction. “I’ll take a glass of red.”

“Oh-kay,” Jungkook says slowly, a look of confusion ghosting over his features. “Where have you been?”

“Hmm? Oh, just busy with work,” Jiyoon says. “Wine, please, Jungkook.” His only response is a tight press of his lips before he stands up and disappears in the direction of the bar. Jiyoon clicks her tongue and angles herself to look at you. “You’re not drinking?” she asks, eyeing the glass of water on the table in front of you.

“Um, no. You know I don’t—”

“I know, you’re boring,” Jiyoon sighs. The only thing taking the sting out of her words is the smile she gives you. You know Jiyoon isn’t exactly what people would call a nice person; in fact, she’s often coined as a ‘mean girl.’ But she’s never been intentionally mean to you, not really. She just provides constructive criticism and encouragement to be the best version of yourself that you can be.

“Way to be a bitch to her on her birthday, Jiyoon,” Taehyung mumbles into his whiskey glass before tossing it back and downing the rest.

Jiyoon winces and then plasters a smile on her face before saying, “Right, happy birthday.”

“Yeah, thanks.” You make your best attempt at nonchalance, but you’re not sure it lands properly as Taehyung shakes his head, and Jiyoon sighs again.

“I forgot, okay? It’s been so busy at work and with—uh,” she pauses for just a second, and any other time you might not have noticed, but you can’t help but pick up on the way she rushes to continue, “the new client that you know Namjoon has been breathing down my neck over. The Harper portfolio, you know the one? And apparently, the Song profile needs to be redone on top of that.”

Jiyoon has been different lately. You’re aware that she took over one of the new higher-end clients, some big hot-shot movie star or something like that, but it’s almost made her seem like she thinks she’s above everyone else. It makes things tense sometimes like everyone is on edge when she comes around. You try to ignore it, for the sake of tonight. “It’s okay, Jiyoon, really.”

“Anyway, how are things going? It’s been a few weeks since we last talked about something other than work.”

Yeah, because every time you turn around Jiyoon is spending time with Dani or has a client meeting. You shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

Taehyung pipes up in the silence that follows, “We were actually just talking about surroga—”

“Red wine for my wife, another whiskey for Tae, the good stuff this time, and a pina colada for the birthday girl. Virgin, I made sure. I know you don’t like to drink alcohol,” Jungkook interrupts Taehyung, passing out the cluster of drinks in his hands.

You stare up at Jungkook, lips slightly parted as you try to think of the proper response, completely taken off guard by his gesture. Finally, you lamely offer, “Oh, uh, you didn’t have to, but thanks.”

“Nonsense. It’s your birthday, you deserve a little treat, and I know you like pineapple.” Jungkook settles back into his seat, and you try to keep your eyes off your best friend's husband. But it’s hard with how his hair falls into his face, and the denim hugs his shoulders as he relaxes against the back of his chair.

“Ew,” Jiyoon gags dramatically, startling your attention in her direction. “Is that a jacket from the shoot today?” She gestures at Jungkook, the distaste apparent on her face. “I know they didn’t dress you in that. What were they thinking?”

Jungkook frowns, staring down at the oversized light-wash jean jacket. “You don’t like it?” he asks.

Jiyoon scoffs, “It looks ridiculous, you look ridiculous. What the hell did you do to your hair? A mullet, really? It’s a wonder you’re a model. You were okay with this?” The last part is directed at you, because, as the lead on his profile, you’re the one who signed off on the hair and makeup for the shoot.

“Hey now,” Taehyung states loud enough to quiet the table; he’s clearly not having any of Jiyoon’s antics tonight, long work day or not. “Keep your petty bullshit opinions for when you’re at home. Tonight isn’t about you or how handsome my best friend is in his jean jacket and new hairstyle.” You can tell he intentionally calls Jungkook his best friend instead of Jiyoon’s husband as an extra jab.

“I never said he wasn’t handsome,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes before looking at Jungkook and sighing. “Sorry, dear, I’m just under a lot of stress. You know I didn’t mean it.” Her eyes flick to yours. “I know it’s not your fault.” You just give her a subtle shake of your head, not sure how to respond.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and tries to move the conversation along. “It’s okay. Let’s just focus on why we’re here tonight.” He swings his eyes toward you, his smile becoming genuine, and begins to loudly belt out Happy Birthday, much to your dismay. This draws the attention of everyone else in the bar and earns you a generous round of applause when the singing finally fades.

You try to enjoy the rest of your night, but every time Jungkook catches you staring at him, you can’t help but feel a small spike of guilt; guilt over the perhaps tiny, mostly insignificant, completely harmless crush you might, perhaps, maybe have on your best friend’s husband.

It’s hard not to be attracted to him; Jiyoon knows that—she flaunts that fact. She also knows her claws are deep in him, and he’s not going anywhere. Jungkook would pull down the moon for her and then ask if she wanted the sun, too. You swallow down the last of your pina colada, eyes once again locked on Jungkook as he throws his head back and laughs at something Taehyung said.

Jiyoon presses her arm against yours, leaning in close to you. In a soft voice meant only for you, she whispers, “He really is perfect, isn’t he?”

“Hm? Who?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” she giggles drunkenly. “I know you were staring at him. My husband.”

You shrug. “I wasn’t staring.”

Jiyoon sighs wistfully. “It’s okay to stare, I don’t mind. I know what he looks like, after all. He’s so beautiful when he’s happy. I wish I could give him what he wants, he’d be the perfect father…I’m so scared to lose him.” The last part is whispered, so soft it’s hard to hear.

Instantly, your guilt turns into something else: resolve. You can’t bear the defeat you hear in her voice. It’s not something you can even begin to fathom—what she and Jungkook are going through. It’s no wonder she has caustic words at times. You meant what you said earlier, what you told Jungkook you were willing to do. With that in mind, you make a mental note to start researching and do what you can to make sure at least someone gets a happy ending here.

💔💔💔

Jungkook

The night of your birthday kept playing over and over again in Jungkook’s head the days that followed. Now, just as evening is rolling around, one week later, he can’t stop thinking about what you said, your confirmation. On top of that, that night was probably the most fun Jungkook has had in a long time—as long as he excludes the prickly start after Jiyoon arrived. He’s used to her snide and biting remarks after a long work day. Brushing them to the side and sweeping them away is usually easy.

But for some reason—perhaps it was the high he was riding after your confession and confirmation—it bothered him that she was doing it in front of Taehyung—in front of you. As if somehow her criticisms might make you both believe them. Not that he cares about being good-looking to Taehyung, or you for that matter, not really. It’s just that his first thought was what if that made you change your mind? Not necessarily whether or not he’s attractive, but the exchange as a whole. What if Jiyoon’s blatant criticisms made you want to change your mind because it somehow planted doubt in your mind that they’re a happy and healthy environment for a child?

“Jungkook.” The frustrated snap of his name brings him out of his thoughts. His eyes focus on the bathroom mirror once more, on Jiyoon, who is standing behind him with her hands on her hips, accentuating the flattering cut of the navy-colored dress she’s wearing. “Are you even listening to me?”

Turning and leaning back against the counter, Jungkook gives her his full attention. “Uh, yeah, sorry. You were talking about having dinner with a client tonight, and you’re leaving now to meet with Dani so you can get some files.”

“Yes,” she says, her lips twitching in mild surprise, and Jungkook knows she was expecting him not to have been paying attention. “I don’t know how long the dinner will last, so don’t wait up for me. It’s likely I’ll be home late.” She turns to go back into the bedroom, and Jungkook isn’t sure what possesses him, but he surges forward and gently snags her wrist, turning her back toward him. “Uh?” she makes a sound of mild questioning irritation.

“I have something I need—er, want—to talk to you about. It should only take a moment.”

She shakes his hold off her wrist and gives him a placating smile. “Okay, well, talk while I finish getting ready at least.” Not waiting to see if he follows, she disappears into the bedroom and heads to the closet, rummaging through her jewelry.

“Okay, um. Okay,” Jungkook stumbles over his words, feeling like he’s under pressure for some reason. “So, the other night, it was brought up in conversation, and uh, she already agreed, and it’s just that, well, there’s this thing called intracervical insemination and…how do you feel about surrogacy?”

There is a heavy pause, dread threatening to make Jungkook backpedal and eat his words just to snatch them back out of the air. Jiyoon glances at him over her shoulder, but he can’t get a clear read on her eyes. “What? Oh, yeah, sure,” she says, turning back to her digging.

Jungkook can’t tell whether Jiyoon is the one paying attention to him now, so he probes further, just to be clear. “You mean that? You’re okay with going the surrogacy route? My sperm, her egg…your best friend carrying our baby?”

Jiyoon’s back is to Jungkook, but he watches how her shoulders slide up in a shrug. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m not sure, it’s just that with ICI—”

“Look, Jungkook,” Jiyoon says, turning to face him fully. Her fingers work at slipping a pair of silver hoops into her earlobes. “I trust you.” She says the words slowly, keeping her eyes intently locked on his. “I know you’ll do your best for us. Whatever you want, it’s what I want, too. You know that.”

“Well, um, do you have any questions? We should talk…discuss this, er, something. I know how you feel about IVF. I want to make sure this is an option you truly want, and you’re not just saying this to make me happy. You should take some more time to think about it.” The fact she’s so quick to agree makes Jungkook question whether or not he’s hearing what he thinks he’s hearing.

Jiyoon cups one of his cheeks, gently thumbing over his bottom lip. “I don’t need time to think, because I’ve already thought about it. I—well, I was going to bring it up to you soon, but I wanted to do a bit more research first.”

“Wait, what? Really? You were thinking about ICI, too?” Jungkook swallows hard, leaning into his wife's warm touch.

“Yeah,” she whispers, her soft smile making her eyes twinkle and his heart melt.

Jungkook can’t help letting his eyes drink in his wife. They might have been going through rough patches the last few years, but that hasn’t lessened how he feels about her. Jungkook has always found her strikingly beautiful, with long legs and shiny hair that he loves to run his fingers through. But at this moment, he feels like he might burst with the love he has for her.

“Yeah? Okay. Okay,” he tries to suppress the emotion in his words. “Okay, perfect. I love you. I love you so much!”

Jiyoon laughs, and it sounds magical, as Jungkook sweeps her into his arms and plants a kiss on her lips. “Don’t smear my lipstick, please,” she mumbles, her voice light and playful.

“Go have a good dinner, secure the client, and don’t worry about anything else,” Jungkook bubbles happily, setting Jiyoon back on her feet. “I swear I’ll take care of it all. Everything will be perfect, absolutely perfect.”

An hour later, Jungkook walks up to your apartment door. He couldn’t stop himself earlier, so he immediately texted you and asked to see you as soon as Jiyoon left for Dani’s.

The door swings open before he can knock, revealing you standing there breathless and in a set of purple checkered pajamas. “Is everything okay?” you ask, worry lines creasing between your brows. “Your text sounded urgent.”

“Oh.” Jungkook feels terrible for making you concerned. He didn’t mean for it to come off like that. “No, I mean, yes, everything is okay. But, no, it’s not exactly urgent. Sorry for that. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

You lean against the doorframe, eyes wide on his. “What is it?”

“Er, uh, do you mind if I come in? This is more of a sit-down kind of conversation.”

The little ‘o’ your lips form is far cuter than Jungkook has a right to think it is. His mind instantly latches onto it, wondering if the baby would have your lips or his. “O-okay, sure, come on in.”

Jungkook has visited your apartment a handful of times over the years. It’s quaint and cozy, exactly what he’d imagine for you. There are books everywhere, shelves full of thick and thin volumes of literary prose. A few art pieces decorate the walls, along with dozens and dozens of black-and-white photos in simple frames. He stirs up the recollection that you enjoy photography in your spare time.

“Sorry, again, about my text. I didn’t mean to worry you, really.” Jungkook feels nervous, unsure where to stand or even sit, until you gesture toward the couch. A handful of well-loved decorative pillows are scattered across the burgundy suede. He settles at one end as you take the other, looking at him expectantly.

A beat or two passes, and Jungkook feels like he’s about to swallow his tongue until you open your mouth, clearly picking up on his distress. “Is it something with work? I can try to fix whatever it is first thing in the morning—”

“No, no,” Jungkook holds up a hand, shaking his head. “It’s not work. It’s um, it’s actually Jiyoon. Well, me and her, specifically.”

You pull your knees up and tuck your feet underneath yourself. “Oh, okay.”

“Were you serious about what you said the other night?” Jungkook blurts, figuring it’s best, like ripping off a bandaid.

Your bottom lip has an indent left from where you tucked it between your teeth before nodding. “Yes.” Jungkook didn’t necessarily expect you to say no, but the rush of relief he feels at hearing that encourages him to press on.

“I talked with Jiyoon about it today and she—we—would be honored if you’d do that for us. If you’d give us a chance at having a family. It’s…it’s something we both, deeply, deeply desire. If you’re truly serious about it, we’ll take care of everything, all medical expenses, bills, anything…just name it, it’s yours.”

“That’s—okay, okay, yes. Yes, I’ll do it. Just tell me what I need to do.”

Jungkook whoops loudly, jumping up from the couch, and drags you into his arms for a bear hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can’t even begin to explain what this means to me, to us. This is…I can’t…oh my, I need to—wait, okay. Sorry, let me calm down for a second.” The word vomit is real, and Jungkook uses his hold on you to ground himself, moving his hands to your shoulders and locking his eyes on yours. “I think I might pass out,” he whispers a second before bursting into a giddy laugh.

“Whoa, um, sit down. Please don’t pass out on me. You’re too big for me to catch!” Your frantic words make him laugh even harder.

He shakes his head, on cloud nine. “I’m kidding, kind of. I just feel…I feel so light, like—well, it doesn’t matter about that. What matters is you. Please don’t feel obligated to do this. That’s the last thing I want. If you are serious, I can send all the information you need to you in the morning. But only if you’re certain.”

“Jungkook,” the way you say his name makes his heart thump heavy in his chest as if his fate hinges on whatever comes next. “I am serious. I promise. I want to do this for you, for Jiyoon…I want to give you both the happiness you deserve.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook says fervently, never meaning something more in his life.

This happiness carries Jungkook through the rest of the evening, turning into a brilliant flame of intimacy when Jiyoon crawls into bed beside him hours later. For the first time in a long time, there is no schedule, no waiting for the perfect moment; it’s just the love shared between two souls celebrating the joys of life.

💔💔💔

The following day, several emails from Jungkook are waiting for you; Jiyoon CC’d on them all, as well as a few texts to check in. The idea that you could possibly be pregnant in the coming weeks or months—not just pregnant, but pregnant with Jungkook’s baby for your best friend—still feels a bit surreal.

You texted Jiyoon last night, expressing to her how much she means to you and that you’re honored she wants it to be you that helps her fulfill her dreams of having a family. She hasn’t replied yet, but that doesn’t bother you; she’s probably busy helping Jungkook with planning.

There is an entire email dedicated to medical referrals. Apparently, Jungkook spent hours pouring over all the local doctors and medical facilities vetting to find the best ones. Each has notes and suggestions under them, along with all the information you might need to call and make an appointment.

That’s really all you need to do: make an appointment for a check-up. Taehyung made an assumption of your health last night, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure. The last thing you’d want to do is be in poor health and unable to keep your word.

Your fingers tremble as you dial the numbers, and you have to take a few shallow breaths to get your voice to work properly. Minutes later, you have an appointment scheduled for later this week. Now, all you have to do is figure out how you’re going to wait the next few days and not burst from anticipation. It’s a slow few days.

Apparently, by Googling every possible thing you can think of about being a surrogate and pregnancies. Along with the emails full of information, by the time you’re walking into the clinic for your appointment at the end of the week, you feel confident asking questions.

“Being a surrogate is a pretty serious situation. Have you considered all the possibilities and what might be required of you?” The doctor has a pleasant demeanor; her eyes are intense yet kind. It might be the steel-colored strands scattered through her hair or the wrinkles that deepen around her eyes when she smiles, but you feel comfortable opening up to her.

You roll your lips between your teeth before saying, “Honestly? Probably not as much as most surrogates. I’m sure there are things I’m not aware of yet. It was only presented to me a few days ago. But I have done some extensive reading and soul-searching, and I know it’s what I want.”

Dr. Lee contemplates you for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I believe you do. Let’s get started, shall we?”

It’s not uncomfortable going through all the tests and procedures. There isn’t much the doctor does that you haven’t done before. Samples are taken, and a routine exam is performed. As you leave, the nurse tells you you should have results within the next two weeks.

Thankfully, the results come at the beginning of the following week. You’re sitting at your desk at work, reviewing the final details for the whiskey campaign Jungkook and Taehyung are shooting in a few days, when you get the notification that your results are viewable on your patient portal. A moment before you click into the email, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“Hello?” you whisper, cupping your hand around the base of your phone and mouth. A nurse rattles off your information, ensuring she speaks to the right person. “Yes, speaking.”

“I just wanted to let you know that all of your results are in, and Dr. Lee has signed off on your request to move forward with the surrogacy…” Everything else the nurse says is a bit hazy. She covers the numbers for your tests and where to find resources for more information on at-home intracervical insemination. “Do you have any questions for me? Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Oh, umm, yes, sorry. No questions, thank you so much.”

The line disconnects, and you sit there for a few more moments, the phone still held to your ear, as you try to process the giddy feeling bubbling up inside you. You need to tell Jiyoon, Jungkook, someone…anyone. Pushing up from your desk, you scan the area around you for your best friend and come up empty.

“Hello?” Jungkook answers on the second ring.

“Jungkook.”

“Oh, hey. Everything okay?”

“What? Oh. Yes. Yes, everything is okay. Everything is perfect. Do you know where Jiyoon might be? I haven’t seen her since she came into the office this morning.” You rack your brain, trying to remember if you saw her leave or go into another room.

“Yeah, she called a little while ago and said that Namjoon was having her meet one of the new clients for lunch to sign some more papers.”

“Right, that’s right,” you say, recalling that Namjoon asked her to come into his office shortly after she arrived this morning.

“Why? What’s up?”

You drag a slow, shallow breath into your lungs in an effort to slow your rapidly beating heart. “I heard back from the doctor.”

Jungkook urges you to continue, “Yeah? What did they say? Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m…I’m great. I’m perfect. I’m—I, I can do it. We can do it. There’s a chart,” you explain, wedging your phone between your ear and your shoulder to free your hands so you can pull up the email you got and forward it to him. “It has an estimated schedule and recommendations on timing for the best results. I just sent everything over to you.”

“I got it. Wow. Okay. Wow. Oh my…wow! I need to call Jiyoon. Fuck. Oh my god. Okay, thank you! I’ll call you back later, okay?” The line disconnects after Jungkook says a hurried goodbye, the elation in his voice evident.

According to the doctor's ovulation chart, the best time for you to begin trying is next week. Conception is most likely during a twenty-four-hour period. On your way home, you stop and pick up an ovulation testing kit so you can remain on track.

You arrive home filled with nervous energy, unable to stop smiling as you unpack the things you picked up at the pharmacy. A large box of pregnancy tests goes beside the ovulation kit in your medicine cabinet, along with a pack of medical gloves and hand sanitizer. You’re not sure what you’ll need, exactly, but you figure it’s better to have it and not need it than the other way around.

“Jiyoon!” you gush, swiping to answer the call coming in on your phone. “Hi!”

“Hey, I just got off the phone with Jungkook.” There is a lot of background noise, and it’s hard to hear her clearly.

“Oh, wonderful! I got the results today. There is a possibility of next week being—”

A loud laugh cuts through from Jiyoon’s end, the added clang of dishes drowning you out further. “Sorry, I’m still at dinner. Next week, you say? I’ll be going on a business trip the whole of next week, Namjoon wants me to travel with a client for a go-see.”

Disappointment drags at your shoulders and has your smile softening into a frown. You suppose it can wait a few more weeks. “Okay, no problem. That will give us time to plan a bit more anyway.”

“Sure thing!” Jiyoon yells, the line cutting out momentarily. “I’ll catch you later. I can’t wait to see you when I get back. Thank you. I love you so much!”

“Okay, yeah, love you—” The line goes dead before you can finish. “Love you, too,” you murmur into the quiet of your apartment.

A minor setback. But it’s okay; you’re sure you were getting ahead of yourself anyway. Taking a few weeks to confirm things and actually come up with a game plan is probably for the better. But it doesn’t hurt to start doing that now. Letting the smile that hadn’t left your face most of the day slide back onto your lips, you continue setting up everything in your bathroom so it’ll be there for when you do need it.

It turns out you don’t have to wait—at least, according to Jungkook. From the constant flood of text messages you’ve gotten from him over the last few days, as much as Jiyoon would love to be there to help, she’s given her blessing to proceed with the ICI without her. In her own words, via a text you got last night, there will be plenty more for her to be present for, and she’s far too excited for you to wait for her to return.

Jiyoon has been relatively quiet, but Jungkook explained in delicate words that she’s okay; she just has a lot on her plate right now. Even though it may seem like she’s on the outside, it’s more that this is a very sensitive topic for Jiyoon. Despite wanting a child, ICI is nearly as taboo a subject as IVF when it comes to Jiyoon; you know this. She’s told you how much it makes her feel like a failure. So, you’re content when Jungkook takes full responsibility for the surrogacy journey and has promised to be there for you every step of the way, including coming over to your place tonight to help you with the first ICI attempt.

You’ve been testing your ovulation each morning, and the positive test strip in your bathroom trash has started a full-tilt, day-long extravaganza. It’s a Thursday, just a few days after you got your green light from the doctor, meaning you were able to leave work early and are now sitting on your couch waiting patiently for Jungkook to arrive.

All your research and reading about ICI makes you nervous about what’s to come. It’s not that you’re going to be explicitly intimate with Jungkook, but you’re well aware of the fact that fresh sperm samples, as in within a thirty-minute window, are the best. Which means, he’s going to have to somehow provide the sample while he’s here.

The idea of Jungkook masturbating in your bathroom should feel awkward or perhaps embarrassing to think about, yet you’re oddly comfortable with it. It’s a natural thing, something necessary to create something that’s going to be beautiful.

By the time Jungkook knocks on your door, your hands are clammy, and it takes you two tries to get the handle to turn. He greets you with a giant smile and shining eyes, absolutely breathtaking.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you parrot, unable to contain from reflecting the smile still on his face. “Please, come on in.”

“Thanks.” Jungkook steps past you, and the soft fragrance of his laundry detergent catches in your nose. “I brought everything we need,” he says, holding up a bag. He’s wearing the same denim jacket he was the other night, a white T-shirt underneath above a pair of worn, light-washed jeans, and black boots on his feet that he toes off before heading into your living room.

“Can I get you anything to drink or maybe something to eat? Have you had dinner yet?” You’re not sure how this is going to go, if it’s just going to be a clinical experience or something more comfortable between friends. Because you are friends, right? At this point, you should consider him more than just your best friend’s husband; he should at least be seen as a friend of yours, too.

Jungkook deposits the bag on your couch and turns to look at you. “Um, maybe if you had some beer or something, but I know you don’t drink—” There is a nervous energy to the way he’s talking, words coming out a little too quickly “—so, er, maybe just some water is fine.”

“Actually,” you say, hurrying into the kitchen and opening the fridge, “I got, well, is this okay?” You hold up a 6-pack of beer you bought on a whim a few nights ago. It’s true that you don’t really drink, but you weren’t thinking of yourself at the time that you bought it. In actuality, you were thinking of Jungkook, knowing he’s partial to this brand, and figured…well, you’re not sure what you figured, you bought it before you could give it too much thought.

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth lifts, his smile turning into a light smirk. “Wow, my favorite. I’d love to, but actually, I’m not sure if I should, no matter how nervous I am right now…not until after, at least. I haven’t read anything about how alcohol might impact things, but I’ve not had a drop of alcohol to drink nor a bite of junk food in the last week, just in case.”

“Oh, right. Of course, I should have thought about that.”

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t thinking either, I haven’t been able to think about much at all, if I’m being honest,” Jungkook laughs nervously, one of his hands rubbing at the back of his neck. “Is this weird? Are you sure you want to do this?”

It is weird, but not in a bad way, and you don’t want to admit that because you don’t want him to worry. So, you simply smile and shake your head. “It’s not all that weird, it’s…well, just not weird. I am nervous,” you decide to give him at least that. “I’m worried that it might not work, or that I might do something wrong.”

“W-what do you think you might do wrong?” Jungkook asks, moving closer to you. “I’ve…I’ve read a lot about the how, I even got an informational video from my doctor.”

You can feel heat crawling up your neck. “I’m not sure, exactly. I guess just the whole process in general.”

There is a beat where you can see Jungkook contemplating his words. He chews on his bottom lip, eyes unfocused for a moment before returning to you. “I could help if you want. Purely in a platonic, helpful way, no funny business, I swear.”

“Um, I don’t know if that…uh, I can try first, maybe?” You can’t seem to swallow past the thick knot in your throat at the thought of asking Jungkook to help assist you in…well, that.

“Sure, okay. Should we…get started?” Jungkook asks, his eyes flicking back to the bag he dropped on your couch.

Your stomach flips at his words. “Yeah,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, feeling suddenly even more shy than usual.

“Great.” Jungkook claps his hands together before retrieving the bag from the couch. “I have everything we need. It's probably best if we begin this in the bathroom.”

Your apartment has one bathroom, which is joined to the bedroom but is still accessible through the hallway. Jungkook leads the way down the hall, flicking on the light inside the bathroom before stepping aside to let you in as well.

“Have you talked with Jiyoon?” you ask, seeking something to fill the silence as you watch him unpack everything from the bag and arrange it on the bathroom counter.

Jungkook shakes his head in a so-so manner. “I spoke with her for a few minutes earlier to let her know the plan for tonight. She couldn’t talk long and it was hard to hear with all the background noise, but she’s excited and said she can’t wait to be back at the end of the week.”

After washing his hands, Jungkook opens up the packet of a large sterile pad and spreads it out across the rest of the counter. From the research you’ve done, you recognize some of the things he begins to set out. There is a collection cup with an orange screw-on lid, a large syringe with a hose attaching it to a bulbous silicone mushroom-shaped plug, and several single-use packets of water-based lube. He also sets out a box of pregnancy tests, giving you a sheepish smile when you raise an eyebrow at it.

“I, uh, bought some, too,” you say, opening the medicine cabinet to show him the large box of pregnancy tests sitting between your ovulation test kit and your toothbrush.

Jungkook smiles. “I guess we’re on the same wavelength, huh?”

You have to stop yourself from leaning too far into the unusual, yet enticingly warm and appealing, feeling you get when he smiles like that. Clearing your throat, you gesture to the spread of tools. “What now?”

“I think we should discuss a game plan, make sure we know what to do and when to do it. There are some things I’ve read online, plus the directions in this pamphlet,” he says, slipping a folded paper from the box the inseminator came in.

Leaning in, you try to read the step-by-step process written on the paper over Jungkook’s shoulder. He shifts, steps closer to you, and angles the pamphlet to make it easier for you to see.

“Step one, collect the sample. Step two, transfer the sample into the syringe. Step three, insert the silicone plug into the…v-vagina,” you choke over the word, feeling heat licking up your neck, “as close to the cervix as possible. Step four, depress the plunger to administer the sample.”

“Seems pretty simple, right?”

You’re not sure you’d say simple. Sure, step by step, it looks pretty straightforward, but you seem to be responsible for the most challenging part, and that makes you even more nervous than before. “Yeah, simple.”

“Give me a few minutes, I need to—uh,” he points to the sample cup. “I’ll, you know.”

“Oh, right, right, of course. I’ll just—" you hook a thumb over your shoulder towards the door that leads to your bedroom ”—wait in there.”

It’s hard not to pace around your bedroom as you wait. You try to stick to the far side of your bedroom, not wanting to come too close to the bathroom and overhear anything you shouldn’t. The fact your best friend’s husband is in your bathroom masturbating is a weird enough revelation, albeit a necessary one for the ICI procedure; you’d still rather afford him some privacy.

After three minutes, you stop counting the seconds that pass, realizing that means you’re counting how long it takes for Jungkook to produce the sample. Which is something you’re vehemently trying to avoid thinking about so casually.

The bathroom door opening startles you, stopping you in your tracks. Jungkook clears his throat. “Ready?”

You move over to the bathroom. “I think so.”

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. You can do this and don’t forget, I’ll be here if you need any help, promise. Purely for help, for the process.” Jungkook swipes a finger in an x over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“You’re right,” you say, trying to bolster your own confidence. “I can do this.”

You step past Jungkook and into the bathroom, but his hand on your arm pulls you up short. “Wait, wait. Would you feel more comfortable doing it in your room? It’s just that I’ve read it’s best if you could lay on your back with your hips elevated for fifteen to thirty minutes after.” He nods at your bed. “More comfortable than the bathroom floor.”

The idea of doing this on your bed crosses a line, taking this from a medical process to something far more intimate. “Maybe just a pillow,” you say, grabbing one of the decorative throw pillows you never seem to remember to put back on your bed but keep in a small pile on the floor instead.

“Okay.” Jungkook gives you a small smile, and it makes his eyes look soft and bright. The kind of smile you hope you can help him bestow onto a baby.

You leave the door unlocked, just in case you need his help. In your bathroom, there is no evidence of Jungkook's actions other than the very full sample cup sitting on the medical pad covering the counter.

The cup is warm to the touch, which is startling, though you know it shouldn’t be. Placing the pillow down on the floor, you shimmy your pants and panties down your legs and step out of them. There is a lingering scent in the bathroom; it’s a mix of Jungkook’s cologne but also of something clinical. You realize there are two empty packets of lube in your trashcan, and you can’t help the image that pieces itself together in your mind.

Swallowing hard against the threatening flood of further indecent thoughts, you move quickly to prepare the inseminator. It’s a systematic process you can do with little thought—safe—unscrewing the cap of the cup and filling the syringe. Once you’re in position on the floor, hips elevated on the pillow, empty packets of lube discarded and your body primed, you take the silicone plug in one hand and the syringe in the other.

The directions make it seem so easy. But as you try to fit the silicone plug inside, you can’t seem to get it to go where you want it. It keeps slipping sideways and tugging at the tube connecting it to the syringe. Your heart begins to race as you realize you might not be able to do this—not on your own, at least.

By the fourth try, fifteen minutes have passed, and you’re in full-blown panic mode. Your breath wheezes in and out as you crunch up, hands fumbling between your thighs, and sweat forming on your brow. “Oh god, oh god. I—uh, god dammit…Jungkook!” His name is out of your mouth in a strangled yell before you can stop it.

“What is it? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” The frantic words are muffled through the door. The door rattles on its hinges, and you can tell he’s pressing up against it from the sound of denim scuffing along it, probably pressing his ear against it in an effort to hear your response.

You’ve managed to get it inside, but you’re not sure if you can get it all the way in, pressed up against your cervix where it needs to be. It’s possible you used too much lube, though the idea that it’s possible to have too much lubricant seems ridiculous. But no matter what you do or how far you press your fingers in, you’re either at a wrong angle, or your fingers keep slipping on the plug too much. Asking Jungkook for help is the last thing you want to do, but you’re not sure what other options there are.

“C-can you come in here?” you ask in a hoarse voice. There is a moment of silence before the door eases open and Jungkook sticks his head inside. His eyes are closed so tight it makes you let out a snap of nervous laughter. “I think…I think I need help. I’m sorry, I just can’t—it’s not going in all the way, I don’t think,” you gush in explanation.

“Do you—is it okay if I?” Jungkook asks, leaving the obvious unsaid.

“Um, yes…please. I’ve tried, and I just…I don’t want to ruin this. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Jungkook shuffles into the bathroom, eyes still firmly closed and arms out in the air. “Um, where exactly are you so I don’t step on you by accident?”

Snagging the edge of the towel hanging on the rack, you pull it down and drape it over your knees to make yourself as decent as you can be in this situation. “Just open your eyes, it’s okay.”

Slowly, his eyes peek open and finally land on where you’re laid out on the floor, bent knees covered in a towel and your shirt askew from all your efforts.

“How can I help?” Jungkook kneels down beside you, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it to the side.

“I just…I don’t know if it’s all the way in. Can you—with your hand, I know that’s horrible and weird, but I don’t know what else to—”

“No, no, it’s not weird. I said I’d help. It’s clinical, right? We’re doing this just as a medical procedure. Like I said, no funny business, I swear. It’s for the baby. I’ll help you.”

“Okay.” You nod, squeezing your eyes shut because it’s hard to look him in the eye when he’s about to—the towel shifts, and cool air licking between your thighs has your mind going blank.

“Look at me,” Jungkook requests, to which you immediately comply. “I need you to promise me you’ll let me know if I hurt you or do something you don’t like. I’ll stop immediately, okay?” When you don’t immediately say anything, he adds, “I need you to tell me you understand.”

“I understand.”

Stretching across to the sink, Jungkook keeps his eyes on yours as he washes his hands and then shifts the towel more, folding it up and over your knees. “I’m going to place my hand on your thigh. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

His fingers are gentle against your skin, softer than you expected, and warm from the water. You can feel errant droplets of water streak down your thigh and roll over the bottom of your ass. You try to focus on that feeling instead of the way Jungkook’s hand trails down your thigh until his fingers graze your outer lips.

“I’m going to use two of my fingers to try and seat the inseminator. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” this time, it comes out as more a breath than a word.

You tense at the subtle press of his fingers and how they probe their way down until they find your entrance. There is easily enough lube down there to grease a bakery’s worth of cake pans, considering the half a dozen empty packets now in your trashcan, but you can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath as he begins to press in.

“Still okay?” he asks, fingers moving achingly slow.

“I think so.”

Jungkook’s brow pinches. “I feel it…only about two inches in. I’m going to push it further now. Tell me if it hurts or is uncomfortable.”

Never in a million years did you think you’d ever find yourself in this position. Not only are you butterflied open on your bathroom floor, but your best friend’s husband is now middle-knuckle deep in your vagina, and you’re not sure how to feel about it. In fact, you’re trying to do everything you can to not think about how you stretch around the intrusion of his fingers, or that it feels far better than it should.

“Do you think you can get it all the way?” you ask, voice warbling with nerves.

Jungkook hums, his lips pushing out as if he is trying to concentrate. “I think I’m almost there. Does that feel okay, is it good?”

Not once does he look away from you as he’s pushing deeper into your body. You think you want him to look away, to break that intimate contact, but you can’t even bring yourself to do that—even though you know you should. And the whispered exchange does little to help. Is it good? You’re going to burn in hell for the thoughts now flooding through.

“Oh!” You jolt in place, eyes going wide, all previous thoughts gathering into one singular point. Jungkook mirrors your surprise, his mouth popping open in silent shock.

“I’m so sorry!” he babbles. “I didn’t mean to do that. Oh fuck, god damn, shit…okay, sorry, let me just—” Jungkook is still gentle, yet swift in finishing seating the inseminator before quickly extracting his fingers from your body. “Please believe me when I say I am sorry, and I swear I wasn’t trying…I wasn’t trying to do that.”

Your body is still buzzing from the that he’s talking about—the graze of his thumb over your clit. It’s clear it was an accident by his reaction, but it does nothing to lessen the pulse that is now singing through your body.

“I-it’s okay. Really, it’s okay. It’s fine.” You’re not sure if your words are convincing enough, but Jungkook jerks his head in what you assume is a nod of acknowledgement.

“Um, it’s, uh, it’s in. Do you need me to do the syringe, too?”

“Just do it.” You exhale a shaky breath, finally tearing your eyes away from his. You’re confident he’s still watching you, even as he depresses the syringe and injects his cum into your body—as crass as that sounds in your head, that’s exactly what’s happening, and it’s the first time you think you’re realizing how truly fucked you are for this.

Nothing has happened between you and Jungkook, not in that way, but for some reason, guilt won’t leave you alone. You feel like you’ve just betrayed Jiyoon and feel even more like a ridiculous schoolgirl ruining her life over a crush on a boy. You’re intimately aware of the warmth and the subtle change in pressure as he finishes depressing the inseminator. It makes you want to squirm, but you chew your bottom lip and tap your toes instead.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, his voice soft and gentle.

“I should be asking you that,” you sigh.

Jungkook balks. “What? Why would you say that? I’m fine…I’m the one that—” He nods toward where your body is now covered with the towel again. As soon as he was done plunging the depressor, he unfolded the towel and made you decent once more.

“You didn’t mean to,” you say, maybe more as a reminder to yourself than him.

“No, but that doesn’t make it okay.” Jungkook settles back on his heels, using one of the wet wipes that came in the kit to clean his hands. Suddenly, he laughs. “This is ridiculous, right? I mean, look at us, we just did something…beautiful, and we’re not allowing ourselves to enjoy it.”

You chuckle softly, fidgeting with one of the ends of the towel. “It is kind of ridiculous, huh? Sorry that I freaked out and you had to do…that.”

”I’m not. Sorry, that is. I’m glad you asked for my help. We’re in this together.” Jungkook gives you a smile, similar to the one he wore when he knocked on your door over an hour ago, and takes up the hand not pinching at the towel in his, squeezing it. “I don’t know that I can even begin to articulate with words just what this means to me. Thank you so much.”

“It means a lot to me, as well. Being able to do this for you and Jiyoon is not something you need to thank me for. I’d do anything for her. She’s my best friend. We’ve been through so much together over the last twenty years…I just want to see her happy. You, too, of course.”

Jungkook hums in the back of his throat, keeping his hand wrapped around yours as he leans back, using the side of the tub for support. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, spanning several minutes until Jungkook speaks again. “Have you ever thought about being a mom, you know, before this?”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to answer with what you think he wants to hear, that this has always been your wish, but instead, you choose to give him an honest answer. “Not really.”

”Why not? If you don’t mind me asking.”

If it were anyone else asking, you might mind, but…

You purse your lips before offering yet another truth. “I guess I just…I’m me, you know?”

”No, I don’t think I do know. What do you mean?”

“I’m a single woman in my thirties with no prospects on the horizon. My last boyfriend was over five years ago. I’m a modern-day spinster. Nothing is wrong with that, I love who I am…I just, no one has ever shown interest in me like that. Though it’s not necessary to have another person in the picture, it’s just that…I don’t even know, I’m rambling, sorry.”

Jungkook looks at you for a long moment, and it’s so hard to read his expression. All you want to do is plead with him to tell you what’s on his mind.

“You shouldn’t do that to yourself,” he finally says.

”Do what?” you ask, uncertain what he’s referring to.

“Sell yourself short like that. You are easily one of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met. You have a successful career and amazing tastes in art and food. Not to mention, you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You’re…you’re amazing, and I know for a fact that people think so, too.”

You puff out a breath, trying not to laugh at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I’m one of them. I wouldn’t choose just anyone to do this with. After all, the baby will be half of you, too. A win-win in my book.” The corner of his mouth tilts in a small smile.

You’re pretty certain you’ve never had something create such a viscerally emotional response in you. It takes everything you have to blink away the sudden onslaught of tears that threaten to overwhelm you.

When you finally think you can speak without melting into a blubbering mess, you whisper, “I think you’re pretty amazing, too.”

💔💔💔

Jungkook

It’s well after midnight by the time Jungkook makes it home. He’s positively buzzing and can’t even think about going to bed just yet. There is far too much going on in his head, so he decides to expend some energy in the tiny home gym he turned one of the spare rooms into.

The condo he and Jiyoon bought two years into their marriage is spacious, spanning half the second and third floors of the building. There is a three-car garage on the first floor, as well as an elevator that leads to the landing out front. Across the landing is where Taehyung lives with his roommate Jimin, another well-to-do model they met through Kim Exclusives.

Jiyoon stuck her nose up at the fact that Taehyung was buying the unit across from them when Jungkook first told her, but so far, it hasn’t caused too many problems over the years. It helps at times like this, when Jiyoon is traveling for work, to have a friend so close by. Usually, Jungkook would knock next door when he can’t get his head cleared, but for some reason, Jungkook doesn’t want to tell Taehyung about what happened at your place. He doesn’t want to tell anyone, for that matter, holding onto it as a private thing for as long as possible.

Losing himself in sets of squats and curls is far safer than describing in maddening detail the way your soft, lush—Jungkook slams his hand against the squat rack and forces his thoughts away from that line of thinking.

Just because you’re a gorgeous woman with a nice body doesn’t give him the right to think about you like that. Especially considering he’s married to your best friend, whom he loves more than anything. Besides, he’s better than that, knows the whole alpha male hindbrain is the stuff of fantasy. There is no excuse for him having such sordid and outlandish thoughts about you like that. It was simply doing what needed to be done to help—for the baby.

With that in his mind instead, he moves through the motions of his workout. By the time he’s dripping sweat and his muscles are trembling with fatigue, the sun is starting to peek through the windows, and he hasn’t thought about you in hours—well, not much, at least. And when he does, he says it's just because he's thinking of what might be passed down to your baby—er—his and Jiyoon's baby—he reminds himself.

It’s been an excruciating three weeks waiting and waiting to hear from you about something other than work. After Jiyoon returned home from her business trip, Jungkook told her about that night, including the accidental slip-up. At first, she was upset, accusing him of taking advantage of her best friend. It took hours of strained conversation to get her to understand that it was more of a clinical procedure than Jungkook fingering you.

When that accusation was first thrown out, Jungkook was at a loss for words and completely thrown off the tracks. Jiyoon apologized, saying she didn’t understand how he didn’t think she’d be upset about it but that she’d forgive him for it anyway. She then gathered Jungkook into her arms, and they cuddled in bed for the first time in what felt like forever.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if Jiyoon would confront you at work over it, but as the days continued on without a peep from you, he figured things were okay between the two of you. There were times when Jungkook wished something had gone down with you and Jiyoon because then, at least, he’d have an excuse to talk to you in a way that didn’t make him look like he only cared about you now that you were possibly pregnant or with something work-related.

He knows these things take time, and there is only so much he can do. So, he’s been pouring himself into work and filling his schedule with as many activities as possible to keep his mind off of waiting.

“Jungkook, let’s go.” Taehyung raps his knuckles on Jungkook’s shoulder, grabbing his attention. “Head out of the clouds, daddy-o, we’re needed in hair and makeup.”

Sighing, Jungkook hauls himself off the couch in the studio waiting room and follows Taehyung into the space where the makeup and hair artists are set up. He arrived at the studio early this morning and had spent the last hour spilling his guts to Taehyung, something he promised himself he wouldn’t do but couldn’t keep it contained any longer.

“Don’t call me that,” Jungkook grumbles.

Taehyung smirks. “What? Is that not what you’re hoping to be called? Don’t tell me you and Jiyoon are into daddy roleplay. That might make it a little weird to have your kid also call you daddy—ow!”

Rubbing the back of his head where Jungkook smacked him, Taehyung harrumphs before sidestepping the line of chairs and taking a seat in the one farthest from Jungkook.

“Fuck off, Taehyung. After everything I just told you, that’s all you have to say?”

Taehyung throws up his hands, and the hairdresser at his station begins to comb through his black tresses. “The way it seems to me, you’re the only one making a big deal about this. If you want to check on her, I’m sure she won’t think it’s only because she’s your possible surrogate and not because you’re friends after this. And sure, you stuck your fingers into your wife’s best friend’s vagina, but so what? It was what you needed to do. If I really needed you to touch my dick in order to complete an important procedure, I hope you’d do it with a smile on your face.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest but closes it when he realizes he can’t really argue against that. Taehyung is right. He did what he had to do. Hell, he knows that, he used those words himself when explaining it to Jiyoon. There’s just this feeling he can’t shake, he’s far too nervous and on edge right now. If only you’d reach out, put him out of his misery with an update.

“I hate it when you’re right. I’ll stop being such a—”

“Hi, guys.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, only staff and models are allowed back here.”

“Whoa, hey, wait. She’s our manager, and she can be here.” Jungkook is quick to spout, not caring if there is desperation evident in his voice. Once his eyes landed on you, it was all he could do not to jump up from the makeup chair, cross the room, and drop to his knees and beg for an update.

The directing assistant who stepped in your path gives you a once-over that makes Jungkook grind his teeth, but he just sighs and steps to the side. “Okay, but you’re both needed on set in fifteen,” he says, directing the last part toward Jungkook and Taehyung.

“It’s okay, I won’t be long. I just…” You hold up a thin manilla envelope and give it a shake. “Jiyoon is out of the office for the day, she said I should let you see first and that you could tell her later tonight at home. So, here I am. I thought we could look together.”

The makeup artist dabbing a sponge on Jungkook’s jaw lifts an eyebrow when he jerks forward in the chair, intent on scrambling across the room despite being in the middle of blending.

“Two minutes,” she says, stepping back from Jungkook and turning to the makeup collection on her table.

“Okay!” Jungkook springs from the chair and rushes over to you, having no regard for the way his hair flops out of place on his forehead. “Hi,” he says when he’s standing in front of you. “I didn’t realize you had an appointment today.”

“I didn’t,” you tell him. “I just wasn’t feeling all that well this morning, so…well, I just wanted to ensure everything was okay. They had to do a pregnancy test, it was routine.” You offer the folder to him. “Want to do the honors?”

Jungkook’s fingers are trembling as he takes the folder from you. It takes him three tries to get the flap open and to extract the slip of paper inside. You give him an encouraging smile as he looks to you for reassurance before letting his eyes sweep over the report.

“It’s…we’re…you’re…holy fuck. You’re pregnant. You’re pregnant! YOU’RE PREGNANT!” Jungkook shouts before breaking out into a bout of ecstatic laughter. “Fucking hell, oh my god, you’re pregnant! I’m going to be a father. Me. A father. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes!”

You join in his laughter, the sound pleasant and musical, as he throws his arms around you and spins you in a circle. There are shining tears in your eyes when he sets you down again, happiness clear on your face. “I’m pregnant,” you whisper, the words reverent and full of awe.

There have never been more beautiful words. Jungkook can’t help but say them again. “We’re pregnant.”

It’s hard to say if what Jungkook is feeling right now is considered a healthy response to what his wife, Jiyoon, just told him. But, the erratic beat of his heart paired with the incessant ringing in his ears doesn’t necessarily feel bad, just like he’s having some sort of out-of-body experience.

“Say that again,” he requests, softly smacking his lips, trying to work moisture back into his mouth.

Jiyoon sighs, shuffling the papers on her lap. “I’m pregnant,” she repeats the same words you said just two weeks ago.

“You’re certain?” Jungkook wants to believe he heard her correctly but can’t help asking for clarity again.

“I am.” Jiyoon smiles at Jungkook, her eyes watery. “It’s right here, look.”

Jungkook hesitantly takes the top sheet of paper from Jiyoon, letting his eyes devour the words and numbers on it. It’s all there, everything he needs to see and know for the truth—hCG levels far, far above average, an inked red circle around it along with a doctor’s barely legible scrawl of ‘pregnant’ beside that.

“How far along? It’s been—” Jungkook pauses to try to do the math in his head; it’s been weeks since they were last intimate—the night they agreed to do ICI.

“About eight weeks,” Jiyoon offers. “I suspected a few weeks ago, you know, when I was a little sick that weekend—the one when we found out about, well, I didn’t want to get my hopes up or disappoint you if it wasn’t true, especially after such good news…so I scheduled an appointment. I had to be sure, had to be certain.”

“You’re pregnant.” The words feel thick on Jungkook’s tongue, like he’s trying to talk through a mouthful of peanut butter; sweet, decadent peanut butter.

“I am,” she whispers, the confirmation turning into a squeal of laughter as Jungkook sweeps her into his arms and shouts his own happiness.

Peppering kisses all over Jiyoon’s face, Jungkook hops around, alternating between shouting how much he loves her and how he can’t believe his luck. “I’m going to be a father. Twice! What did I do to deserve this?! I love you so much. Fuck!”

“Calm down,” Jiyoon giggles. “Put me down before you make me hurl.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Jungkook pants, setting Jiyoon back down on her feet. “I’m just so excited!” He wiggles his hips and shimmies his shoulders. “We’ll need to order a second crib. Should we have the babies share a room at first? That seems the easier option, right? I bet there is a book on that somewhere, I need to go—”

“Hey, calm, right?” Jiyoon’s smile is warm, soft. “We have time. There is no need to rush. Can we just enjoy this for a little while longer?” she asks, grabbing one of his hands and placing it over her belly.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” Pressing his forehead to hers, Jungkook wraps his other arms around Jiyoon and sighs contentedly. “I love you so much, babe.”

“I love you, too, Jungkook.”

💔💔💔

Jiyoon seems nervous, pushing around the chopped salad on her plate as she chews her bottom lip. She hasn’t met your eyes the entire time you’ve been at lunch. You want to ask her what’s wrong, but you’ve been friends with her long enough to know that she’ll come to you with it when she wants, and pushing won’t do you any good.

“So,” she draws the word out, lips forming an exaggerated pucker.

“Yes?”

“How are you feeling?” You can tell that’s not what she wants to say or ask, but you indulge her anyway, hoping you’ll get to the actual matter of why she insisted on going to lunch with you today.

You shift in your seat, setting your fork down on your half-empty plate. “I feel good. I just have some nausea in the mornings sometimes, but it’s not too bad.”

Finally, Jiyoon’s eyes come up to meet yours. “I know what you mean,” she says, the words slow and enunciated—pointed. Her free hand flutters over her belly as if for emphasis.

“What?” The word is more breath than question. “You are?”

“I am,” Jiyoon confirms, tears shining in her eyes.

“Oh, my goodness! Jiyoon! What? But how? Oh my goodness! That’s wonderful!” You can’t contain your excitement for your friend, throwing yourself across the tabletop to hug her fiercely.

She’s laughing as you sit back down, clearly buzzing with her own excitement. “We just found out. It seems a miracle was in our cards after all. It’s still early, nine weeks or so now.” That would make it just two weeks, give or take, before you and Jungkook did the ICI.

“Wow,” you breathe, your own hand landing on your stomach. “They might as well be twins. It’ll be so cool—what?” Jiyoon’s frown stilts your excitement. “What is it?”

She casts her eyes away from yours again, pulling her full bottom lip between her teeth before letting it pop back out. “I don’t know. I just thought…it’s not too late if you wanted to—I just know it’s a lot on someone, your body, the pain and everything that comes after. And now that I’m pregnant, it’s just, we don’t expect you to continue…if you don’t want. We’d be completely understanding and fully supportive if you—”

“Termination? Is that…what you’re talking about? And Jungkook agrees?”

Her nose wrinkles. “I don’t like that word. I’m just saying that we will support your decision to do that if you’d like. It was never in the plans to have more than one child, and now it would be two newborns at the same time…that’s a lot, you know? Twice as many diapers, bottles, and sleepless nights. It would be hard to say goodbye, but we’d still love you and not think less of you for it.”

Your mouth feels too dry for you to form words. You know what she’s saying. Though there isn’t a single ounce of you that desires that, you also understand the hesitation Jiyoon is expressing. She’s right. There wasn’t a plan for two babies. So, what now? Do you volunteer to help? Do you seek out the advice of a lawyer to know where your parental rights might sit in the case they decide they don’t want the baby in the end? So many thoughts swirl through your mind that it makes you dizzy.

“Can I think about it?” you ask, feeling for the first time a wave of uncertainty.

Jiyoon gives you what you assume is supposed to be an assuring smile. “Of course. And if you decide not to, I’m sure we can come up with some sort of system. We’ll figure it out.”

She seems so sure that no matter your decision, it’ll all be okay. “Really?”

“Absolutely. I want—we want, these babies, even if we didn’t plan for two. I was just letting you know that there is that option if you want it.”

“I-I don’t think I do, but if that changes…I’ll let you know.”

“That’s all I ask! Now, tell me, what do you think it’ll be?” she asks, patting her flat stomach again. “A boy or a girl? I’m leaning more towards a boy…”

💔💔💔

Jungkook

Jungkook still can’t believe his life. Two babies—two extraordinary miracles, it’s surreal—perfect. His calendar has never been more full. There’s the regular schedule of photo shoots, meetings, and other client work but now those are penned in between the baby classes he’s signed up for and various doctor’s appointments.

One of which is scheduled this afternoon, just a few hours after another this morning. There is your ten-week and then Jiyoon’s three-month appointment. Things have been going great with the pregnancies being so close together, but it does sometimes make appointments and times overlap. Which is how Jungkook finds himself sprinting across the parking lot of Jiyoon’s doctor’s office. He’s late—really late. He didn’t mean to arrive so late. It’s just that your appointment ran a little longer than expected, and traffic wasn’t exactly on his side, either.

Just as Jungkook puts his hand on the handle to open the door to the doctor’s office, it swings outward, nearly smacking him in the face. Jiyoon glares at him, a peeved sigh escaping her.

“You missed it.”

“What? No. I still have—” he glances down at his watch. “The appointment should have lasted at least forty-five minutes, and it’s only been thirty.”

Jiyoon rolls her eyes. “They were able to get me in a few minutes early.” She pushes past him and starts towards her car. “Everything is fine, by the way. The baby is measuring small but is still healthy. Thanks for asking,” she snarks, holding up a length of printed film.

Jungkook grabs the strip from her hand, jogging to keep up with her angry strides. “Wow,” he whispers, looking down at the 2D images. “She’s beautiful, so tiny.”

“She? It could be a boy.”

“Is that what you hope it is?” Jungkook asks, skipping ahead of Jiyoon before turning and walking backwards in front of her. His eyes barely leave the black-and-white grainy images. He traces over the faintly-there contours of the face, the delicate nose and forehead.

Clicking the unlock button on her keyfob, Jiyoon sighs again. “I just want it to be healthy. I don’t care what gender it is.”

“You don’t care?” Jungkook purses his lips, finally looking up at his wife. She’s wearing a designer pantsuit, the deep navy complementing her porcelain complexion and making the red lip she has on pop beautifully. Pregnancy looks good on her. He opens his mouth to tell her so when she cuts him off.

“Don’t say it like that. Of course, I care. Good god, Jungkook, why do you have to make me feel like shit all the time? First you missed my appointment, because why? Because you were busy playing daddy to someone else. And now, here you are, accusing me of being a terrible mother before it’s even born. Fuck you. Fuck you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook is so confused. “What? I didn’t—playing daddy? What are you talking about? I already said I was sorry for missing the appointment, you know the times were really close. It was her ten-week appointment. They were measuring her nuchal translucency, you remember how important that is!”

“Whatever,” Jiyoon deadpans, pushing around Jungkook and climbing into her car. “I have a meeting tonight, don’t wait up for me.”

Before Jungkook can respond, the door slams shut, Jiyoon turns over the engine, and takes off. Maybe not everything is perfect, he laments to himself, mulling over his earlier thoughts. With a determined expression on his face, Jungkook makes his way to his own car and promises to do his best to make this right, vowing not to let something like this happen again.

Of course, it’s only some weeks later that Jungkook has to break this vow. It’s not his fault, it’s no ones. It seems that life just wants to test him, perhaps make sure he’s honing his time management skills for when the babies come.

Everything has been going great since his hiccup with missing Jiyoon’s twelve-week appointment. He’s been able to shuffle around his schedule and work with the both of you to ensure appointments don’t overlap or are too close together.

Jiyoon has become reliant on him, which is something Jungkook revels in. It’s like their marriage is finally back to the way it once was, full of nights cuddled in bed and romantic dinners—sans the wine. While you’ve been fiercely independent, yet charmingly sweet when it comes to Jungkook and Jiyoon and sharing the pregnancy experience with them.

There have been a few discussions about the fact that now there are going to be two babies instead of one. Jungkook has spent nearly all of his free time turning the guest bedroom into a nursery fit for two. His home gym has become a catch-all, most of the equipment being confined into a corner to make room for the furniture that came out of the guest room-now-nursery.

It’s been a lot, but it’s something Jungkook would never trade for anything in all the world. He’s positively jubilant over the prospect of being a father. It’s something he’s dreamed about for as long as he can remember. Now, it’s just a few months away, a permanent light in his life.

“J-jungkook?” your trembling voice sounds through his phone when he swipes to answer the call, tossing the paint roller into the bucket. Butter yellow coats the walls of the nursery and dots the hem of his old t-shirt.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“I think so. I don’t know. I slipped on the stairs, I’m at the ER right now—”

“I’m on my way!”

“Jungkook, no. It’s okay. I know you have things going on today. I just thought I should tell you. Jiyoon was in a meeting, so Namjoon said he’d pass her a memo when she was done.”

He’s supposed to attend a First-Time Fathers class in an hour, and Jiyoon has her twenty-two-week anatomy scan this afternoon. The class can wait. If he’s lucky, he can go to the ER, check on you, and then make it to Jiyoon’s appointment.

“No, no, you’re not sitting in the ER by yourself. I’ll text Jiyoon and let her know that I’m leaving now to come check on you.”

“O-okay.”

The line disconnects, and Jungkook slaps the lid on the paint bucket and throws a plastic sheet over the paint tray. If it dries out, then it dries out. Paint can be replaced; your health is far more crucial right now.

Walking into the entryway, he thumbs open his messages and types out a quick text to Jiyoon before tossing his phone on the small bench by the door so he can pull on his shoes.

It’s a twenty-minute drive to the hospital, and it takes another ten minutes of searching to find you sitting in a waiting room with a large ice pack resting on your right foot.

“Hey, are you okay? Have you been seen yet? How long have you been here? What happened?”

You hold up a hand to ward off more of his word vomit, an embarrassed smile soft on your face. “Slow down, have a seat. I’m okay. They said I should be called back soon.”

Instead of sitting, Jungkook kneels on the floor in front of you. His fingers the ice pack, his face falling even further. “What happened?”

“I slipped in the stairwell at work, missed the last step and came down hard on the side of my foot.”

“Can I?” he asks, fingers moving to the corner of the ice pack.

You nod. “Yeah.”

Lifting it gently, Jungkook takes in the sight of your foot. The black ballet flats you’re wearing give him a clear view of the swelling that’s already beginning along the top and side of your foot.

“Do you want me to find a wheelchair?”

Before you can answer Jungkook a nurse comes through one of the doors, pushing a wheelchair. She wheels it over to you and says, “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook slips his arm under yours as you stand before slowly helping you lower into the wheelchair. “Would you like to push her back?” the nurse asks Jungkook.

“I can come?” he wonders, hopeful.

“Of course. Unless you’d rather wait out here, and I can call for you when your wife is done.”

“Oh, she’s not—”

“I’d like for you to come if that’s okay? I don’t really want to be alone,” you interject before Jungkook can correct the nurse. She gives Jungkook a polite nod and gestures towards the door she came through.

“Please come right this way. We’ll need to get a quick weight and a urine sample before I can get you into your room, where the doctor will see you shortly.”

Jungkook aids you the best he can, helping you to and from the wheelchair as he can. He almost asks if you want him to come into the restroom with you, but you give him a quick shake of your head before closing the door on him.

What feels like an eternity later, you’re finally settled on a bed with Jungkook sitting in the chair beside it.

“Thank you for being here,” you say quietly, drawing Jungkook’s attention. “I know I said I wanted you to come back with me, and it’s not that I want you to leave, but please don’t feel obligated to stay. I know you have a lot of other things going on.”

Shifting his chair closer, Jungkook reaches for one of your hands. “Nonsense. I’m glad you called. I feel bad that I haven’t been to as many doctor’s appointments with you. I feel like it’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve even seen you. I wish our schedules worked out a little better. Perhaps, as my manager, there’s something you can do about that?” he asks, giving you a jesting wink.

“I was trying to give you more time to go to Jiyoon’s appointments!” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand.

“I know, but in case you forgot, you’re also carrying my child. Don’t get me wrong, though, the texts are great, and I really appreciate the weekly baby bump pictures, but it’d be nice to actually see you. Though, maybe next time, let’s make it not where you’re laid up in a hospital bed, not yet, at least,” he adds on with a low laugh.

This is the first time Jungkook has seen your bump in person. The soft swell under your shirt calls to him, and he wonders if it would be okay to touch it. As if you’re reading his mind, you take the hand that’s wrapped around yours and press it gently over your stomach.

“Kinda weird, huh?”

“No. No, not weird at all,” Jungkook says, being completely raw and honest with you. Jiyoon is touchy about her belly, pun wholly not intended, seeing as she doesn’t let him touch her bump nearly as much as he’d like to. She’s only recently started to show, and it’s hitting her hard, with which Jungkook tries to empathize. He can’t imagine being pregnant and how much a body changes; he’d probably feel things like that, too.

He spends a moment absorbing the feel, trying to imagine the little life growing just a few inches below his hand. Life he helped create. He’s so in awe he could cry…if it wasn’t for the door opening and breaking the momentary spell over him.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Lee. I’ll be your attending today. I hear you slipped down the stairs today and are worried your foot might be broken?” The cheery, middle-aged woman chatters away, washing her hands and drying them off before offering one to you and then to Jungkook.

“Yeah. I missed the last step and landed on the side of my foot pretty hard.” You shake your head with a rueful smile. “I should have just waited for the elevator.”

“Oh, ouch. Let’s take a look,” Dr. Lee coos. “May I?” She gestures to the blanket covering your feet. Jungkook helped you remove your shoes once you were in bed and tossed the blanket over your feet so they wouldn’t get cold.

“Of course.”

Dr. Lee pulls back the blanket and gently probes at your foot, turning it slowly side to side to get a better look. “Does this hurt?” she asks as she rotates your ankle.

“A little, not as much as putting pressure on it, though.”

The doctor nods. “I think it might be best if we do an x-ray just to be sure it’s not broken.”

“Won’t that be harmful to the baby?” Jungkook asks.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure to protect your little one.” Jungkook nods his understanding. “Is it your first? You look a little green around the gills, first-time-father jitters.”

Jungkook isn’t entirely sure how to answer that. Because, technically…no? Considering Jiyoon is approximately two weeks further along than you are. Would that make her baby his first? A laugh, barely restrained, simmers deep in Jungkook’s chest.

“Something like that,” he finally says, earning another warm smile from the doctor.

“Alright, let’s get started so I can get you two out of here as soon as possible.”

The word ‘soon’ should be a relative term when it comes to hospitals—or a word that hospital staff is barred from using. Jungkook doesn’t mind spending the hours waiting with you. In fact, you’re pretty pleasant company. That’s not to say Jiyoon isn’t when Jungkook attends appointments with her; there’s just a different level of expectation, he thinks. He hopes this baby will have your patience and grace like that.

Jiyoon wants a quiet observer sitting in the corner, whereas you’re welcoming to his insights and curiosities. You haven’t hushed him a single time when he’s voiced a question of any of the medical staff. In fact, it almost seems like you welcome it, comfortable in letting him show his concern for you.

Thankfully, the x-ray showed no break or fracture. You’ve been given a temporary boot to wear for the next week and strict instructions not to overdo it. “Got it,” you say once the nurse has finished explaining everything to you.

“Now, before we discharge you, we would like to have a sonographer brought in to check on the baby. According to your charts and file, you’re at the twenty-week mark now.”

Jungkook stands up, panic worming its way in. “Should we be worried? Is everything okay?”

The nurse gives him a motherly smile. “That’s what we would like to check.” She turns her attention to you. “You didn’t fall on your belly, but with any trauma to the body, it never hurts just to be sure.”

Of course. That makes sense to Jungkook, but he looks to you for confirmation. “Yeah? You want to do that?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

Jungkook has only attended two live ultrasounds in all the doctor’s appointments he has been to. He has many printed ultrasound images that are now stuck to the refrigerator at home, one side for Jiyoon and the other for you. But he’s only managed to attend one for Jiyoon and one for you, so this will be a wonderful treat.

“Okay, they’ll be here in just a moment.”

A few moments pass after the nurse leaves the room, and Jungkook allows himself to truly assess his internal feelings. He’s thankful that you’re okay and will feel even more at ease once the ultrasound confirms the baby is alright, too. It’s wild for Jungkook to think that just a few months ago, his life felt like it was on the verge of falling apart. There was a steadily growing rift between him and Jiyoon, and you were just Jiyoon’s best friend.

Now, however, he feels closer than ever to his wife, and you’ve managed to carve out your own little pocket in his heart, too. It’s alarming, yet comforting, to realize that there is something more between you and him—a deepening connection that’s still delicate but growing more solid with each passing day.

“You feeling okay?” Your voice breaks through Jungkook’s reverie.

“Hm? Me? I’m great,” he assures, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. You’ve barely let his hand go the entire time, to which Jungkook won’t complain. “Does it hurt much?” Jungkook nods toward the end of the bed, where your feet are back under the blanket.

You shrug. “It’s not so bad while laying here.”

“Hi!” a bubbly voice calls from the door a second before a young blond woman wheels an imaging cart into the room. “Are we ready to get a look at your little one before you guys go home?”

“Yep.” You give Jungkook’s hand a light squeeze. “Excited?” you ask in a soft voice meant only for him.

“Very,” he tells you, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Now, this won’t be nearly as good as if we were in radiology in an exam room, but all we really want is to get a look to make sure everything is okay. Besides, who doesn’t want to take a peek when you get the chance, right?”

The tech, with Jungkook’s assistance, helps you adjust on the bed until you’re in a comfortable position for the ultrasound. Jungkook feels frozen as you tug your blouse up and over your belly, giving him his first real glimpse of the swell in all its glory. It’s one thing to see it through your shirt, another thing entirely to see it like this.

“Cold,” you chuckle as the tech squeezes a glob of contact gel onto your lower belly.

“Sorry about that, these carts unfortunately don’t have the warmers on them. Ah, here we are,” she sing-songs when she smoothes the wand over the gel. “Look at that.”

Jungkook tears his eyes from your face, focusing his gaze on the imaging machine's display screen. His breath stutters in his lungs, and a wave of pure, unrestrained joy washes over him.

“They’re perfect,” he says, voice thick with emotion. Jungkook watches as an arm moves across the screen, followed by a little kicking foot.

“Seeing them never ceases to take my breath away.” You take the words right out of Jungkook’s mouth.

The tech hums, giving you a soft smile as she moves the wand around to different angles. “No gender yet?” she asks. “I’ll try to be careful here, don’t want to have any spoilers…unless you would like to know?”

It’s hard not to be curious. “Is it not too early to tell?” Jungkook asks.

Turning the screen slightly away from you and Jungkook, the tech says, “Um, nope. Not too early. Everything looks good, though. So, if you’d rather wait, we can get cleaned up and be done here.”

“What do you say?” Jungkook looks at you with a raised brow.

Your teeth leave a dent in your bottom lip as you worry it for a moment. Another thing he thinks would be cute to see his mini-me do. “I kind of want to, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admits, loving the fact that you do.

“Okay, wonderful. In that case,” the tech says before moving the screen back and adjusting the wand on your belly. “Take a look here.”

When Jungkook arrives home, the sun has long since gone down, but he’s so high on cloud nine that he can’t bring himself to care. The large smile on his face hasn’t slipped in the slightest.

Jungkook is certain nothing can bring him down. At least, that is, until he walks through the front door of his condo and straight into hell. Jiyoon is sitting at their dining table, her expression completely devoid of emotion.

“Hey, babe. What’s going on?” Jungkook hesitantly asks, eyes sweeping the open layout and taking note that the only light on is the recessed one directly over Jiyoon. His smile slowly fades, replaced with a crease between his brows.

“What’s going on?” she asks in a cold voice.

“Is everything okay?”

Jiyoon sniffs, her eyes narrowing, the first sign of emotion he’s seen since he walked in. “No. Everything is not okay.”

“O…kay,” Jungkook draws the word out, letting his mind flip through its internal catalog, trying to find pieces of the puzzle to put together.

“Where have you been?”

“There was an accident. Did you get the note from—”

“You’ve not answered any of my calls or texts.”

“I sent you a text before I left. I think I misplaced my phone, I can’t seem to find—”

“You missed my appointment!” she sneers, cutting him off once more. “And you did not text me. I haven’t heard from you since this morning.”

Realization hits, and the warmth drains from Jungkook’s face. He was so focused on everything with you, the panic and then the joy, that he completely spaced on everything else he should have done today. But also…

“I swear I texted you to let you know I was going to the hospital. I was going to make sure everything was okay.” As soon as your name falls from his lips Jiyoon shoves back from the table and rounds it, getting in his face. “She slipped at work and thought she might have broken her foot. Namjoon was supposed to give you a note about it since you were in a meeting. She called me. I was worried. I didn’t mean to miss your appointment. Were they able to determine the gender?”

Jiyoon jabs a finger in the center of his chest. “Not. Good. Enough. I’m your wife, not her! You’re supposed to be with me! Instead, you spend all your fucking time with your nose up her ass when you barely even know her!” Jungkook staggers back as her poke turns into a fully-palmed shove. “You’re un-fucking-believable! What a goddamn joke.”

“Jiyoon, that’s not fair. Something could have been wrong with the baby. It was an emergency,” Jungkook says, trying to make Jiyoon see reason.

It doesn’t work.

“Fuck you! Why do you care so fucking much about that stupid baby?! All you do is fawn over the photos and re-read her text updates! This,” she gestures wildly at her stomach, “is the baby you should care about! Yet you can’t even show up when it counts.”

“You can’t be serious. This is ridiculous.” Jungkook keeps his tone level, refusing to be baited into a knock-down-drag-out with her.

“No!” Jiyoon screams, making Jungkook flinch. “You are ridiculous.” Suddenly a menacing smile cuts across her face. “I bet you slept with her. Didn’t you? That’s it, you’re feeling possessive because you fucked my best friend, and that’s how she got knocked up, isn’t it?”

Jiyoon’s words spark a ringing in Jungkook’s ears. “What?” he whispers, the word barely forming.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Jungkook. I know you too well for that. Let’s not forget your little slip-up—” she throws up air quotes as she says that “—the night you supposedly did ICI.”

“I told you it was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it!”

Sarcasm is a heavy, bitter layer in Jiyoon’s reply, “You just so happened to touch her clit? Just a little oopsie, so innocent. You’re too nice to outright lie to me, so, of course, you come up with some half-truth, expecting me to believe that you didn’t want it, that you weren’t secretly gnawing at the opportunity to try and seduce my best friend!”

“That is not what happened at all!”

“So I’m supposed to believe my pathetically inexperienced best friend is the one that seduced you, then?”

“What? That’s not what I said at all. No one seduced anyone. You’re being fucking crazy right now. You know I’d never do that to y—”

The crack of Jiyoon’s palm against his jaw stuns him into silence. “Don’t you dare call me crazy!” she screams. “You’d never do that to me? Yeah, right. You’re a man, and that’s what men do! Heaven forbid a woman works hard and spends time away from the home, trying to provide for her family. Is that it? I’m gone too much for your sad little dick, so you have to chase after the first desperate pussy that comes your way?”

Jungkook presses his fingers over the searing heat licking up his jaw where her hand struck him. “Jiyoon, no, it’s not like that at all,” he says, losing his momentum because he’s not sure what he can say at this point to make her see reason. “I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“Fucking my best friend because she’s convenient and out of spite for me being gone so much? No, that sounds exactly like something you would do. Well, looks like it’s your lucky day because two can play that game, asshole. Enjoy your fucking prize!”

Jungkook jerks back, as if Jiyoon just slapped him again. “What does that mean?”

She laughs, the sound deep and throaty. “This baby—” she seethes, rubbing over the small swell of her belly, voice rising with every word “—it’s not yours, you pathetic bastard!”

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon) ◅ Back to story masterlist

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-02-13 ColorMePurplex2

#btsfests

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gimmethatagustd · 5 hours

Text

genuinely!! it was the ending they needed

delicate | pjm

After months of not talking to each other, Taehyung thinks he can charm his way into your life again. Thankfully, Jimin is there to help you work through your feelings.

○ Pairing: Jimin x f!reader (from Only Here To Sin)

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Established relationship, fluff, smut, pwp

○ Word Count: 3,987

○ Warnings: It's pretty much just porn, OHTS Taehyung strikes again!! he's annoying!!, mentions past sex with Taehyung, references toxic past relationships, consensual sex while under the influence of alcohol (just tipsy), using a tie as a blindfold, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, it's their first time together 🥹, I definitely didn't edit this (as usual, we post when we're done and we never look back)

○ Notes: This can be read as a standalone oneshot, but I recommend reading OHTS to get the full backstory~ and also because it's a disaster of a series, so it's kind of like watching a trainwreck. Don't judge me too much; I had no idea what I was doing when I wrote it. I still have no idea what I'm doing!

○ Post Date: December 16, 2023

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? Like Crazy - Jimin

You knew going out with Jackie was a mistake. Even more of a mistake was your agreement to go to this nightclub.

“Are you cold?”

Jimin’s arms snake around your waist and draw you against his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder. The light, minty scent of his toothpaste mixes with the floral notes of his cologne. Rather than overwhelm you, the smell grounds you and brings you into the present.

“I’m okay,” you mumble.

Jimin hums. You feel the sound vibrate from his throat against your shoulder and the side of your neck. He’s not convinced, and you know he isn’t.

“Want to go find your friends? I’ll order us drinks.”

You nod and reluctantly detach yourself from Jimin’s embrace. The poor bartender has far too many people crowding the counter. Jimin will have to wait a while; he’s too polite to cut in front of other customers.

The club isn’t big, but it’s packed. You feel like you’re clawing through the bodies swaying to the music with your head on a swivel to find your friends in the crowd. The last time you were at this club, you’d ended up in the bathroom with Taehyung’s fingers shoved inside you.

No. You are not going to think about that.

It has been five months. Five months of detoxing, of neatly packing away the hurt and confusion that Taehyung caused you and storing it in the attic of your mind. You’re a different person now. The person Taehyung manipulated and strung along was no more. And the most important part is that you’ve forgiven the person you used to be. It was too easy to be angry at yourself for your mistakes.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you weren’t nervous about returning home for summer break. The memories and emotions triggered the moment you pulled into your parents’ driveway were enough to make you feel like throwing up. You’re lucky Jimin got time off from his music apprenticeship in California to visit you, or you may not survive the summer.

Dreary thoughts aside, you’re beginning to feel frustrated with your inability to find Jackie when you feel a warm hand slide into your palm and long fingers intertwine with yours.

“Hey, jagi.”

Despite the loud thrum of music, that smooth voice pierces through you sharply and clearly.

Taehyung’s cheeks shimmer pink with intoxication beneath his honey-toned skin. His hair is longer than when you last saw him. It falls into his eyes, obscuring them in a way that makes his already mystifying gaze all the more intimidating. They nearly glow in the pulsing club lights, sparkling with amusement.

“Miss me?” Taehyung tongues his cheek as his eyes take apart every inch of your body. “You look really good.”

How your stomach flutters with butterflies you’d thought were long gone makes you feel sick. You quickly rip your hand from Taehyung’s. You’d missed him, in the beginning, a little bit, but being with him had hurt you more than leaving him. It took making new friends to realize you’d missed companionship, not Taehyung. Now, you have far healthier friendships.

You can practically hear Alexis’s voice in your head, nagging you about toxic men like Taehyung.

“The worst thing a man can be is aware that he’s hot,” Alexis lectured you the first time you opened up to her about Taehyung. She wasn’t wrong.

“No, I did not.” The steadiness of your voice surprises you, though it shouldn’t. You’ve put in a lot of work to process your fucked up relationship with Taehyung. You can do this.

The smug look on Taehyung’s face doesn’t disappear, but that doesn’t surprise you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in town, jagi?”

“Why do you even think I would tell you?”

Before you can demand that Taehyung stop calling you by the inappropriate term of endearment, you feel lips brush against your temple.

“I gave up,” Jimin admits with an apologetic smile and empty hands. His eyes take in your crossed arms and rigid stance when you don't speak. With a frown, he follows your gaze to notice Taehyung finally. “Oh, sorry, hi. I’m Jimin, her boyfriend.”

You try to be kind, but you want to punch the smug look off of Taehyung’s face when he offers his hand to Jimin.

“Nice to meet you, Jimin-ssi. I’m Taehyung,” he introduces himself. “Her ex.”

Jimin is too polite for his own good. He shakes Taehyung’s hand with his head cocked to the side. His pink lips scrunch into a sideways pout, and his eyebrows are just as tense. It’s the look he makes while writing his Music Theory essays. (“Music is about feeling, Y/N! Why do I need to write papers about it?”) It isn’t anger or frustration but a struggle to understand.

All you can think about is that Taehyung called himself your ex. After the grief he’d given you for wanting to be more to him than a sexual conquest, it’s unfathomable that he could claim the two of you had dated.

“She’s told me about you,” Jimin finally states. You’re not sure what angle he’s going for. In all honestly, you’d love to melt into the floor and bypass this entire conversation.

“That’s cute.” Taehyung’s eyes twinkle with the sparkles of the disco ball rotating overhead.

“Hmm, I guess, if you think being an asshole is cute.”

You hope your gasp isn’t detectable. Both men continue staring at each other, so it’s hard to tell.

“Do you?” Taehyung grins, and you barely hide your shock when Taehyung blatantly checks Jimin out.

It’s the same predatory look he’s given you in the past that makes your heart flutter and heat blossom between your thighs. You find it odd to see the look directed at someone else, let alone at your boyfriend.

It’s also odd that you feel relieved when Jimin’s cheeks flush pink at the sudden attention. Somehow, Jimin’s reaction is the validation you need to remind yourself that you haven’t made anything up. Taehyung has this uncanny power to capture people’s attention and draw them into his clutches with a simple look. Seeing Jimin affected by Taehyung makes you feel better about falling into his trap. It doesn’t take away all the blame; you take full responsibility for your actions. But it helps knowing someone as strong as Jimin can be flustered by Taehyung, too.

“I do not, actually.” Jimin tightens his hold on your waist. The feeling of his warm hand on your hip keeps you out of your head. Grounded. Jimin always keeps you grounded.

“Unfortunately, that’s all Taehyung knows how to be,” you pipe up. Even if your snappy comment does nothing to remove the smug look on Taehyung’s face, you get satisfaction from voicing your thoughts regardless.

“If I remember correctly, you enjoyed that about me.”

You let out a long sigh. “Tae, what matters is that I’m not enjoying anything about this conversation right now.”

Jimin presses his fingers into your side, gently reminding you he’s there – as if you could ever forget his presence.

“Let’s go, Jimin.” You wrap your pinky around Jimin’s and tug. “I’m sure whoever Taehyung came with is looking for him.”

You don’t wait for a response from either man. You’re over the days of having men tell you what to do.

Two hours later, you’re thoroughly tipsy and stumbling into Jimin’s hotel room with sore feet and the sensation of cotton in your ears from the nightclub’s loud music. Never the type to be out all night, it didn’t take long for you to ask Jimin if you could head back to his hotel room. Although you succeeded in ensuring Taehyung didn’t ruin the night for you, partying isn’t your thing anyway.

Jimin, on the other hand, is still wired. He strips off his shirt and tosses it onto the couch before working on unbuckling his belt.

“What’s the name of that guy Jackie’s dating?” he asks with a huff like he’s out of breath. You watch him tug his belt from the loops and toss it onto the couch.

“Seokjin? Well, he goes by Jin.” Jin and Jackie. They’re an unlikely pair but cute.

“Yes! He’s so funny!” Jimin pushes his jeans down his thighs. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone take that make shots. And you know how my fraternity is.”

Following Jimin’s lead, you shimmy out of your dress. The hotel’s vents are blasting cold air, so you quickly sort through Jimin’s suitcase to find one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of loose boxers to wear. The two of you have undressed in front of each other before, and you’ve even fooled around while naked, but nothing has ever gone beyond using your hands and mouths to get each other off. Jimin has been unbelievably gentle and kind with your desire to take your relationship slow. You’ve been dating for nearly half a year, and he hasn’t pressured you.

You know it’s basic decency to respect someone’s boundaries, but considering the relationships you’ve had in the past, this is a big deal for you.

Not ready to sleep yet, Jimin sits in the bed and reaches for you with grabby hands and a slight pout. He looks adorable with his fluffy blonde hair. You’re not sure you can deny him anything, honestly.

“We probably should have had more water,” Jimin points out as you climb into his lap. Heat radiates from his bare chest, prompting you to snuggle against his skin to absorb some of that warmth for yourself.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re talking with this cute little slur.”

“I am not!”

Okay, maybe you are, but you’re not drunk. You’re just tipsy enough to feel loose in your limbs, light in your head, and hot in your core. Biting your bottom lip, you shift to straddle Jimin’s lap. The blankets pool around your waist, and Jimin’s hands naturally rest on your bare thighs.

Jimin lets you lift his chin so his head is tilted to look at you.

“Are you okay?” His hold on your hips is light but sturdy.

“I want you.”

Jimin’s eyes flutter closed when your lips brush against his neck. You suck at the soft skin where his jaw meets his throat while you thread your fingers through his blonde waves. When you nestle your fingers into the roots, you gently tug his hair.

A low groan rumbles from Jimin’s chest. His grip on your waist tightens, and the sensation causes your body to shudder.

“Are you sure?” He opens his eyes when you pull back from his neck, but you’re focused on the dark, reddish-purple bruise you’ve left on his skin. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to do anything after running into–”

“No.” Your response is curt, probably sharper than Jimin expects if his widened eyes are anything to go off of. “Taehyung doesn’t have any influence over me anymore, Jimin. This is just me wanting you, okay?”

It’s true; Taehyung has nothing to do with your desire for Jimin. Maybe if he does have some ounce of influence over the situation, it’s only because you feel empowered and emboldened after standing up to him. That, mixed with the alcohol, is giving you a sense of invincibility. It’s confidence that you might lose by the night's end, but you’re willing to ride the wave for as long as you can.

None of this is anything you’ll regret in the morning. If anything, you’ll be thankful for the opportunity to prove to yourself and everyone else that you’re ready to take on the things you’ve once feared.

Accepting your reassurances, Jimin nods. He runs a hand up your spine, stopping at the base of your head to cup your neck.

“Can I just say something first?”

His question makes your stomach flip, but you force yourself to maintain eye contact while you nod. You tend to get nervous with him when you’re intimate. There’s nothing wrong with Jimin; he’s kind and attentive. It’s your bad experiences with sex that make you hesitate. There’s too much pressure to perform well.

“You always get really nervous,” Jimin starts slowly, rubbing his palms up your thighs. “And I was trying to think of a way to help you relax.”

Shame burns your cheeks because you feel like this isn’t something Jimin should have to do. It’s pathetic, isn’t it? Why can’t you handle sex without getting so stressed out over it?

“Okay…” you prompt him to continue, though you aren’t sure if you want him to.

“Would you be willing to try something? I promise if you don’t like it, we can stop.”

If it were anyone else, you’d be scared of Jimin’s question, but you find it relatively easy to agree to whatever plan he has – albeit nervously.

Careful not to jostle you too much, Jimin maneuvers you off his lap and goes to his suitcase. It takes a few seconds for him to find what he’s looking for, but when he faces you again, you feel your heart flutter.

In Jimin’s hands is a silk black tie, which he keeps for special occasions – such as the dinner he attended with you and your parents when he first arrived in your hometown for the summer. It looks good on him, especially when he loosens it and lets it hang haphazardly around his neck.

Despite your limited sexual experience, it’s clear that he won’t be the one wearing it tonight. Approaching the bed, Jimin instructs you to sit back with your legs spread so he can kneel between them.

“You trust me?” he whispers. When you nod, he reaches behind your head to secure the tie so that it covers your eyes. “Let me know if it’s uncomfortable, and I can redo it.”

“It feels okay.” Strange, but okay.

You can’t see anything, so you keep your eyes closed. Rather than become even more nervous about the unknown of the darkness, you find that it’s actually relaxing. So often, you let negative thoughts ruin intimacy with Jimin, preventing you from moving forward in your relationship. Somehow, being blindfolded empties your mind until all you can think about is how you imagine what Jimin looks like while he touches you.

You let Jimin guide you to lie flat on your back. With your most prominent sense taken away, you focus on your others to tell you what’s happening. Jimin is slow as he slips his hands beneath the hem of your shirt to push it up your torso.

“Can I take this off?” His breath is hot against the side of your neck, and you feel the bed shift when he hovers above you.

“Yes,” you reply, barely above a breathy whisper.

Once Jimin has removed your shirt, his body heat disappears. You don’t panic, but you feel lost without his touches there to ground you. That is, until you feel something wet flick across your nipple.

“Oh, god,” you moan when Jimin wraps his lips around your nipple and gently sucks.

His tongue is hot and sloppy as it swirls around the bud until it’s perky and hard. Satisfied with his work, Jimin attaches his plush lips to your other nipple and repeats the same action.

You arch your back, pushing against his mouth. Jimin wraps his arms around your waist to press his palm to the small of your back, further pulling you into him. The darkness heightens your sense of touch, making each hot swipe of Jimin’s tongue and the graze of his teeth against your skin even more tantalizing. Your pussy throbs with how wet and hot you’re growing just from this alone.

“Jimin,” you whimper.

His fingers hook around the edge of your borrowed boxers. “Can I take these off, too?”

You nod your head quickly and lift your hips to make it easier for Jimin to pull his boxers off of you.

“So pretty…”

You let out a high moan when you feel the pads of Jimin’s fingers brush against your entrance. He gathers your arousal and smears it over your lips and clit. You can hear the squelch the wetness makes when he dips his fingers inside of you just enough to gather more of the sticky mess. Your wet skin goes cold, and you can tell Jimin has blown air on you.

“I’m going to eat you out, okay?” Jimin punctuates his question with a tiny flick of his tongue against your pussy.

“Please, fuck, please,” you want to cry and try to push your hips against where you think his face is, but his hands hold your hips down.

“I will, I will.”

Jimin laughs, airy and gentle, before pushing his tongue further between your lips to flick your clit. He repeatedly sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive skin while his lips envelop you.

Your skin is blazing from the heat of his heavy breathing and how his touch makes you burn. Every suck of your clit makes you gush between your thighs. You can imagine Jimin staring up at you with dark eyes as he eats you out, humming into your pussy with satisfaction.

You arch into his face when you feel pressure at your entrance again, and Jimin slips two fingers into your pussy. He thrusts them in and out, hooking them to press his fingers against your front wall to find the spot he knows so well that makes you squirm.

“Fuck,” he groans into your dripping pussy. Turning his head to the side, Jimin brushes his mouth against the inside of your thigh. His lips are soaked and sticky.

You rock against his hand as he fingers you, letting out little “ah ah ah’s” with each thrust against your front wall. You feel like you’re on fire, like every breath will ignite your body, make you combust.

“Please, Jimin, please.” You never thought you’d be the type to beg, but you’re so desperate to cum that it’s embarrassing. “I’m going fucking crazy, please.”

You try not to compare Jimin to Taehyung; you really try. But it’s hard not to, especially when Jimin gives you the best head you’ve ever had. Foreplay has never lasted this long before. You can’t tell if it’s a blessing or a curse.

“Ready for me?” It’s both hard to hear and so fucking hot when Jimin asks the question into your pussy.

It’s disorienting when Jimin uses his clean hand to pull his tie off your face. You blink a few times to adjust to the light, belatedly realizing neither of you ever turned it off. While some people like intimacy in the dark, you and Jimin always keep the lights on. It’s nice to look at it other; it feels more intimate.

You switch positions, allowing Jimin to sit against the headboard and have you straddle his lap like you were before.

“Ride me first, okay?” Jimin whispers in your ear when he takes your arms and wraps them around his shoulders. “I want to see your face when you take my cock for the first time.”

Your pussy flutters, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to survive taking his cock if his words are enough to create a reaction in you that makes your knees weak.

“Oh, oh,” you whimper as Jimin sits against the bedframe. “Okay.”

“Look at me.”

And you do. You stare into those narrowed, sultry eyes as you line his cock with your entrance, one hand squeezing his shoulder to help you lean at the correct angle. The stretch is quite easy despite your previous concerns about taking Jimin fully. It should have been obvious; you’re so drenched that you slide down on his cock so smoothly that you want to fucking die.

You know what you’re doing, having had plenty of experience riding Taehyung in the past. It’s different this time, of course. Jimin never takes his eyes off yours as you bounce on his cock. His hands squeeze your hips to guide you up and down his cock, encouraging you to lift until only the head of his cock is nestled in your pussy before sliding back down his entire length. You’re so wet that Jimin’s thighs glisten with your arousal, as do yours.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jimin says with a soft smile.

“Oh my god,” you squeeze his shoulders as you rock against him, “You’re, you’re cuter.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” Jimin rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead.

He’s so cute, even as your pussy sucks in his cock and clenches around it. How is it possible for him to seem so innocent in a moment like this? It makes your heart swell with a love you’re worried you’ll never be able to fully articulate to the precious boy beneath you.

“Feels good,” you moan against his mouth when you lean forward to kiss him. “I’m gonna cum already.”

Jimin sucks your bottom lip at the same time he slips his hand between your bodies to start rubbing your clit. The two points of pleasure cause you to slump forward, but luckily, Jimin takes over. He thrusts into with swift, strong movements, never stuttering even when you can tell that he’s nearing his orgasm, as well.

There’s no shame in not lasting very long. You’re both a little bit drunk and extremely horny. The buildup to this moment is almost a climax all on its own. Neither of you can be blamed for how frantically you claw at each other and do your best to grind against each other’s bodies as hard and fast as you can.

“Come on, baby,” Jimin groans into the crook of your neck as he fucks you. “We can cum together, okay? Let go for me so we can make each other feel good.”

“Oh, Jimin, y-yes, fuck, okay.” You nod your head and pant your words against the curve of his ear. Needing something to hold onto, you dig your fingers into Jimin’s hair.

Jimin always knows the right things to say and finds a way to ease your stress and ground you. He talks you through your orgasm and holds you close as you cum. It’s erotic, but it feels gentle and intimate. Rather than dirty talk, it feels sweeter and more caring.

Even when Jimin finds his release, coming in you with a brutal grip on your waist, he whispers soft words of gratitude because he sees fucking you as a privilege – not a challenge to be won.

When it’s over, you melt into Jimin’s embrace, chest to chest, with your head resting against his shoulder. You’re both sweaty and sticky, but it doesn’t matter. All you want to do is be close and be held.

“How are you doing?”

You nod, unable to find the words to express how utterly content you feel. Not just content – you feel cared for, even when all you’ve done is fuck. It’s different with Jimin. It’s gentle. It means something.

“Did the tie help?” he asks, curious and wanting to have done a good job coloring his tone. It’s sweet, just like all of Jimin.

“It did,” you finally speak up. Turning your head to the side, you press your lips against Jimin’s neck and speak to his warm skin. “It helped me get out of my head, so all I focused on was you and how you made me feel.”

“Good?”

You smile with your eyes closed when you feel him kiss your forehead. “You always make me feel good.”

Jimin squeezes you in his arms, content with humming a happy reply against the top of your head. No other words need to be said; for now, the two of you bask in the warmth you bring each other and know that whatever the morning brings, you’ll always have safe arms to fall back into.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#delicate #jjungkookislife #happy things ✨

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gimmethatagustd · 5 hours

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hehehe girl dad joonie is def worth giggling over

gang shit | knj

Your daughter's classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you're his arch-nemesis.

○ Pairing: Dilf!Namjoon x Single Parent!Reader

○ Rating: Sfw

○ Genre: Kidfic, strangers/romantic interest, an attempt at humor

○ 1 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Single Parent)

○ Word Count: 1204

○ Warnings: Shockingly none!! aside from my terrible sense of humor, jokes about Crime!!, and also Namjoon's dimples

○ Notes: Inspired by this tweet. I hope you enjoy the first drabble of my 100 Drabble Challenge I'm doing with @sailoryooons - Please check out Hali's drabbles throughout 2024, too! Happy New Year, besties! ✨

○ Post Date: January 1, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? GOAT - Number_i

“I don’t make the rules to this gang shit. I just play my role.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you cock your head to the side in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Namjoon adjusts his black baseball cap. His bicep bulges out of his short sleeve when he lifts his arm.

You’re too old to be thirsting for a man like this. In all honesty, you’ve been acting childish all day – literally. It’s the last day of school before summer break, and your daughter’s preschool teacher invited parents to an end-of-the-year celebration. Having the privilege of working a hybrid schedule means it’s relatively easy for you to swing by the school with primary-colored cupcakes in hand. They’re the disgusting ones kids love that’ll stain their fingers and mouths bright blue. Oh, to be a four-year-old. So easy to please.

Unlike little Yuna’s father, who has a stick shoved up his ass, and for what?

“What are you even talking about?” you ask with your arms crossed against your chest.

You’d said literally five words to the guy, intending to start a pleasant conversation while the kids ran around the playground and the other parents mingled at the picnic tables outside.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Brooklyn’s parent.”

Apparently, that was offensive.

Namjoon’s sharp eyes drag up and down your body, and you try not to let his heavy gaze affect you – and fail when you feel your stomach dip.

“Brooklyn said Yuna dresses weird,” Namjoon finally says with a pout that shouldn’t look so cute on a grown-ass man.

“Did she?”

“Are you calling Yuna a liar?”

“No!” This man is so volatile. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. We’ve been practicing using kind words, but, well, you know how kids are…”

Namjoon doesn’t look convinced.

You feel antsy under his gaze, unsure what to say or do. Are you supposed to apologize? Maybe that’s the mature thing to do. You’re still new to this whole “I’m suddenly responsible for an entire human being even though I barely even know how to take care of myself” thing. It’s a little bit unbelievable, actually!

“I’m sorry for Brooklyn’s judgmental behavior. What kind of weird-, what kind of clothes-” you stumble through what you already know is a shit apology, “Which one is Yuna?”

“That’s her.” Namjoon nods in Yuna’s direction.

You look across the playground to the swing set, where a little girl is lying on the swing on her stomach and spinning around with her arms and legs hanging limp. She’s wearing her hair in asymmetrical pigtails, one higher on her head than the other. Her sneakers are mismatched, as are her colorful knee-high socks. Her pants are polka-dotted, her shirt striped, and she’s got a bright purple cape tied around her neck.

“She’s adorable,” you say softly.

“She’s weird as shit.”

Your mouth hangs open when Namjoon shrugs.

“What? She’s my kid; I’m allowed to say that.”

“Fair enough,” you concede with a smile, “So, we got beef now?”

“Yup.”

Namjoon crosses his arms against his chest to match your stance. You tell yourself it’s very inappropriate to be eyeing your new enemy’s boobs when you’re in the middle of a showdown.

“I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think I’m down for going to war for Brooklyn. Usually, I just like to blame her bad behavior on her dad,” you say with a barking laugh. You cover your mouth with your hand when you snort. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“You’re good,” Namjoon finally cracks a smile, and, wow, it’s breathtaking. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his teeth are big and bright, and he has dimples… “Yuna’s mother doesn’t let her dress how she likes, so when I have her, I let her do what she wants. Self-expression is important, y’know?”

You nod because he’s right. Kids should be kids.

“Plus, I like being the fun parent.”

“Right! Who wants the parent with all the stupid rules?” You perk up, taking a step closer because now you’re partners in crime rather than enemies. Maybe. You’ll work on it. He’s too cute not to get up to some parental crime with—gang members, not rivals.

“Not cool parents like us,” Namjoon lightly elbows you.

“Yeah, they can’t ride with our gang.”

Namjoon makes a face the moment the words come out of your mouth. He bites both lips, rolling them in and hollowing his cheeks, eyebrows raised.

“What? What!” you gasp, knowing when you’re being made fun of, even if it’s in silence.

“Don’t ever say anything like that ever again.”

With a huff, you give him a tiny punch to the arm and tell yourself that it isn’t because you want to feel how tight his muscles are.

“You’re the one who–”

“HEY! NO HITTING!”

Groaning, you throw your head back as a tiny blur of pink collides with your body. Brooklyn tugs on the hem of your shirt, repeatedly chanting, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” until you crouch to meet her at her level. Taking her little hands in yours, you hold them to your lips to give her knuckles a quick peck.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that to Mr. Kim,” you admit, “I should apologize, shouldn’t I?”

Brooklyn nods, and the bulbous beaded hair ties at the end of her pigtail braids swing like a deadly game of tetherball.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim,” you say as you look up at Namjoon. He taps his finger against his chin in mock thought, and you can’t help but think that you’ll actually punch him if he fucks up this teaching moment by pretending not to accept your apology.

“I forgive you,” he says with another grin that makes you feel like a silly teenager.

“Y’know, Brooklyn, Mr. Kim told me something about you and Yuna…” Brooklyn immediately ducks her chin to her chest. No one has ever looked guiltier. “It’s not very nice to talk about how people look, love. I think you should apologize to Yuna, don’t you agree?”

It takes very little convincing for Brooklyn to run off toward the swings. She flops on her stomach in the swing beside Yuna, and then, after a bit of talking, both girls spin around.

“If Brooklyn throws up from doing that, it’s your fault,” you mutter to Namjoon.

“Real aggressive coming from someone who just physically attacked me.”

“Okay, Mr. Gang Shit,” you quip back, catching Namjoon’s widening grin out of the corner of your eye.

“Listen,” Namjoon touches your elbow, his fingers lingering just long enough for you to give him your attention. Heat spreads along your forearm and makes your fingers tingle. “I don’t really accept either of your apologies. You might need to try a little harder to get me to forgive you.”

“Oh.” You feel your stomach twist.

“Might want to start with getting dinner with me, and then we can see where it goes?”

Oh.

“I mean, if you think it wouldn’t hurt my street cred being seen with the likes of you, then, yeah.”

Namjoon grabs his baseball cap bill and pulls it down until his hat covers his face. “Don’t make me rescind this offer because I’ll do it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how it goes.”

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

#oglof #happy things ✨#gang shit

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gimmethatagustd · 6 hours

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she needed justice honestly 😭

only here to sin (final) | kth

When your genius of a boyfriend returns to Harvard for his sophomore year of college, you never would have expected to have his worst enemy keeping you entertained in his absence

» pairing: fuckboy!taehyung x fem!reader (ft. namjoon)

» wc/date: 14.6k | September 2022

» notes: THE TIME HAS FINALLY COME. THE END OF AN ERA. pls take a moment of silence for ohts tae, the sexiest tae i've written so far 🙏🏽 also a moment of silence for my brain cuz i did not edit this well shdkjfs

» masterlist | ao3 | send me ur thots 👅

» what was jai listening to? a fuckboy spotify playlist

| 01 | 02 | 03 | FINAL |

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations! After thorough consideration, we are thrilled to offer you admission to the Honors College of…

You read the acceptance letter on your phone and again when it arrived in the mail, snatching up the large envelope with the university’s crest printed on it from your mother’s prying eyes.

At this time last year, the mere thought of transferring to a new college would have seemed intimidating and impossible. Now, though? Now the thought of moving to the other side of the country to finish your next two years of college was so intoxicating that you could barely contain yourself. You eventually told your parents, knowing their response without needing to touch on the topic. But you were a good, dutiful daughter. You played by the rules, even when you were still breaking them. It was a delicate balance.

They still refused to help you move into your new dorm, no matter how you framed the situation. You were ruining their perfect plans. Sure, they wouldn’t cut you off financially, but they wouldn’t help you get to where you wanted (no, needed) to be. It was all on you.

But that was fine. There was nothing for you in your sleepy hometown, anyway. Your parents cared for you too little, your friends were fake, Namjoon wasn’t in the picture to stop you from being independent, and Taehyung was… Well, Taehyung was Taehyung. At some point, you burned down quite literally every bridge in your life, stripped every relationship of whatever flimsy glue has been left holding it together. It would be easy to blame Taehyung. He’d been the catalyst, after all. But something deep down told you that this was bound to happen, with or without Kim Taehyung.

You sat on your bed and scrolled through your Instagram friends. If you were going to skip town, it was time for a purge. You were going to unfollow every single stupid person you’d forced a friendship with simply because your parents knew each other or your families went to the same country club or you met them at piano lessons. Fuck that superficial shit. You were done. No more tea parties and white dresses and sticking noses up at people who didn’t have a stick up their asses. You didn’t care if they realized you’d cut them off your socials.

As Taehyung told you, no more giving a shit about what other people wanted.

It seemed so silly, archiving Instagram posts and unfollowing people. As if that was really what mattered in life. But it felt good, regardless. You gleefully scrolled through the list, every tap of the unfollow button like scissors through strings of fate.

The glee quickly died when you were suddenly bombarded with text messages from the man whose red string of fate was too tangled with yours.

You threw your phone across your bed and watched it skid to a stop right on the edge of the mattress. It teetered for a moment before plummeting to the floor. You didn’t bother to pick it up.

Your attempt at being straightforward and having a no-nonsense attitude with Taehyung worked. It was difficult to be so plain in your responses; not sending an exclamation point or a smiley face made you feel like you were being a total bitch. Especially since you were essentially rejecting him. An hour passed since Taehyung read your message and he still hadn’t responded. To be fair, you had told him to shut up. So technically he was doing exactly what you supposedly wanted.

Except you didn’t want him to shut up.

Unless you were the one shutting him up. With your mouth. Or your pussy.

The thought made you flush with heat straight to your face. And perhaps to other places, too. But you had to stay strong. You couldn’t fall into the traps of Kim Taehyung.

Curling up with your pillow, you cradled yourself into a fetal position.

The last time you’d seen him was almost a month ago. You could stay strong. You could stay away from him. You knew you could. And soon you would be so far away that Kim Taehyung wouldn’t even exist anymore.

Caffeine and anxiety made your freshly manicured nails drum against the reclaimed wood table you sat at, perched on the edge of your seat. The bakery had very few customers in it, much to your good fortune. The fewer people to possibly get into your business, the better. Perhaps you should have asked Namjoon to meet you somewhere more private; then again, did you want to be somewhere private with him? You weren’t quite sure.

His large frame approached you with hunched shoulders and eyes rimmed red. Rather than his usual fashionable outfit, Namjoon wore a plain hoodie and sweatpants. His large-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, likely because his constant crying prevented him from wearing contacts. The feeling of your nails digging into the inside of your palms was unpleasant, but it was better than the possible sting of tears.

Focus. Focus on your breathing, on the tinkling of cafe music floating down from the ceiling, on avoiding that sticky spot on the table your elbow kept touching.

Don’t focus on the fact that Namjoon’s promise ring was still snug on his finger, whereas yours was thrown in the back of your dresser drawer at home.

“Jagi- …. Y/N…” Namjoon stood at your table, eyes cast downward. Your throat conveniently closed in on itself.

With a drawn-out sigh, Namjoon pulled out the seat opposite of you. Its metal legs dragged against the tile floor, making a screeching sound that echoed through the quiet bakery. You would have taken that ear-splitting sound ricocheting in your skull for eternity over having to stare into the look he gave you.

“Hi.”

The longer you looked into his puffy eyes, the hotter you felt your face burn. Your stomach was twisting and churning; you’d spent a good twenty minutes in the bathroom before Namjoon showed up simply because you weren’t sure your body could function.

Your first instinct was to ask him how he was doing, but you left your mouth hanging open when you realized the nicety wouldn’t take you very far. It would likely start the conversation off badly. And you desperately needed this to go well.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” you chose to say instead. It reasserted that there was a reason for why the two of you were meeting, but it was void of any emotion aside from gratefulness. Not that you felt very grateful about anything at this point; maybe that was your flaw. Y/N, the spoiled brat.

“How could you throw away so many years of our relationship like that, Y/N?” Namjoon dove straight to the point. He gripped the edges of the table and leaned forward. Looking into his eyes felt like staring into the sun; it was all blinding, painful heat.

“But it was years of something bad, Joon.”

“How was it bad? We were perfect.”

You flinched at the loaded word, leaning a bit back in your seat. The sudden distance only made Namjoon push his defense further.

“You wasted my time.” The hateful way Namjoon spat the accusation didn’t match the tired, weak look in his eyes. “We put so much effort into this, for nothing.”

His words stung more than you expected, even when you’d prepared yourself all morning to anticipate that Namjoon might say hurtful things. He often did when he was angry, and this was the angriest you’d ever seen him - at least, with you. So when the glare didn’t let up and he kept invading your space across the table, you really couldn’t blame yourself for cowering. You weren’t used to anyone talking to you like this.

“That’s hurtful,” you spoke with quivering lips. “What about love, Joonie? Don’t you love me? Was the effort all you care about?” Was it possible to be strong and stand up for yourself while also feeling terrified and weak? Were you weak for reacting like this?

“Oh,” Namjoon scoffed, his eyes trailing off to look somewhere to the side of you. “You think that’s hurtful? But you won’t address the fact that you’ve broken up with me over a lie Kim Taehyung has fed you. If you loved me, you wouldn’t act like this.”

“You lied to me, Namjoon. This isn’t about Tae.”

Namjoon’s head whipped back to look you squarely in the face, and it was then that you knew you’d fucked up.

“Tae?” He angrily repeated the nickname back at you. “So you have been talking to him more than just at the party.”

Your mouth fell open and your fingers dug into the edge of the table. Your brain screamed at you to speak, but you couldn’t let out even a puff of air.

“Were you sleeping with him?” Namjoon’s voice rose slightly. Although he wasn’t exactly loud, the bakery was too quiet. “Y/N, fucking answer me. Did you cheat on me?”

Perhaps it wasn’t fair to Namjoon, but you couldn’t help the fury that bubbled up in your chest at his accusations. No matter how true they were, he had his nerve to deflect blame onto you, as if years of shitty boyfriend behavior didn’t matter.

“Real typical of you to make this about yourself and turn this on me,” you hissed, unsure of where this boldness was coming from. Maybe Taehyung had rubbed off on you. Uncertainty still clouded your mind, though. You still shrank back in your seat despite your uptick of confidence showing through your voice.

“You won’t even deny it!” Namjoon scoffed incredulously.

“Taehyung has nothing to do with this!”

At that moment, the little bell above the bakery's front door rang to indicate that someone was entering the shop. The tinkling sound carried through the near-empty bakery. Out of instinct, you and Namjoon turned to glance at the door.

“What the fuck?” Namjoon turned his attention back to you, but your eyes were still on the man who’d stepped through the door.

Taehyung stood in the doorway wearing his usual brown leather jacket over a white t-shirt and skinny jeans. There were rips in each knee, but also a slit in the middle of his thigh that showed an inch or two of bare skin. You tried not to look at how form-fitting his clothes were, nor at the way his wavy hair fell unstyled into his eyes.

He locked eyes with you, then shifted to Namjoon’s profile, before landing on you once again. He mouthed a “sorry” and jabbed at the front door with his thumb, indicating that he was going to leave.

You wanted to kill him.

“Did you invite him, too? Were you going to come clean together? Ask me for my fucking blessing?”

“No,” you said in a firm but hushed tone. The bell rang again and Taehyung was gone.

Namjoon scooted back in his chair, fully preparing to leave. Fear shot through your heart at the possibility that he might go after Taehyung. But why did you even care? It wouldn’t be the first time the two had fought.

You scooted back in your chair as well, determined to be the first to leave.

“Our problems began the moment we started dating, Namjoon. And that’s the truth.” You rose to your feet, wrapping your arms around your body. “You never treated me like an individual. You treated me like a project.”

Namjoon opened his mouth to protest, but you simply shook your head. You gathered your half-finished vanilla latte to throw away. It would only upset your stomach even more if you took it with you.

“I also came here to tell you that I’m transferring to another university. In California.” Initially, you didn’t know why you felt the need to tell him, but the crumpled look on his face when he digested your statement gave you the satisfaction you didn’t know you needed. “Goodbye, Namjoon.”

You forced yourself to keep your eyes straight ahead as the bell above the bakery’s door tinkled behind you, refusing to give Namjoon the satisfaction of knowing that you looked back at him, that you lingered. Instead, you scanned the parking lot for an all-black sports car with windows so tinted it was difficult to see the man waiting in the driver’s seat, drumming his long fingers against the steering wheel. Sliding in the passenger seat, you slammed the door shut and continued to keep your eyes straight ahead.

“I’m guessing from the way you’re doing that cute little pout that it didn’t go well.”

“Can you please just drive?”

It was a silent drive to Taehyung’s apartment, save for your sniffling as hot tears streamed down your face. You pressed the sleeves of your cardigan into your eyes, against your cheeks, over your nose. You did your best to collect the mess you were making of yourself, to not lose it yet again in front of Taehyung. People crying made him uncomfortable which was why you were shocked when he reached over to place his hand on your thigh.

Unlike in the past, the gesture wasn’t sexual. His hand was simply a warm reminder that you weren’t alone. His fingers stretched out to grip your thigh for comfort, never once inching up too high.

How could you rationalize going to Taehyung’s apartment? Or involving him in any of this business with Namjoon? You told yourself it was because you had no one else to turn to, no real friends who still lived at home. Sure, you had Jackie, but you felt like your relationship with her as co-workers would cross a weird line if you ran to her apartment to cry over your ex-boyfriend.

Did it make any more sense that you were doing that with Taehyung, though? Especially after he had already made it very clear that there was no potential for the two of you to be exclusive?

Taehyung pulled into his apartment complex and your brain screamed at you to do something, anything, to get him to take you home instead. You could lock yourself in your room and easily ignore your parents. They never checked up on you unless they needed you, anyway.

But do not go into Kim Taehyung’s apartment.

“Jagiya,” Taehyung murmured, running his hand along your thigh in a soothing massage. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head and dried your tears. All you felt was a deep-rooted numbness that started in the middle of your chest, seeping into every crevice and limb. Brynn said sometimes with emotions there was nothing to do but ride the wave.

You were going to ride the wave.

Taehyung led you to his apartment, his fingers intertwined with yours to make sure you were keeping up. Nothing passed before your eyes as you stumbled behind him; you barely saw or heard anything but the back of Taehyung’s leather jacket and white noise flooding your ears. There was nothing else for you.

Inside, Taehyung watched you stand frozen in the doorway for a few seconds too long before it eventually unnerved him.

“Y/N, take your shoes off and come here,” he said in a strong voice, hoping to cut through whatever was going on in your head.

With a sigh, you kicked your shoes off and dragged yourself towards Taehyung. You pressed your face against his broad chest and loosely wrapped your arms around his waist. Just as the night you’d broken up with Namjoon, you felt Taehyung tense beneath the hug, and it took him a moment to ease up. His hands found your waist and drew you flush against his body.

“I hate that you’re the only person I can go to.”

“I know.”

Taehyung’s hands tucked inside of your cardigan to find the hem of your shirt. He slipped his hands beneath the fabric, giving himself access to your bare waist. You shivered as he traced patterns into your skin with his fingertips.

“Wanna smoke?”

You tilted your head back to look at his face, admiring his muscular neck and sharp jawline. In the past couple of months when the two of you hadn’t spent much time together, Taehyung had changed. His lanky body had filled in more, seemingly more muscular. He also lived alone; Jungkook moved in with his girlfriend. You found it interesting that Taehyung’s friends were beginning to settle down. You wondered if he was still fucking other people.

Smoking with him was a really bad idea.

“Sure.”

You followed Taehyung to the living room, plopping down on his couch while you watched him grind up weed he plucked from a glass jar. The veins in his hands popped as he twisted the grinder and picked out the pieces he wanted. Those long fingers expertly rolled a joint with a rolling paper that had little cartoon grapes printed on it. You couldn’t stop yourself from remembering the last time you had those hands on you when Taehyung fingered you during your picnic at the local forest reserve. You remembered how secure you’d felt with your back leaned against his chest, your legs hooked around his so he could keep you spread open for him. The way you licked and sucked his fingers clean when he was done.

“Here.” Taehyung’s deep voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You took the now lit joint from his fingers and brought it to your lips. “You still like the grape, right?”

You nodded, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that made Taehyung’s figure waver in front of you. “I haven’t smoked with anyone else.”

He nodded, taking the joint back from you. The two of you sat in relative silence, only murmuring comments about the weed or for you to get an update about Jungkook’s new place. It was nice to sit, to simply exist, and let the high lift your mood and have your body buzz.

“You can do whatever you want now,” Taehyung commented, tapping the joint against an ashtray on the coffee table. “Go where you want, do what you want, see who you want.”

“But not with you, right?” You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his bloodshot eyes with yours, instead choosing to inspect the glass jar of weed on the table.

“You can do whatever you want with me, baby girl,” Taehyung countered.

Whatever you wanted. With one condition.

But why did you care? You would be gone. There was no longer time to do anything you wanted with him, even if he genuinely wanted you to. The opportunity was rubbish blown away in the wind.

When you stole a glance at him, he had his head tilted back slightly and you watched his jaw muscles flex as he took a hit of the joint. It was finished, but all you could focus on was the way his lips parted to let a perfect swirl of smoke leave his mouth, only to be inhaled again, this time through his nose. His nose with the perfect little mole freckled right on the tip. Upon closer inspection, you realized he was wearing the same gold chain he wore in the shirtless photo he sent you. Once he put the joint out in the ashtray he carded his hand through his messy locks, the wavy strands softly falling back against his forehead.

God, he was so fucking hot.

“Got something you want to say?” Taehyung smirked, noticing the way you stared at him. Somehow, he always did.

Yes, you wanted to say. More things than I possibly know how to express.

You couldn’t tell if it was the weed making you misinterpret reality, but it seemed that Taehyung leaned closer to you on the couch. You continued to watch him with your lips parted and eyelids heavy. When he looked at you with those dark eyes tinged red from hitting that perfect high, fuck, you could melt in his hands.

All of a sudden he was too close. Your knees bumped into each other and you swore you could feel the sensation vibrate up your leg and straight to your core. Inhaling sharply, you breathed in his cologne beneath the thick smell of weed; oak, and spice. Your brain moved in slow motion as Taehyung’s hand reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently gliding over the apple of your cheek. The feeling of his skin on yours shot ripples of warm electricity through your veins, snaking through every part of your body. Your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned into his touch when Taehyung pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss started slow, almost hesitant, like the two of you were remembering how your lips used to fit together. Taehyung coaxed your mouth open and the feeling of his tongue rolling against yours made you moan. He hummed in response, retreating slightly to suck on your bottom lip.

Taehyung’s hands squeezed your hips and he pulled you towards him until he had you straddling his lap. His shoulders were firm under your hands when you slid forward to wrap your arms around his neck. The kiss became more fervent and sloppier, all twisting tongues and bitten lips. Your body was on autopilot as you started moving against him, Taehyung using his grip on your waist to grind you directly onto his semi-hard cock. The zipper of his jeans dragged against your clit through your pants; every touch had you gushing.

“Tae…”

You let out a small whimper as Taehyung’s mouth landed hot on your throat, sucking deep hickeys into your skin. He flicked his tongue against your skin as he sucked on you, just as he’d done with your clit the night of Jungkook’s party. Fuck, how you’d wished you had at least one more chance to feel his mouth hot and wet on your pussy.

“We, we shouldn’t be doing this, Tae,” you attempted to protest as Taehyung pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it onto the floor.

“Why not? You’re not with Namjoon anymore.” His hands slid around to unzip your jeans. Maybe you didn’t verbally answer him, but you shimmied out of your jeans and that was enough of a response for him.

Taehyung’s shirt was next to go. You ran your hands down the ripples of his abdomen. His muscles were more defined and hard beneath your touch. Taehyung sighed in between kisses down into your cleavage. He used both hands to pull your bra down to allow your tits to spill out, still pushed together from the restrictive clothing.

“Fuck, Tae,” you moaned, arching your back to press further against him as his tongue began flicking against your nipple.

When his mouth closed around your nipple and he sucked you lightly, your hands flew to unbuckle his belt. Taehyung lifted his hips to pull his jeans and briefs down his thighs. You’d slept with Taehyung multiple times, but not enough for you to be accustomed to his size. With his cock erect and throbbing between your thighs, you tried to regulate your breathing as you anticipated having him inside of you. He guided you to move against him, rubbing your clothed pussy against his cock as you watched beads of precum drip from his head. You were scandalized by the way you were practically drooling at the thought, especially since you’d never ridden him before.

“My wallet,” he said hoarsely, gesturing to the coffee table, and the feeling of his baritone voice rumbling against your chest had you weak in the knees. You twisted around to grab his wallet and watched with heat pooling at your core as Taehyung retrieved a condom to roll down his thick cock.

“You ready?” Taehyung pulled your underwear to the side and ran his fingers through your dripping, swollen folds. “Fuck, you’re always so wet for me, jagiya. Shit…”

He moaned at the same time you did as he slipped two fingers into you, your pussy easily sucking them in. Your legs shook as Taehyung fucked you with his fingers, eventually stretching you out with three to be sure you were ready to readjust to his cock after going so long without him.

“Tae, please,” you begged, gripping the hair at the back of his head as the two of you locked eyes.

“Miss me, baby girl?” Taehyung teased.

You hated the way your heart fluttered when he spoke, or when you felt his arms wrap around your waist to pull you against him, your chests pressed against each other. Taehyung held your bloodshot gaze with his own, both of your eyes heavy from lust and being high. You could almost trick yourself into believing that the way he cradled your body in his hands was out of care. You could almost convince yourself that the heavy feeling in your chest was only weed, that Taehyung had no impact. That he didn’t matter. Almost.

“Yes,” you admitted with a whimper, too high to attempt to lie. You lifted onto your knees to line his cock with your entrance. The descent was slow and careful; you weren’t eager to have him slamming into your cervix if you could avoid it.

“Mmmm, that’s it, jagi,” Taehyung moaned, his cock twitching inside of you once you finally sunk onto him, your ass flat against his thighs.“Fuck yourself on my cock.”

“Y-yes, Tae.”

With a tight grip on his shoulders, you rolled your hips back and forth, testing out that technique first. When you lifted until only his head was inside of you and then allowed yourself to drop down, your skin slapping against his, that was when you got the reaction you wanted. Taehyung threw his head back against the couch and dug his fingers deeper into your skin.

“You remember who this pussy belongs to, baby girl?”

“You, Taehyung.” With a small whimper, you nodded, stuttering through your response to him as you worked hard to match the movement of your hips to his thrusts. “Only you.”

“Good girl.”

You felt your chest swell with his praise, a small smile forming on your lips as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. Taehyung took over, planting his feet to the ground so he could thrust into you with more force. All you could do was gasp as he fucked into you, every thrust stimulating your walls and forcing your clit to brush against his abdomen.

“Oh my god, baby, I’m gonna cum.”

Taehyung picked up the pace, growling filthy words of encouragement as he guided you through your orgasm. You moaned his name until your throat became hoarse, your fingers tangled in his dark locks, your thighs burning.

However, your orgasmic high was short-lived. A loud bang against Taehyung’s front door caused both of you to startle. Taehyung protectively wrapped his arms around your waist and the two of you stared at the door. You flinched when the banging continued, your eyes wide and locked with Taehyung’s.

“Who is that?” you whispered, but you were met with a blank look. What had Taehyung been doing lately to have someone trying to smash his door in?

“Open the fucking door, Taehyung!”

Your stomach dropped to the floor when Namjoon’s voice boomed from the other side of the door.

“Son of a bitch,” Taehyung growled.

It was no surprise that hearing your ex-boyfriend’s voice made you spring into action. You shakily got up, your legs wobbling when you attempted to stand. You collapsed back onto the couch, fear etched into your face.

“I swear to god, I’ll rip this fucking door off its hinges.”

Taehyung peeled the condom off and pulled his jeans on, not bothering with a shirt. He was so fucking bold. You on the other hand were scrambling to throw your clothes on before Taehyung flung the front door open to come face to face with a very pissed-off Namjoon.

You could practically see Namjoon’s brain putting all the pieces together when his gaze moved from Taehyung’s shirtless torso and the tight crotch of his jeans to the hickeys along your throat and collarbones. You wondered if, as he stormed down the hallway of Taehyung’s apartment complex, he heard you screaming Taehyung’s name as you came.

“You motherfucker.”

The scream that ripped from your throat was uncontrollable as you saw Namjoon wind up to launch his fist at Taehyung’s face. Miraculously, Taehyung ducked in enough time to miss the hit.

“Are you really going to try this again? High school wasn’t enough for you, Joonie?”

Taehyung took a step towards Namjoon, his broad shoulders squared up. To no one’s surprise, Namjoon didn’t back down. Instead, he grabbed a hold of Taehyung and shoved him backward, causing the other man to stumble. The sound of the back of Taehyung’s head hitting the wall echoed through the apartment.

“Fuck you,” Namjoon spat, advancing on Taehyung with a fury blazing in his eyes. “I don’t give a shit about that anymore. I’m beyond that. This is different.”

Taehyung may have been lankier than Namjoon, but he was quicker. You screamed again when you watched Taehyung’s fist smash into Namjoon’s jaw, flinging the man’s face sideways.

“Different, yeah? What about it is different?” By the time Namjoon could collect himself, Taehyung’s fist was firing again, packing more effort than the first. “This time your mommy and daddy aren’t going to save you from the bullshit you brought on yourself?”

By the third hit, a bit of blood trickled from Namjoon’s nose. He doubled over to wipe the back of his hand against his face, and that was when you made your move.

“Taehyung, stop! Stop it!”

You grabbed Taehyung’s arm to pull him back from letting his fist swing again. With Taehyung distracted, Namjoon wrapped his muscular arms around one of his legs and pulled him onto the ground.

“I can’t believe,” Namjoon’s fist collided with Taehyung’s chest as the other man tried to wrestle free from Namjoon’s grasp, “You put your dirty fucking hands on my girlfriend.”

“Should’ve seen how she was cumming all over these dirty fucking hands,” Taehyung spit back.

You watched in horror as the two men continued fighting, spewing insults while their fists smashed into shoulders, cheeks, and chests. No amount of screaming was getting through to them. You could shout until your veins were popping out of your neck, but the only sounds the two were listening for were their heavy breathing and the sound of the other man breaking.

It wasn’t until they’d wrestled into an end table and knocked a vase onto the floor that the two men stopped. Glass shards exploded everywhere.

“Fucking stop fighting right now!” You reached out to grab a fistful of Namjoon’s t-shirt with one hand and Taehyung’s hair with the other. “I hate you! I hate you both! Namjoon, it’s over. Let it go.”

Namjoon attempted to sputter a response, but you let out another ear-piercing shriek of frustration. “I’m so fucking sick of both of you! Get over yourselves! No one wins in this. No one.”

The two men sat on the floor for a moment longer, blinking in dazed confusion, as if they’d been ripped out of a dream. It seemed very clear to you what needed to be done, but they were too dumbfounded by your sudden aggressiveness and take-charge attitude to know what to do.

“Get up!”

Namjoon was the first to stand. He pushed back his bangs from his forehead and stared at you with a stern expression. He was still breathing hard and his t-shirt had a few tiny spots of blood on it. You assumed it was his own, but when Taheyung finally stood, you saw that his bottom lip was cut on one side, causing a bit of blood to trickle into the corner of his mouth.

It was stupid. The whole thing was utterly stupid. You’d all reserved to being wild animals over something that didn’t matter. There was no love here. Namjoon didn’t fight for you because he was in love. No, he fought because his ego was hurt. He fought because he felt wounded and blindsided. And Taehyung fought because he reveled in the adrenaline rush and the possibility to put Namjoon in his place.

They were both infuriating.

“Don’t try crawling back to me when he fucks you over,” Namjoon snapped. He moved slowly, likely trying to disguise how hurt he was. You thought you saw a few scratches on his legs; perhaps they were from the broken vase. He snatched up his phone from where it’d fallen amongst the shards of glass. The front door slammed shut behind him with a force so strong it seemed to make the entire apartment shudder.

You wanted to cry, but the weed wouldn’t let you. Just like your mouth, your eyes felt as dry as cotton. The only thing your body could do was churn up a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach when you turned to look at Taehyung. His face was flushed pink beneath his honey tones. The beginnings of purple bruises were forming along his ribcage and the apple of his left cheek. Although Namjoon walked away more defeated, he packed a harder punch than Taehyung. Since Taehyung wasn’t wearing a shirt, it was easier to see the damage. Who knew what Namjoon would see when he got home and stripped away his sweaty, bloody clothes.

“Why did you do that?” You took a step towards Taehyung, your body still tingling with adrenaline. “Why didn’t you just walk away?”

Taehyung squinted his eyes. “Do you think he would have stopped?”

You stood with pursed lips. Taehyung’s skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat. You fought the urge to pull him close.

No. Namjoon wouldn’t have stopped.

Taehyung exhaled a dark laugh when you didn’t respond. Your silence was nothing new; he was just surprised that now you were being stubborn rather than shy.

“If you want to go back to being his property, by all means, go ahead. But don’t get mad at me for fucking defending you.”

Blood pulsed fast and hot into your face and neck, heating your already charged nerves into a frenzy you weren’t in the right state of mind to control. With a glare, you took another step forward. Your head tilted to look Taehyung in the eyes and for once the dark eyes that stared back at you didn’t intimidate you.

“Is that what you were doing? Defending me?” You tried to keep your voice from rising once again. “Or were you getting revenge just like when you fuck me?”

Taehyung leaned down until the tip of his nose was mere inches away from yours. Despite your confidence, it was hard not to be unsettled by the emptiness in his eyes. Yet it was impossible to look away.

“I fuck you because I want to, baby girl. Not for revenge.” His sneer sent shivers down your spine. He grabbed your waist and walked you backward until you felt your body bump into the wall. You gasped and placed your palms flat against Taehyung’s chest to push him away, but you hesitated. His heartbeat raced beneath your fingers. “And I fuck you because you deserve to be fucked how you want.”

You felt his nails drag down your hips until he reached the front of your jeans. Quick fingers unbuttoned and pushed them down your legs until you could step out of them when the fabric pooled at your ankles.

“So tell me, jagiya.” Taehyung’s voice was alluring and deep when he whispered against your ear. He hooked his thumb beneath your underwear’s waistband and tugged. “How do you want it?”

He was sweaty, bloody, and high on testosterone and adrenaline. And you? You were pissed beyond belief - pissed at Taehyung and Namjoon for being selfish, pissed at yourself for getting into this mess. But then you felt Taehyung’s thumb lightly caress your clit and your mind exploded with marijuana-induced, white-hot pleasure. Standing on your tiptoes, you hugged your arms around his neck rather than push him away.

“Right here,” you whispered. “Like this.”

The words barely left your lips before Taehyung was shoving his pants down far enough to release his cock. His velvety skin brushed you and you felt a bit of precum smear on you. Leaning down slightly, his large hands squeezed the back of your thighs. With his chest pressed against your chest and your back pressed against the wall, he effortlessly lifted you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He’d never admit it if he missed you during the time you were apart, but the way his lips consumed yours and his hands tangled themselves in your shirt told a story on their own.

“Wait,” you spoke through a moan as Taehyung began grinding his cock in between your swollen lips. He nudged the head of his cock against your clit and you felt like your heart was going to give out. “What about a condom?”

“You’re on the pill now, right?” he inquired with a soft murmur against your throat. His lips were slightly chapped aside from the spit of your kiss, and you figured it was from the hits he took to the face.

“Mhmm, but…” How could you say that you were worried about things other than pregnancy if you fucked him without it sounding bad?

“I tested recently. I’m clean.” You felt the head of his cock almost slip into your entrance before Taehyung adjusted his position. “I’m not fucking anyone else, jagi. I haven’t in a while.”

You ran your fingers along his jaw, gently guiding him to look you in the eyes. “Not even Angel?”

He shook his head and your mind was too clouded by weed, adrenaline, anger, and lust to unpack what Taehyung said. All you could do was whimper your consent and relax your muscles as Taehyung sunk into you. The stretch was easier this time, though Taehyung was thick enough that you felt full. He pulled back to then ease himself into you again with such a deep thrust that you could feel the ridge of his head glide along your walls. The feeling was so sensual that you instinctually dragged your nails into his back.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. So fucking warm.” Taehyung moaned. He pressed his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses lightly brushing against each other. You clenched around his cock when you saw his eyes flutter closed. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good. Can I go faster?”

The baby hit you in the chest so hard you couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t baby girl. It was baby. It was baby spoken with such softness you felt like you were going to die.

“I’m moving to California,” you blurted.

Taehyung’s movements paused. Your eyes were squeezed shut, but you were forced to open them when Taehyung unwrapped your legs from his body and pulled out of you so you stood in front of him.

Narrowed eyes studied your face. “What?”

With a deep, slow inhale you tried to focus your fuzzy brain on ordering the correct words in the correct order while your cotton mouth threatened to trip you up. “I transferred to a new school. And I leave at the end of the month.”

“What, so you’re here to get your last fuck before you dip?” Taehyung snorted, turning his head to the side as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

The accusation stung worse than Taehyung’s accusations the night of the party when he accused you of only wanting him because he was forbidden fruit, a boy from the wrong side of the tracks serving as a bit of entertainment until you went back to your perfect life. Your mouth fell open as you watched him tuck his cock, still hard and glistening with your arousal, back into his jeans to zip them up. You suddenly felt very exposed wearing only a t-shirt.

“You brought me here! What are you talking about?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes and began walking down the hall.

“Don’t walk away from me,” you hissed, only mildly shocked by the foreign tone of your voice. Taehyung must have been more surprised than you, though, for he stopped halfway to his bedroom and turned to look at you.

“What the fuck do you want from me, Y/N?”

For the second time that day, you wanted to kill him.

You scooped up your underwear to at least slide that on before you were following the man to his room like he was some petulant teenager. “I already told you, Kim Taehyung. I told you what I wanted from you.”

Although you’d closed the gap between the two of you, standing strong in the doorway of Taehyung’s bedroom while he stood near the foot of the bed, the coldness of his expression put you miles apart. You weren’t quite sure what desperation felt like; you’d always hoped you’d never feel it, particularly because of a boy. But the way your anxiety was clawing your insides to shreds and your desire to scream and sob until Taehyung understood was disturbing.

“Why are you like this? I know you feel something, Taehyung. I know you do.” you challenged, stepping forward with blurry vision. The tears didn’t spill, only collected in pools along your eyelashes. “Why aren’t you letting yourself feel?”

Taehyung turned away from you. You watched his jaw clench and unclench; his entire body tensed. When he finally turned back to look at you, his face was scrunched in distress.

“It would never work out, jagi. People come and go. I mean, look at you. You’re leaving.” He shook his head, sending those waves you loved flopping around his head. “People always leave and expect you to put yourself back together on your fucking own.”

Taehyung let out a dark chuckle and stared at the floor. “It’s better not to hold on.”

Somehow, it didn’t feel like his words were directed toward you.

You wanted to be angry, and part of you was. But the angry part of you was drowned out by sadness. You slid your fingers against Taehyung’s hand, twisting to intertwine your fingers with his. He didn’t flinch or pull away, but he still didn’t look at you. It wasn’t difficult to guess what he was talking about. You couldn’t imagine losing your mother, no matter how frustrating she was. Maybe if you had, you would be like Taehyung, too.

“But I haven’t ever broken you.”

Taehyung slowly brought his gaze back to you and you squeezed his hand more tightly. It was the wrong move; he immediately pulled away.

“Not yet.”

You watched Taehyung’s hands drop to unbutton and unzip his jeans, shoving them down until he was only standing in his briefs, cock semi-hard and visible through the fabric. Every movement was tense like his joints were cemented into position and reaching for a towel from his drawer cracked every bone in his arm. You realized he was preparing to take a shower as though you weren’t standing in the middle of his bedroom with your arms wrapped around your chest and tears still welling in your tired eyes.

“Taehyung,” you called out to ears that wouldn’t hear. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist in a final attempt to catch his attention.

“What?” The glare he shot you should have been intimidating, but you only knew how to solve relationship conflict in one way.

You threw your arm around Taehyung’s neck, pulling him down enough to bring his lips to yours. With every flick of your tongue in the inside of his mouth, the less tense Taehyung became. Eventually, he dropped the towel onto the floor and took your waist in his strong hands to pull you flush against his body. His skin was warm and soft, so different from the hateful energy that radiated off of him.

“What are you doing to me?” he murmured against your lips, using the break from the kiss to pull your t-shirt off. You couldn’t have answered him even if you knew.

Once your upper body was exposed, Taehyung’s mouth fell to your shoulder, kissing along your collarbone, nipping at your skin. One hand slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear to push it down while his other hand gripped the back of your head, digging his fingers into your scalp.

“If you’re going to leave me, then I’m going to ruin you for every single piece of shit that fucks you after me,” his voice rumbled against your ear and sent spikes of pleasure to your core. “I don’t want you to be able to fuck anyone else without thinking about me.”

You whimpered as Taehyung pushed you backward until you tumbled onto the bed. The hot throbbing of your clit was so uncomfortable that you squeezed your legs together to try to relieve some of the pressure as you watched Taehyung strip away his boxers. When he noticed he gave you another narrow look and roughly ripped your legs apart by your knees.

“Nuhh uhhh, you’re gonna stay wide open for me,” he said with a groan as he admired your arousal as it dripped down to your ass and smeared along the inside of your thighs. It was easy for him to drag his cock through your lips, coat him so well that strings of your arousal stuck to his cock when he pulled back to line himself with your entrance.

“Tae,” you whimpered, bucking your hips enough to force the head of his cock to shallowly dip inside of you.

Despite the annoyed look he shot you, Taehyung hooked your legs around his arms and swiftly sank into you. Like before, you weren’t sure if it was Taehyung or the weed (probably both), but your vision sparkled with stars and hot white light when Taehyung’s thick head dragged against your front wall. Feeling him inside of you, no condom barrier to mute any sensations, had your legs immediately shaking.

This time, it felt different. Taehyung fucked you with no mercy, every snap of his hips sending a rippled shudder throughout your body.

Taehyung pulled out of you until just the tip of his cock was still gripped by the warmth of your pussy. He let his head fall forward and you heard the smack of his lips as he drooled spit directly onto his cock before plunging himself back into you with full force. His spit mixed with his precum and your arousal to allow his cock to glide into you even more smoothly, though you were wet enough for him to drown.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned. Why was he so fucking hot?

“Oh, you still wanna call me baby?” Taehyung sneered. He spread you apart further as he thrust into you.

“You fuck me so g-good, Tae,” you whimpered. The harder he pounded into you the more you babbled. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to stop yourself, but you were on the verge of tears as Taehyung’s skilled fingers came down to rub slick circles over your clit.

“Do I?”

“Yes, fuck! Yes, Tae. Tae.” You moaned his name over and over again, each time your pitch becoming higher and breathier until you could no longer speak. Sounds got caught in your throat and all you could do was gasp as you went mute, your eyes closed in pleasure.

Taehyung reached with his free hand to grab your throat and gave you an experimental squeeze. When he felt you clench around his pulsing cock he squeezed a bit harder.

“Speechless, baby girl?”

And you were. You came with a silent scream, convulsing so tightly and violently around Taehyung’s cock that he was spiraling nearly right after you. You got to ride the orgasmic high you were robbed of earlier, so airy and sweet that you didn’t care when Taehyung’s cum trickled down your thighs.

When you were finally able to speak, Taehyung had melted into the affection, post-coital version of himself that made your heart race and your mind spiral in confusion. You knew he wanted you to forget, or at least pretend to forget, what he said. You knew he wanted you to ignore the feelings you both knew he wouldn’t address. So, instead of speaking, he tossed you over his shoulder, rubbing your thigh to soothe you.

“Taehyung, what are you doing?” you asked with a gasp, worried about how messy you were.

“Bringing you with me to shower.”

The domesticity of it was almost too much for you to handle. You tried not to read into anything when Taehyung dipped low to give you kisses in between washing your hair, your skin slippery against each other. Or when he pressed you against the shower wall and sank to his knees to take you into his mouth while those alluring eyes stared up at you through wet bangs.

It only grew worse when you got comfortable sitting on his bed (the same bed you’d lost your virginity on, you couldn’t help but think), wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of his basketball shorts. Maybe you were being delusional, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting to be sure.

“So…” You played with the hem of Taehyung’s shirt to pick at a thread that might be coming undone. “Angel…”

Taehyung’s airy laugh wasn’t at all what you’d expected. You quickly looked up to watch him run a product that smelled like vanilla and lavender through his wet hair, so different than his usual smell. His eyes met yours through the mirror. There was never anything in them to read.

“Angel and Jungkook are exclusive now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” His eyes returned to his reflection.

“You’re not going to try to get her to cheat?”

You couldn’t hold back the biting question. Shouldn’t you have been happy that Taehyung wasn’t hooking up with Angel anymore? Now she was no longer a threat to you - not that it even mattered. Yet here you were, sitting on his bed with your arms wrapped around his pillow and a bitter taste in your mouth. Why was Jungkook committed to Angel, but Taehyung couldn’t commit to you? What did Angel have that you didn’t?

He wasn’t hooking up with anyone else because his favorite girl to hook up with was now dating his best friend. Not because you were special.

Taehyung slipped his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and turned to you. You kept your eyes focused on his face, not having the heart to linger on the light purple splotches on his ribcage.

“She already proposed a threesome,” he said with a shrug. The bed dipped and you shifted slightly to allow him to sit beside you. “I declined, though.”

You crunched up your nose at the disgusting idea, the image of Taehyung having sex with Jungkook and Angel flooding your brain. Suddenly the room felt entirely too warm and stuffy. You tossed Taehyung’s pillow to the side and stood up, knocking your phone off your lap. Sucking in as much air as you could, you lifted your chin to the ceiling to practice deep breathing and stop the spontaneous tears that were pooling in your eyes from spilling.

“What?” Taehyung retrieved your phone and held it out to you, but you kept your eyes upward.

“I can’t do this anymore, Tae.” You blinked once, twice, and then the tears spilled for the third time that day. “You’re too much. I can’t… I just can’t do it, okay? I can’t.” You knew you weren’t making any sense, but it was all you could say without turning into a blubbering mess.

With blurry eyes, you took your phone and scooped up your clothes from where you’d left them folded on Taehyung’s dresser.

“I have to go home.”

“Right now?” Taehyung rose from the bed to follow you out of the room. “The threesome thing was just a joke, Y/N, a joke. Angel’s always fucking running her mouth.”

You didn’t bother to look at him, keeping your lips pressed shut and barely hearing whatever pathetic excuse he’d crafted for you. If you got out of there as quickly as possible, maybe leaving him would hurt less. Maybe you could tell yourself you were crossing that threshold for the last time. Maybe it would be true.

“Can I at least drop you off?”

“No.”

Taehyung knew better than to argue with you when you were in a state like this. He watched you stomp into your shoes without bothering to change out of his t-shirt and basketball shorts. He noticed that you’d forgotten your cardigan on the couch, but he didn’t say anything.

You were determined to make this exit as unceremonious as possible, but then Taehyung’s fingers found your chin and you were tilting up your face to grant him access to your mouth. Your mind went blank with white noise. He gently sucked your bottom lip as he cradled your cheek in his hand, his thumb swiping over a stray tear.

It was a soft, sweet kiss—a rare kiss from him. Perhaps the last kiss, and you felt your stomach flip.

“You know where to find me, jagi,” Taehyung whispered the familiar promise against your lips. Your eyes dared to flutter shut, but you pulled together what little dignity you had left and stepped away before you could do something even more stupid.

For the second time, you stood in the hallway outside of Taehyung’s front door and requested an Uber, his kisses lingering on your lips.

“And this is you, Miss. I hope you have a lovely time. Much better weather here, even in the spring, than up there in Yankee territory.”

The taxi driver dropped you off in front of a large brownstone building. The university’s banner hung on the porch and a few bikes were thrown onto the yard near the sidewalk. Since you were starting late in the year, no other students were moving in. You couldn’t tell if anyone was home at all.

You dragged two large suitcases behind you. It was all you could manage to bring since your parents refused to help move you in. Leaving home was a decision you’d made on your own; therefore, you were forced to do it all on your own.

You didn’t give a fuck, though.

Hauling the suitcases up the brick stairs to the front door proved to be a bit of a challenge. You tried dragging them both up, but it only took one suitcase tumbling down three steps before you decided to reevaluate your approach. You were halfway done with pulling the second suitcase up the stairs when the front door flew open, caught on a gust of wind that sent the fluffy blonde hair of the boy who stepped outside flying.

He wore an oversized sweater despite the warm weather, and the light, airy way he held himself made you feel like he probably never sweated a day in his life. The fabric at the collar drooped slightly, exposing a bit of his collarbone. You couldn’t look away from the sharpness of his eyes and the lidded expression he wore that seemed unintentionally sultry, especially paired with his parted plump lips.

“Hey, Y/N, right? I’m Park Jimin, your Resident Assistant!” When he smiled the intimidating gaze disappeared and his eyes squinted into happy creases. You felt a bit of relief from the heat he’d caused to spread across your body.

“Nice to meet you,” you said with a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes in the same way, but wasn’t disingenuous. It was nice to meet him. He was the first person you’d met at your new university. This was a good first step, right? A good first step toward easing the aching loneliness you’d felt in your chest the moment you boarded the flight to California.

You wanted friends so badly it hurt.

Jimin’s bright eyes flitted down to spot your fingers tightly clutching your suitcase on the stairs. He rolled up the baggy sleeves of his sweater. ”Do you need any help bringing your stuff in?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have-”

For a guy on the smaller side, Jimin was strong. He gathered both suitcases and disappeared inside the building.

“I’ll show you where your room is,” he called over his shoulder.

You quickly followed him, making sure to shut the front door securely behind you. The building was old. A few cracks climbed up the walls like ivy and the intricate cut of the staircase’s wooden railing looked far too pretty to be part of a college dorm. You liked the gothic aesthetic, finding that it gave the building a charm that modern fixtures just couldn’t do. Your parents would have hated it.

Jimin led you up the front stairs to a long hallway with many doors that you assumed to be bedrooms. Upon closer inspection, you found that each door had decorations that adorned it, with some of the decorations displaying the names of the students who lived inside. Yesenia and Jisoo in one, Carmen and Emily in the other. The bedroom across the hall from yours listed Jimin and Hoseok.

“Oh, you live here, too?” You pointed to the door once the two of you stopped.

Jimin’s head tilted back in an explosive giggle that exposed his bright teeth. “Of course, as I said, I’m your Resident Assistant. I’m the student in charge of the dorm. You know, to make sure you don’t get into a fight with your roommate or set the place on fire.” He gestured for you to unlock your room.

Alexis accompanied your name on the door, so it seemed safe to assume that the girl typing away on her laptop at one of the desks in the room was Alexis. She quickly ripped her glasses off her face and fluffed up her thick, curly hair.

“Oh my god, wow, hi Y/N, I didn’t know you were coming today. Jimin, wow. You didn’t knock.” The girl’s lips moved faster than her brain and she fumbled over her words, her head twisting like an owl’s as she watched Jimin carry your suitcases over to your side of the bedroom.

“I should have, I’m sorry.” Jimin gave the girl a pout and you watched her olive skin brighten with a twinge of pink across her cheeks.

“No, no, it’s okay! You can come into my room whenever you want.” The moment the words left her lips her large eyes shot to yours. You raised your eyebrows, unsure how you were suddenly being silently called upon. “I mean, like, for your RA duties and whatever, I get it!”

The poor girl was a mess and everyone in the room knew it. You found her apparent interest in Jimin cute, though. It was understandable. You’d just met the guy a few minutes ago and could already tell he was one of those campus heartbreakers they always have in the movies, the ones everyone pines over but are somehow untouchable. They always had a girlfriend at another university or they were fuckboys.

Whatever Jimin’s story was, you weren’t interested.

“So,” Jimin turned back to you, and Alexis practically deflated at her desk. “I can give you my number in case you ever need anything. Like if you get locked out or Alexis tries to kill you in your sleep.”

He shot your roommate a wink as you exchanged numbers and you were sure her soul left her body.

“You’ve been so helpful, already, thank you.”

Jimin waved you off. “Don’t worry about it.” He slowly made his way back to the door, leaning against the frame as he looked at you for a moment longer. “I’ll see you around!”

The moment Jimin closed the door Alexis made a noise that sounded more like a dying animal than a human being. You stared at her with wide eyes as she slid out of her seat and into a puddle on the floor.

“He’s the prettiest boy in the world,” she said after a moment, lying on her back with her eyes glued to the ceiling. Or perhaps staring into nothing; you weren’t sure. “I wish I was a Music major so I could spend every day going to class with him and listening to him sing and looking at that face sculptured by the gods. And his butt.”

“Mhmm, he is very attractive,” you agreed, only half listening. You started unpacking your suitcases, mentally mapping out how you’d like to personalize your side of the room to make it feel a bit more like you. You didn’t know what made you feel like you quite yet, but that was what the new university was for. You were going to figure it out.

Alexis was a lovely roommate. Although she was a bit odd, her quirks were endearing and they made her easy to get along with. She was a self-proclaimed nerd which helped you bond since all the two of you ever did was study. Your bedroom, the common rooms in the dorm, the library - it didn’t matter where, just as long as you had the two of each other. The other students living in the dorms were a lot more rambunctious and less focused on academics. It wasn’t rare for you and Alexis to keep each other company while parties raged downstairs.

There was one thing you wish you could change, though. Alexis snored. This wasn’t some cute snore, either. Her snores were so loud you imagined they were similar to the sound the ground makes when an earthquake breaks it up into pieces beneath civilization.

Yeah, it was bad.

In the beginning you were so exhausted from adjusting to school that the snoring hadn’t bothered you. But now you were lying in bed making shapes out of the dark, Alexis’s violent breathing rumbling through the room.

With a small sigh, you slid into your slippers and snuck through the door, remembering to grab your keys before you left. It was nearly two in the morning on a Wednesday; you didn’t want to lock yourself out of your room and have to call Jimin to let you in. He was certainly a social butterfly, but you doubted he wanted to deal with your problems so late on a school night.

You planned to raid the kitchen for a snack and maybe watch something on Netflix in the living room. A fuller belly and some quiet TV show might be what you needed to lull you back to sleep again, and hopefully you wouldn’t fall asleep on the couch. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

It wasn’t until you reached the bottom of the staircase and turned toward the hallway that led to the kitchen that you heard it: a soft, gentle piano melody. With your interest peaked, you followed the sound across the threshold of the living room. You knew in the corner of the room there was an old upright piano, but you’d never seen anyone use it. No one in your dorm seemed to be musically-inclined except Yesenia, but she played the guitar (another sound to keep you up at night).

Although it wasn’t Yesenia, you shouldn’t have been surprised to find Jimin’s hands gliding across the keys with expert precision. He was a Music major, after all. It was easy to forget. You rarely saw Jimin in the dorms, though he always seemed to be around when anyone needed him. You stood watching Jimin lean forward slightly as the song took what felt like a more serious tone, the notes deeper and more haunting. His eyes were closed and his lips were pouted. His entire body rocked with the music, a push and pull of passion. The only light came from a floor lamp in the corner of the room that cast a soft orange glow that turned Jimin’s hair golden. He looked like an angel.

And then the music stopped. Jimin’s eyes snapped open and he turned to look directly at you.

“Did I wake you?” he asked softly, placing his hands into his lap. You shook your head quickly.

“No, no. Alexis was… Um, I couldn’t sleep.” You bit your lip and decided maybe spilling Alexis’s horrible sleeping habits to her crush would be inappropriate of you. “You play beautifully. Yiruma’s A Moonlight Song?”

Jimin’s eyes widened and a lovely grin bloomed across his face. “How did you know?”

“I used to play,” you admitted shyly, casting your eyes away from the man. One of the many pretentious hobbies your mother forced onto you. “He was always my favorite.”

Jimin scooted over on the bench and patted the now free space beside him. You were tempted to decline, as you had declined nearly all of his offers to hang out with you in the past month. The excuses were abundant: you were busy with school, busy with your new job at the library, busy hanging out with Alexis. And yes, you were busy, but not too busy to spend time with a friend. You weren’t sure what made you repeatedly turn Jimin down. You also weren’t sure what made him keep trying.

The pout his lips were beginning to form pushed you to cooperate this time. You hesitantly slid next to him.

“Play for me?” he inquired in the same soft tone he’d used a moment before. This time the whisper was just against the shell of your ear when Jimin turned to you, and the tickle of his breath made you shiver beneath your sweatshirt.

When you turned toward him you found that Jimin hadn’t looked away. Your faces were close enough for you to see the glow of the lamp light in his eyes. You inhaled sharply and the breathy sound made Jimin’s eyes fall to your lips.

“I’m not good at it anymore.” You swiftly moved to face the piano again.

“Please?”

Now it was your mouth puckering into a pout, but your fingers lightly rested on the keys anyway. They moved on their own accord, dancing along without your brain needing to tell them where to go. There were only a few songs you could play from memory, most of them Yiruma’s. Your mother played them when you were little, before she lost her inspiration.

Jimin hummed softly as you played. You caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye, but you quickly looked away when you realized he was watching you, rather than the piano.

“Love me?”

“What?” you asked. When Jimin spoke, your middle finger pressed too hard on one of the keys, throwing off the groove you had going. You wanted to blame your shakiness on being tired.

“Off of his second album. Love Me.” Jimin cocked his head to the side.

“Oh. Right.” You blinked. “I memorized it when I couldn’t read sheet music.”

Jimin let out a small hum of appreciation. “You’re talented. You should take it up again.”

A tight knot twisted inside your chest at Jimin’s words. You’d forgotten how cathartic it was to set aside time for self expression, especially when there were no recitals to attend or extravagant parties to entertain at. Playing for the sake of playing was a beautiful thing.

He watched you for another silent moment, as though he knew you were working hard to breathe through the flood of emotions suddenly seizing your heart. You reached up to swiftly run your fingers along your eyelashes to collect the dampness that had begun to form there.

“Do you want to get donuts?” The randomness of the question made you exhale a puff of quiet laughter. It managed to chase away the lingering bitterness you felt.

“Sure?”

“Sick!” Jimin rose from the bench and adjusted the sleeves of his hoodie. “Have you ever been to Koko’s? Go put some shoes on. We can walk.”

Koko’s turned out to be a small family-owned donut shop frequented by college students. On your walk Jimin explained that Koko’s was open twenty-four hours which partially contributed to the college students’ love for the shop. It also helped that the donuts were “pretty fucking good” in his words.

“There’s nothing like a 2 a.m. donut,” he said with a sigh after taking a bite out of a maple bacon donut.

You opted for something a bit more traditional (or “boring” according to Jimin): a classic glazed donut. The two of you sat on the curb in the parking lot of the shop. Despite the late hour, the inside was packed with college students. It was an already small space, so the two of you couldn’t find anywhere to sit, but you didn’t mind. The night air was comfortably cool and it was nice to stretch your legs out while you watched people file in and out.

“I might end up here every night.” You licked a bit of the glazed sugar off of your fingers.

Jimin grunted in agreement, also finishing the last of his donut. “Tell me when you go. I want to come, too.”

Despite your initial hesitancy to spend time with him, it was an easy promise to make.

“I tried making some once.” You drew your legs up against your chest and wrapped your arms around your knees. The toe of your sneaker scuffed against a loose chunk of asphalt.

“Did they taste good?”

“No,” you snorted. “I got something wrong. But I love baking and sweets, so I’ll try anything.”

Jimin nodded and pulled his legs against his chest in the same manner you had. “You’re really creative.”

“You think so?” It wasn’t how you’d ever think to describe yourself, but the look on Jimin’s face made you believe him. There was something nice about someone else seeing you. It was nice to be seen.

“Have you ever thought about studying music in school? You’re a Law major, right?”

Jimin rested his chin on his knees and watched you with the same unintentionally sultry expression he’d worn the first day you met him. Perhaps this time it was the dim lighting playing with his features. Regardless, it was impossible to look away.

“Law is more practical.” Before you even finished the sentence you were already slapping your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s fine,” Jimin said with a reassuring smile. “Everyone says studying music is impractical. That I won’t find a job or make any money. I don’t really care, though. It’s what my heart wants.” He stood up and held out his hand to help you stand as well. It wasn’t until you were back in your dorm that Jimin brought up music again.

“And Y/N,” Jimin called to you softly.

You poked your head out of your bedroom door to see him still standing in the hallway outside of his room. “Yes?”

“You should do what your heart wants, too.” He gave you a smile just as soft as his words before wishing you goodnight.

“Look at this one.” Alexis pressed her fingers to the base of her neck and dramatically cleared her throat. “Roses are red, violets are blue, I’ve never met anyone as sexy as you. So cringey, oh my god.”

You crinkled your nose at the terrible Valentine’s Day poem taped to a door on one of the university’s academic buildings. The poems were taped all over campus. They served as fliers to advertise some fraternity’s annual Valentine’s Day party.

“It’s the one Jimin is in,” Alexis pointed out as she ripped the flyer down. Her bag was full of them at this point and it seemed like each flyer the two of you happened across was worse than the previous.

“Jimin’s in a fraternity?” You crossed the street with Alexis as you walked back to your dorm. You walked past a streetlight with another bright pink paper taped to it.

“Yup.” Alexis stuck her arm across you to snatch that flyer, too. “Ew, gross. Roses are red, violets are blue, let’s cut the foreplay and head straight to the bedroom. Are they even allowed to post this kind of language around town? And with those disgusting, censored porn memes?”

“No, actually. Obscene public advertisements are very illegal.”

You and Alexis whipped your heads around to find Jimin trailing behind you. Alexis quickly shoved the flyer into your hands as if she wasn’t already carrying around a backpack full of them.

“Oh. Hi, Jimin. How are you doing? We were just admiring the…” She shot you a nervous look. Of course.

You did your best to smooth out the flyer and handed it to Jimin as he fell in line with you as you walked. “Sorry,” you mumbled, face heating up.

“Don’t worry about it.” His giggle eased a bit of the tension. “Are you two going?”

“Absolutely not. We have essays to write.”

Jimin stuck his tongue out at Alexis before turning to you expectantly. “Don’t let her speak for you, Y/N. Do you want to go?”

“Oh, um, I don’t really go to parties…” You hated how lame you sounded. Partying had never been an option before. Not unless you were with Taehyung. And everything about Jimin had you assuming going out with him would be a much different experience than with Taehyung.

“Parties aren’t my thing, either. But you deserve a break from so much studying.” Those happy, soft eyes creased by puffy cheeks made your chest ache, though you weren’t sure why. “Be my date?”

You heard Alexis choke on either air or her own spit beside you, but you stayed focused on the beautiful boy flanking the other side of you.

“M-Me?”

“Yes, you!”

Somehow the three of you now stood outside your apartment’s front door. Jimin fished for his lanyard while you and Alexis silently eyed each other. You didn’t know what kind of face you were making, but Alexis’s expression was a mix of horror and something akin to anger or, more likely, jealousy. The lock you had on each other’s gaze was broken by Jimin gesturing for the two of you to enter the building before him.

“Y/N?” Jimin leaned against the staircase railing as you and Alexis ascended. “Think about it?”

You had exactly five hours to mull it over. At least half of that time consisted of Alexis on her “anti-Greek life” soapbox.

“Their hazing practices are unlawful, Y/N. They do horrible things to each other.” She paced the space between your beds with one of the fliers crumpled in her hands. “And they throw these parties to take advantage of girls. The fliers!”

Just like with most of her other rants, you were barely listening to Alexis as you laid on your bed writing a text to Jimin only to delete it before hitting send. Then to rewrite. And then delete. Rewrite again.

“Alexis, will you please go with me?” You tried pouting, but you weren’t in your small town anymore. There were lots of pretty faces in California. Yours did nothing to sway your roommate who threw herself onto her bed when she realized you were going to go. Whatever her response was, it came out garbled and muffled by the fact that her face was pressed into her blankets.

So dramatic.

And perhaps you were being a bit dramatic, too. You skipped the pregame Jimin invited you to, insisting that you would meet him at the frat house on your own. For someone still figuring out how to talk to other people, you weren’t particularly keen on spending hours binge drinking and playing games with a bunch of frat bros and their groupies. The party would probably be too much for you, anyway. It would just be more binge drinking and paying games with a bunch of frat bros and their groupies.

Alexis was probably right.

You were probably going to hate it.

The night was already starting off on a bad note. Your powder blue babydoll dress didn’t fit the Valentine’s Day theme, but you realized with frustrated tears in your eyes as you stood in front of a mountain of clothes in your dorm that it was the only thing cute enough for a college party. It didn’t help that despite getting it cleaned, you still thought it smelled like oak and spice. Like Taehyung. You couldn’t help but fall into the cyclical thinking you always fell into as you approached the frat house, remembering the empty feeling you’d felt when Taehyung neglected you for most of the party that night. Maybe the Valentine’s Day party would be a repeat of that. There was always someone more interesting to entertain, you supposed. That had been true for Taehyung then; it may be true for Jimin now.

And there was the prettiest boy in the world, perched on the wooden railing that bordered the front porch of the fraternity house. He leaned with his elbows on his knees, a sweating beer grasped in his musician’s hands. He was there, waiting for you just like he said he would be.

“Jimin!” You didn’t have the fake the enthusiasm needed to raise your voice over the music and laughter filtering through the house as you bounced up the porch’s stairs.

Jimin grinned into his eyes when he stood to greet you. Gone were the shorts and oversized comfy sweaters. Gone were the fluffy bangs; his blonde hair was straight and swept off of his forehead. It was shocking to see your friend in ripped jeans so tight they didn’t leave much for the imagination and a muscle tank ripped far enough down the sides that you could see his chest when he turned.

“You’re so pretty,” Jimin spoke with a gesture to your outfit.

“You’re so fratty,” you countered with a sly smile.

You liked the idea of testing out a bit of banter, especially when you earned a sweet Jimin giggle in response. It was almost enough of a reward to carry you through the most painful part of the night, when Jimin dragged you through every corner of the house to have you meet more boys wearing tattered sports jerseys and backwards baseball caps while you sipped shitty beer. It wasn’t until Jimin seemingly ran out of favorites that you had a moment to yourselves.

“Your friends seem…” Your eyes swept over the living room where couples danced together to a playlist that somehow ranged from The Killers to Kesha and DMX.

“Stupid?”

“Nice.”

Jimin snorted, but the grin he wore was apparently permanent for tonight. His eyes followed yours into the crowd. “Do you dance?” He tsked when you immediately shook your head. “Everyone dances. Dance with me?”

Yet again, how could you say no?

Jimin’s hand was gentle but firm against the small of your back. He led you a bit of a ways into the crowd, but didn’t push you further than it seemed you wanted to go.

“Shall we waltz?” He gave you a cheeky grin and you noticed that he hadn’t lifted his hand. You felt the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of your dress. Unlike when you’d gone out with Taehyung, Jimin didn’t pull you against him; he let you fall in line with him instead. He slowly eased into a fluid rhythm, rolling his hips along to the song.

“Hmm, I would if I knew how,” you spoke loud enough for him to hear above the music. “I have no rhythm at all, for any kind of dance.”

Jimin shook his head. “Dancing is easy. You just make it up as you go…” He brought his other hand to rest against your hip and applied enough gentle pressure to push you to one side. His other hand slid from your back to the other hip. He began to alternate pressure until he had your hips swaying along with his. “Like this.”

The song changed and so did Jimin’s instruction. He guided you through each transition, teasing you every time you tensed up.

“You have to feel it!”

“I do!”

“Then listen to the feeling,” he challenged. “Don’t think too hard.”

The more crowded the room got, the closer the two of you were pushed together, until you had you found your arms hanging loosely against Jimin’s shoulders and your legs practically intertwined as you danced against one another.

“Hi,” Jimin whispered against the shell of your ear. He leaned in close enough that your chin momentarily rested against his collarbone before he pulled away. Though he created a bit more distance between you again, your legs stayed slotted between each other and Jimin kept his hand on the small of your back.

“Hi,” you parroted back, your shy smile making a bright grin bloom across Jimin’s face.

“Having fun?”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and it was impossible not to notice Jimin’s eyes drop down to stare at your mouth.

“Yeah,” you replied in a breathy tone.

Jimin hummed in response. His hips continued to roll into yours to the beat of the music. Your fingers instinctually squeezed Jimin’s shoulder when you felt his cock grind against the inside of your thigh the next time his fluid body moved with yours. You felt him the moment the two of you started grinding on each other; it was impossible not to. But he was soft then, and now he was semi-hard. Now you felt him heavy and warm through his jeans.

Your eyes quickly lifted to look at Jimin. He was already watching you with those plump pink lips slightly parted. Gone was his sweet, puffy-cheeked expression. The lidded, sultry sharpness of his eyes made your entire body prickle with heat.

“Can I kiss you?”

Making the conscious decision to speak rather than freeze or simply nod your head had your anxiety spiking through the roof. But you did it. Despite the shattering pounding of your heart trying to choke you out your throat, you opened your mouth.

“Yes, please.”

Jimin’s hold on you tightened and he finally made the first move to pull you firmly against his chest. He tasted like watered down beer and spiked punch, so much softer than Taehyung’s heavy smoke and vodka. Jimin’s teeth pressed against your lips, but rather than bite you, the sharpness was simply from him smiling. He exhaled a tiny puff of air against your cheek through his nose that released a quiet, bubbly laugh. There was no fight for dominance between teeth, lips, and tongues. His fingers didn’t bruise your hips when he held you. The sounds he gifted you beneath the heavy bass of the music were soft moans, not harsh growls or frustrated whines.

Kissing Jimin was like falling into clouds of strawberry vanilla swirls at sunrise. It was like riding with the windows down on a golden summer day, letting the warm air tickle your nose and the hair on your arms.

Kissing Jimin felt like something you’d never felt before.

Kissing Jimin felt safe.

When he pulled away you weren’t left out of breath, but you still gasped for his touch, lips chasing his.

“I want to take you upstairs,” he murmured against your jaw just below your ear.

It was hard to know who initially led the way through the swarm of sweaty bodies and up the front staircase. Your limbs were tangled with Jimin’s, the two of you nearly tripping over someone passed out in the hallway as Jimin jiggled door handles until he found one that was unlocked. You took no time to bother looking around the bedroom you were in, and Jimin didn’t give you the chance even if you wanted to.

He gently pressed you into the mattress, his hand reaching toward the back of his head to pull his shirt off.

“Wow.” You trailed your fingers along the muscles of Jimin’s torso, your hand growing shakier the lower you got. You couldn’t bring yourself to reach for his belt, even when he bucked his hips into yours and you felt his cock grind in between your thighs. Everything Jimin did was distracting. His soft lips were sucking along your collarbone, his talented fingers rubbing gentle circles into your waist. He was playing you, hitting every note like he’d known you all along.

But it was too much.

You squeezed his wrist when you felt his hands begin to push your dress up your hips. He looked up at you with such fucked out eyes that stood out prettily against eyebrows that scrunched together in concern.

“Do you want to stop? I’m sorry, we can stop. I’m so sorry, I went to fast.” He immediately pulled away to lean back on his knees. “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“No…” You slowly eased into a sitting position and adjusted your dress. “Well, I mean, yes.”

Jimin’s frown deepened. “What?”

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to look him in the eyes. “I really like you. So, don’t apologize, okay? I just…” Another deep breath. Another pat down of your dress. “I just got out of a relationship and I think I need to just… be myself for a little bit. I don’t think I’m ready to try out anything with anyone else yet.”

You scrunched up your nose and subconsciously matched Jimin’s frown. But then his frown turned into the soft Jimin smile you were becoming so used to seeing.

“Oh, okay. I totally get that.” He reached for his shirt to slip over his head once again. “I was so scared that I’d misread the whole thing. But I think that’s really strong of you.”

You slid off of the bed and averted your eyes when Jimin stood to adjust his cock in his jeans. “Why strong?”

“Relationships are hard to bounce back from. You have every right to take time for yourself.” Jimin wrapped his pinky around yours and tugged until you turned back to look at him. He brought his other hand up to cup your chin when you refused to meet his eye. “Hey, look at me. I’m not upset, okay? And even if I was, who the fuck cares.”

You nodded, but he wasn’t so sure.

“You take all the time you need, okay? I’m not going anywhere. And if you decide you don’t want this,” he gestured to the two of you. “Then you’re still going to be one of my dearest friends. You got that?”

Of course you did. Even if you were too afraid to admit that this was what you wanted, despite knowing that time was also what you knew you needed, Jimin’s smiling eyes were enough to ease the churning of your tummy. And maybe if you could just wipe your clammy hands on his shirt, you might be all but perfect.

You tossed your arms over Jimin’s shoulders and squeezed him tightly against you. “Thank you. For being thoughtful.” Your voice was muffled against his shirt, and maybe from a few tears, but he heard you and that was all that mattered.

“That’s why I’m the best Resident Assistant out there,” he said with a playfully cocky grin.

You rolled your eyes and straightened yourself out with a long exhale. “Should we go back to waltzing now?”

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gimmethatagustd · 6 hours

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thank you 🥹🥹

gang shit | knj

Your daughter's classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you're his arch-nemesis.

○ Pairing: Dilf!Namjoon x Single Parent!Reader

○ Rating: Sfw

○ Genre: Kidfic, strangers/romantic interest, an attempt at humor

○ 1 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Single Parent)

○ Word Count: 1204

○ Warnings: Shockingly none!! aside from my terrible sense of humor, jokes about Crime!!, and also Namjoon's dimples

○ Post Date: January 1, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? GOAT - Number_i

“I don’t make the rules to this gang shit. I just play my role.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you cock your head to the side in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Namjoon adjusts his black baseball cap. His bicep bulges out of his short sleeve when he lifts his arm.

Unlike little Yuna’s father, who has a stick shoved up his ass, and for what?

“What are you even talking about?” you ask with your arms crossed against your chest.

You’d said literally five words to the guy, intending to start a pleasant conversation while the kids ran around the playground and the other parents mingled at the picnic tables outside.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Brooklyn’s parent.”

Apparently, that was offensive.

Namjoon’s sharp eyes drag up and down your body, and you try not to let his heavy gaze affect you – and fail when you feel your stomach dip.

“Brooklyn said Yuna dresses weird,” Namjoon finally says with a pout that shouldn’t look so cute on a grown-ass man.

“Did she?”

“Are you calling Yuna a liar?”

“No!” This man is so volatile. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. We’ve been practicing using kind words, but, well, you know how kids are…”

Namjoon doesn’t look convinced.

“I’m sorry for Brooklyn’s judgmental behavior. What kind of weird-, what kind of clothes-” you stumble through what you already know is a shit apology, “Which one is Yuna?”

“That’s her.” Namjoon nods in Yuna’s direction.

“She’s adorable,” you say softly.

“She’s weird as shit.”

Your mouth hangs open when Namjoon shrugs.

“What? She’s my kid; I’m allowed to say that.”

“Fair enough,” you concede with a smile, “So, we got beef now?”

“Yup.”

Namjoon crosses his arms against his chest to match your stance. You tell yourself it’s very inappropriate to be eyeing your new enemy’s boobs when you’re in the middle of a showdown.

You nod because he’s right. Kids should be kids.

“Plus, I like being the fun parent.”

“Not cool parents like us,” Namjoon lightly elbows you.

“Yeah, they can’t ride with our gang.”

Namjoon makes a face the moment the words come out of your mouth. He bites both lips, rolling them in and hollowing his cheeks, eyebrows raised.

“What? What!” you gasp, knowing when you’re being made fun of, even if it’s in silence.

“Don’t ever say anything like that ever again.”

With a huff, you give him a tiny punch to the arm and tell yourself that it isn’t because you want to feel how tight his muscles are.

“You’re the one who–”

“HEY! NO HITTING!”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that to Mr. Kim,” you admit, “I should apologize, shouldn’t I?”

Brooklyn nods, and the bulbous beaded hair ties at the end of her pigtail braids swing like a deadly game of tetherball.

“I forgive you,” he says with another grin that makes you feel like a silly teenager.

It takes very little convincing for Brooklyn to run off toward the swings. She flops on her stomach in the swing beside Yuna, and then, after a bit of talking, both girls spin around.

“If Brooklyn throws up from doing that, it’s your fault,” you mutter to Namjoon.

“Real aggressive coming from someone who just physically attacked me.”

“Okay, Mr. Gang Shit,” you quip back, catching Namjoon’s widening grin out of the corner of your eye.

“Oh.” You feel your stomach twist.

“Might want to start with getting dinner with me, and then we can see where it goes?”

Oh.

“I mean, if you think it wouldn’t hurt my street cred being seen with the likes of you, then, yeah.”

Namjoon grabs his baseball cap bill and pulls it down until his hat covers his face. “Don’t make me rescind this offer because I’ll do it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how it goes.”

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

#gang shit #happy things ✨#star-my

1K notes · View notes

gimmethatagustd · 7 hours

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YES EXACTLY. they're just bros. it was important for me to write tae as making the MC feel supported and clearly ready to do whatever he needed to do to make the MC have a positive experience with him

thank you for appreciating their lil relationship 💜

this fic is very special to me

collard greens | kth

Working as a counselor at a summer camp for kids isn't the most exciting job, but hanging out with Taehyung makes it worth it.

○ Pairing: Taehyung x trans male!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: A classic Jai weed fic, friends to lovers, summer camp au, smut, fluff

○ 13 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Camp Counselor)

○ Word Count: 3,670

○ Warnings: Some body dysphoria, reference to top surgery, reference to hormone therapy, marijuana, oral sex, Jai didn't proofread this jhsdkjfsk sorry friends

○ Notes: Today is International Transgender Day of Visibility, created to celebrate trans and nonbinary people worldwide. Particularly on Tumblr and with reader-insert BTS fanfic, there is little representation of trans and nonbinary characters. Readers are often written as AFAB and use she/her pronouns and traditionally feminine terms to describe their genitalia (even when listed as gender-neutral readers). I wanted to share a story that explicitly focuses on a trans reader. I welcome everyone to read this story, regardless of gender or sexual orientation. As F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, "That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong."

○ Disclaimer: The trans community is diverse, and this fic doesn't represent all trans and nonbinary people's experiences. If you'd like to learn more about how to be an ally for trans and nonbinary people, check out this article from the Human Rights Campaign.

○ Post Date: March 31, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? A weed playlist

“Did you know that smoking weed makes your sperm count decrease?”

You scrunch your nose at Taehyung’s vulgar question, but he doesn’t notice. He’s nearly cross-eyed as he licks along the edge of the blunt he just rolled with expert fingers.

“Not me,” you challenge. “Maybe you.”

Taehyung stares at you for a moment. You can practically see the gears turning in his head before he sticks the blunt between his lips and speaks around it.

“Shit, yeah.”

The summer air, thick with humidity, doesn’t help when your face heats up from Taehyung’s mistake. It’s funny how seemingly inconsequential moments—like Taehyung forgetting that you don’t have the same parts as him—can bring you such euphoria. Taehyung has always been good at that, though. He’s never treated you differently, singled you out, or made you feel like you aren’t enough or are too much.

You’re just two dudes perched on a mossy rock in the middle of the woods, smoking a blunt while the camp kids you’re supposed to be taking care of are asleep in their cabins.

Simple as that.

Taehyung pauses to light the end of the blunt and inhales deeply, drawing smoke through his pink lips and exhaling it slowly. The thick cloud doesn’t have a chance to disappear into the night sky before Taehyung breathes it back in through his nose.

Rolling your eyes at Taehyung’s unnecessary display of stoner prowess, you take the blunt from his pinched grip and curl your lips around the tip.

“Are you trying to say weed is, like, male birth control?” you ask, smoke coming out of your mouth in disjointed puffs and streams between your teeth while you talk.

“It basically is.”

“That feels very unreliable.”

Your fingers brush against each other every time you pass the blunt between you. The contact makes your arm tingle, and the feeling wiggles down the right side of your body the more times you reach for the blunt.

“I mean, I smoke, like, every day, and I haven’t knocked anyone up yet,” Taehyung admits with a shrug.

You nearly choke.

“You’re fucking people raw, Tae?”

“Shhh!” Taehyung giggles with his index finger to your lips. You grab his wrist and try to push him off, but he doesn’t budge.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, but he pinches your top and bottom lips together to keep you quiet. It’s useless; his giggles are louder than you are.

“Listen,” Taehyung grins as he brings the blunt to his lips. Yours are still pinched together with his other hand. “I got tested before camp started, and I got no babies.”

“That’s not–”

“I know the test is for STIs, not babies, obviously!” Taehyung squawks, shoving you hard on the shoulder when you finally free yourself from him with a giggle, almost sending you flying off the rock. “I’m just saying I got neither.”

“Alright, alright! I believe you. No STIs, no babies.”

“Exactly.” Taehyung winks at you as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke.

Since you’re sitting next to each other, it’s impossible to escape the shy embarrassment Taehyung triggers in you. He has no business looking as good as he does when he smokes. It’s his lips and eyes, you think, watching him take another hit. The perfect pink bow of his upper lip and the plushness of his bottom lip make his mouth look pretty when the smoke swirls out of it.

When he looks at you through the smoke that surrounds you, his eyes are dark and lidded, a heavy gaze that weighs on you as you bring the blunt to your lips.

“Do you want me to roll another one?” Taehyung asks, his voice rough and thick, after a few more passes of the blunt between you.

It doesn’t feel like you’ve been outside for a long time, but a quick glance at your phone tells you it’s way past time to return to your cabin.

“We should head back, unfortunately,” you say with a sigh, “Waking up in the morning is going to fucking suck.”

“There’s probably just this last hit left.”

You wave away Taehyung’s offer of the blunt now smoked down to a pinched nub.

“I started it, so you have to end it,” Taehyung insists.

“Fine, come here.”

You’ve shotgunned weed with someone before. Although people may call it a shotgun kiss, it isn’t a real kiss. The person who inhales the smoke is supposed to blow the smoke into the other person’s mouth. Sure, that requires getting close to the other person, but it doesn’t require mouth-to-mouth contact. Everyone knows this, especially someone who smokes as much as Taehyung does.

So why does Taehyung lean in too close to press his lips against yours when you blow the smoke into his mouth?

It’s quiet outside, just the chatter of insects and other forest dwellers breaking the still summer night, so you easily hear the breathy way Taehyung inhales the smoke you’ve passed to him. It’s a soft, gentle sound that makes your entire body tingle, starting where his plush lips connect with yours.

Have you wondered if Taehyung’s lips are as soft as they look? Of course, you have; who hasn’t? Taehyung is easily one of the most gorgeous people you’ve ever met, but he has always been just a camp friend.

You’ve known Taehyung for years, spending half of every summer together at this camp since you were kids, eventually becoming counselors once you aged out of the program. Despite living in different cities and attending different universities, you’ve maintained an unlikely friendship through camp.

However, now you’re wondering if you’ve been reading your relationship all wrong.

Taehyung pulls away and turns his head to the side to exhale the smoke before cupping the back of your head and leaning in again. He’s pretty like this, with his eyes closed and expression relaxed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and for some reason, it feels like the hottest thing anyone has ever said to you.

“Yeah,” your voice is hoarse when you respond, scratchy from the smoke making your throat raw and your mouth dry. You made the rookie mistake of not bringing anything to drink.

When Taehyung slips his tongue in your mouth, you can taste the smokiness of the blunt. He cups your face with both hands and deepens the kiss, tilting his head slightly and causing your noses to brush against each other. Making out while high comes with an indescribable pleasure, something airy and electrifying that washes over your entire body in waves. It isn’t like normal arousal that you feel throbbing from your core and spread throughout your body. Kissing Taehyung while high makes your entire body tremble.

You twist your fingers into the sides of his baggy t-shirt to have something to hold onto as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, eliciting a low groan from you. The old camp shirt is faded and soft from years of going through the wash. You’ve got an identical one in your dresser at the cabin.

“We have to go back,” you insist weakly once Taehyung releases your lip from between his teeth.

“I forgot.”

“Of course you did.”

Your laugh is full of anxiety as you look away from Taehyung’s heavy gaze. His eyes are blazing red. You wonder if he kissed you because he’s high and if he’s going to wake up in the morning and pretend it didn’t happen. Is that better than the alternative outcome where Taehyung is weirded out because, well, you’re you?

“Shut up,” Taehyung grumbles, but he wears a grin as he digs the toe of his hiking boot into the ground, twisting it to make sure the blunt is put out.

“First one to the cabin gets to shower first,” he declares.

“Taehyung!” you hiss, but he’s already crashing through the forest brush with flailing arms.

It takes a few seconds for your brain to get in sync with your body, still foggy from weed and Taehyung’s kisses. You scramble to get up, having to adjust your pants with a tug to your crotch as you jog after him. Bottom growth is affirming, but it’s also a pain in the ass sometimes. You can’t imagine how cis men deal with all that.

Taking off in what you hope is the direction of the camp, you quickly realize there’s no way you’ll make it to the cabin before Taehyung. The forest floor is uneven, and you’re an idiot and didn’t wear your hiking boots. Your smooth-soled Converse slide against mossy rocks and get caught on raised tree roots, nearly sending you flying as you try to catch up with Taehyung.

When you finally reach the cabin, you’re wheezing, and your entire body is sticky with sweat. Taehyung is already in your bedroom, whistling as he rifles through the dresser like he’s having a grand time despite his hair looking like a rat’s nest and having welts on his legs from running through bushes in shorts.

“Took you long enough,” he grins as you stomp through the front door and head straight to the bedroom.

The cabin is small, with a living room big enough for a couch and a coffee table, a small kitchenette off to the side, and a door to the bedroom you’re sharing with Taehyung. You each have a twin-sized bed that sits across from the other in the small room, and you share a large dresser placed in between your beds against the back wall. On the opposite side of the room is the door to the bathroom. Everything is a tight fit, but you don’t mind. The two of you are hardly ever in the cabin anyway. Being a counselor requires long hours full of activities, meaning you’re only in your cabin to sleep unless you have an off day.

“I’m gonna go enjoy a nice, warm shower now.” Taehyung rubs his victory in your face, his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, and his eyes glittering like fire embers in the cabin’s pale yellow lighting.

“Dude, fuck off,” you give him your middle finger as he shuts the bathroom door with a cackle.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for Taehyung to finish showering. You trade places silently, your red eyes avoiding Taehyung’s because the time you had alone made you paranoid about what happened in the woods.

The paranoia only gets worse while you’re in the shower. There’s no need to scrub yourself with your washcloth so aggressively, but you feel like your entire body is crawling. It isn’t the discomfort you once felt when you looked at your naked body. It’s been a while since you felt discomfort when touching your chest or washing between your legs. No, this feeling you’re experiencing now is something different. Rather than feeling the urge to hide, you want to be seen. You want to be seen by Taehyung, and you don’t know what to do with that desire.

Showering doesn’t calm the need pulsing through your body. You feel a little less high, but you’re still buzzing with electricity, still incredibly sensitive as you dry yourself with a fluffy towel. With your brain still floating in the clouds, you almost think you’re hallucinating the slow opening of the bathroom door. Quickly, you wrap your towel around your hips and stare at Taehyung, whose head pokes through the door crack.

“Hellooo,” Taehyung drags out the word, low and slow, as his eyes sweep over your body.

He’s blatantly checking you out, and you feel your cheeks heat up from arousal or shame; you’re not sure which. You may not experience dysphoria anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re running around shirtless, sporting scars where most guys’ pecs end. It was never “okay” to be shirtless with the chest you had before; it’s taking a while to feel “okay” doing it now.

You take a deep breath and remind yourself that Taehyung has never cared. He watched you blossom for over a decade as you shaped yourself into your most authentic form, and he kept up with every change, no matter how different things were from the summer before.

“Do you need something or…?”

Blinking, Taehyung’s face turns pink, and he shakes his head.

“No. Well, I mean, sort of?”

Taehyung laughs at himself, and you can’t help but laugh, too, because who can hear Taehyung laugh and not want to experience that same joy, even if it’s twinged with nervousness?

“What do you sort of need?” you finally ask with a grin, that shared joy warming your chest.

“Can I come in?”

“You’re already halfway there.”

With a cheeky grin, Taehyung slips into the bathroom and closes the door so you’ll stay warm. He’s wearing loose boxers and a tank shirt because the cabin’s lack of central air conditioning makes it hot at night. He’s cute like this, soft and domestic.

“Did you like it?” Taehyung keeps his hand on the doorknob as though preparing to leave, but his voice is steady when he asks the question.

“Like what?”

You know what. Taehyung knows you know what.

He clarifies anyway.

“When I kissed you, did you like it?” Taehyung switches between focusing on your eyes and your mouth. “Because… I want to do it again.”

It only takes a slight nod for Taehyung to crowd you against the bathroom counter. The kiss feels confident this time, no longer an accident or hesitant test ride. Taehyung holds your jaw to tilt your head up and kisses you hard enough to leave you breathless. You noisily inhale whenever he lets you.

“I didn’t want to wait,” Taehyung explains against your lips while you moan against his.

“For what?”

“You to finish showering.” Taehyung’s free hand runs down your side to squeeze your hip, part of his hand slipping under your towel. “Is this okay?”

You don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you let him unwrap your towel and drop it on the slippery tile floor. Maybe it’s the weed making you feel reckless, letting this boy see you in a way you haven’t let a boy see you since you started your transition. Maybe it’s just because it’s Taehyung.

“You, too,” you groan when you feel Taehyung’s clothed cock press against your thigh.

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice, reaching over his shoulder to pull his shirt over his head by grabbing the back. Once he’s shirtless, his mouth finds your jaw, kissing across to the sensitive spot just below your ear while you tug down his boxers so he can kick them off.

Beneath the arousal building inside of you are nerves you can’t seem to shake. They’re making it difficult to concentrate on how fantastic it feels to have Taehyung’s soft lips kissing and sucking your neck. All you can think about is how you’re afraid that Taehyung will freak out, that he keeps forgetting, and how it feels nice when he forgets when you’re talking about guy stuff, but it’ll feel devastating when he realizes he has forgotten now.

Slowly, Taehyung’s fingertips skirt your torso, creeping down your side to swipe over your waist and trail along the crease where your hip meets your thigh. You hold your breath as he ventures further, eventually shooting your hands out to squeeze his biceps when his fingers dip into your hole to gather your arousal and drag it upward.

“Can I suck your cock?” Taehyung breathes, hot and ragged, against the curve of your ear.

Jolting back, you stare at him with wide eyes and feel your heart flutter painfully in your chest because you still haven’t started breathing again.

“W-What, what did you say?” you stammer, holding Taehyung’s red, lusty gaze.

“Can I suck your cock? I want to suck you off.”

Taehyung says it so simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He slid his fingers through your arousal and didn’t refer to it as your pussy or clit, as if he already knew those words would make you feel disgusting.

“You, how did you know… why did you call it that?”

Scrunching his eyebrows and frowning slightly, Taehyung pulls his hand from in between your legs.

“Uhh… you always call it your dick when we’re talking about stuff with the guys?” There’s a panicked edge to Taehyung’s voice, each sentence coming out like a hesitant question. “But, uh, I feel like most of society agrees that dick isn’t really sexy, so… I thought cock would sound better…”

When you don’t respond, Taehyung’s face shifts from pale with panic to bright red with embarrassment.

“Shit, should I not have said that? Should I have asked first? I’m sorry I—”

You kiss away Taehyung’s embarrassed babbling, your fingers dug into his hair, and your body pressed flush against his. His hands curve around to hold your lower back and pull you closer as if it’s even possible. You want him to try, to mold you into him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

When Taehyung smiles, his teeth press against your bottom lip.

“You don’t need to thank me. I just wanna make you feel good. Will you let me?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You bite your bottom lip and squeeze the edge of the counter on either side of your waist as you watch Taehyung get on his knees. The bath mat protects his knees from the hard tile when he kneels in front of you.

“You’re so pretty,” Taehyung says softly as he rubs his hands up and down the inside of your thighs with slight pressure to push them apart a little bit more, “Pretty boy.”

It’s hot watching Taehyung lick the tip of your cock, the hormones you’ve been on making it stick out beyond your folds. Taehyung is gentle when he presses your lower abdomen with his palm and uses his fingers to pull your lips back slightly to expose more of you. He gets you nice and wet before he wraps his lips around your cock, suckling it and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, grabbing Taehyung’s head with one hand so you can run your fingers through his bangs and push them away from his face to see his eyes better.

Taehyung hums in response to your moans, and you feel the vibration rumble through your groin. He’s skillful as he licks and swirls your cock with his tongue and keeps a tight suction around it with his lips and hollowed cheeks.

For a moment, you tip your head back and try to regulate your breathing because how is Taehyung about to make you cum already, just from his mouth? Sure, your body has been more sensitive since you started your hormone therapy, but fuck.

To make matters worse, when you look back down, you notice that Taehyung’s free hand is wrapped around his cock. He pumps his cock at the same rhythm as he begins to bob his head as if he’s sucking even more of you than there really is. You can say, without a doubt, that no one has ever tried to affirm you and make you feel as complete during sex as Taehyung is.

“Fuck, yeah, Taehyung,” you adjust your grip on Taehyung’s hair and start guiding his movements, pulling him up and down by his hair, “Just like that, shit, your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You aren’t pulling his hair hard; you’re really only following the pace he’s already established, but it feels good. It must feel good for Taehyung, too, because he whimpers and jerks off faster. His body trembles just like yours does, and it doesn’t take long for both of you to be panting and frantic.

“Gonna cum, fuck, fuck.”

You squeeze Taehyung’s hair and the edge of the counter as you buck your hips, coming right as Taehyung adjusts his angle to lap at the gush of arousal at your hole, painting his mouth and chin.

“God, you’re so hot, you have no fucking idea,” Taehyung groans into the inside of your thigh, where he nuzzles his face.

His breath is hot and wet as he pants, trembling for a few seconds longer before he finally cums, too. Some of it leaks between his fingers and lands on the inside of your leg, but you don’t care; you just caress his hair from his face while he breathes slowly to calm himself down.

With trembling legs, you twist around to collapse onto the closed lid of the toilet, unable to stand any longer. Your head feels spacey and throbs, likely because you’d been holding your breath too much. It’s okay, though. It makes your body feel all warm and jiggly.

“We have to shower again,” Taehyung says quietly.

He looks just as fucked out as you feel, his eyes wide and staring out into the void as he continues trying to relax his shuddery breath. You can’t help but laugh, throwing your head back and letting it out, like whatever other pent-up energy you had left over after you came needs to escape somehow.

“Yeah, we do,” you wheeze even harder once Taehyung’s face cracks into a boxy smile, and he starts laughing, too.

“I got cum all over the floor,” Taehyung cackles, falling back on his bare ass and holding up his cum-covered hand.

You wipe the tears collecting in the corners of your eyes and shake your head. “That is something I don’t envy.”

“It’s so fucking inconvenient!”

Taehyung grins up at you with crinkled eyes, and you don’t know why you were so nervous before. He’s so perfect it makes your heart hurt.

“Next time, I’ll be the one to swallow,” you promise slyly, pleased when Taehyung lets out a weak moan in response.

“Bro, don’t do this to me,” Taehyung throws his head back and whines at the ceiling. "I’m gonna fall in love with you if you’re not careful.”

Grinning, you shrug. Tonight has been pretty reckless; there’s no use in being careful now.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

#remmykinsff #collard greens #happy things ✨

83 notes · View notes

gimmethatagustd · 7 hours

Text

ahhh i'm so glad you liked it!

It was so real to me, out there somewhere that's a person's life. - you saying that is such a compliment cuz i was worried that this would feel boring or too quick paced?? but also too slow??

IDK i was out of my mind when i wrote it. i have no idea what i was doing jskdhfs i was so stressed LOL so it makes me happy to know you vibed with it

redamancy | kth + jjk

When Taehyung's suppressants unexpectedly stop working, it takes a soft-spoken, doe-eyed omega to calm the aggressive alpha instincts that consume him.

○ Pairing: Alpha!Taehyung x Omega!Jungkook

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: A/B/O, strangers to lovers, love at first sight, fast burn, smut, fluff, light angst

○ Word Count: 15,036

○ Warnings: Mental health concerns, age difference, self-image issues, scenting, imprinting, wet dreams, masturbation, knotting, anal fingering, anal sex, self-lubrication (it's a/b/o what do you expect), lowkey breeding kink (don't @ me), love confessions!!, so many pet names - tae calls jk "peaches" and it made me insane, jk is very babygirl tbh

○ Notes: Remember when I wrote a 15k fic in 24 hours? And it was the shittiest thing I've ever written, and now it's got 750+ kudos, almost 8k hits, and is my most popular fic on AO3? Yeah. It was this piece of shit.

○ Written for the Alpha Taehyung x Omega Jungkook Fest on AO3

○ Post Date: March 27, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? Peaches - Kai

you're like peaches soft하게 감싸 입안 가득 번진 sweetness feels good to be the bad guy

- kai, "peaches"

The first time Taehyung realizes something is wrong with him, he’s in the middle of getting his vitals checked at his doctor’s office. Perhaps he should have noticed long before this moment, but he has only ever been described as detail-oriented within the context of his job. Physically, he feels fine. His heart rate is slightly elevated, but he has just run up three flights of stairs because the elevator is broken. He also has a low fever, which admittedly is odd but doesn’t seem concerning. According to the nurse tending to him, all other vitals appear healthy for a man nearing his late thirties.

So what’s the issue?

Taehyung is what his friends refer to as a Soft Alpha: gentle, kind-hearted, and thoughtful. People always wonder why he hasn’t settled down with a nice omega and traded out his bachelor pad for a home full of pups. Taehyung’s reputation for being the ideal alpha makes his friends realize that lately, there's been wrong with him- quicker than Taehyung notices himself. Taehyung is no longer a Soft Alpha, and no one knows why.

“Excuse me.” Taehyung pulls away from the nurse when she reaches for his arm to slip the blood pressure cuff around his bicep. “I need to answer my phone.”

The nurse, a beta with sharp eyes and a gut-twisting scent of antiseptics, gives Taehyung a disapproving look. “Sir, phone usage is not allowed in the examination rooms.”

“I’m sorry, but I honestly don’t give a fuck,” Taehyung snaps.

He hops off the examination table to fish his cell phone from his suit jacket draped on the back of the chair in the corner of the room. His personal assistant’s name brightens the screen. It’s nearly six in the afternoon, about an hour after closing at Kim Enterprises– Seoul’s leading architecture firm. As a devout anticapitalist, Yoongi must have a serious reason for contacting Taehyung after hours.

Ignoring the irritated spike in the nurse’s weak scent, Taehyung accepts the call. “What’s wrong?”

“Wow, hello to you, too,” Yoongi huffs. It’s irrational, but Yoongi’s disgruntled greeting pisses Taehyung off.

“I saw you an hour ago; is there a need for pleasantries? You called me for a reason, so what is it?”

The line goes silent almost long enough for Taehyung to snap again.

Eventually clearing his throat, Yoongi’s tone is expressionless when he responds, “Woosung said he’s going to sue you. Yeonjun found the letter he had sent from his lawyer. I think the mail room got it mixed in with Kim Seokjin’s mail because it was dated from last week.”

“Sue me? He wants to sue me? Wha- Who the hell is Yeonjun?”

“The intern… Jimin’s nephew… You hired him two months ago, Taehyung.”

Taehyung isn’t a violent person. He feels guilt killing bugs– yet it takes everything in his power not to break his phone in half. Clenching his jaw, Taehyung bites down on his molars as a headache blooms in the middle of his forehead. This is not how he wanted to spend his Friday evening.

The door to the examination room opens, fracturing Taehyung’s concentration. Once unusual, Taehyung’s behavior has become so commonplace that Dr. Yun hardly bats an eye when he notices Taehyung is on the phone when he shouldn’t be. He dismisses the nurse and sits on the stool at the small desk beside Taehyung. He sits with his hands laced together in his lap and a stethoscope draped around his neck. Despite being an alpha, Dr. Yun is difficult to read. It’s likely the suppressants he takes, combined with the practice professionalism of being a doctor.

“I have to go,” Taehyung announces to Yoongi. He ends the call before Yoongi can respond and slips his phone into his suit jacket’s pocket.

“Dr. Yun.” Taehyung returns to the examination table. His black slacks hike up when he sits, revealing more of his crew socks. They’re sky blue with a pattern of little Pomeranians.

“Mr. Kim,” Dr. Yun replies with a smile that lifts only one side of his mouth. “I’ve been told that you’re having some issues with anger management and stress-induced anxiety?”

Calling it anger management seems extreme, but Taehyung is angry, so he feels he has little room to argue with a medical professional. Rather than immediately respond, he finds the edge of the paper sheet covering the examination table and picks at it. Much like Taehyung’s sanity, the paper is thin and tears easily.

“I suppose that is correct.” Taehyung sighs, long and loud.

“Well, I have the blood results from your last test and,” Dr. Yun retrieves a tablet the nurse left on his desk, “your vitals, weight, and such. So I have a few thoughts I’d like to share with you, but first, can you tell me what exactly you’re experiencing?”

Tired of the paper sheet, Taehyung fiddles with his tie. He didn’t bother taking it off; he just loosened it. It’s skinny and black and stands out against his crisp white button-down shirt. Well, his shirt was crisp. Now it’s wrinkled and smells of sweat and something like burnt wood – so different than his usual honey.

“As for the anxiety, I feel easily irritable and struggle to calm down after high-intensity emotions. Hot flashes, night sweats. Headaches are more common, maybe two a week at least,” Taehyung says, leaning back on his palms and staring at the white ceiling. “My scent’s been all over the place, apparently, though I haven’t noticed. And my joints are so stiff I feel like my tendons are calcifying. It’s like I’m experiencing menopause. Or turning into the goddamn Hulk.”

“And have you been regularly taking your suppressants?”

“One pill every morning with food, as prescribed,” Taehyung says in a clipped voice. Unsurprisingly, Dr. Yun isn’t phased.

Nodding, Dr. Yun makes a few notes on the tablet. Taehyung has been going to him for nearly ten years since he moved to Seoul for his architecture graduate program. It’s their long-withstanding relationship that allows Dr. Yun to understand how dire the situation is. Kim Taehyung is gentle; seeing him like this is shocking to everyone Taehyung knows.

“Thank you,” Dr. Yun says as he places the tablet back on the desk. “I have a feeling I know what’s wrong, but you aren’t going to like my recommendation.”

“Okay? So what is it?” If Dr. Yun drags this out any longer, Taehyung might leave.

“Suppressants aren’t meant to be taken daily for ten years, Taehyung. All these physiological symptoms you’re experiencing are your body’s way of begging you to have a natural cycle.”

Knots twist in Taehyung’s stomach as Dr. Yun’s words sink in. He takes a deep breath before asking, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I will not sign off on a refill of your suppressants until you experience a natural cycle – until you’ve experienced at least one rut. Your body–”

“No.”

Dr. Yun raises an eyebrow at Taehyung’s interruption.

“Your body needs a reset, Taehyung. This isn’t my personal opinion; everything you’ve told me, along with your bloodwork, points to this being the issue. If you continue taking suppressants, you’re going to experience even more severe side effects. I’ve known of patients who have gone feral.”

Feral.

The word spins in Taehyung’s mind like an internal halo, bright and heavy with responsibility – but nothing he wants for himself.

Feral. Kim Taehyung can’t become feral. He’s the CEO of a major corporation. He has important business to take care of and a reputation to maintain. He has to get through a lawsuit, apparently. He can’t afford to become feral. Let alone what his friends would say! And he’s sure he’d have to be hospitalized.

It can’t happen. It won’t happen.

“Fine,” Taehyung concedes through clenched teeth and a muscle spasm in the side of his neck. “How soon do you think I’ll go into a rut once I stop taking them?”

Dr. Yun gives Taehyung a sympathetic smile. “After your first missed dose, I anticipate your rut will start within 48 hours.”

Taehyung nearly chokes. “That quickly?”

“Your body has been holding this in for a decade, Taehyung.”

“Why didn’t you tell me if you knew this could happen!”

This time, it’s Dr. Yun who sighs.

“Honestly, I had plans to recommend weaning you off for a short period. Ten years is sort of the unofficial ‘expiration date’ for consecutive suppressant intake. It seems your body’s natural clock beat me to it, though.”

Taehyung knows he needs this. He knows he has slowly become insufferable, which hurts his heart because he is a nice guy. He does his best to care for others and to be selfless and conscientious. He always thought he could fight against his instincts and win, but it seems that was a folly he too easily fell for.

“Alright,” Taehyung says softly. His shoulders sag with the weight of his reality, no longer holding inside of him the anger needed to keep himself upright.

“It’ll be okay, Taehyung.” Dr. Yun squeezes Taehyung’s shoulder when he stands up. “Let the receptionist know to schedule another appointment in about two months. Your hormone levels should be regular by then.”

“Thank you, Dr. Yun.”

“Take care, Mr. Kim.”

The two men bow to each other before Dr. Yun slips out of the examination room, gently closing the door behind him.

“Fuck me,” Taehyung curses, falling back onto the examination table with a thud. He wonders how long he can lie there staring at the blinding hospital lights before a nurse comes in and finds him, legs dangling, with his dress shoes and suit jacket strewn about. He’s sure his pheromones are stinking up the room with anxiety and frustration.

It takes Taehyung another five minutes to finally get up, the decision triggered by his cell phone repeatedly ringing. This time, he mutes his phone once he shrugs on his jacket. He’s had enough drama for one day.

Yeontan welcomes Taehyung when he gets home by peeing on the floor.

“Aish, Tannie!” Taehyung groans as he quickly closes the door so Yeontan can’t run out into the apartment hallway.

The little Pomeranian is too excited to control himself, having missed Taehyung since he has returned home later than usual. Taehyung’s automatic reaction is to be frustrated, but he calms himself down with a deep breath. Yeontan yaps at him, giving the laces of Taehyung’s shoes a tug as he bends over to remove them.

“Did you miss me that much?” Taehyung scratches behind Yeontan’s fuzzy ears. “I’m sorry I was so late.”

What a blessing it is to have a living, breathing creature to love him and be excited to see him. Even Taehyung’s out-of-control hormones can’t make him stay angry at the little puppy.

“Let’s get some food, okay?” he asks once he’s finished cleaning up the mess.

Yeontan runs circles around Taehyung as he moves through the kitchen, getting Yeontan food and settling on making food for himself. He cooks, in bulk, lots of meat and rice, knowing he won’t be interested in fruits and vegetables while he’s suffering through his rut. He’ll hardly find the willpower to eat at all, he suspects. It’s been so long since he has gone through a rut.

Once he’s full of food and Yeontan is taken care of, Taehyung changes into his pajamas and relaxes in the living room. But first, he must make an unavoidable phone call.

“Hi, Yoongi.” Taehyung slumps onto the couch. He puts his phone on speaker mode so he can rest it on his chest and let his arms hang over the side and the back of the couch.

“Oh, I get a real greeting this time?”

“I’m sorry, alright? I behaved inappropriately, and I apologize for that.”

“I’ll forgive you if you give me a raise.”

Taehyung drags both of his hands down his face and lets out a low groan. “Sure, Yoongs. Next fiscal year.”

“Deal.” Taehyung can easily imagine the smug look on Yoongi’s face. “What’s up?”

“I… Yoongi, please don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Of course. Who do you think I am?”

“Just making sure…” Taehyung mutters. He may consider Yoongi a good friend, but he is also his personal assistant. Being a friend and an employer can be a tricky line to walk. “My doctor ordered me to stop my suppressants, so I’ll need to take a rut leave. For… potentially a week.”

Yoongi whistles. “Damn, Taehyung. Your dick won’t have any skin on it by the time you’re back in the office.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m guessing this means you want me to find someone to watch Tannie?”

Taehyung lifts his head to look at Yeontan. The little guy is finished with his dinner and has decided to chew on a purple stuffed whale Jimin gifted him for his seventh birthday.

“Yeah. Do you think Jimin can? I really don’t want to have to ask my mother.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Yoongi agrees. “I’ll give Jimin a call tonight and text you. Is there anything else you need? Food? A fleshlight?”

“You are insufferable.”

“Not as insufferable as you’ve been! Kim ‘I’m too good to be ruled by my instincts like the rest of you animals’ Taehyung.”

Taehyung hangs up on Yoongi for the second time today without saying goodbye.

“He’s lucky we’re friends, or I would have fired him years ago,” Taehyung says to Yeontan.

Yeontan bites down on his toy and shakes it ferociously, making it squeak a few times.

“Exactly,” Taehyung huffs as he hauls himself off the couch. When he walks past Yeontan, he gives the little guy some head scratches. “You always get me.”

As pathetic as it may be, sometimes Taehyung feels as though Yeontan is the only one who understands him. Sure, he’s a dog, but he’s Tannie, Taehyung’s pride and joy. When Taehyung and his previous partner broke up, Yeontan was the only thing Taehyung cared about. His ex could have wanted the entire company, and Taehyung would have given it to them if he could keep Yeontan. Luckily, it was an amicable split, but Taehyung still thinks about it whenever Yeontan does something devastatingly cute. He was always Taehyung’s dog anyway; Taehyung picked him out.

The thought of his ex peaks Taehyung’s lousy mood again. He scowls through his bedtime routine, practically showering with a permanent frown. It reminds him of the other reason why he doesn’t want to give up his suppressants: he doesn’t have a rut partner.

He doesn’t need one, but he will be miserable without one. Even the nurse asked Taehyung if he had a partner due to the potential severity of his deferred rut. Of course, Taehyung had lied and said yes. It seemed like the most logical thing to do if he wanted to avoid a lecture from Dr. Yun about the benefits of the hospital’s rut and heat partner services.

There’s no way Taehyung is letting his doctor find him a rut partner. He’s a grown adult. He’ll find one himself.

Or… maybe not.

It takes Taehyung nearly an hour to update his Tinder profile.

He has to redownload the app, and then he can’t remember his password. Far too many text message verification codes later, he sits in bed with a profile he hasn’t touched in at least three years. The photos on his profile are outdated, he has dozens of unread messages, and his settings are set to show him the profiles of omega women only– that makes him laugh, at least. It’s a tight, short laugh that’s more a huff of air than anything else because he doesn’t want to disturb the sheet mask he’s wearing.

“Good god,” Taehyung snorts as he lifts his half-empty glass of rosé to his lips. “Who let me use this app, Tannie? Why didn’t you stop me?”

When Yeontan hears his name, he opens one eye to stare at Taehyung from where he’s curled up in the bed’s blankets. There’s so much judgment in that one eye that Taehyung scowls some more.

Taehyung hardly used dating apps. By the time they became popular, he’d felt too old to dabble in them, or he’d been in a committed relationship. After the breakup, he humored Jimin by creating a profile – “just to try it out,” as Jimin said. Of course, it went nowhere because a man with exceptional wealth on Tinder only means one thing, and Taehyung is not interested in paying some twenty-year-old an allowance.

Changing the settings to diversify the gender pool of the omega profiles he sees, Taehyung snuggles deeper into his bed's warmth and begins swiping.

Jackson, 29

He’s edgy but pretty, rather muscular for an omega, which Taehyung likes, a DJ at a popular local nightclub. They match, and Taehyung isn’t surprised.

Taeyeon, 34

She looks promising, with a mature, almost otherworldly beauty that captures Taehyung’s attention, as do her interests in glassblowing and painting. It’s another match.

Seojoon, 35

Clean-cut, also owns a dog, and is extremely attractive, to the point that Taehyung wonders if he’s a catfish. Taehyung’s heart swells when he reads that Seojoon works as a veterinarian. Taehyung almost messages him when they match, but he closes out of the app in frustration.

He needs someone to fuck by the end of the day tomorrow, and he’s sitting in his bed imagining going on dog park dates with a random man on the internet.

“Goddamn it!” Taehyung curses and tosses his phone on his nightstand. He chugs the remaining wine before stomping into the bathroom to peel off his sheet mask.

At least his skin is clear.

The next day, Jimin comes over to pick up Yeontan. It isn’t unusual; Jimin often cares for Yeontan when Taehyung must go on business trips. Unfortunately, such trips are more common now that Taehyung has taken over as CEO of Kim Enterprises, allowing his father to retire. The old man would have kept on working, but Taehyung’s mother wouldn’t have it.

“You could have called me yourself, you know,” Jimin says with an annoyed pout as he slings Yeontan’s tote bag over his shoulder.

Taehyung doesn’t have any children, but Yeontan may as well be his child. Taehyung packed Yeontan’s food, toys, outfits (so cute!), snacks, and his favorite blanket in the tote – just in case.

“I was afraid to bother you,” Taehyung admits sheepishly, “And Yoongi offered, anyway.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Namjoon and I have been mated for three months, Tae. We’ve adjusted to life as a couple at this point. Stop acting like he’s on my knot 24/7.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Taehyung scrunches his nose.

“It’s what you’re thinking!”

“It is not.”

“Hmph.” Jimin watches Taehyung crouch to put Yeontan’s leash and collar on him.

When Taehyung stands, Jimin reaches for the hand that isn’t holding Yeontan’s leash. He gives it a little squeeze that matches the gentleness of his smile.

“I’m never too busy for you, Tae. You can always call me, alright? Especially this week, if you need anything.”

Embarrassed by his best friend’s ability to read him so well, Taehyung pulls Jimin into a hug for comfort and to hide his burning face.

“Thank you, Jiminie.”

“Of course!” Jimin pats Taehyung on the back of the head. “Now, go eat some food and take a shower. And put down some towels on your bed. And stash water bottles all over the place, okay? Maybe get a nice relaxing playlist to put on. Or porn. That could be nice, actually. You have that TV in your bedroom. Oh, and don’t try to fight it so much. I know how you’re always–”

“Jimin-ah, get out, come on. Tannie wants to go,” Taehyung hurries Jimin out of the door before he can embarrass him any further.

“You’re thirty-six years old, Kim Taehyung! You can handle rut talk, you big baby,” Jimin cackles over his shoulder as he walks to the elevator with an excited Yeontan leading the way.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t had a rut since I was in graduate school,” Taehyung mutters. Even then, the last time he experienced his rut, he’d had a partner to help him through it. Now look at him: just Taehyung and his right hand.

Taehyung listens to Jimin, though. He keeps water bottles and clean hand towels stocked in his bedroom. He plays his smooth jazz playlist as he cleans up his apartment, figuring it’d be best to get that out of the way before he devolves into an animal for a week.

He doesn’t keep a rotating playlist of porn going on his bedroom TV, but he has some favorite videos at his disposal if he really needs them.

Taehyung knows he shouldn’t feel so bothered by all of this, but he has gotten so accustomed to ignoring the alpha inside of him that he has grown afraid of it. Jimin often tries to talk to Taehyung about it, using himself as an example of an alpha who doesn’t take suppressants. Jimin is gentle and kind. He smells rich but sweet, like dark chocolate. Jimin is at peace with his alpha but also has an omega to keep him grounded. Namjoon is calm and level-headed, and his rose scent mingles prettily with Jimin’s.

It’s obvious that Jimin has figured himself out, like most people their age. At one point, Taehyung had thought he’d had himself figured out, too.

Exhaustion creeps through Taehyung’s body as the day passes. He knows it’s a sign that his rut is on the horizon, but he tries not to think about it. Instead, he forces himself to get work done. There’s the lawsuit that will be waiting for him when he returns to work – such a ridiculous thing he also doesn’t want to think about – and he supposes it would be best to get a head start on reading the documents Yoongi emails him.

By the time night falls, Taehyung is curled like a cooked shrimp over his laptop. His lower back is killing him from hunching over the coffee table while he sits on the couch, and his eyes burn.

Sending Yoongi a quick text that he’s logging off for the night – for the week, Taehyung closes his laptop and leans backward into the couch. He knows he’s being dramatic. All alphas go through this. He’ll be fine.

Taehyung wakes up with his hand shoved in his pajama pants. His fingers wrap around his hard cock, already sticky with cum. He must have had a wet dream – something that hasn’t happened since he was a teenager.

With a groan, Taehyung squeezes the head of his cock. More cum dribbles out of his slit, thicker than it usually is. It squelches when he begins pumping his cock in long, slow strokes. He’s so hard it aches. He’s so hard it hurts.

Heat swells from deep within Taehyung’s abdomen, prickling his skin as it travels through his body. He shoves his pants down his thighs and doesn’t bother kicking them off. He just needs enough room to take out his cock and run his hand along it without fabric restricting him.

It’s crazy how he feels his brain grow foggier by the second, as though the heat has made a sauna in his head and turned his brain into soup. He tries to push through it, to keep his mind focused on anything other than the repeated phrases echoing in his head.

Omega. Need omega. Breed, knot, omega, omega.

Instincts tell Taehyung to move quickly, to buck his hips hard and fast like he’s fucking his pups into a beautiful omega, a strong one who can handle being pinned down and taken, a healthy one who can raise their pups and keep Taehyung satisfied. Logic tells him to go slow, to take his time as he rolls his palm against the head of his cock and fondles his balls because the orgasm will feel better if he drags it out.

Taehyung ends up somewhere in between instincts and logic. He lies still on the bed, slightly propped up by his pillows, and glides his fist over his cock quickly. It’s easy with how wet he is.

“Fuuuuuck,” Taehyung throws his head back and hits it against his bed frame.

He’s full-on panting now, gasping for air amid guttural groans. His eyes screw shut, and he furrows his eyebrows so tightly it hurts his forehead. It’s too much, the pressure inside of him. It’s hot and tight, weighs on his chest, and burns him from the inside out. He wants to claw it out of himself.

Omega. Where is his omega?

He doesn’t have one. Why doesn’t he have one?

Taehyung’s mouth falls open in a long whine, something strangely dancing along the line between erotic and mournful. He quickly reaches down to squeeze his knot at the base of his cock, applying the pressure he instinctually needs to be able to finally cum.

He cums so hard he bites his bottom lip deep enough to puncture his skin. Blood leaks into his mouth, staining his teeth red and coating his tongue with the taste of metal. He doesn’t even notice the pain and can only focus on each spurt of wasted cum that paints his stomach and dribbles between his fingers. Cum that should be inside an omega.

Sweat rolls down his neck and gathers on the backs of his thighs. He’s still leaking cum, his cock twitching and spurting out more every few seconds. He can’t stop his hands from shaking but doesn’t want to let go of his knot because it still hasn’t gone down.

“I fucking hate this,” Taehyung moans, slumping back onto his pillows. “Fuck, I hate this.”

Everything is wrong. It’s all wrong. Taehyung smells wrong. Alone, just himself. There is nothing to mix with the potent alpha pheromones in the room, nothing to cut the edge off. His cum is everywhere. Wasted. He’s cold. His bed isn’t sorted right. There’s no omega touch to how his blankets lie on his bed. No sweet smell of an omega scenting his neck, his wrists, kissing him.

God, what would Taehyung give to be kissed right now?

His alpha calls for an omega, but he doesn’t have one. He’s a restless beast whose cage sits unlocked, yet he still paces inside, waiting for something that isn’t coming.

With a sigh, Taehyung cleans himself up with a towel and takes advantage of his post-nut clarity by getting himself breakfast. Even though it’s only been a few hours and he came twice, hunger gnaws at his stomach. He scarfs down rice and bulgogi with a faraway look in his eyes. He doesn’t even bother to sit down at the kitchen table.

It only takes a few minutes after he’s done eating for the desire to stir in the pit of his stomach once again. It’s worse now, like Taehyung’s alpha instincts are dragging him away, leaving him clawing at the ground in a futile attempt to keep his sanity.

His hands are so sweaty that he drops his phone a few times when he reaches for it. He needs something to make him feel less crazy, to ground him.

“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung moans into the phone once his friend picks up, shame making his cheeks catch fire.

“Oh, TaeTae. What do you need? Should I come over? Or call Dr. Yun?”

Taehyung presses his sweaty forehead against the cool marble kitchen counter and tries not to panic.

“Omega,” he hisses between gritted teeth.

“I know, Tae. It would be so much better if you weren’t alone; trust me, I know.”

“Don’t know what to do,” Taehyung whines and tries to fight the desperation clawing at his stomach. “God, Jimin-ah, I feel crazy.”

There’s nothing Jimin can do. He’s a mated alpha; Jimin couldn’t give Taehyung the comfort he needs, even if he wanted to. Taehyung knows this, but Jimin is his best friend, the first person he goes to when he needs something. Yoongi is a close second, but Yoongi is an omega, and Taehyung wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea if he called Yoongi while moaning like a horny monster.

“Stop shaming yourself and let go, okay? You’re not crazy; we all go through this. It’s natural. Stop trying to fight it.”

Taehyung wants to fight it. Maybe it’s because he’s alone, and he hates it. Maybe it’s because he’s never known true peace, and there’s this instinct inside of him to search for it. The thing about instincts is that they'll always win no matter how hard Taehyung tries to fight them.

“Hello! Welcome to Gangnam Aromatherapy. Do you have an appointment with us?”

Taehyung wants to say no. He wants to turn on his heel and march out of the clinic like a bat out of hell. He would’ve if Jimin wasn’t standing behind him with his fingers pressed into his lower back like a gun.

“He does!” Jimin perks up from over Taehyung’s shoulder. “With my fiancé, Dr. Kim.”

“Oh my gosh, Jimin-ssi, I didn’t even see you!” the receptionist giggles.

Her comment makes Jimin’s chocolate scent turn bitter. The change is so slight that no one would notice unless they knew Jimin well, and Taehyung likes to think he knows Jimin the best – aside, perhaps, from Namjoon.

“He’s kind of small, isn’t he?” Taehyung smirks when Jimin pinches his side through his t-shirt. “Easy to lose him.”

“Let’s get going, shall we? Don’t want to leave Namjoon waiting.” Jimin pokes Taehyung’s back again, forcing him to follow the receptionist through the door separating the clinic’s waiting room and the therapists’ offices.

The clinic looks like any therapist’s office. Nondescript doors line the hallway. Little sound machines on the floor near each door emit white noise to prevent accidental (or intentional) eavesdropping as people walk through the clinic. Taehyung has been to a therapist or two, though he doesn’t regularly attend sessions. He’s too busy for that kind of thing, even though Jimin harps on him about his mental health all the time.

“Have a good session,” the receptionist says with a polite bow once they reach Namjoon’s office.

Taehyung inhales deeply and pushes the door open, Jimin breathing down his neck. He’d ask him to leave, but there’s no getting in between Jimin and his Joonie.

They’re a cute couple, Taehyung has to admit. He stands to the side to let Jimin push past him and run around Namjoon’s desk. There’s Jimin, so small and dainty that no one ever expects him to be an alpha. And then Namjoon, a large, solidly-built omega. Taehyung knows it brings the two immense pleasure to shock people with their relationship.

It just goes to show how shitty making assumptions is.

“Taehyung-ah,” Namjoon greets, or at least attempts to, while Jimin peppers his face with kisses. “Jimin, please, I need to do my job.”

“It’s only Tae.”

“Jimin-ah, please.”

With a glare, Jimin crosses his arms against his chest and stalks off to plop on the couch on the opposite side of the room. It’s a rather big office, which makes sense, considering Namjoon owns the therapy clinic and is the lead practitioner.

“Hey Joon,” Taehyung greets with a boxy grin. When Namjoon walks around the desk to clasp Taehyung’s hand in his, the two men pull each other in and clap their hands against each other’s backs.

“Are you okay with Jimin staying?” Namjoon asks before sitting down in the armchair in front of his desk.

Taehyung nods and follows Namjoon’s lead, sitting in the armchair opposite him. There’s no need for privacy between the two men; they share everything already. Jimin isn’t even interested in what’s going on. He’s already consumed by his phone.

Still, Taehyung appreciates that Namjoon asks.

“So…” Taehyung sits back in the armchair, admiring how soft the fabric is against his skin. “What am I supposed to do?”

It’s been nearly three months since Taehyung has been off suppressants, and a trip to Dr. Yun’s office told him that his hormone levels are still irregular. He didn’t need a doctor’s appointment to know that. He has felt off ever since his rut. All his previous symptoms remain, but what’s worse is his heightened feeling of loneliness. He may seem fine now, cracking jokes at Jimin’s expense and smiling with Namjoon, but behind the closed door of his apartment, Taehyung has been miserable. Not even little Yeontan can cheer him up for long.

When Taehyung mentioned Namjoon’s clinic – at the demand of Jimin – Dr. Yun recommended that Taehyung try out scent therapy.

“Normally, new clients meet individually with all of our available therapists to find a good match. However, knowing you, I thought doing a traditional meeting would be a bit… overwhelming.”

Namjoon is right. The idea of back-to-back meetings with omega therapists to find the one whose scent is the most calming to his alpha sounds like a stimulation nightmare. Taehyung is extremely testy right now, though he thinks he has gotten better at managing himself, considering the circumstances. There was some truth to a natural cycle being good for him; Taehyung will admit that.

“Thanks,” Taehyung says simply.

“Of course,” Namjoon smiles, “I had to get creative with an alternative process, so I came up with these.”

Namjoon adjusts his glasses and reaches over to grab a small stack of manila envelopes held together with a rubber band. Removing the band, he chooses one of the envelopes and hands it to Taehyung.

“You can open them. I don’t want my scent to taint them,” Namjoon encourages Taehyung.

Inside, the envelope has a single piece of fabric. It’s square and a deep, royal purple. Taehyung guesses it’s made of cotton from the way it feels.

“Do I…?” He slowly lifts the fabric to his nose when Namjoon nods.

“I had each of our therapists scent the fabric for you. They’re different colors, so you can examine all of them to see how you feel, and I can let you know which therapist you’ve picked. This also prevents other factors from influencing your decision, so it should be the least biased process,” Namjoon explains. “If it’s alright, I’ll step out with Jimin. Let you have some quiet time to think?”

Once Jimin and Namjoon are gone, Taehyung analyzes the fabrics. There are six, more than Taehyung expected. There should be at least one omega in this batch who would agree with Taehyung’s alpha, right?

The thing is, Taehyung doesn’t know what to look for. He can, for the most part, distinguish the scents of each fabric. The purple one smells like crisp apples; the pink, like vanilla. The orange one reminds him of the smell of the sea in the summer, and the blue one smells floral, like lilacs. The green fabric smells, funnily enough, like freshly cut grass.

Taehyung brings the sixth fabric to his nose, inhales slowly, and tries not to think about how weird his life is now. This square is yellow and smells sweet and doughy, like a bakery.

None of the scents are bad, but none of them necessarily do anything for him. What they’re supposed to do, Taehyung has no idea. Is he supposed to feel goosebumps or something? Is he supposed to get the alpha urge to howl?

Maybe he’s broken. Perhaps the suppressants have completely fucked up his system.

Taehyung returns the fabrics to their envelopes and uses the rubber band to hold them together again. Disappointment floods his system, but he tries to keep the sinking feeling from dragging him down too deeply into the depression already clouding him. Jimin would tell him that he’s not a failure. Hell, Namjoon would tell him that, too. But they don’t understand what it’s like to feel helpless and alone like Taehyung does while he plummets toward losing his grip on his body and mind.

Resigned to tell Namjoon that none of the omega therapists will work for him, Taehyung slouches in the armchair and waits. All he can think about is how many omegas there are in this building and how he can’t force his mind to clear for any of them.

Poor Namjoon went out of his way to make Taehyung comfortable and for nothing. Guilt bites at Taehyung’s chest, even though it isn’t his fault. Not really.

When the door to the office swings open, Taehyung’s heart leaps out of his chest. He digs his fingers into the armchair and tries to calm himself down, his alpha not liking that Namjoon could sneak up on him while he was distracted by his thoughts.

“Oh, sorry, I was looking for Namj– uh, Dr. Kim,” a voice Taehyung doesn’t recognize rushes through an apology.

Taking a deep breath, Taehyung focuses on channeling the spike of panic welling up in his chest from being caught off guard into more productive, positive energy. He’s been doing a better job of keeping his cool since his rut, though he’s still far testier than normal.

Surprisingly, instead of frustration or stress boiling fresh and hot under his skin, Taehyung feels… relaxed?

The scent that hits him when he inhales is that of an omega. It’s fresh and delicate but cut sharp with an edge that adds a unique layer to the scent, unlike anything Taehyung has ever experienced. The sweet smell is brushed with a hint of acidity that deepens the longer Taehyung sits rigid in his chair. Taehyung’s rude behavior likely puts off the omega.

For some reason, the thought that he could be causing the omega discomfort severely disturbs Taehyung. He turns around in his chair, then quickly stands to bow at the omega hovering in the doorway. The bow is low and lasts long enough to make the omega sputter.

“Please, oh my gosh, please stand up,” the omega’s words rush out as he waves his hands at Taehyung as if to beckon him to straighten his posture.

The omega’s scent spikes with embarrassment. Taehyung has to swallow because it’s so sweet that it smells almost juicy, and he can’t let himself stand there with a watering mouth like some kind of a knothead. Taking mercy on the poor man, Taehyung stands to his full height and finally gets a good look at who the omega is that smells of fresh peaches.

If Taehyung thought the omega’s scent was heavenly, he can’t begin to construct a coherent thought about how stunning the omega is.

Round, timid eyes stare back at him. The omega’s gaze doesn’t leave Taehyung’s face, even as Taehyung lets his own roam the omega. His slightly parted lips are a pretty pink, and his cheeks are dusted a rosy shade to match. He raises his hand to tuck a strand of dark hair behind his ear, making the silver hoops lining the lobe clink together.

Like his scent, the omega is sweet with an edge. He looks soft in all the right places, with a smooth slope to his nose and pretty dips to his collarbones, somewhat exposed by the stretched-out collar of his black t-shirt. The rest of him is hidden under baggy clothes, black cargo pants tight at the waist but loose around the legs, and chunky black sneakers.

Taehyung has seen this omega before. They’ve never met, but Taehyung recognizes him from the photos framed on the walls in Namjoon’s apartment and tagged Instagram posts.

The omega parts his lips further, the tip of his tongue touching the back of his front teeth as though he’s about to speak, but he’s cut off by the office door swinging open.

“Jungkook-ah! You can’t just barge into my office whenever you want just because you’re my little brother. There are laws against that,” Namjoon huffs, though the exasperated sound does nothing to dampen the affectionate look he gives his brother. Namjoon stands behind the omega, Jungkook, and grabs him by his shoulders to steer him further into the room.

“Hyung, I didn’t mean to,” Jungkook challenges with a pout. He tries turning his head to look at Namjoon but nearly trips over the rug adorning the sitting around in front of Namjoon’s desk.

“Oh, don’t be so hard on our Jungkookie.” Jimin skips into the office, wearing a matching pout. After a moment, his eyes land on Taehyung, who is still standing between the two armchairs at Namjoon’s desk. His eyebrows raise, almost as though he’d forgotten that Taehyung was even there.

“TaeTae, did we disturb you? Joon! Taehyung’s fabrics,” Jimin frantically waves at the bundle of envelopes Taehyung forgot that he’s holding.

“Oh no,” Namjoon says softly, “We’re ruining the whole thing with our scents, Taehyung, I apologize. One of them is still open.”

The energy, conflicting scents, and number of people in the room are overwhelming. More prone to overstimulation now, Taehyung’s senses are on overdrive as he struggles to keep up with the other three men talking over each other. His eyes play tennis, bouncing between Jimin and Namjoon, unsure which one of them is supposed to be giving him comfort when both are fussing over an experiment that didn’t even work.

“Are you okay?”

Jungkook touches Taehyung’s hand that’s holding the envelopes. His fingers slip around Taehyung’s wrist, and lightly press the soft inside where his pulse throbs under the delicate skin. The two lock eyes, Jungkook’s still round and timid, while Taehyung’s are bright and wild.

“I’m…” Taehyung’s words anchor themselves in his throat as his gaze drops from Jungkook’s face to watch the omega slide his hand over Taehyung’s, causing their wrists to rub against each other.

Jungkook is scenting him right here in the middle of Namjoon’s office, in front of his older brother and his older brother’s fiance. They don’t even actually know each other and have only heard about each other from Namjoon and Jimin. Despite this, Jungkook makes one of the most intimate gestures someone can make, almost exclusively reserved for family members and mates and, on occasion, very close friends.

Taehyung adores Jimin, and even they rarely scent each other.

“Honey,” Jungkook whispers, and Taehyung’s eyes grow wide.

“Excuse me?” Namjoon demands loudly.

The question makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a deeper pink, and he quickly retracts his arm. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his baggy cargo pants and refuses to look at anyone.

“He smells like honey, is what I meant to say.”

Licking his chapped lips, Taehyung inhales deeply once again, this time smelling his honey scent intermingled with Jungkook’s peaches.

For the first time in months, maybe even nearly a year, Taehyung feels his alpha settle. It isn’t necessarily satiated; there’s something more that it needs, though he doesn’t know what, not in the moment. There’s too much going on for him to tap into himself and truly listen to what’s inside him the way Dr. Yun and Namjoon have advised him. However, Taehyung knows something is happening, and it’s somewhat terrifying.

“Omega,” Taehyung says hoarsely, fingers digging into the back of the armchair. Namjoon’s envelopes are scattered across the floor, some of the fabrics falling out. He can practically hear each neck snap in his direction.

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin scolds as though Taehyung is a child misbehaving, “I recognize that you’re overwhelmed right now, but you cannot talk to people like that, and you know it.”

Taehyung would be embarrassed, but he can’t help the excitement that unfurls inside his chest. It may sound crazy, but he feels like he wants to… howl.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, taking a deep breath and inhaling peaches and honey. His entire body tingles. He can sense how confused Jungkook is, and all he wants is to reassure him that he’s not some kind of freak.

He’s just a nice guy who is losing his mind over a pretty omega who smells like he could be… Taehyung’s omega.

“I’m sorry. I am… well, I’m here,” Taehyung says with a strained laugh as he gestures around the room.

Understanding, Jungkook shyly looks up at Taehyung through his fringe bangs and gives him a small smile.

“Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon calls out.

“Hmm?” Jungkook doesn’t take his eyes off Taehyung; he is still timid but unafraid.

“Can you please get Taehyung some water? There should be bottles in the fridge in the back.”

Jungkook seems reluctant to leave the room. He gives Taehyung yet another smile, something gentle and meant only for Taehyung, until the door closes behind him.

Alone with his friends, Taehyung exhales for what feels like the first time. It takes everything in his power not to rip through the door and follow Jungkook. He wants to so badly. The urge is strong enough that he has to force his attention somewhere else and hold in the whine that threatens to slip from somewhere deep in his chest.

The problem is that Taehyung can’t hide his distressed scent from Namjoon and Jimin. It’s embarrassing to have such a severe reaction to another person. Never in Taehyung’s life has he ever behaved like that.

Well, not until his instincts decided to regress.

Taehyung gathers Namjoon’s envelopes, haphazardly stuffing the fabrics back inside, and holds them out to Namjoon with a weak expression.

“I don’t know what has come over me,” Taehyung admits quietly.

No one acknowledges his outstretched arm and how it trembles with the force of keeping himself rooted to his spot in Namjoon’s office and not throwing himself out into the hallway in search of Jungkook.

He must be touch-starved. That is the only explanation Taehyung can come up with for why he reacted so strongly to Jungkook scenting him.

“What the hell just happened?” Jimin echoes Taehyung’s thoughts.

Jimin turns to Namjoon with something furiously protective in his eyes. It’s an alpha stare, one Taehyung has unfortunately become familiar with.

Namjoon looks lost in thought, his eyes flitting from the envelopes in Taehyung’s hand to his closed office door. After a few painfully silent moments, he lets out a long sigh.

“I think Taehyung just imprinted on Jungkook.”

The cool autumn breeze forces Taehyung to keep his suit jacket on despite his desire to take it off. He feels stuffy wearing it, sticking out amongst the other people, spending their crisp afternoon meandering the park. The other park-goers don athletic wear or well-loved jeans and comfy sweaters. Meanwhile, Taehyung looks like a pretentious prick in his pinstriped designer suit, silver cufflinks, and Chelsea boots. He wears his hair short and slicked back, but the breeze has pulled out a few stray hairs.

Sniffling from the chill at the tip of his nose, Taehyung smells Jungkook before he sees him. He lifts his head from where he’d been watching a little bird peck at crackers spilled on the sidewalk and catches a glimpse of the omega rounding the corner, passing the surprisingly quiet playground.

It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to reach the bench where Taehyung sits, a bundled-up blob of a man, a slumped sack of potatoes barely hanging onto gravity.

“Hi,” Taehyung whispers, almost letting the wind take his words with the leaves that skitter across the ground.

When had the seasons changed? Taehyung feels like the moment he met Jungkook, the rest of the world passed him by.

“Hi, Taehyung-ssi,” Jungkook is polite and still timid, even though it has been a few weeks since the two men have begun their daily meetings. “How are you doing?”

Taehyung scoots over so Jungkook can sit beside him on the bench. They twist to face each other, knees almost touching. Taehyung’s arm is slung across the back of the bench. Jungkook sits with his hands clasped between his thighs.

They’ve gone about this all backward, and it’s Taehyung’s fault.

“Would it be silly of me to say that I feel better now that you’re here?” It’s true; Taehyung doesn’t have to say it because they both know it’s true.

Namjoon was correct; Taehyung imprinted on Jungkook. That’s why he can hardly stand going a day without seeing the omega. If he thought the alpha aggression and loneliness were debilitating, not having Jungkook by his side makes his life a living hell. If it weren’t for these daily meetings that Namjoon considers a strange way of Taehyung receiving the scent therapy he needs, Taehyung would be even more of an uncontrollable disaster than he had been before.

“Yes, because you say that every day,” Jungkook admits with a giggle. He is still so shy, even when Taehyung has done his best to be approachable.

“We probably look silly to everyone else here, some stuffy old alpha with such a pretty omega. May as well be silly, too.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose and rolls his eyes, but Taehyung can sense the satisfied feeling that’s making his scent sweeter. Since having these little moments with Jungkook, Taehyung has discovered that the omega enjoys praise, no matter how small. It’s cute. Everything Jungkook does is cute.

Taehyung knows he’s entering dangerous territory, but his alpha craves the man sitting beside him all bundled up in an oversized hoodie and tapered joggers. Comfort. That’s what Jungkook brings Taehyung. It’s in his rounded eyes, and bunny smile, his playful demeanor and gentle way of dealing with the nonsense Taehyung has accidentally dragged him into.

“You aren’t old,” Jungkook mumbles. He hides his hand in his sleeve and uses his sweater paw to brush at his reddened nose.

“I feel old.”

“Age is a mindset.”

Taehyung fidgets with one of the buttons of his suit jacket and fights the urge to pop it off. He wants to hold Jungkook because he knows he’s cold, and his alpha instincts tell him to take care of him. Taehyung can’t, though. They’re acquaintances at best. Jungkook is kind enough to spend time with Taehyung, even if it’s during Jungkook’s lunch break before he returns to his job at the local art museum, working as an exhibit designer.

Eventually, the imprint bond will wear off. Dr. Yun told Taehyung that it will take time, and he’ll likely be miserable once it was clear that Jungkook’s omega has rejected him, but he’ll eventually get over it. It’s for the best.

What a ridiculous thing, Taehyung thinks, to have gone his whole life ignoring his alpha instincts in the hopes of avoiding the very problems he has now created for himself.

“I’m sorry, peaches,” Taehyung apologizes softly, the little nickname he has given Jungkook flowing easily from his lips.

While Taehyung talks, Jungkook reaches for the hand that’s picking at his jacket’s button. He gently pulls Taehyung’s fingers away from the button and intertwines them with his own. He gives Taehyung a small smile, and Taehyung’s scent spikes with uncontrollable happiness, making Jungkook blush.

“You apologize too much.”

“I’ve thrust myself onto you, a total stranger, completely upending your daily life simply so I can prevent myself from being more of a menace to the world than I already am.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes again, but Taehyung focuses on how nice it feels to have Jungkook run his thumb along the sensitive spot on his wrist. It’s a subtle gesture, not quite scenting him but still providing comfort.

"We aren’t total strangers. I knew of you through Namjoon hyung and Jimin hyung,” Jungkook points out as he raises his hand, fingers still laced with Taehyung’s. “Whenever they would visit me in Ilsan, Jimin hyung never shut up about you. I felt like I knew you already, with how much he’d talk. I would tease Joonie hyung all the time about it.”

Jungkook pauses to rub their knuckles against his cheek. Taehyung’s body goes slack with the little touches. He leans against the bench and lets his head tilt to the side.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter close, eyelashes lying prettily on the apples of his cheeks. It isn’t only Taehyung who appreciates the closeness his imprint bond requires from the two of them. Sometimes Taehyung wonders if Jungkook is lonely, too, but he doesn’t ask him.

“How mean of a little doll like you. What would you say?” Taehyung asks if only to see Jungkook’s silly smile as he recounts the memories.

“Oh, you know, bad things! Like, ‘Ahh, Joonie hyung, I think Jiminie hyung may have another boyfriend,’ silly things like that.”

“I believe Namjoon would kill me.”

Jungkook’s eyes open but stay crinkled from grinning. “He would.”

“Namjoon spoke a lot about you, too,” Taehyung enjoys admitting this because he knows it will make Jungkook grow pink with embarrassment. “So often bragging about his genius of a little brother, an omega with a good head on his shoulders and fierce determination in his heart.”

“Stop it,” Jungkook squeezes Taehyung’s hand. “He said no such thing.”

Taehyung only grins.

Maybe he’s laying it on a bit thick, but he likes how giggly Jungkook grows, and it helps the omega relax more in Taehyung’s presence.

Talking to Jungkook is easy. Conversation flows from them effortlessly, bouncing from one topic to another without any hitches or awkward pauses. Jungkook may still be shy, but he comes alive the longer they sit at the park bench — or the coffee shop, restaurant, or library they’ve met at before.

Taehyung tries not to feel like their meetings are dates, but more often than not, he checks his hair in his car’s mirror before rushing to their meeting place for the day and has taken to bringing Jungkook little gifts. Usually, they’re simple, like buying him a coffee before he arrives at the coffee shop or gifting him a scarf when they spend their meetings outdoors.

Taehyung knows this urge to spoil Jungkook is a sign of wanting to court him, but he doesn’t try to fight it. Dr. Yun and Jimin have told him that fighting his instincts will only worsen it. Still, he feels terrible, as though he’s forcing a pseudo-relationship onto Jungkook, all because he can’t keep his alpha in check.

A gentle, tinkling alarm rings from Taehyung’s pocket, interrupting Jungkook’s enthusiastic recounting of an unfortunate mishap at work involving an intern shattering a glass case meant to project some ancient artifact.

“Capitalism is calling to you, little peach,” Taehyung smiles as he disables the alarm. It’s a pained upturn of his lips, unnatural because he knows what’s coming next.

It always hurts first in the ache of Taehyung’s bones, eventually creeping throughout his body until loneliness manifests like a disease inside him. At night, it’s the worst.

Who would have thought that meeting a pretty omega when Taehyung is in such a vulnerable state would cause him to imprint? Taehyung didn’t even know that was possible; it sounded so much like a myth or something ancient that their kind had left behind through evolution.

Yet here he is, craving this pretty boy with dazzling eyes and a smile that makes Taehyung dizzy.

“Maybe tomorrow you can visit me at the museum? To see the exhibit I’m working on?” Jungkook lets go of Taehyung’s hand. It grows cold quickly, and Taehyung tucks it into the pocket of his slacks.

The request feels significant like Jungkook is accepting Taehyung into his space, a decision omegas don’t take lightly. Or maybe Taehyung is assuming something more because of the circumstances.

“I would love to.”

It’s Taehyung’s honest answer. All he can be is honest when his scent speaks for him, growing rich with excitement at the prospect that this omega wants him to be closer. Taehyung knows that even if this strange bond didn’t exist between them, he’d still want Jungkook just as much.

Taehyung stands when Jungkook does, offering to walk with him to the park’s exit, where Jungkook will walk to the nearby museum, and Taehyung will drive back to his office. He never knows how to end their meetings. They tend to feel incomplete, a steady stream of moments that get cut off, only to join with the next the following day, like scrawled cursive too messy to read.

“Same time tomorrow?” Taehyung asks with his hands shoved in his pockets and his collar popped to protect him from the wind.

“Yes, please,” Jungkook’s smile can’t be dimmed, no matter how dreary the weather is, with gray clouds blotting the sky.

Taehyung ducks his head to nod goodbye, but Jungkook’s hand catches him by the shoulder. He squeezes his eyes shut as Jungkook leans into him.

So carefully that it almost seems like Taehyung imagines it, Jungkook pulls back the collar of Taehyung’s jacket to expose his throat. With a sharp inhale, Jungkook drags his nose along Taehyung’s neck, pausing a bit longer to breathe against Taehyung’s scent gland.

“Oh,” Taehyung shudders, his body feeling just like honey, warm and goopy. Goosebumps prickle his skin as Jungkook’s hot breath mixes with the cool autumn breeze.

“See you tomorrow, Taehyung-ssi,” Jungkook whispers against Taehyung’s skin before pulling away.

There’s a small smile, one that shows bunny teeth and the tip of Jungkook’s tongue poking out, and then he’s walking away, the wind ruffling his shaggy hair.

Taehyung takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the ache in his chest as he watches Jungkook go.

Jungkook is a nail-biter.

Taehyung watches him bring his pinky finger to his mouth and chew at a hangnail while he hunches over his laptop. He sits with both legs crossed under him, his thick-rimmed glasses pushed up on his nose. They’re at a local coffee shop, spending time together while Jungkook applies for graduate programs in museum studies. It’s daunting, but Taehyung is here to keep him on track.

Allegedly.

“Sorry,” Jungkook says shyly, a blush forming on his cheeks.

“For what?” Taehyung lifts his face from looking down at his phone, aimlessly scrolling through Instagram, and ignoring his full email inbox.

“My eomma gets annoyed with me sitting like this.”

Taehyung’s lips quirk slightly. The whole idea of finding joy in the simple things in life is an important part of holding onto Taehyung’s sanity. If sitting cross-legged in a chair brings joy, to hell with whoever walks past them in this coffee shop and doesn’t find Jungkook undeniably adorable.

“This is a judgment-free zone, sweets,” Taehyung says with an exaggerated air of authority. He scoots slightly back to also cross his legs in his chair, accidentally bumping Jungkook in the process. “We sit however we want in this house.”

“Oh, Tae, this is a coffee shop.”

Taehyung waves away the correction. “I could buy this coffee shop.”

With a snort, Jungkook reaches for his drink and smiles around the straw.

“That’s very sexy of you.”

Jungkook sets his drink down and returns to working on his graduate school research, but Taehyung can hardly do anything but stare into the void. How freely Jungkook had spoken those words… They swirl around in Taehyung’s head until he can’t think of anything else.

When it grows too cold to take walks in the park, and they’ve run out of new cafes to try, Taehyung and Jungkook begin spending time at Taehyung’s apartment.

Having Jungkook over for the first time should have felt awkward, but it didn’t. They’ve spent enough time getting to know each other that all Taehyung felt was a wave of endearment when Jungkook stood in his doorway for the first time, toes wiggling in his stupid toe socks that Taehyung hates but still somehow finds adorable, eyes looking everywhere but at Taehyung’s face out of embarrassment.

By now, they’ve worked their way up to occasional glances across the room, Taehyung always holding the stare while Jungkook gives up rather quickly. The low chuckle it brings out of Taehyung usually makes Jungkook pout, too cute for his own good.

“So, why are you getting sued?” Jungkook asks one evening as he sorts through a stack of papers on Taehyung’s coffee table.

The two men sit cross-legged at the coffee table in matching pajamas gifted by Namjoon to match his and Jimin’s for the adult sleepover he threw for Jimin’s birthday. Even little Yeontan, who is determined to rip apart one of Jungkook’s socks, got a little sweater to match. Taehyung would have scowled at such a ridiculous gift earlier in the year. Now, he cherishes the soft purple clothing, wearing it more often than even his favorite silk pajama set.

“God,” Taehyung groans. “Woosung, the bastard. He’s suing me, claiming I unlawfully fired him after he was accused of plagiarizing a design for a major project we’re working on out of Daegu.”

Taehyung is distracted as he talks, staring at himself in the forward-facing camera of his phone, trying to use a sparkly pink hair clip Jungkook gave him to pin his bangs back. They keep falling over his forehead and sticking to his clay face mask.

“If he plagiarized, isn’t he in the wrong?” Jungkook pouts while he takes a sip of red wine.

“One would think.” Taehyung drops his arms in defeat. The hair clip thumps against the fuzzy rug beneath them. “This is the part of owning a company I dislike the most.”

“Getting sued?”

Taehyung reaches for his wine – white because he doesn’t like how dry the red is.

“No,” Taehyung says after a moment of contemplation, “It may sound privileged of me to say, but I hate being backed into a corner where I must make decisions that have such a significant impact on other people’s lives. To fire someone or make changes to the company impacts not only the organization, but also every life that touches it. Partners, children, customers, myself. Ah, I don’t know how to explain it…”

Jungkook sets his glass down and beckons to Taehyung.

“Come here.”

It feels nice, Jungkook’s fingers slipping through Taehyung’s hair. Jungkook scoots closer, getting on his knees to kneel in front of Taehyung, brandishing the hair clip. Taehyung takes a deep breath and leans into Jungkook’s touch.

“You have to press down kind of hard, but you’ll hear it click,” Jungkook explains quietly—the hair clip slides into place, securing Taehyung’s bangs.

Jungkook is close enough for Taehyung to feel his breath tickle his skin. He looks up at the concentrated look on Jungkook’s face as he fusses with Taehyung’s hair to keep it out of the way. They both wear clay face masks that would be difficult to wash out of their hair. Even Jungkook’s hair is tied up, his bangs looking like a little sprout atop his head.

“Your job sounds stressful.” Jungkook sits back on his heels and appraises Taehyung’s new hairdo. Taehyung is sure he looks ridiculous, but Jungkook is pleased with what he’s done.

“It is.”

“Is that why you went all Big Bad Alpha on everyone?” The question is teasing, but Jungkook’s expression is kind as he gazes at Taehyung, who tilts his head to look at him.

Has all of this been because of his job? Perhaps. Taehyung hasn’t thought about it since getting to know Jungkook. It seems all he is worried about is getting through each morning so he can reward himself with a visit from Jungkook at lunch and then suffer through the rest of the day, knowing he’ll at least see Jungkook again.

“Maybe.”

“You should get a new job.”

Taehyung laughs, a rough sound pushed up from deep in his chest.

“You’re cute, peaches,” Taehyung smiles and blames it on the wine.

They can also pretend the wine is why Jungkook’s cheeks grow pink underneath the face mask.

“You’re cute, too, hyung,” Jungkook huffs as though it pains him to admit it, but a smile plays at his lips. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Taehyung doesn’t know where to focus his gaze, sliding from Jungkook’s pretty eyes to his pretty lips, which he wets when he notices Taehyung looking at them.

“Will I need to take it to my grave?” Taehyung asks absentmindedly, his breath shuddering through his lungs. “I’m a bit of a gossip. It comes with old age and boredom.”

“Is getting sued and imprinting on a strange omega not exciting enough for you?” Jungkook teases.

Taehyung licks his lips and meets Jungkook’s eyes. They’re bright and different from how heavy his scent falls on Taehyung.

“You are far from strange. And you could never bore me. I’m quite fond of our talks.”

Jungkook slides his fingers through the hair at the side of Taehyung’s head, letting his nails gently dig into his scalp.

“Is that all that you like? Talking with me?”

Jungkook runs his nails down the back of Taehyung’s neck. It’s fairly innocent; despite how riled up the conversation is making Taehyung, he can tell from Jungkook’s timidness that he doesn’t mean it to be as seductive as it is.

“I like looking at you,” Taehyung is always honest to a fault. He catches Jungkook’s wrist and brings his hand around to hold the side of his face. “I like it when you scent me, too. A lot. It makes the storm inside me settle.”

“Because of the imprinting.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Because you are lovely, and I have come to enjoy our time together. Immensely.”

“I think I would enjoy it if you kissed me,” Jungkook whispers, so impossibly close. “That’s my secret. You can take it to the grave or shout it from the rooftops, but only if you’d enjoy kissing me, too.”

“We have clay smeared all over our faces.”

Jungkook huffs, “I don’t care, hyung.”

Taehyung grips the back of Jungkook’s head and pulls him forward as he lifts his face to capture his lips. It’s slow and gentle, nibbling and sucking each other’s bottom lips languidly. The kiss tastes like clay, and makes the dry masks crack around the crease of their mouths and the hollows of their cheeks, but neither man cares.

Taehyung especially doesn’t care when he inhales the smell of slick as Jungkook deepens their kiss with the flick of his tongue against Taehyung’s.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung groans into Jungkook’s mouth. His hands find Jungkook’s waist, so slim that Taehyung can wrap his hands around him in a firm grip that gives him complete control over where Jungkook moves.

With a small whimper, Jungkook pulls away before Taehyung can coax him to sit in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook breathes heavily as he tries to calm himself down. “I don’t usually, um, do this.”

“Eat clay face masks while you kiss someone?” Taehyung teases, not needing Jungkook to explain. Taehyung rarely becomes intimate with someone so spontaneously, though he has spent hours a day with Jungkook for months. Their presence in each other’s lives is a given at this point.

Besides, Taehyung’s alpha has never yearned for anyone like it yearns for Jungkook.

“It doesn’t taste very good,” Jungkook says with a pout. He stands and holds his hand out for Taehyung to take, hauling him to his feet.

“Did you think clay would?”

Jungkook sticks his tongue out as he follows Taehyung into the bathroom.

“No.”

“Would you like to know what does taste good?”

It’s a trap, and Jungkook knows it, but he falls into it anyway when he rolls his eyes at Taehyung through the bathroom mirror and asks, “What?”

“You.”

An elbow to the rib that makes Taehyung gasp. A splash of water that wets the front of Jungkook’s shirt.

The bathroom becomes a warzone, soap bottles knocked over and drops of water dotting the mirror. Taehyung nearly slips into the bathtub, and Jungkook has to catch him with a fistful of his shirt to yank him up.

“I’m never coming over ever again!” Jungkook yelps with a face streaked by water and clay. He looks like he’s crying, and his tone is petulant, but the bathroom is full of the sweet pheromones of his happiness. “No more time spent with alpha.”

Taehyung freezes where he stands hunched over the bathroom sink, palms holding water he plans to splash on his face to clean himself up. He slowly turns toward Jungkook, who is bright red beneath the green-gray clay muddling his skin.

“I—”

“What did you just call me, Jungkook?”

“Oh my gosh, Tae,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling instead of dealing with Taehyung’s heavy gaze.

“No, I want to hear you say it again.”

Jungkook shakes his head.

“Oh, my little peach,” Taehyung wipes his hands dry and grabs Jungkook by the wrists, pulling him closer, “You can’t pretend to be shy now.”

“I am shy!”

Jungkook chews the inside of his cheek, and Taehyung wants to chew him.

“Tell me, Jungkook,” Taehyung whispers and tugs on Jungkook’s wrists again, making him stumble forward.

“No.”

“Say it again, Koo.”

“No!”

Taehyung bites his bottom lip to hide a grin as he leans in to nuzzle Jungkook’s neck. His cheek smears clay all over Jungkook’s skin, around his throat, up to the edge of his jaw as Taehyung scents him.

“Jungkook-ah, tell me,” Taehyung whispers against the curve of Jungkook’s ear, “Tell me what you just called me.”

Jungkook shivers in Taehyung’s embrace, the heady smell of his slick making Taehyung’s mouth water.

“Alpha, okay?” Jungkook’s lips quiver, “I called you alpha.”

Taehyung hums against Jungkook’s skin before releasing his wrists and stepping back.

“Good boy.”

More embarrassed than he is scandalized, Jungkook shoves Taehyung into the hallway and slams the bathroom door shut.

“Leave me alone!” he shouts through the door.

“Jungkook-ah, this is my apartment!”

“I don’t care!”

Taehyung’s laughter is drowned out by Jungkook, who turns the bathroom sink’s faucet on all the way. The bathroom is already a mess, and Taehyung enjoys poking at Jungkook’s sensitive spots now that he’s learning what they are. It’s much more fun than answering Yoongi’s emails about getting sued or worrying about his hormone levels every time Dr. Yun schedules him for more bloodwork.

Taehyung uses the second bathroom to clean himself up and realizes he can’t remember what it was like to be this content with himself before his alpha became so unsettled. He supposes it doesn’t matter. Imprint bonds or not, Taehyung is happy to have Jungkook in his life.

For a while, Jungkook lives with Namjoon and Jimin. According to him, it isn’t ideal, and Taehyung doesn’t blame him for wanting to find his own apartment as soon as possible. Namjoon and Jimin may not be attached to Jimin’s knot all the time. Still, when Namjoon’s heat hits, Taehyung finds himself opening his apartment up for Jungkook beyond their nights of giggling over wine and court summons, sneaking kisses and pretending they hadn’t.

“Please take care of Jungkook; he’s like my child,” Jimin sighs dramatically as he hands over Jungkook’s backpack to Taehyung.

They’re hovering in the entryway to Taehyung’s apartment. Everything important in his life seems to occur in a doorway, always half in and half out. What does that say about Taehyung?

“Why do I feel like I’m getting dropped off at a sleepover by my mom?” Jungkook accuses with a pout that Taehyung can’t help but bark a laugh at.

“This is exactly how Taehyung behaved when I took Yeontan during his rut,” Jimin snickers, “But don’t worry, Jungkookie. I won’t make you stay here for a week and a half.”

Jungkook spins around to stare at Taehyung with wide eyes.

“Your rut lasted a week and a half ?”

Taehyung scoffs and crosses his arms against his chest, showing both men his cheek to avoid looking at them.

“It was ten days.”

“Taehyung being on suppressants was a blessing for all the omegas he was with. I can’t imagine what it would be like to get fucked for ten days straight,” Jimin says with a slow shake of his head, really playing up the dramatics of it all.

Jungkook’s incredulous expression never weakens.

“You went through a ten-day rut alone?” he asks, turning to Jimin to get confirmation when Taehyung doesn’t respond.

Just as Jimin opens his mouth, Taehyung cuts in.

“Alright, that’s enough of sharing my private information; get out,” Taehyung uncrosses his arms and shoves Jimin toward the door. “I’m sure your omega is waiting for you, goodbye.”

Jimin blows Jungkook a few last kisses before Taehyung shuts the door in his face. He would feel bad for his aggressive behavior, if it weren’t for the cackle he gets in response.

“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” Jungkook says softly. He reaches for Taehyung’s hand, passing up his fingers to rub their wrists together instead. “Can we order food? Jimin treats me like a baby but doesn’t take care of me, and now I’m hungry.”

Driven by the desire to provide for the pretty omega staying with him for the next few days, Taehyung takes Jungkook’s stuff to the guest bedroom, and then the two of them hang out at the kitchen table, chairs scooted together to look at their food options to order.

“I’m not upset about your questions, little peach,” Taehyung finally responds to Jungkook’s apology as he scrolls through the food options on his phone. “I’m just… not accustomed to discussing these things. At all.”

“I understand. It can be awkward.” Jungkook places a hand on Taehyung’s, which has curled into a fist. “You can always talk to me if you ever need someone to vent to.”

“Thank you, Koo,” Taehyung says softly, suddenly feeling as though the tables have turned, and now he is the shy one.

“You’re welcome, alpha.”

Taehyung bites his bottom lip and tries to hold in the whine that wants to slip from his lips at hearing that word come from Jungkook’s lips. Once the term slipped out of Jungkook the first time, he never stopped using it.

Part of Taehyung wonders if it’s just a little inside joke, but then he smells how Jungkook’s scent sweetens when he says it, and it has Taehyung’s insides turning into jelly.

Finally ordering food, Taehyung and Jungkook sit on the couch while they eat some cheap but tasty bulgogi from a local restaurant nearby and gossip about Taehyung’s latest work drama with the lawsuit and Yoongi’s hatred of all the extra paperwork involved in it. As always, the conversation flows so smoothly that Taehyung realizes he could let the rest of the world fly by and not miss anything at all, if only he could stay with Jungkook, snuggled on the couch in comfy clothes and with full bellies.

“You drew all these sketches?” Jungkook suddenly asks, eyeing the framed charcoal sketches hanging on the walls and a few smaller ones on the end tables in Taehyung’s living room. Some of them are of building designs Taehyung never did anything with. Others are portraits of his friends and landscapes.

“Ah, yes. Did you not notice them before?”

Jungkook gives Taehyung a small shove. “I did! I just never asked.” He pauses for a moment to look at them. “My Tae is very creative.”

Jungkook sets down his empty takeout container and scoots closer to Taehyung on the couch. “Tell me more things I don’t know about you.”

“Aish, you knew I was creative. I have a graduate degree in architecture, Koo. I am the CEO of a—”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean you’re creative!”

“Fine.” Taehyung rolls his eyes with a small smile, “I will give into you, little peach.”

“So, what else?”

“You already know the important stuff. Everything else can just be a fun surprise.”

“Well, then, I have a lot to look forward to, little alpha,” Jungkook says softly.

“Ah, don’t you dare!” Taehyung points at Jungkook.

“ Big alpha,” Jungkook corrects with a grin that is nothing short of evil, making Taehyung’s stomach flip. But then his grin morphs into a large yawn, and Taehyung remembers it’s rather late.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” Taehyung ruffles Jungkook’s hair and gestures down the hall. “If you need anything, come wake me up. I’m a heavy sleeper, so just shake me.”

“Or jump on you?”

Taehyung gives Jungkook a stern look. “Perhaps be a doll, and don’t break me.”

“No promises, alpha,” Jungkook says with a wink as he grabs his phone and heads down the hall.

On the third night of staying with Taehyung during Namjoon’s heat, Jungkook wakes Taehyung up.

He’s gentle when he does it, crawling over to Taehyung’s side of the bed and slipping under the covers. At first, Taehyung doesn’t notice. He smells Jungkook’s scent, but it’s not the first time he’s dreamt about being surrounded by peaches.

It isn’t until he feels soft touches on his face that Taehyung wakes up, his eyes half-closed and just slightly making out Jungkook’s face in the pale moonlight shining in slits through the slotted window blinds.

“Peaches? Taehyung mumbles, forcing himself onto his elbows to get a better look at Jungkook. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook shakes his head and snuggles into Taehyung’s pillow.

“Had a bad dream.”

“Mmm,” Taehyung runs his hand over his face, trying to wake himself up enough to give the shivering omega comfort. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Another head shake.

“What would you like, Koo? Want to sleep here with me?”

Jungkook snuggles further into the blankets. He’s so cute, all wrapped up, big eyes shining in the moonlight as he looks up at Taehyung. How could Taehyung deny that face?

“The bed isn’t very big.”

“We have room,” Jungkook says sleepily. “So come here.”

Jungkook flops his arm onto the space beside him on the bed. By now, he’s barely awake.

“You think so?” At this point, Taehyung is only teasing him, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize it.

“Mhmm…” Jungkook’s head falls to one side and his lips pout. He’s quick to fall asleep, hopefully, comforted by Taehyung’s relaxing pheromones he released when he woke up enough to know what was happening.

Taehyung watches Jungkook for a moment, unable to take his eyes off his relaxed face and how his chest rises and falls. He’s being such a fucking creep.

Lying back down, Taehyung and Jungkook face each other. In his sleep, Jungkook scoots closer and throws his arm around Taehyung’s hip, drawing him against his chest. It’s sweet, and Taehyung quickly relaxes into Jungkook’s embrace, not at all surprised that he’s a cuddler.

Fitting, since Taehyung is, too.

In the morning, Taehyung wakes up with Jungkook’s body facing away from him, though his arm is curled around his waist, holding Jungkook tightly against his chest. He relishes in the soft sound of Jungkook’s exhale, his breath still smelling like the mint of his toothpaste.

How can Taehyung survive Jungkook staying in his apartment for much longer? He’s sure to go insane, selfishly never wanting Jungkook to leave.

In the quiet stillness, Taehyung admires Jungkook’s soft, sleepy sounds and thinks about how deeply endeared he is by this little omega, even if their relationship is unconventional and, at times, confusing. All he can hope is that he brings Jungkook the same kind of love he feels from his connection with Jungkook.

Because it is love, imprint bond or not. Taehyung knows it’s quick, but he feels it. Perhaps he’s not ready to say it, but it’s there, sitting in his chest, waiting. All he can hope is that Jungkook won’t shatter it. There’s no use worrying about it now.

What he should be worried about is the press of Jungkook’s body against his, and the morning wood Taehyung is sporting — something he hasn’t experienced in at least two decades.

Pushing back against Taehyung, Jungkook lets out a low groan that nearly stops Taehyung’s heart.

“Peach?” Taehyung whispers, “Jungkookie?”

“Alpha,” Jungkook murmurs, twisting around in Taehyung’s embrace until he has his face snuggled in the hollow of Taehyung’s throat. “Are you in your rut?”

“W-what? No!” Taehyung sputters, leaning away from Jungkook in an attempt to look at him. “Why do you think that?”

“Because of this.”

Jungkook rolls his hips against Taehyung, making Taehyung gasp quietly. He squeezes his hold on Jungkook, unsure how to react.

“I… Jungkook, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Jungkook hides his face in Taehyung’s shoulder, embarrassment rolling off him in waves.

“It’s okay; we can go back to sleep,” Jungkook mumbles against Taehyung’s skin, giving the two of them permission to ignore Taehyung’s semi-hard cock pressed against Jungkook’s thigh.

Except now, Taehyung can’t go back to sleep because he can smell the sweetness of Jungkook’s slick. It gets stronger the longer they lie there as if Jungkook is also thinking about how Taehyung can smell his slick. Maybe he’s thinking about how he can smell Taehyung’s arousal, his heady alpha pheromones cloaking the room, unaltered by suppressants.

Taehyung tries to ignore it, but he can feel Jungkook’s fluttery breath against his throat, and when Jungkook shifts slightly, his own hard cock brushes against Taehyung’s thigh. The sensation causes a fire to pool low in Taehyung’s abdomen, and his cock twitches against the press of Jungkook’s body.

“Alpha…” Jungkook whispers as Taehyung slowly glides his hand down Jungkook’s back and around to rest on his hip.

“Hmm?”

Taehyung slides his hand beneath Jungkook’s shirt so he can hold onto his hip. Jungkook squeezes the front of Taehyung’s shirt in his fist, pulling himself closer to Taehyung’s chest.

Jungkook exhales shakily, and Taehyung can feel goosebumps rise along his skin. Taehyung runs his hand down Jungkook’s hip until he reaches his thigh. Grabbing the back of Jungkook’s knee, he hooks Jungkook’s leg over his waist, bringing their cocks to grind against each other.

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook moans against the base of Taehyung’s throat, where he still has his face hidden.

“Peach,” Taehyung murmurs. He brings his hand to Jungkook’s chin to lift his head up and away from his chest.

Their bodies burn as they meet each other’s gaze. Taehyung watches Jungkook with a sleepy look in his eyes that shine with sparks of desire in them.

Leaning forward, he silently presses his lips against Jungkook’s.

Taehyung traces Jungkook’s lips with the tip of his tongue, coaxing them open to slip his tongue inside his mouth. Their tongues roll over each other lazily, but it’s a slow passion Taehyung can feel building as the kiss goes on longer. Jungkook whimpers and trembles, getting louder when Taehyung pulls back slightly to suck Jungkook’s bottom lip into his mouth. He drags his teeth over it before finally letting it go with a wet pop that leaves Jungkook gasping for air.

“If you want me to stop, you need to tell me,” Taehyung speaks hoarsely against Jungkook’s lips.

“Please don’t,” Jungkook whines, throwing his head back when Taehyung presses a hot kiss against his throat and sucks the skin above his scent gland.

Rolling his hips, Taehyung slips Jungkook’s leg off his waist and hooks his fingers around the waistband of his pajama pants, swiftly pulling them down along with his briefs and tossing them onto the floor.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet,” Taehyung groans as he dips his fingers between Jungkook’s cheeks. When he presses his middle finger against Jungkook’s rim, he can feel more slick drip out.

“Alpha, please,” Jungkook pushes back against Taehyung’s fingers when he rubs slow circles around his rim. “Taehyung.”

“Hmm? What do you need, baby?” Taehyung smears slick over Jungkook’s asscheeks, giving each a light tap and watching the slick drip from his fingers. “ Fuck, you’re leaking all over the place.”

“Please don’t make me say it,” Jungkook breathes, his desire so desperate in his voice and how he reacts to Taehyung’s teasing but unable to utter precisely what he wants.

Taehyung decides to have mercy on Jungkook after toying with his wet hole and slips two long fingers inside of him.

Jungkook lets out a strangled cry, his teeth grazing Taehyung’s collarbones like he wants to bite.

“I want you to say it,” Taehyung whispers in Jungkook’s ear as fucks his fingers into him. His slick is thick and slippery, making obscene squelching sounds as Taehyung massages his walls, looking for the spot that will have Jungkook crying in his arms.

“Please,” Jungkook wraps his arms around Taehyung’s neck and keeps one leg hooked around Taehyung’s waist to open himself up. “Please, alpha, please f-f-”

Taehyung uses his free hand to cradle Jungkook’s face, forcing Jungkook to look him in the eyes as he whimpers.

“Come on, baby, say it.”

“Fuck me, alpha. Please.”

“Yeah? You want my knot, little peach?”

Jungkook nods quickly, tears already collecting in the corners of his eyes.

“I have, for so long, Tae. Ever since I first saw you, I always wanted you to be my alpha.”

Taehyung groans as he flips them over, tossing Jungkook onto his back. He can’t handle the emotional tsunami that confession will cause inside him. He can already feel his alpha instincts calling him to bite Jungkook. To claim him and mate him. To…

“Fuck, gonna breed you, Koo,” Taehyung growls against Jungkook’s throat, caging Jungkook in against the mattress.

Taehyung uses his slicked-up hand to squeeze Jungkook’s neglected cock, already shiny from dribbling precum. Taehyung jerks Jungkook’s cock hard and fast, just a quick few pumps that have Jungkook writhing underneath him.

“Please, alpha. Fill me up with your pups,” Jungkook’s already near hysterics, and Taehyung hasn’t even done anything but finger him.

“Shit,” Taehyung takes a deep breath and tries to calm down.

He already feels like he could pop a knot right now, and he’s not even naked. Not that it would really matter; Jungkook is leaking so much that Taehyung’s shorts are soaked just from grinding against him.

Jungkook claws at Taehyung’s clothes as he sheds them, tossing them along with the rest onto the floor. It definitely isn’t his rut, but it’s as though Taehyung has tunnel vision; the only thing on his mind is making his omega feel good.

“You’re mine,” Taehyung grunts as he drags his cock between Jungkook’s asscheeks, holding Jungkook open on his back because he wants to see his pretty face when he knots him.

“Your omega,” Jungkook practically coos, reaching out to dance his fingers along Taehyung’s jaw as Taehyung grinds against him. “Make me your omega, hyung.”

Jungkook digs his nails into Taehyung’s forearms when he thrusts his cock inside him in one quick motion. He’s so warm and wet, sucking Taehyung’s cock in and wrapping around him so perfectly that Taehyung honestly feels like crying.

“Oh god,” Jungkook nearly wails, tugging at Taehyung to the point that he draws blood along his forearms.

“Keep them up, baby,” Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s hands to bring them to the backs of his thighs to hold onto Jungkook’s waist. “You can do that for me, right? Be a good omega for your alpha.”

“Y-yes, I’ll be good,” Jungkook whines, “Knot me, hyung.”

Jungkook’s slick makes the slide so easy that Taehyung immediately begins fucking into him as hard and as fast as he can, keeping his legs pressed to his chest. He wants to laugh, not to tease Jungkook, but in disbelief at how lucky of an alpha he is to have this omega wailing for his knot, so pretty and perfect. It goes beyond sex, beyond this animalistic draw that Taehyung has toward him.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung leans forward, practically bending Jungkook in half, to capture his lips. The kiss is all spit and teeth, but neither of them care. “Jungkook, I love you.”

“Tae,” Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut as Taehyung’s knot swells and catches on his swollen rim.

“Shh, it’s okay, you don’t have to say it,” Taehyung groans against Jungkook’s throat. He wants to bite him, but he knows he can’t. “Just, just have to say it, okay? I never thought… fuck .”

Taehyung leans back on his heels and uses his grip on Jungkook’s waist to slam him down on his cock as he thrusts into him. Jungkook has to press his hand against the bedframe to stop himself from getting pushed into the wall from every thrust.

“Gonna cum,” Taehyung hisses through gritted teeth. “Fuck, Jungkook, gonna–”

Taehyung thrusts one last time, forcing his knot past Jungkook’s rim. The pressure makes Jungkook immediately cum, ropes of white spurting across his abdomen as he cries out Taehyung’s name, singing him little chants of, “fuck, fuck, y-yes alpha, fill me up,” filth that only makes Taehyung cum even more, his cock pulsing in time with the erratic beat of his heart.

Jungkook’s solid arms squeezing his shoulders bring Taehyung down until his weight is fully on Jungkook, forcing him to sink into the mattress.

“Don’t wanna crush you,” Taehyung murmurs, but Jungkook squeezes him tighter.

“I’m okay,” he says, his voice shaky and watery. “I love you, too, Tae.”

“You don’t have to say it. I know we did all of this so wrong, and I know I need to learn how to listen to my–”

“Don’t say that,” Jungkook whispers against Taehyung’s ear as he combs through his hair, scratching at his scalp. “I think you’re listening to your alpha just fine.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung turns to kiss Jungkook’s swollen, bitten lips. He looks pretty, all fucked out and full of love. Taehyung supposes it’s okay for those two things to be intertwined, too.

“There’s still so much I need to learn about myself,” Taehyung admits sheepishly, ignoring Dr. Yun’s gaze.

“Knowing is half the battle, right?” Dr. Yun pats Taehyung on the knee. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Taehyung. You’re young; you have plenty of time to learn what you like and what you don’t, and how you wish to move through the world as an alpha. It’s good that you’re even having this conversation with me.”

Taehyung nods and waits patiently as Dr. Yun finishes taking notes. His bloodwork came back, and his hormone levels have stabilized.

Taehyung could have told them that without getting a needle in his arm. He looks over at the boy with sparkling eyes sitting off to the side of the examination room, his hands clasped between his thighs and a small smile dancing on his lips.

“I have someone to help me through it,” Taehyung responds to Dr. Yun after a moment. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

#redamancy #happy things ✨#remmykinsff

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gimmethatagustd · 7 hours

Text

hello i have returned from the dead to finally get to all my lovely reviews and ofc i adore you for this cuz himbo hours tae !! my baby !!

how you made him still a fuckboi but endearing as hell is beyond me lol. so sweet and simple minded - YOU WHAT THEY SAY himbo tae is like a lava lamp, pretty to look at but not very bright

chillax. i forgot we used that word so much. - genuinely i felt like i was crawling back into the recesses of my mind to remember wtf we were doing back then

it's funny cuz i was telling M and Hali while we were writing this that i felt like such a baby cuz i was in middle school during this time... i was writing this fic like "hmmm what were 21+ people doing in the early 2000s when i didn't even know how to drive". i was so scared this fic was genuinely gonna sound like a middle schooler writing about being an adult LOL

jai you and smut are long time friends and it shows every time i read a fic of yours. especially when there’s comedy involved. you’re literally just funny as hell and i love that it shows in your writing. - SHUT UP CIE. THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING TO ME IN THE WORLD CAN I GIVE YOU A HUG 😭 i'm actually really self-conscious about my smut (which is probs why i'm goofy with it cuz i use humor to deflect) so thank you thank youu

i like to think that they were the ones that “made it” and lived happily ever after but that’s just my personal head cannon. - i have a part 2 sitting in my drafts that i desperately need to write and i'll tag you in it 💜

himbo hours | kth

Trouble always seems to follow Taehyung. An innocent night of finding new friends to share his alcohol, drugs, and boxy smiles quickly turns into a mess when he accidentally punches you, a poor, unsuspecting clubgoer, right in the face. Whoops!

» pairing: himbo!taehyung x reader

» Part of the Jeju Shore Collaboration

» wc/date: 7k | September 2022

» notes: fuck a meet-cute, we're all about meet-uglies in this house 😌 pls let me know your thoughts about himbo tae's pov! i really love writing the members' pov, so i'd love to know if y'all like it too

» masterlist | ao3 | join my taglist

» what was jai listening to? the jeju shore spotify playlist

Taehyung was a chill dude, alright? He came to Jeju Shore to have fun with his bros, do some drugs, fuck some pretty girls, and maybe get a tan. Super chill.

In all honesty, he probably would have preferred to be playing Farmville than standing at the bar with a vodka shot in his hand and a lost puppy look on his face. But sometimes he had an itch he just had to scratch and today that was, uhhhh, getting drunk at the club and nursing his coke addiction, maybe? Seemed about right!

If only he could find his friends.

Jimin and Jungkook were nowhere to be found. Tae couldn’t really even remember if the two guys had even gone to the club with him; the pregame at their vacation home was pretty wild. So now he had a shot of vodka he was supposed to give to his soulmate, Jimin, and yet the guy was missing in action. What was Tae supposed to do? His bromance was clearly not as strong as he thought it was!

Guess it was time to get crossed.

Taehyung threw the shot back, shivering a little at the slight sting as the vodka went down. He needed to find some new friends, but looking at the crowd of people gyrating to the music made his brain slosh around in his skull. Especially considering he wore neon green shutter shades that prevented him from seeing at least half of what was in view, and virtually no way of seeing far ahead. But, Sexy Chick by David Guetta and Akon was blasting through the club, and that’s all that really mattered.

Eventually, his eyes landed on a guy dancing near the perimeter of the room. He grinned with large, bright teeth and laughed with his whole body as he vibed to the music. Taehyung made a beeline for him, drawn to the way he oozed happiness and innocence in a club full of debauchery.

Approaching the guy, Tae waved his hand in his face.

“Hey, dude! Do you wanna do a bump?!” So much for innocence, right?

Taehyung was just trying to be nice. When someone had drugs, they were supposed to share. Wasn’t that what the DARE Program was all about? DARE rhymes with share, and sharing is caring, something along those lines…

Speaking of lines! Taehyung couldn’t understand why the guy he was trying to share with kept sticking out his fist. Every time Taehyung tried to grab him, the guy would just jab his fist into the air. He looked like such a nice guy, so Taheyung was sure he wasn’t trying to cause any trouble. Unlike half the population around here.

“FIST PUMP?!”

“No, I said, Do. You. Wanna. Do. A. BUMP?!”

“YEAH, FIST PUMP, BRO!”

This wasn’t going the way Tae thought it would, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Fist pumping was pretty fucking epic, wasn’t it? Gave him a rush, like he was punching all his energy into the universe. He was being helpful. The universe needed more good energy, anyway. Everyone was so emo all the time.

But soon Taehyung realized fist pumping was all fun and games until he felt his knuckles crack against something solid, but soft. A small shriek was just barely audible over the bumping of the club music, and Taehyung watched you double over beside him with your hands pressed against your cheek.

Oh shit.

“What the fuck, dude?!”

Two girls flanked you, one of them stepping forward to jab a manicured finger into Taehyung’s chest while the other checked your injury.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You think you can go around punching people in the fucking face, huh? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I d-d-didn’t m-m-mean to.”

Taehyung twisted around to have the smiling boy vouch for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Why was everyone in Jeju Shore so aggressive?? Well, maybe it wasn’t that it was Jeju Shore specifically, but more that it was the people Taehyung was spending time with. He’d already almost gotten into a bar fight the day before. In his defense, the scary guy’s girlfriend was flirting with Taehyung, not the other way around.

At least the two girls didn’t have glass bottles to throw at him, though he figured they could get some if they wanted to. Who knew clubbing was so dangerous?

Right when the girl looked like she was going to clock Taehyung, you placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Kimmy, it’s fine.”

“The fuck it’s not!”

“I swear, it’s fine.” Your eyes met Taehyung’s for a split second and he felt his breath get caught in his throat.

You were quite possibly the prettiest person he’d ever seen in his life. Probably the prettiest in the entire world. In the entire universe. Definity in the club and Jeju Shore and, fuck, everywhere. Taehyung had punched the prettiest person in the history of human existence. What was wrong with him?! He could feel his stomach start to twist, and he wiped his now clammy hands onto the thighs of his jeans. He really shouldn’t have worn an all-denim outfit; he was starting to sweat all over.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, okay? Can you guys just wait for me at the bar?”

Kimmy and the other girl nodded, shooting Taehyung dirty glares as they pushed their way through the crowd. He watched you give him another quick glance before you turned and slipped into the crowd, too. His fingers twitched at his sides, grasping for nothing. There was no way he was letting you go.

“Wait, wait!”

Taehyung’s voice was drowned out by the heavy bass of some EDM dubstep-type shit vibrating through the air in violent sound waves. He shoved through gyrating bodies and people sucking each other’s faces until he made it to the perimeter of the club to see you turn the corner into the short hallway that led to the bathrooms.

Taehyung’s shutter shades made him bump into at least three people before some guy snatched them off his face, his nails slightly scratching the apple of Taehyung’s cheek.

“Bro, fucking take these off, you look like a douchebag.” The guy flung the shades into the crowd and Taehyung nearly got lost in the colors of the psychedelic club lights reflecting off the lime green plastic before it disappeared into the crowd.

Shit, he needed to focus.

Taehyung did a little jog towards the bathrooms once he found a clearing in the crowd. Maybe it was nerves or maybe it was his inebriated state, but his stomach continued to flip and his heart was beating a little bit too fast as it clawed its way up his throat. Gathering up his courage, he took a deep breath and pushed through the bathroom doors. Maybe he should have tried to freshen himself up before he ran after you. Taehyung already knew the smell of sweat and vodka had found its home in his clothes and the fluffy waves of his hair. He lifted his hand to touch his head, grimacing to find his bangs were stuck to his forehead with sweat. Quickly catching his reflection in one of the mirrors, Taehyung fluffed around his hair until he looked less… keyed up.

He almost forgot why he was even trying to look cute until he heard a light cough from one of the stalls. You stepped out with a lit cigarette dangling from your fingers. Taehyung watched you bring the cigarette to your lips, a little bit of your black lipstick smudging onto the butt of it.

“Hey!” Taehyung shouted a bit too enthusiastically in the tight space.

You shot him a glare as Taehyung took a step closer. With barely any space separating you, you flicked your cigarette onto the floor. If he was sober he may have considered the possibility that he was overstepping boundaries, but he was simply determined to close the gap between himself and an absolute angel.

So maybe it was his spidey senses tingling or the fact that he was turnt, but Taehyung had enough sense to do a half skip to the side just as your leg unexpectedly flew forward. The toe of your pink and white checkered Vans smashed right into the meat of his thigh, just barely missing the most precious part of him. He could practically feel his balls retracting into his body out of fear.

“Ow, hey! Stop it!” Taehyung crossed his arms across his groin in a shield against a possible double attack. “I’m just trying to help!”

You glowered at Taehyung, eyes scanning his pathetic stance. He was sure you were taking in his blown-out pupils and red-tinged eyes, but hopefully, he could give you a smoldering look and that would woo you. The idea flashed through his head and he immediately executed it without much thought, standing to his full height and giving you his classic smirk. His chin slightly tilted up and he carded his hand through his hair, tongue sweeping the inside of his cheek.

“Hey,” he tried again, eyebrows raised.

“If you touch me I swear to god I will fuck your shit up,” you insisted, arms crossed against your chest. “I’ll scream.”

Taehyung’s eyes grew wide and he dropped all attempts to be sexy.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for hurting you,” he said with a deep pout and sad puppy eyes that would have been a bit more convincing if the two of you weren’t standing in the bathroom of a fucking nightclub.

You brought your hands down to stick them inside your pockets. Taehyung noticed your thong was exposed by your low-rise jeans and the fact that you were wearing a tiny Juicy Couture tank top that showed your midriff.

God, why did he already feel like he was going to get hard just by looking at you? He really needed to lay off the coke.

“I’m okay, Rocky” you insisted, waving his concerns away. “Seriously, dude. Don’t worry about it.”

Taehyung couldn’t possibly let it go, though.

“I could totally take you to the hospital right now. I have my keys with me and I’m definitely okay to drive. I might look fucked up but my head is completely fucking clear, I swear.” Should he have driven the guys to the club? Absolutely not. Did it really matter? He already had a DUI before and the whole thing wasn’t that bad. “Do you want me to walk in a straight line? I can do it if that would help convin-”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital, geez. It wasn’t that hard of a hit,” you said with a laugh and a shake of your head. You maneuvered around him to wash your hands in the sink. Catching his eyes through the mirror, you pointed to your spotless cheek as if to emphasize that you were fine. “You’re a weird dude, you know that? Chillax.”

And with that, you spun on your heel and left.

Taehyung stood with his mouth hanging open. He needed to chillax? You were the one who tried to kick his balls into his stomach!

“Whoa, wait a second.” He followed you out of the bathroom and skidded to a halt when you turned around to face him.

“What now, Rocky?”

“You kicked me!”

“You punched me! We’re even now,” you countered. You leaned your shoulder against the wall and gave him a smirk. “Although I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to pay me back in another way.”

Now that was a language Taehyung understood. His pout morphed into a boxy grin and the way he looked your body over was undeniably obvious.

“I could think of a few things.”

“Ugh, gross, I meant maybe you could buy me a drink or something.”

Oof. His beautiful angel was calling him gross. That was a buzzkill if he ever had one. But Taehyung was not the type to let people get him down! He leaned his shoulder against the wall to match your stance, shortening the distance between the two of you. You were close enough for him to feel your breath brush against the base of his neck, and you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

“Or something?” he mused.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you contemplated his question and Taehyung tried to ignore the way you being so close to him was making his mouth dry. “Yeah, or something.”

“Wanna do a bump? Not a fist pump. That’s how we ended up here, fuck. A bump. You know what that means?” He was confused about the little puff of laughter you exhaled at his question, but you were talking again before he could do anything more.

“Yeah, why not.”

Taehyung found himself grinning again, and the giggly, bubbly, floaty way he was soaring into action made him feel like he really was on cloud nine. He grabbed your hand and dragged you back into the bathroom. From his pocket, Taehyung retrieved a dime bag of white powder.

“I like to pack it small. Makes it easier, right?” But when he looked up, you were looking at him, not the bag. He grinned, a quirked eyebrow shortly following. “You okay with the sink?”

There was your damn laugh again, though this time you gave him the courtesy of pointing out what was so funny. Taehyung followed your gaze to see a large neon sign hanging on the wall: PLEASE DON’T DO COKE IN THE BATHROOM.

“Oops,” he pouted as he meticulously dumped the perfect line up the bathroom sink. The location was more than questionable, but what other surface could they use? Club bathrooms were always disgusting, especially in this part of Jeju Shore. The two of you were drunk enough that cleanliness (or a lack thereof) wasn’t going to deter you. His cute freckled nose breathed in until nothing was left. He shivered, pinching his nostrils for a few seconds before letting you take over.

Shit, he should have asked to snort it off of you. What the fuck was he, a rookie?!

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you said with a sniffle, allowing Taehyung to stash his little bag away.

“Oh, right. I should have introduced myself. Wow. I’m doing this all wrong.” Taehyung smacked himself in the forehead and immediately regretted the decision. “I’m Taehyung.”

“Hmm, Taehyung’s cuter than Rocky. A cute name for a weird guy.”

“I’m not cute?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Well, I think you’re gorgeous. Like really fucking beautiful. I feel like you’re the most perfect person in the world.” Taehyung reached out to lace his fingers with yours and pulled you forward.

You leaned in to brush a bit of powder off his nose. “Oh yeah? That’s bold for a guy who just punched me.”

“I’m serious,” Taehyung breathed. The alcohol and narcotics pumping through his veins were boosting his confidence tenfold, so he didn’t feel nervous when he grabbed you and slid his fingers beneath the thin waistband of your thong at your hips. The feeling of your skin hot beneath his fingertips had him absolutely delirious. “Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad. It would feel so good.”

Taking hold of his jean jacket, you yanked Taehyung closer to you. He sucked in his breath when he felt your fingers skate across his chest since he was shirtless underneath. So maybe he was acting a little desperate. And maybe he didn’t care. But Taehyung ducked his head to get closer to you with his eyes fluttering closed and his pink lips parted.

“No way you’re kissing me in here.” You pulled yourself free from Taehyung’s embrace and the deep pout he wore on his face made you laugh. You hooked your finger through his belt loop with a little tug. “Come on, Rocky. We’re going swimming.”

Taehyung stumbled behind you as you dragged him out of the nightclub and into the warm summer air twinged with salt from the ocean so close by. He was more than happy to have you lead him across the boardwalk and down to the beach, not even caring that his Tims were filling with sand and the moisture was turning the tips dark brown.

“Show me how beautiful you think I am.”

You threw the challenge over your shoulder as you ran towards the ocean. Taehyung watched with his tongue practically lolling in his mouth as you tossed your tank top onto the ground.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, rushing to follow you.

By the time he’d reached the edge of the water, you were in nothing but your bra and thong, already in the ocean up to your waist. You swam close to a smattering of rocks in the water, sticking nearby in case you needed something to hold onto. Taehyung quickly ripped off his clothes and tossed them into the sand with yours. Although the water lapping at his ankles as he carefully waded to you would have felt chilly, he felt fine thanks to the alcohol-induced heat spreading through his body. Or maybe the heat was from finally reaching you.

It was definitely your close proximity that had his heart pounding in his chest, despite the concoction of alcohol and narcotics. You beckoned him closer, but all Taehyung could focus on was the way beads of water shimmered on your skin and how he could see your nipples erect from the cool temperature through your bra. The moonlight glittered like diamonds across the water’s surface and into your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders.

“Are you gonna kiss me or what, Rocky?”

Taehyung grinned like an idiot at the (unfortunately) fitting nickname you were determined to make stick. He felt like the two of you were close now that you’d given him a nickname. That was a pretty big deal, right? Even if it was a boxing reference.

“Yes, please,” Taehyung whispered as he repeated his action from earlier, ducking his head down to finally reach your face.

He playfully bumped his nose against yours and your giggles were just as gentle as the waves rolling in around you. Something about you made him want to take his time. He brushed his lips against yours, offering a small sigh when he felt your tongue glide out to swipe against his bottom lip. Your impatience had you pulling Taehyung even closer. The water made your bodies stick together and Taehyung could feel you spread your legs slightly to rub yourself against his cock. His soaked briefs did nothing to hide how aroused he was; all they acted as was merely a second skin by this point. The same was true for your already flimsy thong.

“Shit.” He groaned against your lips and tried not to buck his hips forward. It was an increasingly difficult feat once you lifted one leg to hook around Taehyung’s waist. The action opened your thighs a bit more and allowed you to press your core directly against his cock.

“I told you to kiss me. Don’t you want to?” Your whine had Taehyung’s cock twitching so bad he was using your grinding against his cock to both chase pleasure and calm himself down. Water splashed between your bodies when you pressed yourself fully against his chest. Your hands migrated to the wavy hair at the back of Taehyung’s head. The tug you gave his hair brought his lips crashing into yours.

The kiss was sloppy and salty and utterly desperate. Your limbs weaved with Taehyung’s like your tongues circled each other, mouths hot and bodies cool. One hand dropped down to grab your thigh, holding the leg you’d crossed over his waist in place. Keeping you steady made it easier for Taehyung to roll his hips into yours. He enjoyed the way you held back moans when the head of his clothed cock pressed against your clit through your thong. Taehyung was never afraid to be vocal. If anything, it seemed to heighten the tension that built up between him and his partner.

So when you dragged your nails down Taehyung’s abdomen he was perfectly willing to whimper until your hand slipped inside of his briefs. His whimpers morphed into full moans as you squeezed his cock. You effortlessly pumped him until he was biting your lips, your neck, your shoulder - wherever he could to leave marks and release as much pressure as he possibly could.

It was only when you pulled his briefs down enough to release his cock that Taehyung finally broke free of your spell.

“Fuck, Y/N, wait,” Taehyung said with a shaky exhale and placed his hand over yours. It took all of his willpower to stop your thumb from circling the slit of his head. “Let me put you up here.”

He grabbed your hips and lifted you onto a smooth part of the rock so that you were no longer in the water. He was always telling Jungkook about not fucking people in pools; it was definitely bad for vaginal health. The ocean had to be way worse! Taehyung didn’t really consider himself to be responsible, but he knew how to be a gentleman, he was pretty sure. The whole punching thing was totally an outlier. Really.

“Are you serious?” You watched Taehyung lift himself out of the water and he was acutely aware of how long your gaze lingered on his body.

“It’s not good to have sex in the ocean,” he insisted. “Fish shit in there. Plus, pollution. Algae. Whatever else! We’ve only explored, like, twenty percent of the ocean!”

It seemed like common sense! Yet there you were, laughing at him again. Could he really be that funny? Jungkook and Jimin never thought so.

“That’s what you’re thinking about? Getting germs in this pussy instead of your dick?”

The question shut Taehyung up. He wasn’t sure what to say, since… yes, you were correct. That was what he was thinking about, but he assumed it was a good thing. He was being responsible. Yeah, he realized that wasn’t particularly sexy of him, but he’d be damned if he was the one who caused you to get a yeast infection! Or even worse! (He wasn’t sure what would be worse, but there definitely had to be something worse.)

“I take my partner’s safety very seriously,” he finally responded with a pout and furrowed brows.

“Hmm…” You smirked at Taehyung as he inched towards you to hover over your body. He didn’t give a fuck if he got any cuts on his palms and knees. “I’m your partner now?”

“Yes.” He leaned down to lick a smooth stripe up your neck that made you shiver beneath him.

“Sounds a little possessive.”

Taehyung sucked dark hickeys onto the tops of your tits while his hands roamed down to spread your legs so he could position himself between them. Possessive wasn’t the way he’d describe his personality, yet he couldn’t help but enjoy the thought of you walking around the next morning with his hickeys covering your chest. Or, even better, the thought of you with his cum still inside of you. Those thoughts alone had Taehyung’s breathing pick up speed, and he sucked your skin even harder.

“Maybe.” His expression grew soft as looked up to meet your lidded eyes. “Can I have you?”

With your lip bitten between your teeth, you slowly nodded.

The boxy grin and crinkled eyes he gave you in response were enough to make anyone give in to him.

You leaned back and propped yourself on your forearms as Taehyung planted kisses against your wet skin. He ran his tongue along the crease of your thigh where the edge of your thong sat plastered against your body. Ocean water made you taste salty, but Taehyung didn’t mind. If anything, it made his mouth water even more for you.

He pressed his tongue flat against your clothed pussy and flicked upwards until the tip of his tongue pushed against your clit. Despite your thong being in the way, it was so wet and tight against your lips that Taehyung could see your swollen clit through it by the light of the moon. He sucked and nipped it over the fabric, his dark eyes locked with yours to watch your face scrunch up in pleasure. If he thought you were beautiful before, you were near deadly now. Your lips were puffy from how much he’d bitten them and he could only think about how sweet your tongue might feel circling his cock when he watched it slip out to wet your lips. But the most beautiful part was the way the moonlight’s diamonds continued to dance in your eyes.

When you bucked into his face, he hooked his arms around your thighs to hold them in place. The position allowed your legs to drape over Taehyung’s broad shoulders and he pulled you closer to his face.

“F-F-Fuck.”

The way you whimpered and shivered beneath his hot mouth only fueled the fire within him. Every desperate sound that tumbled from your lips sent ripples of electricity straight to his throbbing cock. He pulled at your thong with his teeth and the soaked fabric dragged down your legs with ease until you were kicking them away.

“Don’t you want to be careful…?” Taehyung asked as you reached behind yourself to unclasp your bra. That article of clothing was also tossed to the side, very close to the edge of the rock.

Taehyung was pretty sure lingerie was expensive. He’d never bought any before, but he’d seen plenty. The lacey bits, all the straps, the intricate designs, and the little buckles, clips, and clasps. Anything even remotely difficult for him to remove had to be expensive in his opinion. Maybe next time he was in a relationship he would buy some lingerie, so that way he knew. Maybe he could buy some for you.

“Who cares?” You snapped, too impatient for his stupid questions. You reached down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “If you don’t fuck me with your mouth right now, I swear to god.” You gave his hair a tug and Taehyung moaned, leaning into your pull.

He’d eat fucking sand if you told him to. Shovel it in with both hands like it was his last meal.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured against your stomach, each word punctuated by a soft kiss that chased away little beads of water. “I wanna give you whatever you want.”

You squirmed as he swirled his tongue across your skin lower and lower until he finally traced your lips with the tip of his tongue. Rather than diving in, though, he pulled his face away and brought his wet fingers to you instead. Taehyung ran his finger along your clit. His movements were slow; he wanted to savor the feeling of you attempting to squeeze your legs around his shoulders while he teased you.

“You like that?” Taehyung flashed you a grin. He was determined to commit your expression to memory: fucked out and concentrated, lips parted in another whine. Desperate despite the fact that you’d been calling the shots. He liked it, you telling him what to do. That didn’t mean he couldn’t tease you a little bit, though.

“Fuck, yes, don’t be a dick about it,” you challenged with a shudder and a buck of your hips. You tried using your legs to pull yourself against his face, but Taehyung held you down.

“So needy and impatient,” he murmured. His tongue slipped out to lick at a few beads of water trickling down the inside of your thigh. “Maybe say please first? Everyone in Jeju has terrible manners.”

You gasped when Taehyung’s teeth bit at the skin he’d just licked. He was sure the sharp pain was welcomed when your hold of his hair tightened. It was interesting.

“Please, I wanna feel you.”

At first, Taehyung only somewhat obliged. He brought his mouth down to your pussy, pressing a gentle kiss against your clit that made you tug his hair even harder. Figuring he should probably give you what you so politely asked for, Taehyung licked at your entrance, lapping up your arousal while you got as comfortable as you could - considering you were on a fucking rock.

“Mmm,” he moaned against your clit. “You taste good.”

As was the case with your skin, the ocean made you taste salty, but Taehyung was never the type to judge someone’s body. Unlike some douchebags, he was very willing to drown in pussy. He’d suffocate in it. You could have squeezed his head until he exploded and he’d be perfectly okay with that. What you tasted like mattered very little.

The waves slapping against the rock formed a rhythm that seemed to mimic the way Taehyung licked at you. He pushed your arousal up to your clit, wetting it further by spitting directly onto it. Each long swipe of his tongue had your breathing grow heavier and your heart rate increase. When he wiggled his tongue back and forth over your clit, the moan you granted him had Taehyung vibrating. A hard suck of your clit earned him an even louder one.

“Fuck, if you’d told me you eat pussy like this I wouldn’t have tried to fight you.”

Your words came out tough until the last few lifted upwards in a whimper. Taehyung had slipped two fingers inside of you and began passionately thrusting into your front wall as he continued sucking your clit. He was buzzing from the praise, eager to do whatever it took to get more out of you. Each flick and swirl of his tongue grew faster, and Taehyung didn’t mind the mix of spit and arousal that was smeared all over his mouth and chin.

“Oh my god, Taehyung, just, just like that, please.”

It was cute that you were using the magic word on your own now. Your legs tried to close around him, but he kept you spread wide open as rocked his face and pumped his fingers into you. His jaw and tongue were starting to get really fucking tired, but there was no way he was going to give up now. Nope. Not when your legs were beginning to shake and your fingers were digging into Taehyung’s hair so hard that it hurt.

“Ohh fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Honestly, he probably could’ve busted a nut just from hearing you say those beautiful, beautiful words.

You arched your back and bucked your hips against Taehyung’s face. Your walls were convulsing so hard that he struggled to keep pumping his fingers into you as you trembled through your orgasm. All he could really do was suck your clit with the lightest of kitten licks flicking against the tip as he finally allowed your thighs to squeeze his head. The pressure caused Taehyung to suck in a sharp breath, but he let you ride his face until you were panting so loudly all he heard was you, rather than the ocean, in his ears.

After a moment your legs finally eased off of Taehyung’s shoulders. He waited until your breathing returned to normal before he moved up your body to slot his lips with yours.

“Was it okay?” The smirk Taehyung wore said that he knew it was, but he asked to be polite. Or to receive the praise he so loved from you.

“Just okay.” You shot your own smirk back, but you both knew. “Your turn.”

Taehyung frowned, taking a look around the space you occupied. Although head sounded so fucking good, it wasn’t realistic.

“It’s okay,” Taehyung pushed, determined to make you change your mind. “I don’t want you to hurt your knees.” Be it bending over to suck his dick or ride him, the rock’s surface was sure to cut your knees, or at least bruise them.

You crossed your arms over your chest in what Taehyung assumed was about to be a ready stance to be defiant.

“Fine.” You slowly rested your body back down to a lying position, but you angled your head upwards to stretch out your neck more. “Then fuck my face like this.”

You stuck your tongue out to open your mouth all the way for him. Assuming the moonlight wasn’t playing tricks on him, he saw a bit of spit drip from the tip. On top of that, both of your hands came up to play with your tits, nimble fingers pinching at your nipples until they grew hard.

Taehyung just about passed out.

“You’re nasty.” The statement nearly came out as a moan, but Taehyung did his best to control himself. He leaned on his knees beside your head and brought one of his hands down to cradle your jaw. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you insisted. You lifted your head to wrap your lips around the head of his cock and Taehyung cried out with an instinctual buck of his hips. Alright, he got it. He understood. You were serious, fuck, he was going to listen.

Keeping one hand on your jaw, Taehyung held the back of your head with the other to make sure his movements didn’t make your head hit the rock’s surface. Then he leaned forward to guide his cock into your mouth. Goosebumps rose along his arms and a shiver snaked its way down his back when he bottomed out. The warmth of your mouth was in stark contrast to the cool ocean air. Not only did it feel heavenly the way you pressed your tongue along the underside of his cock as he gently thrusted into your throat, but it felt comfortable. Like he was made to fit you in the most perfect way.

“Shit, please tell me if I’m hurting you.”

It was all Taehyung could manage to sputter out as his grip tightened on your jaw and his thrusts pushed deeper into you. You choked in response, the gagging causing drool to leak from the corners of your mouth, but you kept your hands to your tits and didn’t push him away. When you swallowed around his cock, Taehyung let his head hang low and had to stop his movements to compose himself.

“I’m so fucking high,” he whimpered, gently starting up again. The hypersensitivity was really doing him in because every time he pulled away to see strings of precum and saliva connect the tip of his cock to your lips his head was reeling. He was tumbling toward an orgasm so quickly that paranoia settled in and he started to panic.

“Oh fuck, baby, fuck, I gotta, I gotta stop.” Taehyung leaned back, your mouth releasing him with a pop and a smack of your lips. You watched him with hungry eyes that only made it harder for him to relax.

“Are you going to bust quick? Is this about to be two-second-long sex?” Your words sounded accusatory but you licked your lips as you waited for a response.

“No, no. I swear I’m not like that!” he pleaded. “I’m just, I just… It was just…”

“Get over here, dude.”

Your interruption was welcomed. It gave Taehyung the chance to shut up. Even if you hadn’t said anything, your actions would have left him speechless. His dark eyes watched you open your legs and slide your fingers down to part your lips - a view of everything he needed.

What the fuck was he fumbling his words for and wasting time??

Taehyung leaned into you, slotting himself between your legs and gently easing you down with his hand on the small of your back.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” you murmured against his lips as his teeth grazed against them, nipping at them each time he felt you sigh.

“Fuck.” Taehyung heard you loud and clear. He brought three fingers to your face. When he pulled down on your bottom lip you obediently opened up to let him shove them into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his fingers and Taehyung closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of your warm mouth once again. Properly coated with your saliva, Taehyung dragged his fingers along your clit until he reached your entrance. You welcomed him easily, his fingers gliding in and out without resistance.

“Please, Taehyung,” you groaned, impatiently grinding your hips into his hand.

Pulling his hand away, Taehyung finally replaced it with what you’d both been waiting for. He leaned back on his knees and grabbed your hips to lift your body up and pull you towards him. You bit into your hand to avoid releasing a loud moan as he sank into you, likely a bit faster than you would have expected. But you were impatient and you said he didn’t need to be so gentle, so Taehyung was allowing himself to dive in deep.

“I told you, you’re so perfect,” Taehyung sighed as he bottomed out. He couldn’t begin to explain to you how warm and wanted you made him feel. Sure, it was probably just the alcohol and drugs talking, but at that moment he felt like there was no one else he was meant to be with but you.

After he gave you a moment to adjust to him, Taehyung rolled his hips into yours. Going slow in the beginning gave him the opportunity to figure out what you liked and where all your pressure points were. With each thrust, he adjusted his angle to find the spot that would make your legs shake. It wasn’t difficult to hit the right angle nor was it difficult to tell that he’d found it. You immediately squealed, the sound muffled by the crash of ocean waves, and clawed at Taehyung’s forearms.

“Ohh, Taehyung, you feel so good,” you whimpered. “Faster, please please.”

His fingers dug into your hips to the point that he was sure it was painful as he began pounding into you. All you could do was hold onto his arms, occasionally letting your hands drop down to claw at his thighs when you got tired of holding your arms out.

Maybe both of you should have been more concerned about fucking someone random, in the middle of the ocean, no less. But there was no condom nor a working brain cell in sight between the two of you. Instead, there was only salty sweat and slippery cum that made your bodies glide together with the most perfect amount of friction that it was you who was on the verge of busting a nut too quick.

“Oh my god,” you exclaimed, frantically pushing against Taehyung’s thrusts. “I’m so glad you fucking punched me, fuck fuck fuck.”

You almost threw him off his rhythm, and he had to squeeze you hard to hold you down. In his delirium, Taehyung caught you bringing your fingers to rub your clit.

“Let me, okay?”

He pried your hand from your body and leaned down to spit onto your clit. His fingers quickly took up where you left off, rubbing right circles around your soaked clit until you were a moaning mess writhing beneath him. You began squeezing around his cock so tightly that Taehyung had to practice deep, slow breathing to keep it together. He leaned forward to plant his forearms beside your head and bury his face into the crook of your neck as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Both of you could be happy to know that the sex did, in fact, last longer than two seconds! Taehyung liked to think that it lasted just the right amount of time before he was completely losing his cool, hips sputtering all over the place and his lips locked tightly to your skin.

“Inside,” you turned your head to whisper in his ear as you wrapped your legs around his waist to hold him in place. “I wanna feel you, come on baby. Be a good boy for me.”

That alone was enough to send Taehyung over the edge, finishing inside of you just how you told him to, with his arms shaking. Sweat and saltwater plastered his bangs he tried so hard to keep pretty for you onto his head. He lifted himself off of you just in time to watch a bit of his cum trickle out of you.

“We’re disgusting,” Taehyung announced as he swirled the cum around with his fingers and stuck it back inside of you. When he brushed his thumb against your clit you groaned and quickly snapped your thighs shut.

“We need a fucking shower.”

Taehyung stood on wobbly legs and stuck out his hand to help you onto just as wobbly of legs. He pressed his palms into his eyes while you searched for your underwear that had long been devoured by the ocean. “Do your eyes burn? Fuck, mine burn so bad.”

“Don’t worry, Rocky. I don’t have gonorrhea or anything,” you waved him off with a snort. “It’s just the saltwater.”

“I didn’t mean that! I wasn’t thinking that!” Taehyung sputtered, also giving up on finding his underwear. He followed you as you hopped back into the water, quite literally concerned that he might drown from the fact that his body hadn’t started working properly yet. It was unrealistic to expect to cuddle after sex on a rock, but a guy could dream, right??

In the water, you wrapped your arms around Taehyung’s neck to pull him in for a passionate kiss, your tongue exploring the mess that was his mouth. He tried to snake his arms around your waist, but you quickly spun out of his embrace.

“First one to the beach gets to keep the other’s clothes?”

It took a moment for Taehyung’s brain to process what you’d said, just a moment too long. You were splashing and kicking the water as you hightailed it to the shore before Taehyung could even form a coherent sentence.

“WAIT!!” he shouted, doing his best to wade through the water. How many times was he going to yell that word at you? And was it wrong that he admired your cute ass when you reached down to scoop up his discarded clothes? Maybe the karma was that you ran into the sand while he stood at the shoreline butt-ass naked.

If you kept his clothes, though, that meant you’d have to see him again to give them back. And Taehyung was perfectly okay with that.

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

@miss-jupiter @moonchild1 @moonleeai @nch327 @nonbinary-demonbrat @notbotheredtho @notsooperfect @parkdatjimin @polipiper @reliablemitten @rjsmochii @saweetspoiled @seoul-soul-127 @stillinedwardcullenera @sugarwithtea @unsureofwhathappens @xjoonchildx @yoongukie-ff @yu-justme @aislinnstanaka @bbtsficrecs @che-er-ful @coffeebooksandromantics @confusedbansheee @ekjalxd @familiarlikemymirror3 @fan-ati--c @furryfortae @haliiimede @highly-functioning-mitochondria @jjkeverlast @jwlmnbt @klitklittredge @koobsessed @lemonadecandycandy

#brwnbtsbby #happy things ✨#himbo hours

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gimmethatagustd · 7 hours

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he's such trash jkdfs this was originally supposed to be the last chapter and then everyone got mad at me LOL

only here to sin (3) | kth

When your genius of a boyfriend returns to Harvard for his sophomore year of college, you never would have expected to have his worst enemy keeping you entertained in his absence.

» pairing: fuckboy!taehyung x fem!reader (ft. namjoon)

» date/wc: June 2022 | 17k

» genre: BTS | 18+ | enemies to lovers | smut | angst

» notes: i was gonna split this chapter, but i thought y’all have waited long enough. pls don’t hate me for the ending 💀

» masterlist | ao3 | send me ur thots 👅

» what was jai listening to? into it - chase atlantic

The moment you opened your front door Taehyung’s hands were gripping your waist and getting tangled in your clothes, all in an effort to pull you close so he could crush his lips against yours. You were nearly suffocating by the time he released you. The two of you watched each other with tired eyes, chests heaving in rhythm. It was then that you noticed he’d changed his clothes, now wearing sweatpants and a hoodie instead of his tight jeans and silk button-up. Despite the downgrade in an outfit, he was just as gorgeous.

Keep reading

#jjungkookislife #ohts #happy things ✨

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gimmethatagustd · 7 hours

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they are so cute it's actually disgusting 😭 jshkfs ily thank you for loving them

venor (final) | kth + jjk

The barista at the university’s café keeps telling Jungkook not to come back, but Jungkook is too busy daydreaming about kissing the beauty marks on his face to be paying attention to his warnings.

○ Pairing: Tiger!Taehyung x Bunny!Jungkook

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Hybrids, predator/prey, college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, light angst, eventual smut

○ Word Count: 5,064

○ Warnings: Scenting, lots of kissing and happy crying, gross cute romance and all that other annoying stuff

○ Notes: It's the end of an era, my friends. I promised a Bestie Who Must Not Be Named that I'd write an epilogue, so technically this series isn't 100% over. I hope you had fun with it! And thank you to everyone who was so kind to me as we went on this unique little journey together 💜

○ Post Date: April 21, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Cross-Post

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Series Masterlist

Jungkook and Taehyung wait until they finish their final projects and exams before visiting Taehyung's family home. As much as a getaway trip, no matter how short or ordinary, would help alleviate Jungkook's end-of-the-year stress, his commitment to his studies, and his fear of disappointing his parents force him to focus on his studies. Exercising helps, especially when he convinces Taehyung and Yoongi to tag along, but most days near the end of the semester, Jungkook spends in the library or in class.

When Jungkook submits the last project due, the mobile app he spent the whole semester designing, he feels like his brain dribbles out of his ears. With final presentations and exams now over, they have the freedom to do as they please in the last few days before they must leave the dorms for winter break. He's lucky he doesn't have to drive to Taehyung's house, even though it's a short trip.

"Jiae is still in school, but my appa should be home," Taehyung explains, keeping his eyes on the road as he drives.

"Where did you say she's studying?"

"New York University. I've never been to the United States, but she likes it for the most part. She said the city is dirty, though."

Jungkook watches Taehyung smile as he shares a story about his sister's first time seeing a rat scurry across the city streets. Without a sibling, Jungkook doesn't know what it's like to share a life with someone for so long and then be separated by so much distance. There's love in how Taehyung talks about Jiae; Jungkook can feel it. Taehyung also experiences a little bit of joy in knowing his sister has been chased by rats, and Jungkook supposes that's just how it is being an older sibling.

When school isn’t in session, Taehyung stays with Jiae and their father in the home where the children grew up. It’s a small villa in a quiet neighborhood far enough away from downtown Seoul that Jungkook almost feels like he’s back in his own town, free from the bustling city and the hassles that come with it. The villa is well-maintained but modest and home to four families, with the Kim family occupying one of the apartment units on the second floor. The building is cute from the outside, not as big and intimidating as the apartments Jungkook imagined in the city, and a few of the nerves jittering through his body calm down.

Taehyung finds street parking nearby so they don’t need to walk far in the cold. Just like the end of the semester, winter descended on Jungkook quicker than he expected.

In the villa’s compact front yard, a few young children bundled up in thick coats, scratchy scarves, and winter hats too big for their heads build miniature snowmen. Feline tails whip out from two of their coats, and another child has sparkly olive scale splotches on his cheeks like freckles.

“Taehyungie hyung!” squeals one of the children when Taehyung leads Jungkook up the front steps.

Once the other two children notice Taehyung, they fumble in the snow, knees lifting high to jump over the lumps of snow they’ve pushed together. They’re adorable, even more so when the three crash into Taehyung, clinging to his legs and tugging on his gloved hands.

“Hey kids,” Taehyung pats each child on the head with the hand that isn’t being pulled nearly to the ground by one girl.

“When is Jiae noona coming back?” the little boy demands, making Taehyung frown.

“I come home for the first time in months, and you want my sister instead?”

“We missed you too, oppa,” one of the girls insists with wide eyes that remind Jungkook of how he looks when he’s trying to get someone on his good side. He can’t help but giggle over it, and the sound alerts the children to the fact that he’s there, patiently waiting on the front steps behind Taehyung.

“Hello,” the little girl hanging on Taehyung’s arm swings her body around to look at Jungkook. “Who are you?”

“That’s my boyfriend, your Jungkook oppa.”

“You have a boyfriend, Taehyungie oppa? Did your appa say that you can have a boyfriend?”

With his hands on his hips, Jungkook turns to Taehyung, giving him an expectant look that mirrors the three children's expressions.

“Well, Tae, did your appa permit you to have a boyfriend?”

“Bun, not you, too,” Taehyung groans as he tries shaking off the children.

“Oh my gosh! He’s a bunny! Look at his ears!”

“Come on, guys. It’s cold.” Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s bicep and pulls him forward as the children rush to cling onto Jungkook instead.

Shouting over each other, the children demand that Jungkook remove his winter hat to show off more of his ears and demonstrate if he can jump really high. Their silly questions are endearing, but Jungkook’s nose is frozen, and he grows more nervous with each step he climbs to reach the villa’s front doors.

“Go back to your snowman.” Taehyung shoos the kids away while he holds the door open for Jungkook. “You’ll see Jungkook later.”

“Bye hyungs, bye oppas!” the children call out, fumbling over each other to move out of the way when Taehyung tries to usher them from the door.

Despite Taehyung’s grumblings, his affection for the children is evident by how sweet and patient he is with them. Jungkook hasn’t thought much about children. He knows his parents expect grandchildren, especially since they only have Jungkook to provide them, but he always saw parenthood as a far-off concept not worth worrying about in his youth. Seeing Taehyung interact with the neighborhood children makes Jungkook consider that, perhaps, he could spend a little time thinking about it more than he has in the past…

“My appa did give me permission to have a boyfriend, by the way,” Taehyung says with a silly smile as he loops his arm through Jungkook’s to lead him down the hall once they’ve reached the second floor.

“Oh, good. What would we have done if he hadn’t?” Jungkook smiles, too, just as goofy.

“Break up, I guess?” Taehyung offers, laughing when Jungkook stops in the middle of the hallway to stomp his foot in frustration.

Taehyung is obviously joking; Jungkook can’t imagine him ever asking for permission to do anything, not that he’s the type of kid to go against his parents at every turn. Something tells Jungkook that Taehyung’s mother encouraged his free spirit rather than trying to stamp it down. Perhaps some of that has rubbed off on Jungkook, too.

“You didn’t even formally ask me out!” Jungkook complains.

Squeezing Jungkook’s bicep, Taehyung tugs on him gently. “I totally did!”

“When?!”

Taehyung removes his gloves to input the apartment unit’s code. His hat covers his ears, but Jungkook can tell that they twitch under it just as his tail flicks out to smack Jungkook on the thigh. He’s so cute that Jungkook thinks he might genuinely die over it one day. How can he possibly withstand this type of cute aggression for the rest of his life? Because that is what he wants, to be with Taehyung until the end, even if it’s too early to say such a thing.

“I was nervous, okay,” Taehyung presses his shoulder against the door to give it a little push as he opens it. “Just saying it seemed easier than asking. Besides, I knew you wanted it, too.”

Winking, Taehyung gestures for Jungkook to enter the apartment first and grins when he notices Jungkook’s bright pink cheeks. Ridiculous. Taehyung is ridiculous. The only reason Jungkook is willing to let this slide is because Taehyung does get nervous when he’s put on the spot, as Jungkook quickly learned during their final presentation for their Art History class. Standing at the front of the lecture hall, Taehyung had forced his tail through his belt loops so it wouldn’t nervously swish back and forth and started off the presentation with wide eyes pleading for Jungkook to take the lead, but it went well.

The Kim residence reminds Jungkook of Taehyung’s dorm room and his father’s restaurant. It is bright and nature-toned, with plants in every corner and large windows providing natural lighting. It isn’t perfect, but it’s lived in, and Jungkook prefers that over something so minimalist that it’s sterile. Taehyung kicks his boots into the corner of the entryway and tosses his coat on the kitchen table as he walks past, meaning Jungkook should follow his lead.

“So it’s just you, your appa, and your sister?” Jungkook asks.

“Yup. It’s kind of small for three adults, but as a kid, it felt huge.” Taehyung shrugs. “We’ll both be out of the house soon, anyway.”

Jungkook folds his outerwear and neatly places it on the kitchen table, trying not to take up too much space. He’s hesitant about taking off his scarf. The bruise Taehyung left Jungkook when he bit his neck still hasn’t entirely disappeared, but Jungkook concludes that it would be more suspicious to keep his scarf on inside than to have splotchy skin.

“Your appa will be so lonely…” Jungkook looks around, taking note of the little pieces of Taehyung and Jiae scattered around the house — Taehyung’s pottery and Jiae’s soccer trophies. Recently, Jungkook has learned that both Kim children are exceptional athletes.

“Eh, he’ll be fine,” Taehyung says, intertwining Jungkook’s fingers with his. “I’ll give you a tour.”

It’s a bit of “organized chaos,” as Taehyung calls it. Clothes are strewn around the apartment, draped on the backs of the kitchen chairs and the arm of the living room couch. The whiteboard calendar on the fridge still reads “November” despite it being the beginning of December now, and there are kitchen appliances everywhere, including niche ones Jungkook can’t name.

“Appa is somewhere around here…” Taehyung thinks aloud, “Might be on the roof, though. There’s a garden up there. The one I told you about.”

Taehyung’s mother’s garden. Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t interrupt Taehyung as he shows off the chaotic apartment, even jiggling the doorknob of his sister’s room hard enough to force it open so they can take a peek at the disaster of boy band posters and too much pink.

“She’s such a girl,” Taehyung teases before ushering Jungkook down the hall to his bedroom. “At least she gets to keep her room, though. Appa turned mine into a fucking office.”

The last room on the short but thorough apartment tour is Taehyung’s, which is more like an office than a bedroom. It seems that Taehyung’s furniture—a bed, dresser, and nightstand—has been arranged in one corner to free up space for a desk, bookshelf, and filing cabinet that wouldn’t fit anywhere else in the apartment.

“Why does he need a filing cabinet? Who keeps paper documents anymore?” Taehyung shuts the bedroom door behind them.

When Taehyung turns around, Jungkook feels a shift in the energy between them. Having been uncharacteristically talkative, Taehyung suddenly grows quiet.

“You didn’t put your backpack down,” Taehyung notices with a frown.

Jungkook squeezes his backpack straps and shrugs, hoping Taehyung’s predator hybrid senses don’t ruin everything by noticing his nervousness. He’s trying to be chill, just as he tried when he first met Taehyung. It hadn’t worked then, and it probably won’t work now.

“I, um…” Panicking, Jungkook looks for a distraction, not ready to let Taehyung know why he still has his backpack with him. “Didn’t you say you wanted to give me something?”

Eyes widening, Taehyung rubs the back of his neck and averts his gaze. Why are the two of them being so awkward right now? It catches Jungkook off guard, making his chest tighten and his heart feel as though it’s being crushed by his ribcage.

“Tae—”

“Can you sit on the bed, please?”

Nodding, Jungkook sits on the edge of Taehyung’s bed, thinking Taehyung will follow him. Instead, Taehyung squats in front of the old wooden dresser. He pulls out the bottom drawer and looks through the clothing, no longer neatly folded, as he pushes it to the side. Whatever he’s looking for is buried deep in the back of the drawer beneath cable-knit sweaters and flannels.

“I wanted to keep it safe,” Taehyung mumbles once he pushes the drawer shut.

In Taehyung’s hand is a small pouch of blush velvet that matches the shade of pink blooming across Jungkook’s cheeks. Shy embarrassment makes his upper body feel hot. Though Jungkook was excited about the gift when he first learned of it, the reality of being presented with it is nearly too much for his little bunny heart to bear. With a frenzied heart, he takes the pouch from Taehyung, and his breathing stutters when their fingers brush, as though it’s the first time they’ve ever touched.

“I hope you like it,” Taehyung says softly, and Jungkook thinks he might explode.

Undoing the tie at the top of the pouch, Jungkook lets the contents inside slip out and fall into his hand. Rose gold and cold against his skin, the expensive bracelet shines in the natural light bathing Taehyung’s bedroom. It’s a simple gold band that comes together at the top of the wrist where the tiger-shaped clasp is. Decorated with sparkly white diamonds for eyes, the bracelet shimmers when Jungkook turns it to examine every little detail.

“It was my eomma’s. She didn’t wear it a lot, mostly just for fancy things. But she gave it to me when she… Well, she said I should keep it for someone special.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook murmurs, too afraid to speak louder because he can already feel a lump growing in his throat.

Taehyung reaches out to take the bracelet. He turns it so Jungkook can see what’s engraved into the inner part of the bracelet.

“I found a jewelry shop that does engravings, so I got our names…” Taehyung’s face turns bright red, and his tail flips between his ankles faster than Jungkook has ever seen. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve been… ah, fuck , why is this so hard.” He exhales through pursed lips, making a silly sound when his lips flutter. “I’ve been courting you, and I’m supposed to give you something really nice at the end to ask if you accept me, okay? That’s what I’m doing. So. Yeah. That’s all.”

Thrusting his arm, Taehyung holds the bracelet for Jungkook to take back.

Taehyung never formally asked Jungkook to date him, but Jungkook knows that this means something more than just a silly title for a young relationship. Although prey hybrids have different customs, it’s easy to see how important this moment is for Taehyung. He’s unbelievably agitated. Not once has his tail calmed down, and now his hands tremble enough for him to shove them into the back pockets of his jeans.

Conversely, Jungkook’s infatuation makes him burn with an eagerness he’s never felt. He can’t help but smile, even when Taehyung frowns, and it feels good because Jungkook knows Taehyung well enough that he can tell the frown is because Jungkook has yet to say anything. Does he accept Taehyung? What a silly question!

“Tae,” Jungkook begins and thinks he can genuinely feel Taehyung grow tense from how suffocating the room is, “I would have accepted you with just the striped donuts. This is… this is more than I could ever imagine, Tae. I accept you, but I don’t know if I can accept something so special to your eomma.”

Shaking his head, Taehyung sits down next to Jungkook. He takes Jungkook’s face in both hands to slowly rub his thumbs across his cheeks, gathering the tears that stain them.

“You’re special, bun. She would’ve loved you. Probably more than she loved me.”

“Shut up, that’s not true.”

“It is, I swear! I gave her so much grief. You’re literally perfect.”

Jungkook’s giggle sounds wet and stuffy. He shivers as Taehyung pulls him against his chest so he can tuck his face against Taehyung’s shoulder.

“Baby, why are you crying?”

Jungkook tries answering Taehyung, but his words get muffled and lost, and he can hardly put the scrambled mess together in his own head. It takes a few minutes, but he eventually stops crying. It helps that Taehyung eases the backpack straps off Jungkook’s shoulders so he can rub his back in soothing circles. He hums a gentle purr and plants little kisses atop Jungkook’s head until Jungkook finally pulls away to look at him with glossy eyes.

“You’re really sweet, Tae,” Jungkook says with a soft smile that grows larger when Taehyung tries to look away from him. “You want to act like you’re not, but you are.”

“I’m alright, I guess.”

“You’re lovely.”

Taehyung’s ears flatten against his head, and he sticks out his tongue, reaching for Jungkook’s hand to squeeze it.

“Can I put it on you?” Taehyung takes the bracelet and clasps it around Jungkook’s wrist. It fits well, not too tight, and it doesn't slip down his forearm.

Jungkook can’t stop thinking about how pretty it looks and how important it is for him to keep it nice. He’ll cherish it for the rest of his life. This gift is not only a declaration of Taehyung’s love but also demonstrates the level of trust that Taehyung has in Jungkook to keep his mother’s beloved possession safe.

Taehyung rubs his wrist against Jungkook’s, scenting him before he pulls back so they can both admire how the bracelet looks on Jungkook. A thick band of rose gold, it’s pretty but isn’t dainty, instead solid and bold. Jungkook knows he won’t wear it always; he’ll be afraid to. Perhaps he’ll wear it on the days he wants to feel Taehyung’s love the most, so his love can be a tangible pressure on his wrist, pressed to one of the points of his heartbeat.

“I love you,” Jungkook whispers against Taehyung’s lips when he kisses him. He loves hearing Taehyung purr when he unexpectedly initiates a kiss, and he loves feeling the warmth of Taehyung’s hands on his body.

“I love you too, bun,” Taehyung whispers back, but he speaks into the corner of Jungkook’s jaw, then nips at each faded hickey down his neck. “Are you gonna tell me what’s in your backpack now? Or do you wanna keep stalling? I could come up with some ideas…”

“Taehyung.” The scold doesn’t mean much when Jungkook digs his fingers in Taehyung’s hair to hold him close as he scents him.

“Come on, baby. What are you hiding from me?”

Of course, Taehyung sees right through Jungkook and catches on to what he’s doing. It should be embarrassing, but Jungkook is too drunk on the feeling of Taehyung’s lips against his throat to care that he’s the most obvious person in the history of the universe. It doesn’t matter anyway. Jungkook has no reason to lie or hide things from Taehyung.

Though this is at least a little bit serious — in a good way, but still…

“How do you know I’m hiding something?” Jungkook stalls just like Taehyung guessed he would, though not in the way Taehyung might want.

Rather than respond, Taehyung pokes Jungkook on the tip of his nose. Like Taehyung has hit a magic button, Jungkook immediately scrunches his nose and giggles when Taehyung kisses the tip of it.

“Suyun told me you were courting me,” Jungkook admits shyly as he drags his backpack into his lap and unzips it.

“Of course she did.”

Jungkook buzzes with excitement even as Taehyung pouts. He holds all wiggles in, though. He can’t afford to have Taehyung teasing him during such a brave moment. Instead, he focuses his energy on not growing too nervous.

“Close your eyes,” Jungkook commands. He stares blankly at Taehyung until he follows his instructions, unwilling to tolerate Taehyung’s cheekiness when it gets in the way of an important moment.

Once Taehyung has obeyed him, Jungkook pulls out a thin, rectangular frame from his backpack and places it in Taehyung’s lap.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

When Taehyung saw Jungkook’s half-finished portrait, he’d sucked Jungkook off so good that Jungkook allegedly passed out. Jungkook didn't want to make any assumptions, and he’s still nervous from being in Taehyung’s dad’s apartment, so he tried not to imagine what Taehyung’s reaction would be after seeing the finished product.

“I know it’s not as fancy or as special as your eomma’s bracelet, but—”

Jungkook quiets when Taehyung presses his finger to his lips and shushes him while his amber eyes scan over the artwork.

“Baby, respectfully, shut up.”

The snort that comes from Jungkook is uncharacteristic. It feels like a Yoongi thing Jungkook must have picked up in the months they’ve lived together. Taehyung pays him no mind, though. He holds the frame up to admire the print. It’s colorful, glossy, and perfectly matted because Jungkook asked one of the digital photography students at their university to help him with it. The girl knew Taehyung; she swore to keep the print a secret and didn’t even charge Jungkook for help. That might be a testament to how sweet Jungkook is, but it could also indicate just how personable Taehyung is, that people are willing to do kind things for him without anything in return.

“Bun,” Taehyung says after spending a quiet moment with the portrait, “Please don’t downplay yourself like that ever again. You are an amazing artist. Your talent, god, bun… your talent is unreal.”

Taehyung is almost too serious when he speaks, and Jungkook feels the looming need to scoot away from him. He doesn’t, though, because he knows this is Taehyung working through his intense feelings for Jungkook, feelings that his predator hybrid instincts don’t know what to do with. Neither Taehyung nor Jungkook is hardwired for a relationship like theirs.

“Thank you.” Jungkook runs his fingertips along Taehyung’s clenched jaw and watches the tension slowly melt away when he pulls back his sleeve to scent him. “Having a gorgeous model is half the battle, actually.”

Ignoring Jungkook’s teasing, Taehyung slides his hand around the back of Jungkook’s neck to pull him closer.

“I love you, bun.”

Jungkook can’t answer, though he doesn’t need to. His lips speak in other ways when Taehyung slips his tongue between them. Unlike before, their kiss isn’t heated or rushed. It’s sensual, but Jungkook is learning that all intimacy with Taehyung, sexual or not, is still somehow sensual. But this kiss feels comforting rather than rousing. It lulls Jungkook instead of stimulating him, and he likes the reassurance that it brings.

"Is this your final courting gift, too?" Taehyung asks once they've finally detached from each other.

Jungkook blushes with a shy, "Yes."

Months ago, Yoongi told Jungkook that pursuing a predator hybrid would break his heart. For the first time in his life, Jungkook feels like his heart finally has a home.

“Would you like me to speak with your parents, Jungkook?”

“Oh, no, no, that’s okay!” Jungkook politely but quickly shuts down Mr. Kim’s offer. “They’re, uh, they would probably be upset if they heard it from anyone other than me.”

With an understanding smile, Mr. Kim resumes cleaning the kitchen, though his endeavor must begin with decluttering, considering all the appliances and utensils tossed around. It’s the life of a chef and restaurant owner, Taehyung had groaned as he complained about how long it would take for them to eat dinner when his father had created a disaster in the kitchen.

Jungkook is eager to scramble out of the kitchen and return to his spot on the living room couch with Taehyung, bringing two bottles of beer given to him by Mr. Kim.

“What was appa talking to you about?” Taehyung asks, before opening his mouth for Jungkook to give him a sip of beer. He looks like a baby bird waiting to be fed, and it makes Jungkook giggle despite how his stomach twists with new nerves.

“He asked me if I told my parents I’m staying with you for winter break yet…”

“Well, have you?” Taehyung raises his eyebrows, but he keeps his eyes on the TV.

Jungkook feels like he needs to remind Taehyung to blink occasionally, but he doesn’t. This is Taehyung’s first time playing video games; Jungkook may as well let him get the authentic gamer experience by fucking up his eyes.

“No.”

“Bun,” Taehyung’s scolding is cut short by a string of expletives when his video game character is murdered.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Taehyung would choose to play a game about a virus that turns humans into vampires and the human hunters dedicating their lives to slaying them. Violent video games aren’t Jungkook’s preference, but it certainly feeds into the stereotypes about predatory hybrids.

“I’m nervous about it…”

“What’s the worst thing that’ll happen? They’ll get upset, and then they’ll get over it. It’s not like you’ll never come back ever again.”

Taehyung is right, but he’s also wrong. Is Jungkook being dramatic? Perhaps, but he knows his parents better than everyone else, and he knows that they are sensitive.

“Let me talk to them. Do a video call so they can see how handsome I am, and they’ll know you made the right choice.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook takes a few more sips of his beer to take the edge off his nerves before he gets up, phone heavy in his hand like a weapon or a ball and chain.

“Pray for me,” Jungkook mumbles into Taehyung’s hair when he kisses him.

“Tell them I’ll eat them if they’re mean to you. I like how bunnies taste.”

“Oh my gosh, Taehyung, your appa is right there,” Jungkook whispers harshly, but Taehyung’s boxy grin is the symbol of audacity.

Jungkook uses Taehyung’s bedroom to make the phone call. It takes a few minutes of Jungkook biting at a hangnail before he randomly chooses his father to call, having no idea which of his parents will be the least likely to be upset over the news. Jungkook wonders if other college students must worry about having this conversation when they go away for breaks.

Before visiting the Kims, Jungkook tried to do a roleplay scenario with Suyun and Yoongi to see if that would help him plan what to say.

Yoongi was too scary to talk to; Jungkook kept slipping up. The more he talked, the worse it got, until he was practically sharing the whole story of his romance with Taehyung to justify why he was choosing to stay with a predator hybrid.

“Well, don’t tell them what he is!” is what Suyun had insisted.

“True… I don’t have to. It would be lying, though. I’m so bad at lying!”

“It’s not lying. It’s just withholding information. Totally different.”

As usual, Jungkook thinks hanging out with predators changed Suyun — but probably for the better.

With a sigh, Jungkook sets his phone on speaker and lies on Taehyung’s bed, counting each ring and thinking that his heartbeat somehow harmonizes with it.

“Jungkook-ah?”

“Oh, eomma, hi. Where’s appa?”

Jungkook doesn’t think it matters which one of his parents hears the news first, but he doesn’t like being caught off guard. Despite being proud of how much confidence he has gained and the personal growth he has experienced since transferring to Seoul, Jungkook still feels like a kid when around his parents.

“He went into town for groceries but forgot his phone again. I think I need to buy him one of those watches. Do you know the ones?”

“A smartwatch?”

Despite their flaws, Jungkook loves his parents. It’s just that the love they all share for each other is different, and it isn’t always easy. Jungkook feels that love while his mother rambles about his father being forgetful, and he reminds himself that Taehyung is right. This isn’t the end of the world.

“Hey, eomma, I can’t talk for a long time right now, but I needed to tell you I have a boyfriend now…” Jungkook takes a deep breath and continues before his mother can respond, “And I’m going to stay with him and his family for winter break.”

The silence that follows is expected. Because of this, Jungkook hears the bedroom door open, and he nods when Taehyung asks for permission to come inside. He sits on the bed beside Jungkook, who is now lying on his stomach, and gently scratches the base of Jungkook’s ears.

“Oh. For the whole break?”

“Mhm.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

Jungkook cringes. “I know, eomma. I’m sorry.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem offended. He plays with Jungkook’s hair and ears and keeps quiet to let Jungkook think.

“Hmm, Jungkook-ah, I hope he is treating you well. Is he smart? What is he studying? What do his parents do for a living?”

“Ah, please, don’t interrogate me!”

“I’m just asking simple questions every eomma should know.”

“We can talk later, okay? I will call you, and we’ll talk with appa, too.”

One day, Jungkook will tell his parents more than the bare minimum details about the boy who holds his heart. For now, Jungkook tells his mother he loves her and tosses his phone off to the side once the call ends so the pretty tiger, who smells like summer rain, can shower him with sweet kisses until all of Jungkook’s worries are washed away.

“I can’t wait to meet them,” Taehyung purrs against Jungkook’s throat, where he kisses him. “How many times do you think I should visit with them before I ask them if I can marry you?”

“Stop it,” Jungkook whispers, though Taehyung can’t tell if Jungkook is scolding him for what he said about marriage or for how he’s got Jungkook flat on his back with his leg hiked up over his waist so he can grind their hips together.

Both? Either? Jungkook doesn’t know.

“Did you know Jackson can officiate weddings?” Taehyung asks with a slow roll of his hips. They’re both in jeans and sweaters; Taehyung just likes being a tease.

“Taehyung.”

“I heard sex feels different after you’re mated.”

“Taehyung. You’re so gross.”

Jungkook throws his arms over Taehyung’s shoulders and crushes him against his chest, ready to drown in the giggles he earns in response, giggles from a big, scary tiger who is utterly whipped for his bun. Who would have thought?

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Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

#joonsmagicshop #venor #happy things ✨

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