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jjkwifestyle · 10 days

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god the creativity of this just oozes through every paragraph. this could be my favourite yoongi fic of all time.

Between the Titles

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)

warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot) smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink

Length: ~9.5k

Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this

Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.

As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter.

Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement.

It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding.

You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.

Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.

Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.

Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.

But this morning you have notes to write.

Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.

The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.

A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.

Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy—

I’m in Love with Mothman…

Well there it is.

You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.

Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.

When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back.

His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor.

A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.

Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop.

Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”

“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”

His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place.

“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”

“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”

He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough.

“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”

It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.

“What is it?”

Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.

If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.

“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”

“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”

“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”

Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.

As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.

I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.

Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now.

You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.

The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.

With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”

“Get in line.”

Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.

Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation.

“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”

“Bummer.”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”

“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”

“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”

Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.

“Yoongi,” you sing.

Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”

You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.

“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”

He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.

“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”

He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”

With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.

If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.

On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.

You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette.

Of course he smokes.

The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it.

“You know those things will kill you, right?”

“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”

“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”

The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.

“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.

The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.

Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.

Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.”

“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”

But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.

Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.

“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.

“Are they the right copies this time?”

“Double checked them myself.”

You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.

Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”

The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”

Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs.

Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.

You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.

Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.

Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.

Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.

“What's this?”

“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.

His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”

Of course he has.

Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.

Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.

You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means.

It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.

You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music.

He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach.

The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.

Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name.

Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection.

“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct. “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”

You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.

A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence.

Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.

The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.

You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.

Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.

A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.

“Looking for something?”

Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.

“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.

Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”

“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”

Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance.

“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down.

Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.

“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.

Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.

“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.

“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”

The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.

Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin.

Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf.

The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.

A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his.

The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”

Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.

Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.

To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.

A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.

Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.

Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.

The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else.

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs.

Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation.

“Yoongi,” you say.

“Y/N.”

You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you croak.

Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”

“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.

Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along.

“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.

Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”

Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”

Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.

“Yes.”

“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.”

“And he can hear you, so shut up.”

“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books.

He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.

Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months.

“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk.

“Taehyung.”

“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.

Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs.

“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers.

“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”

“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”

“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”

Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.

After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.

“I’m getting coffee.”

“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.

The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch.

You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.

Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.

Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.

‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’

A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’

‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’

At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.

“Snooping for secrets?”

“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”

“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”

Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”

“Nope.”

You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours.

This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.

His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again.

“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth.

He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull.

A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive.

Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.

Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder.

His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.

“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”

Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider.

“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.

Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.

“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.

Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.

Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted?

“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.

You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been.

“They were out.”

With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing.

You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.

“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.

Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”

“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.”

“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”

You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.

When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”

“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.

Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

“If you’re leaving, so am I.”

“Why?” your roommate whines.

“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”

“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.”

You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.

You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.

“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.

It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.

“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?”

“Go ahead.”

The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.

The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.

Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.

Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.

Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.

You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.

Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen.

He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.

You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.

Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.

An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen.

But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning.

Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.

Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom.

A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.

You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.

“Yoongi?”

A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”

“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”

“This is my job.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Who says it’s stopping me now?”

He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”

You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back.

A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.

“Could have fooled me.”

“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.

“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”

“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.

“How long? How long have you wanted this?”

Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”

You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.

The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.

“That was months ago.”

“I’m a patient guy.”

You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.

Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.

“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”

“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt.

He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg.

You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely.

He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.

His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You thought about this?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”

A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”

“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”

Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”

Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head.

The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.

“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”

Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy.

He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth.

Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”

The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.

He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.

But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”

Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.

Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.

Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.

“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”

You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry.

It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.

“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down.

“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”

He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.

You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens.

Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.

Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load.

There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side.

You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth.

Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.

He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter.

With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”

“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.

A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”

Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.

Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.

You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school.

After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed.

He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.

You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument.

You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now.

“One of my books is missing,” you say.

“Oh, right.”

Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.

Maybe He Just Likes You

And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom @yoonguurt

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jjkwifestyle · 1 month

Text

guys 😭😭😭😭

You ask and you shall receive!

Here's part 2 of "Yoongi never had a crush until you" from my notes app. I'm always open to more requests <3

(Check out part one here)

(Buy me a coffee on ko-fi!)

....

Tonight was the night. Yoongi could feel it, from the tip of his long luscious hair to his weirdly long toe. There was something in the air - whispers of certainty and peace that could either be a sign that Jungkook had left the premises or that tonight was the night that Yoongi was finally going to gather all the courage within his tired body and ask you out!

Furthermore! - he shook his fist in front of his mirror, eyes slightly crazed with a decidive stance - you'd say yes!

From there, everything would fall into place, stars aligning and errors corrected. His shoes would fit better, the wifi faster, the coffee tastier. Everything improved by your presence in his life.

He just couldn't stand all this nervous, jittery energy anymore! It was all so unlike his cool, calm, collected persona and he didn't know how to deal with his sudden difficulties to form full coherent sentences when you showed up. He had to put a stop to it and act on his new and, to be honest, slightly concerning feelings.

You see, he was a man with a written plan! In the depths of his pockets, under seven layers of coffee shop receipts from 5 months ago and guitar picks he thought he had lost, there was a small piece of paper with his plan detailed step by step: first he would calm the fuck down (crucial). Then, check for sweaty hands, unknown food stains on his outfit and bad breath (Just in case!!!!). Then, present his five slide power point showcasing his feelings and finally - finally! - ask you out.

In case you'd say no, he had an extra slide with more appealing arguments (i'm rich, it said). Otherwise, he'd move to south america and live his life as Carlos, the potato farmer.

Of course, as Yoongi's life was never as simple as a power point presentation, all his plans were forgotten when you showed up in his studio dressed up in a way he'd never seen, skin tight dress clinging to your body in the way he wanted to, rendering him speechless and brain dead.

"Yoongi! Sorry for the late hour, I just had to drop these documents before I left and I rushed here because I have plans for the evening..."

Ask her out, his heart said, beating so loud he was surprised you didn't hear it. Ask her out, make her yours, rip this sinful devil sent dress into pieces. Fuck the power point, fuck your canva vision board, ask her out, ask her out, ask her out, ask her...

"Out" he spluttered at last and he swore his heart shattered at the hurt in your eyes.

"Oh, im sorry" you said, dropping the stack of papers on his coffee table, lips pouting and eyes saddened in a way that made yoongi want to choke on his own fucking wrist "I'll leave you be, mr. Min"

"No-nO! I DIDN'T MEAN..." but it was too late and youd already left.

BUGGER.

BUGGER IT ALL TO HELL!

317 notes · View notes

jjkwifestyle · 1 month

Text

blushing

begging for mercy

characters: tattoo artist!jungkook x client!female reader

summary: you hated everything. you hated his face, his hands, his everything. in particular, you hated the effect he had on you.

genre/rating: pwp. smut (minors dni). 18+.

word count: 4.6k

warnings: needles, jungkook being a lil shit, hands <3, reader hating her life decisions. smut warnings (18+): so much tension, consent, dirty talk galore, pet names, semi-public sex, pain kink, cumming untouched :0, slight cnc?, dom/sub dynamics, slightly mean dom!jk, bratty reader, slapping/spanking, orgasm denial, choking, tad bit of degradation, cum play/eating, finger sucking, unprotected sex (do better), standing sex, hitting it from behind :P, bitting/marking, overstimulation, creampie, jungkook is a cutie lmao (bless him).

a/n: after you read this, you will realise i have no idea what getting a tattoo entails lmao. this is just smut with a sprinkle of more smut. hands are my weakness. sorry :) also, thank you so much for over a hundred followers <3 this whole thing is crazy. feedback is always appreciated so please let me know what you think! what other tropes would you like? disclaimer: i needed to get this out of my system. this was suppose to be short fic, got carried away.

Maybe this situation wasn’t ideal. Scrape that, it was definitely not ideal. But there were a few variables that contributed to your current state of helplessness.

Firstly, the room was freezing as if they wanted to torture your exposed skin. You swore you had frostbite. Now that problem was partially your fault. They had asked you before they began if the temperature was okay, and because you refused to be a bother, you didn’t dare ask them to turn the heating up.

Oh and then there was the pain of the needle being darted into your skin. The other times you sat in this chair, you had no issues with discomfort. But what did you expect, the needle was digging into your ribcage. Oh, yeah, and the worst part, you liked it. A little bit too much.

But the killer were his hands. Now this, was definitely not your fault.

The parlor you had booked was one of the best in the city. And it took months to get in. Unfortunately, the lovely lady you had met for your consultation was out due to a sudden illness. Which left you with two options. Either wait for another three months, or allow Jungkook to do it today. You were mentally prepared for today to be the day, so fuck it, Jungkook it was.

But that was a grave mistake.

It was a big mistake, and in hindsight, you should have waited three months. His gloved hands were everywhere. They touched every inch.

They had touched your back when they guided you into his office. Grazed your thigh when he leaned over to grab a sterile wipe. The back of your neck when they helped you find a comfortable position on the bed. Wrapped around your wrist to lift your arm across your body to give them the necessary access. And now, they were all over your abdomen, pushing and pulling to ensure the accuracy of the needle.

Want to know what pissed you off the most. The consent. ‘Is it okay if I touch this?’ or the ‘can I place my hand here?’. You could’ve said no. Could’ve made his life a living hell. But you genuinely never thought you would ever be this turned on by just hands.

Although you could not see the skin that decorated their stature, you could make out all the pretty features from under the thin black latex. A large palm attached to the longest fingers you have ever seen, joined by sharp knuckles. The digits were thick but incredibly agile.

Let’s not get started on those arms. The coloured ink that ran along its length, your eyes couldn’t stop tracing the outlines. You thanked the higher powers that his biceps were covered by his oversized shirt. But due to his hard grip on the machine, you could see the veins that protruded through his skin.

On top of all that, he had a ridiculously sculpted face. So fucking pretentious. How could someone be so handsome? The strong jawline, the perfect nose, those siren eyes. Even his hair, slicked back, allowing you to admire every detail. It was like he wanted you to know you were in the presence of a fucking god.

And you would be selling your soul to that religion. You swore to worship him until death. No hesitation. Okay, you were done for.

Afraid you were staining the chair below you, you crossed your legs, throwing one thigh over the other.

That stupid eyebrow piercing mocked you, perking up at the action. His tongue poked at his cheek. “You good?”

You hummed, knowing if you let your lips relax, a very inappropriate sound would escape. “Use your words gorgeous. If you are uncomfortable we can take a break.”

The compliment shot straight to your core. The sensation forcing you to shut your eyes. This was utterly embarrassing. You felt pathetic. You just wanted to get out of the place. “No. Keep going.” You gritted.

“Are you sure pretty? It’s okay, I know it hurts. The area is very sensitive—“ “Shut up. Please. Get it over with.”

He was taken aback by your sudden attitude, already missing the good girl that lay before him moments ago. “Hm, okay big girl. Only a few more lines.”

“Those nicknames need to stop.” You pleaded quietly and he just smirked. The audacity.

“Okay, I’ll stop sorry. Just a habit.” He promised, placing a hand on your stomach as he leaned forward to proceed. “I’ll work quickly. Just breathe for me.”

Inhaling, you tried to focus. The pen touched your skin, vibrating against your bones. You whimpered. “Shush, it’s okay. Nearly there.” He encouraged, pressing down on your stomach to distract you from it.

The thoughts immediately flooded your mind. Of him, above you, hand on your lower tummy as he moved his hips against you. “Doing so good.” He continued to praise.

Toes curling, fingernails digging into your palms, you genuinely didn’t think you were going to survive. Nose scrunched as you battled the images but it was no use. The pain, the man, your imagination. Your orgasm prevailed. A miniature wave crashed through your body.

Your bottom lip was attacked by your teeth, thighs tightened, and breath shaky. This was humiliating. Although you tried your best to hide it, you knew Jungkook knew.

He let out a dry cough, pink tongue slipping between his thin lips to wet the surface before playing with the silver metal in the corner of his mouth. It was obvious that he was concealing a laugh.

Eyes began to water. Something like this never happened to you before. You didn’t know how to respond. The last thing you needed to hear was his smug voice. “All done. Look so pretty.”

Unable to look at the man, you kept your eyes closed, sitting up, hands frantically moving to try and pull down your shirt. “Wait, wait! You need aftercare. It could get infected.”

His voice was stern, his hands grabbing yours. They stopped your panicked motions. Wanting to turn into ashes, you turned your head away from him as your cheeks heated. Your skin was burning at the contact. You felt so small.

“Hey, I promise it is natural. You don’t need to be embarrassed, it happens to more people than you think. I promise pretty.”

“I am so sorry. I couldn’t, uh, stop it.”

You sounded so tiny, Jungkook had to ground himself. Wanting to pounce. He was doing well until your little slip-up. The minute he saw you at the reception desk in that short pleated olive skirt, and white tank, he wanted you. It was a sin. Sinful how beautiful you looked. “It’s okay, let me take care of you now. Let me wrap it.”

Nodding, you kept your elbow raised signalling for him to continue. Grabbing a tub from the stainless steel table, he popped the lid, fingers dipping into the substance. “This is going to be cold. Okay?”

Gulping, you braced yourself. He delicately presssd his hand across your freshly inked skin, the coolness of the vaseline made you whimper. Jungkook, leaned closer, breathing hot air on the area to help balance the temperature. “Better?”

You immediately shrunk, body fell into his words. Hypnotising you. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Intoxicated by his presence, you didn’t even realised he finished up, placing a bandage over your rib. His words were drowned out, you were spaced out. Head on a cloud. A sudden hand on your knee grabbed your attention. “You good?

You snapped your eyes towards him, begging for mercy. The contact on your knee was warm but rough. You immediately noticed the difference from the previous touches, the smooth latex barrier was gone.

Slowly, your gaze drifted, body stiffened when you saw the anticipated honey-glazed hand. Black marks littered it, small tattoos randomly spaced amongst the vast surface. So much prettier than you imagined. Veins galore. Your throat was dry, chest pounding.

“I need you to listen. It is important.” His deep voice emphasised. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” You were sick of it. All of the innuendos. The not-so-innocent comments. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” You replied as your eyes slowly, seductively, met his. And then it just slipped out.

“Sir.”

The grip tightened, cheeks hollowed as he sucked his tongue. His memorising gaze traced your body, shamelessly stopping at your chest. You knew your nipples were hard and very visible through your white tee. They had been since you entered into the cold room.

His hand crawled higher, fingers tracing your exposed mid thigh. “Where did that come from pretty girl?”

Your head dropped down to your lap, looking down avoiding his piercing stare. Your fingers tingled, begging to reach out for his. “I don’t know.”

“Look at me.”

His harsh voice caused you to wince. But you didn’t want to disobey. “I need you to look at me when you answer me. If you want this, you need to keep your gorgeous eyes on me. Understood?”

“Yes” you nodded.

Clearing his throat, he leaned down, lips grazed your ear. “Are you forgetting a word?”

Feeling like you were about to faint, head dizzy, your hand flung to his shirt. It grabbed the material around his bicep, clutching it to hold you steady. “Sir.”

“Good girl.” He growled against your earlobe. His tongue slipped along the outline, teeth scraped the surface. “Now baby, let me tell you how this is going to happen.”

You whimpered, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. He cradled your head, his fingers spread wide along your scalp. His grip on the roots was intense as he pulled, snapping your neck back, giving you nowhere to hide. He smirked, admiring how pliant you looked in his grace.

“The minute you came to me today, you had me so hard. All I could think about was what I wanted to do to you. Fuck you look so gorgeous. Then you decided to torture me by making me tattoo your ribs.”

Straightening his posture, lip tucked between his teeth, he removed the hand from your hair, trailing it along the tank's strap. “Lifting this flimsy top to give me access. Barely covering your tits. Could see your underboob the entire time. Such a tease. Was that nice of you?”

Your knees bent, needing some friction. His harsh grip still present on your thigh. “No sir.”

He growled. You looked so pathetically beautiful. A lustful gaze in your eyes, body radiating warmth, and breath uneven. Unraveling below him.

“That’s right, it wasn’t nice. So I want you on all fours now.”

Fuck his lower register. It resonated deep within you, forcing you to comply to his order. Your body just reacted. Scrambling, you quickly rushed to place your knees and palms on the leather bed.

Jungkook placed a gentle hand on your lower back, steadying you. “Woah, be careful.” He reminded you as he brought his lips to his covered tattoo, kissing the fresh bandage.

This can’t be fucking real. How is he so sweet yet so demanding.

Your knees buckled, back collapsed to cause your elbows to fall. He immediately grasped your hips to help you regain some balance. “So excited baby. Barely touched you.” He huffed. The tone was mocking you.

“You touched me plenty.” You sassed between gritted teeth.

The hands slid down to the back of your thighs. His wide palms teasing your ass. “Is that right? So you don’t want me to touch you anymore?”

Pushing your hips back against his touch, you whined. “Oh you do? So desperate.”

You heard him move behind you. Hands fidgeting with your skirt as he positioned himself. Your breath hitched, knowing he had a perfect view of your sticky panties between your thighs. The skirt did nothing to help hide them. He hummed in appreciation.

“So fucking gorgeous.” His digits hovering your heat. “We don’t have much time okay? I am going to touch you now. You gotta keep that pretty voice down for me.”

You huffed in frustration. “Got to make me raise my voice first.”

Jungkook growled at your brattiness. In one swift movement, a hand smacked against the exposed skin. Gasping, your chest fell to press against the warm leather. “Let’s get one thing clear doll, you don’t talk back to me like that. I don’t want to punish you. Not today anyways. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl. The best girl. Let me have some fun now. Let me get a taste. If you don’t like anything, tell me to stop okay?”

Whimpering, your heat was pulsing. You needed him, his hands, his tongue, his cock. “Please sir, want it. Want you.”

He sensed your desperation, your neediness. Not denying you any longer, his hands flipped your skirt over your hips. Lips gravitated to your covered core. Tongue poking out to get a taste.

Needing friction, you pushed your hips back against his face. Wincing, you prepared yourself for a spank, but he reacted, pushing back. Hands hooked around your thighs, a strong grip keeping you in place.

He was eating you through your panties. Tongue messy as it explored your folds. You were whimpering and whining, as he continued to tease. He knew that you needed skin-on-skin contact, practically begging for it with your quaking thighs. You could feel him smile against your core. This was cruel. And he knew it.

“I know baby.” He purred, the vibration strong against you. “But you couldn’t be patient could you?”

“I’m sorry, please.” You begged, voice cracking.

Jungkook began to leave a trail of sloppy kisses from your core to the waistband of your panties. He delicately scraped his teeth against your skin, gathering the fabric in his mouth. You moaned, anticipating what he was going to do next.

The material was trailed down your skin, his lips glazing your skin as he finally exposed your wet folds to the cold air. Jungkook took a step back to groan at the sight. Wet, glossy lips, panties bunched around your knees, your ass exposed and perky. His cock throbbed under his jeans. “So delicious. Need a proper taste.”

He dived back in, tongue divulging between your lips. Licking and slurping your juices. His lips slipped down to your clit, sucking the sensitive, neglected bud. His tongue worked relentlessly against you, devouring your essence. Hands caressed the meaty flesh on your ass, playfully squeezing and grabbing.

You were creeping towards the edge, stomach tightening and fists curling into a ball. Your sounds were getting louder, your voice becoming horse. He gave your cheek a harsh slap, warning you to quieten down.

“More.” You cried, right at the peak.

Giving a wide lick up your slit, he stood up straight. “Would love you to come on my tongue, but I have another appointment in 15 minutes.”

His hold pulled you to the end of the bed, manhandling you. “Put your feet on the ground.” He grumbled, unbuckling his jeans.

Climbing down onto the ground, you placed your two feet firmly against the concrete. Wiggling your hips as you peeked over your shoulder, trying to find his touch. He chuckled, loving how needy you were. He threw a hand onto your hip, giving you a bit of attention as he pulled his pants down.

“God you are so pathetic doll.” He muttered. His cock was hard against his boxers. Pleading to be freed.

“Was so close, want to cum.”

“What about me baby? You are so cockdrunk, so desperate, you can’t even think about me? About my pleasure baby.” He spanked your red skin. “Don’t be selfish. If I wasn’t in such a rush, I would edge you until you cried for it to stop.”

A pathetic, tiny sound slipped through your lips. “Oh, you’d like that?” He asked, colliding his body into yours. A hand wrapped around your throat, causing your body to crash against his chest. Hips started to rotate into you, grinding his crotch. “You dirty little pain slut.”

His breath was warm against your ear causing you to shiver. “Play with that little clit for me baby, make sure you are nice and ready for me.” He softly whispered, grip rough against your neck.

Your fingertips began to rub harsh circles on your raw clit. His hips were rutting against you. His throbbing cock pushed into you, pulsating against your ass. Legs were weak as you felt his length. It felt so thick, so firm. You wanted to feel it inside you. Now.

“So wet for you. Please just give it to me.”

Voice was shaky, praying that he would give into your pleas. He bit your earlobe, grunting. The sounds were so enticing, so thrilling. You automatically started to rub faster, harder. Closer to edge.

“Give you what baby?” He teased, slipping his free into his briefs, pulling his member free. He traced the member along your ass, you could feel a wet trail form on the skin.

“Cock. Your cock.” You cried out, borderline screamed.

He squeezed your throat, not satisfied with your little outburst. “Baby, what did I tell you about keeping that voice of yours down?”

“Please, I can’t. Need it.”

“Fuck, I love how pathetic you are. Begging me to fuck you in my workplace. Such a perfect girl.” His hand left your throat, going south, to join yours. His fingers slipped through your drenched core. “Baby you weren’t lying. You are so wet. So ready.”

Your head relaxed against his shoulder, enjoying his touch. Memorised by the moment, his digits poked at your lips taking you by surprise. “Why don’t you go ahead and suck on them baby. I saw you looking at them all afternoon. Bet you were fantasing about them. Wouldn’t you just love to suck on them as I fuck you?”

Head dizzy, you couldn’t process his words. All you could do was part your lips and submit. His digits slipped in, and you gracefully and willingly wrapped your mouth around them. Hollowing your cheeks as you sucked, tasting yourself. So dirty, so erotic.

In a blissful daze, you barely noticed his hard tip poke at your entrance, sliding up and down your folds. Covering himself in you. “Baby, fuck, can I take you raw?”

You hummed, circling your tongue around his long thick digits. Fuck it, deal with the consequences later right?

Using his foot, he kicked your ankle, spreading your legs wide. Easy access. Positioning himself, he lined himself up with your aching core. If someone were to walk in, which was a real possibility, they would lay their eyes upon the most sinful image.

A girl, helplessly rubbing her clit, spit running down her chin as she mindlessly sucked on a beautiful tattooed hand. Ruined panties resting on her knees, legs trembling. Eyes shut tight with anticipation and nerves. Hopeless and vulnerable. It was messy, but beautiful.

Jungkook’s hips pushed forward, penetrating your awaiting walls. Load moans escaped you, thankfully, being muffled by his fingers. Each inch dug deeper and deeper. Filling you up,

You felt so full as his abdomen met your ass. His teeth sunk into your shoulder, trying to conceal his own pleasure. “So tight and warm.” He growled, nibbling and licking at the fresh bite mark.

The hand on your clit froze, brain trying to process the new feeling. He held his position, giving you time to adjust. But you were getting impatient. Needing to feel him penetrate you again.

You flung a hand behind you, fisting his shirt, pulling it towards you. Begging him to move. He complied, wanting to feel your walls convulse around him. “I know pretty thing, I’ll give it to you.”

And with that, the merciless pounding began. His hips snapped against you with an extreme forward, making you jump as he slammed against you. You were panting, brain malfunctioning.

The hand that was on your clit transferred to his wrist, scrapping the inked skin. He hissed at the sensation, giving you a particular hard thrust. “Did I tell you to stop touching yourself.”

You shook your head, releasing your hold on his shirt, bringing it to your front. “Good girl. Best fucking girl. Shit, you love praise don’t you. Sucking me in, barely able to fucking move.”

Tears were building up, the pleasure becoming overwhelming. The pace he set did not waver, abusing your silky walls continuously, endlessly. Your clit was overstimulated from all the rubbing. But it felt so good.

Your back arched, head fell back over his shoulder, as if you were being raised up to heaven. The knot in your stomach growing and growing, until it broke. Eyes rolled to the back of your head, teeth grazing his digits as you tried to silence yourself. “So tight. Clenching me. Are you cumming for me sweetie? What a good girl.”

His words caused you to levitate. You ripped yourself from his grasp collapsing onto the bed in front of you. He slowed his pace, concerned.

But you wanted more. “No one more, please. I want you to cum. Keep going. Kook, please.”

Your whines sent shivers down his spine. But if that’s what you want, that is what you get. A proper brat. “You asked for it. Dumb little girl.”

Palms pressed firmly into your lower back, his hips snapped again and again and again. Balls slapping against your thighs due to the sheer force. Your body sliding against the leather, the friction focused on your clit causing you to lose your mind.

You couldn’t function, no words could leave your mouth, only heavy pants. Your hands reached back, pressing against his lower stomach, feeling the hardness hidden under his shirt. Fuck. He was an actual god.

Jungkook let out a deep moan, throwing his head back as he cursed under his breath. “So good baby, so wet. So messy. Fucking perfect cunt for me. All mine.”

“Yours.”

He howled at your submission, grasping your wrist. “Mine. Chant it, baby, as you cum for me. As you milk me.”

Allowing your forehead to rest against the black chair, you cried as you did as he said. Chanting over and over again that you are his. The words travelled straight to his cock, ruthlessly throbbing against your suffocating walls.

Your body was floating, the pleasure flowing through your blood vessels. Your vision was blurring, knees buckling. “Cum.” It was the only word your vocabulary possesed.

Jungkook saw how your body shook, like a ticking time bomb. Knowing the explosion was going to be loud, he caged you in, hand clasping around your mouth. “That’s it cum for me.”

Everything hit you at once, completely consuming you. You squirmed and screamed as the feeling of an overwhelming peace washed over you. It was as if you left this planet. Everything felt so light, so quiet. You could hear your heart pound and ears ringing.

Jungkook held you tight, lips tucked into the crevice of your neck. Hushing and guiding you through your extreme high. His balls drummed, ready to release the pressure that had built up within.

He couldn’t breathe, your wet walls clamped around him. He winced trying to remove himself, his own cock overstimulated. Angry and begging for relief. “No in me, please. Want you to cum in me. Fill me.” You slurred.

His cock didn’t even give him the chance to confirm your request, combusting at your words. Sucking at the raw skin on your neck, ensuring he left a deep mark, he emptied himself. Overcome with pleasure himself.

Spurts of warm cum covered your walls, his moans vibrated against your skin. His cock pumped and dumped every last drop into you until all you could feel was him. All you could think about was him.

Both of you were in heaven. All you could do was cherish the moment. The feeling of being full and contempt.

You stayed like that for a few minutes, breathing heavily against one another. He was crushing you with his body. Finally gaining some strength, he started to pry his body away.

The feeling of his cum running down your thighs was evident, making you cringe. “This is a treat.” He muttered, licking his lips as his hands pulled your lips apart, giving him a front row view of the mess that leaked out.

“Messy, dirty.” You whined.

“Exactly what I like baby.”

Thighs clenched together at his words. The high beginning to crash away. He kissed your lower back, massaging your thighs and ass. “Come on, let’s clean up. My client will be here in a few minutes.”

Pouting, you rose from your position and faced him, legs shaking as you tried to find balance. He laughed, poking your cheek. “Cute.”

He walked over to his sterilised table to grab a towel. Realising that the whole studio heard you getting your brains blown out, you wanted to escape as fast as possible.

Using the last of your energy, you pulled up your panties, fixed your top, and wiped the remnants from your face with your palm. By the time Jungkook turned around, you were all fixed up. Apart from your hair. Which made him chuckle, it screamed ‘I just had sex’.

You stood there uncomfortable, feeling the stickiness between your thighs. You looked at him awkwardly, not knowing what you should say, should do. “Um, thanks. I should get going.”

His eyes bulged, wide like bambi. Before you could grab your bag, he reached out for your forearm. Stopping you. “Hey, um you sure you okay?”

His voice was completely different, soft and gentle. You gulped, nodding your head. “Yeah positive. Don’t want to hold you up any longer.” You smiled to reassure him.

“Oh, um one second.” His hands thread through your hair, fixing the rustled and knotted locks. Tucking pieces behind your ear. “Sorry, it was um a little messy.” He admitted, before he started to fix up his own appearance.

Fuck, he was so enchanting.

Once he sorted himself, he cleared his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want, um, a towel or anything?” He offered with a small smile.

“It’s fine, it’s not that bad.” You shrugged, flattening your skirt.

“Maybe you just like it.” He smirked, trailing his eyes down your body. The comment made your cheeks heat up.

Maybe he wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah okay, I’ll, um, go.” You announced, turning on your heels, ready to make your great escape.

“Wait!”

Jungkook ran to his desk. He grabbed some paper, using a pen to scribble down something. You stood patiently, twiddling your thumbs. “Here, these are some guidelines to help you with the healing process for the new ink.”

Frantically nodding, you thanked him, offering a gentle bow of your head. He bit his lip at your action, finding it endearing. He flipped the booklet before handing it to you.

“Oh, and that’s my number. I finish work at 5. If you text me before then, I can come over to, um, make sure you get some proper aftercare. You know, for the tattoo.”

Pursing your lips together, you tried to hide the smile. “Yeah, for the tattoo.”

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jjkwifestyle · 1 month

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HI! HOWS LIFEEEE? HOWS UU?

hi there :)) life is a bit hard atm because i have so many projects to do and so little time 😞 having a part time job that i hate really doesn't help either. i think i need to go marry a millionaire ☝🏼🤓

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jjkwifestyle · 2 months

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HelllOoooo can i request? 🥺🥺🥹 i honestly fell in love w ur writing 😭😭😭

of course!!! my requests are open at the moment because im lacking in the ideas department so if anyone would like to send me their thoughts they can! and thank you so much for being so sweet :') it motivates me to write <3 please be sure to read my pinned post to see what i don't write about.

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jjkwifestyle · 2 months

Text

😔

A customer contacted our team with questions, and then finished their email with: "I am daunted by the complexities and unknowns." I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.

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jjkwifestyle · 2 months

Text

this was beyond delicious. an absolute masterpiece holy shit

min yoongi is the best shot in the business. you’re the best gunsmith in the city and the only person he trusts to programme his tech; to make his gear.

he likes your work. it’s a shame, then, that he doesn’t like you.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader / word count: 14.3k / genre + rating: NSFW (18+), cyberpunk!au, smut, frenemies (?) to lovers

warnings/etc: hitman!yoongi. black market dealer/gunsmith!reader. cursing/explicit language. whole lotta tension, sexual and otherwise. mentions of injury/violence. minor character death (no one important, don’t worry, this isn’t an angst fic). brief hurt/comfort. reader has tattoos. sexually explicit content. oral; fingering; multiple orgasms; overstimulation (f). unprotected sex (please take the necessary precautions irl). rough sex?. choking. creampie. brief mention of aftercare. I think that’s everything but please lmk if I missed any!

a/n: thank you SO MUCH to both @hobi-gif and @morndas for beta reading this and being so supportive, ily both so much and I owe you my life 🤧💕 as always what was meant to be a short fic turned into a huge one. also this is technically for my 1.1k milestone but it’s a billion years late, oops!

Yoongi really doesn’t like you.

You’re loud. Cocky. Arrogant. You needle him all the time, dig your fingernails in and squeeze, revelling in the way he sets his jaw, the muted spark of irritation in his eyes. You bat your eyelashes and tilt your head, throw it back whenever you laugh and reveal the easing column of your throat, dragging each interaction out with a kind of sadistic pleasure that has him gritting his teeth. Because you love annoying him, getting under his skin, tapping your fingers against the soft swell of your bottom lip as you eye him up, taking your time before you speak.

Infuriating. You’re infuriating and you know it.

It’s unfortunate, really, because you’re unavoidable.

Jungkook had asked, once, why Yoongi doesn’t just go elsewhere. They’re more than familiar with the underbelly of this heaving city, underneath all the neon lights and shimmering holograms and towering skyscrapers and legal tech; the scuttling seams of back alley traders and illegal goods, tech or otherwise. There are plenty of black market dealers, after all, plenty of other vendors he could go to to get the equipment he wants. Plenty of other skilled crafters, artificers, artisans, people who would be more than happy to create the things that Yoongi asks for, that he needs. People who can get their hands on anything you want. For a price.

Yoongi’s answer had been short and succinct.

“She’s the best there is,” he’d said, and that had been that.

Keep reading

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jjkwifestyle · 2 months

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precious

yoongi as cat memes on suchwita - ep. 12

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jjkwifestyle · 2 months

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you put your whole explicittaeussy into this. YUMMM??

i seen you did a request so i as wondering can i request something? 🥹

jk x reader where the reader gets cheated on by her boyfriend and she gets her lick back 💜 love your stories!

I'm sure I can do something quick 💜

Lick Back

Realizing that your boyfriend has become a completely different person & being malicious towards you could only mean that he’s being nice to someone else.

Word Count:4.298

Warning: dry humping, kissing, neck kissing/sucking, dirty talking, nipple pinching, praising, affair/cheating, oral sex, breeding kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, slight voyeurism, teasing/taunting, squirting,

Your mother always told you that if your dog started barking at you that it only meant that someone else was feeding it. A dog would never bite the hand that feeds them.

Your mother wasn’t talking about an actual dog.

However, you had a dog - in a way - and recently, it began doing just that. It became annoyed with you for every little thing you’ve done. It’s tone changed completely when speaking with you; always rushed and not attentive. It started to be mean for no reason, nearly foaming at the mouth when you questioned their sudden change of actions - or questioned it at all. It wanted to be outside longer than usually and would be upset when called back home.

The dog being your boyfriend of nearly 5 years. You noticed the shift a year ago, but you ignored your gut feeling of something being terribly wrong - but now, you are numb and though it hurts in a way, you are also relieved. The love that was one there in your relationship appeared to expire without you realizing it - or maybe you had not wished to accept it.

And yet, here you are in a home the both of you share. He is out, not bothering to tell you just where he’s at - and you don’t ask. You stopped asking a year ago when you grew accustomed to sleeping alone.

But even if the love for your dog is no longer there - and if it was, it was slowly drifting away - that didn’t mean the anger wasn’t. The fact that you allowed the dog to stay with you because you loved him, fed said dog his favorite meals and showered him with love and affections. They were supposed to be loyal - but atlas, someone else had gained its love while you were left in the dark.

But there was someone else who liked what the dog had, you noticed. Someone who appreciated the meals you cooked and ate them with ease, who would come when you called them. They were loyal - even more than your own dog - and it just happened to be the dogs friend.

Jeon Jungkook is an attractive man and he knew it. It showed in the way he struts, shoulders lax and head held high. He almost wore a smirk, but never a cocky one. Jeon Jungkook could be an asshole - a complete fuckboy. He could turn his nose at anyone because he had it like that - but he didn’t.

Jeon Jungkook was a kind individual. He was caring - especially to the ones he was close with. You recall many times when you’d had to call him because your boyfriend had gotten so drunk that you’d need a man's help - and Jungkook was always that man.

And even though Jungkook was a friend of your boyfriend, he was kind to you, as well. He changed your tires on numerous occasions, making sure to give you the speech that “You need to make sure you keep up with your car, Y/N.” or the “Your oil and tire lights are on, how do you even drive this still?” he had good intentions.

“This is so good!” Jungkook says, mouth full of the pork belly. He licks his lips to savor the flavor. Jungkook always wore a disgusted face when something was amazing in taste and even now, his eyebrows are knit together in confusion and he appears utterly disgusted - that was a good sign.

“I’m glad you enjoy it.” you smile at him, washing the dishes you’ve made when cooking.

“I told you I don’t mind washing the dishes, Y/N.” Jungkook says, glancing upwards at you. “It’s the least I can do since you cooked.”

You sigh, smile never ceasing. “It’s alright. You’re a guest after all.”

Your dog wasn’t home and you don’t know when he will be - nor did you truly care. His friend was nicer, more entertaining, as well. He ate your cooking as if it was fine dining, and appreciated it, too. He was kind and good at conversation - he was caring, far more than your dog.

“I enjoy cooking for you, Jungkook. You deserve it the most.” you turn off the water and begin to dry your hands. Your eyes meet his and for a moment, you’re pondering if he’s thinking about your words the way you intend him to.

“Thank you.” Jungkook grins, tiny dimples at the side of his cheek forming.

You lean against the island that he sits at, quiet and content that he’s eating the food you’ve made for him. It wouldn’t be the first time you cooked for Jungkook - you recall the first time without your dog being present was a year prior. You had cooked and waited for his return and was left with nothing. It was hours after when you heard him return - this time not alone or coherent. Jungkook had slung the man onto the couch annoyed with just how drunk he had become and when you emerged - in nothing but a nightgown - he had apologized profusely.

“I cooked.” you had sighed, disappointed but not the least bit surprised by the actions of your dog. “Do you want a plate?”

It has become a tradition now. You’d cook for Jungkook often and each time, he'd come and enjoy what you’ve made him - whatever you made him.

Jungkook was no fool, as well. He knows just how independent you’ve become, especially within the last year. He knows that you know that he knows of your boyfriend's loyalty - or lack of - but you never question him about it, even when he prepares himself to tell you the truth if you had.

Over time, Jungkook noticed that you don’t seem to care about your boyfriend's whereabouts - and around that time, he picks up on just how you begin to dress when around him. It was subtle at first, sure. You showed more skin - more legs with your shorts, more shoulders. He notes that the clothes you wore were tighter but relaxed seeing as you were in the comfort of your own home. You’d wear tanktops that showed your breast with shorts that made your thighs highly appealing for his eyes. Overtime, you ditched the bra and it became harder for him to not gawk at the way your breast looked in them.

Jungkook doesn’t want to assume anything - you were so far removed from your boyfriend that you didn’t care anymore. One drunken wine night when the man was away on a “business trip”, you had told Jungkook that you hadn’t had sex with him in close to a year now - his own drunken response was that if he was your boyfriend, he would fuck you any chance he’d get.

Jungkook isn’t sure if you remember that night and neither of you brought it up after.

“You seem tense.” Jungkook is behind you now - when he has gotten up from his seat, you are unaware, consumed by your own thoughts. “Is everything alright?”

You slowly nod your head, turning it slightly to get a glimpse of him.

Jungkook snorts. “Your shoulders are tense.” he says, gentle hands placing themselves on your shoulders. “Is everything alright with work? The car?”

“Yes, Jungkook. I’m fine.” you giggled. “You worry too much.”

Jungkook’s fingers begin to rub at your shoulders, applying pressure to them. You swallow, your hands gripping the edge of the sink.

“You should relax, Y/N. You’re always doing something and never truly giving yourself a break.”

Jungkook’s hand reaches your neck. They run up slowly, goosebumps left behind in its trail. Your eyes flutter close at how good it felt to be massaged.

“Does it feel good?”

There’s a drop in Jungkook’s voice - it’s deeper. He whispers it, as if only speaking directly to you, even if you and he are already alone in the home.

“Yes.” you murmur back, head falling back against his chest just as he reaches the front of your neck. A tattooed hand wraps around it, thumb caressing your skin in circular motions.

“I’m glad.” Jungkook is subtle when he presses himself against you - so gentle that you don’t notice it at first. You're completely against his body, in blissful relaxation. “You deserve to be taken care of, too.”

Even now, you dressed so comfortably - shorts stopping high above your thighs and a shirt that sculptures your breast so lovingly that he had a difficult time not watching the way they bounced as you walked around the kitchen preparing him the meal.

“I don’t really have anyone to do that.” you whisper back, a slight moan creeping past your parted lips.

“I can take care of you…unless you object.”

You nod your head and instantly, his free hand roams down to grip your clothed breast. He can feel just how hard your nipple was.

You hiss, back slightly arching.

Jungkook engulfs both breasts in the palm of his hands and begins to rub, your light moans enticing him to continue. He can feel your nipples harden in his grasp and he himself begins to hiss lowly to himself on how heavenly they felt in his hands.

There’s no doubt that the two of you wanted this for far too long by the way you completely allow him to touch you without any resistance. He presses himself against you needily, face in your neck as his hands continue to grip and pull at your breast.

“You smell nice.” Jungkook grumbles in your neck, nose inhaling your sweet scent; he’s sure he sounds like a creep, but he wasn’t going to hold himself back . Not now he’s certain you want him just as much as he does you. “I like this scent on you the most. This and the jasmine one.”

You swallow, heat rushing through your body at his words. Jungkook had memorized the perfume’s you’d wear due to the countless times he’d be around you. He recalls the time he even had to help his friend pick out a gift for you on an anniversary and how upset he had been when he chose the cheapest scent he could find - and one you’d never wear. Jungkook had swamped them out and chose the very scent you wore now and you’re none the wiser.

Your arms reach behind you to cup Jungkook’s head just as you feel his teeth sink into the nape of your neck. He’s being more rough; dominant. You don’t remember when the last time a man has touched you with such possessiveness - a sex-toy could only do so much.

“Such pretty skin,” Jungkook’s tongue pokes out of his mouth to lick onto your neck. “just want to mark it all up.”

“Then do it.” you respond. If you and him were going to do this, mind as well go all out. Your dog often comes home smelling like sickly sweet fruit perfume and cigarettes at times - you wanted Jungkook’s scent all over you.

Jungkook does, biting your skin harshly and then suckling on it until your neck is perfectly marked up. He’s then quick to turn you around to finally face him, the both of you now locking eyes.

“Are you upset?” Jungkook questions, eyes dark with lust but a bit concerned.

“With you?” you ask, raising a brow. “Never.”

“Not with me. In general.” Jungkook murmurs, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently traces your lips. “I’m sure you know…what he does.”

You nod your head, leaning into Jungkook’s touch.

“Don’t want you to regret or feel bad afterwards.”

“Are you?” you ponder aloud.

You were so far removed from your boyfriend that you could care less about what he thought. In your mind, he was nothing but a roommate now; the two of you not even sharing a bed.

Jungkook, however, was your boyfriend's friend and maybe he would feel remorseful.

“I told you that I’d never stop fucking you if given the chance.” Jungkook snorts, thumb tapping your lip.

“Then don’t stop.” you murmur, tongue poking out to wrap poke his tongue. “I haven’t been fucked good in so long.”

Jungkook hisses, his hand now gripping your cheek. He shakes his head. “He told me what you like.” he confesses, unsure if you were willing to go down that route with him.

“He was never really into anything.” you shrug your shoulders - this is why you ended up with a vibrator and a dildo; and you were currently looking into a vibrating dildo, how sad your life has become.

Jungkook is aware of his friend's lack of foreplay - he was only ever interested in his own pleasure. Jungkook, however, didn’t mind pleasuring you until you were begging him to stop - but maybe he was just a bad person to think about his friend's girlfriend riding his face until she came.

Then again, you were being cheated on by said friend so maybe this was just his karma; it wasn’t like you were a bad person and deserve such treatment.

“I want to eat you out.” Jungkook declares suddenly that it catches you off guard completely. “Why do you look scared?”

“Just shocked.” you say, body growing even hotter. “Wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“‘I want you to ride my tongue until you’re squirting all over me’ is what I truly wanted to say.” Jungkook deadpans and blinks. “But I didn’t want to scare you away.”

You gulp, eyes widening and thighs clenching.

“And by the way you’re rubbing your thighs together, it didn’t scare you.” Jungkook smirks and instantly, he presses his lips against you. It’s a deep kiss that catches you by surprise, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t crave more.

“I can kiss you, right?” Jungkook says against your lips - maybe he should’ve asked first. “I know kissing is more intimate-”

You shut him up by kissing him, arms wrapping around his neck to assure that he doesn’t get too far away from you.

Kissing Jungkook came naturally - as if the two of you had done it before. He pries your mouth open and allows his tongue to dance around yours, all the way he holds onto your hips.

“Bed,” you kiss his lips again. “room.”

Jungkook follows behind you, unable to keep his hands off of your body as you lead him to your bedroom. He doesn’t even bother to close the door before he’s already tugging at your clothes.

Your shirt is the first to go, breast pooling out that Jungkook cannot focus on anything else but them. He dives into them, your back hitting your mattress just as he begins to suckle on your left nipple, his thumb and index finger pinching the right.

The noises Jungkook made were just as filthy, wet sucking and groans echoing off of your walls. How long he had craved to see your bare breast - they were always teasing him when he was around. Bouncing whenever you move, nipples always erect for his view.

“So pretty.” Jungkook brings the right nipple into his mouth, showing the same amount of needy lust and love to it as the left. His hand squeezes your left breast in the palm of his hand, the pain shooting pleasure right to your core. “I can suck on them all night. I don’t know why he doesn’t.”

Now, Jungkook brings both nipples into his mouth, needily needing to taste you. He has a crazed look in his eyes that only causes you to squirm beneath him, legs wrapping around his waist to feel him.

“You can suck on them whenever you want.”

Jungkook grunts, teeth grazing against your nipples as they pop from his wet mouth. “Don’t tempt me, Y/N. You’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

You were positive you didn’t want Jungkook to leave.

“I want you naked right now. I wanna see just what that idiot has for me right now.”

There wasn’t much Jungkook had to do to get you naked - in seconds, he had helped you kick off your shorts along with your panties, needy pussy on display for him.

“Need you on my tongue now.” Jungkook hisses, flipping you and him so he is beneath you now. Your pussy is so close to his face that it causes you to yelp in slight humiliation.

“I-I wasn’t really prepared to do this, i-I-”

“Y/N,” Jungkook calls, tone dismissive. “I’m a man. Just fuck yourself against my tongue.”

So you do - and Jungkook’s hands only make you do more. His hands slap your thigh to kick up the pace, his eyes boring into your face as it contorts with pleasure. Your hips just as you grind against his tongue, hands gripping your breast.

Jungkook’s eyes never leave your face. He enjoys watching the stress leave your body as you pleasure yourself, it tells him that this is something you truly needed. His hands begin to rub along your hips, encouraging you to continue until they slide down to your ass. He cups them, his own head swaying side to side to further stimulate your needy clit.

“S-S-Shit!” your body leans back, hands planting against his thighs as he devours your cunt as if it was his last meal. “I-I’m gonna cum…you gotta move.”

That was the last thing Jungkook was going to do - not even as your hands try to pry him away from your pussy, he doesn’t. He continues to suckle onto your clit until you’re visibly shaking above him, but even then he was determined; fully committed to having you cum hard on his tongue.

Your legs begin to quiver and Jungkook soon was going to get what he was looking for - you cum. He licks the arousal up, slurping and suckling loudly as your moans mewl out of your mouth.

“I could eat you all day.” Jungkook speaks beneath you - and you knew he was serious.

You did the wrong thing by looking at him. His mouth and chin was fully coated in you and just the sight causes you to cum even harder - the hardest you have ever had in your life; right onto his tongue like he wanted.

You fall back against the bed with a tired sigh, breathing hitching.

Jeon Jungkook was a dangerous man. No wonder the universe gave you your dog - you couldn’t handle a real man such as Jungkook, surely.

“Can I fuck you?” Jungkook asks, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Unless you’re tired then-”

“I want you to cum in me.”

Jungkook coughs, his cock jumping in his pants. “I-I…really?”

“If you’re going to fuck me, you mind as well go all out.” you pant, widening your legs. “I don’t want you to hold back, either.”

You were going to be the death of him - but if this was what is going to kill him, then he’ll be content.

“Fuck.” Jungkook is in a hurry to remove his clothing, scattering it all around the room without a care. “Fuck you’re so perfect. I would treat you so well, Y/N. Fuck I hate him.”

Jungkook’s words causes you to giggle at the circumstances. He hated your boyfriend - his friend - for allowing you to fall into the arms of another man - him. It’s all comical, truly.

“I would fuck you all day if you’d let me. Come home every night and fill you with my cum. How are you not pregnant yet?”

Jungkook’s babbling to himself, even if you could hear it. It’s questions he has asked himself time and time again - wondering why his friend would rather sleep with other girls when he had someone like you at home. You cooked every day and assured the home stayed just right. He would have put a baby in you - and of course married you; but this wasn’t about him now, was it?

Jungkook positions himself at your center and swallows. You’re clenching, ready to be stuffed.

“I bet you’d like to put a baby in me.” you tease, hips slightly wiggling for him to enter you. “Why don’t you?”

Jungkook growls. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, Y/N. You don’t know how many times I imagined you in my home.”

Maybe Jeon Jungkook was a bad friend for imagining said friend's girlfriend in his home cooking for him - or in his bed breeding her. BUT he had since stepped out on the relationship so karma would have to skip him, right? If anything, you being with him would be doing both of you a favor - you wouldn’t be cheated on and he would dote on you every chance he had.

Jungkook begins to enter you, shuddering at the tightness of your pussy. It engulfs him completely, as if shoving him in with whatever powers it held.

Shit.

Instantly, Jungkook begins to pound into you - you casted a spell, surely. Whatever you put in the food had caused him to be highly consumed by you entirely. Maybe a baby would be nice, right?

You weren’t expecting Jungkook to get right into it - neither were you against it. He holds your legs apart in a tight hold, cock pounding into you so heavenly that even you thought about giving the man what he has been imagining.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hisses when his eyes catch the white, creamy ring around his cock. “you haven’t been fucked good in so long. You’re milking my cock already.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a pussy before you could’ve been fucking me.” you needed Jungkook to fuck you harder if possible. Making him mad and taunting him was an amazing way to start.

Jungkook’s eyes are furious, lust and anger swirling in them. “Maybe if you would’ve asked me to fuck you I would have.” he spits back, his thrust quickening. “You always looked so desperate, too.”

“I was.” your hand slap against his bare chest, but it doesn’t cause him to stop - no, if anything it makes him fuck into you even deeper at your retaliation. “You were desperate to fuck me, too.” you moaned when he hit that sweet spot that has never been touched before. “Like a little teenage boy.”

Neither of you notice the footsteps coming closer to the bedroom, far too entangled with one another's pleasure.

“I know when a bitch needs to be stuffed. Should’ve filled you with my cum years ago.” Jungkook flips you onto your stomach. He yanks your hair back so your back is perfectly arched - and then he takes you just as hard as before. “But tonight will be the night that I do what we both want, huh?”

“Fuck, you’re so deep.” your eyes snap shut, stomach forming knots. Your breast bounces in the rhythm of his powerful thrusts.

One hand in your hair while the other begins to play with your wet clit. Jungkook buries his head at the side of your neck, lips against your ear.

“You’re coming home with me tonight, Y/N. I’m going to breed you here, then you’re leaving with me.” It’s the sex and lust talking that's causing him to be so demanding and possessive, but you and him both go along with it. When the high was down, then maybe the two of you could talk with sense.

But as of right now - he was determined to put a baby in you without thinking of any consequences and stupidly, so were you.

“You’re gonna leave him right?” Jungkook asks, yanking your hair harder as his hips jut into you. “You’re gonna give me that baby you want me to put in you so bad and you’re gonna leave that sad excuse of a man.”

Your pussy clenches around him and your eyes manage to open. You’re shocked to see him at the door, eyes wide and watching his friend fuck you into oblivion all the while bad mouthing him.

“Y-Yes!” your juices leak down your thigh, overstimulated due to Jungkook’s fucking and aggressive rubbing along to your swollen clit. “Want your baby.”

You don’t break eye contact with the man - it’s evident that he’s shocked, but he cannot be angered. Not with you, at least, maybe with his friend.

“He could never fuck me like you. Never give me a baby.”

Now you were purposely taunting him, upset that this is when he decides to come home - but a bit glad that he gets to witness the end of an already crumbled relationship. You wonder how he feels witnessing his friend fuck you better than he ever could; with more passion.

You cum around Jungkook’s cock, juices leaking out of you and onto your bed and Jungkook isn’t far behind you. His thrust began to grow sloppy. He leans away from your neck, eyes glancing up at the figure watching them - the same figure of his former friend; one who had not spoken to him in months unbeknownst to you.

The friendship had ended months prior when Jungkook had suggested that he treat you better, in which he responded angrily that if he wanted you to be treated good so bad that he should have you, declaring that he would have nothing but his sloppy seconds. Never truly imagining that he would witness it happen before his eyes - he was just angry and drunk at the time when he spoke so harshly of you.

Jungkook cums inside of you, so deep and so much. His eyes never leave the shocked ones of his former friend at the door as the both of you allow the high to die down. “You’re coming home with me tonight.” he says, not asking but demanding.

You nod your head, eyes leaving that of your former boyfriend and they close as his (former) friend gently lays you down onto your bed.

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jjkwifestyle · 2 months

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Silk Touch | Min Yoongi

warning(s): mentions of sex. not proof read. mentions of female body parts.

a/n: just a liiittle drabble, woke up thinking about this *sob* enjoy! ♡

god his silk touch...every fingertip that he brushes against your skin is like velvet. the way he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, while nodding at whatever words that were just coming out of your pretty mouth.

how...how does he do it? with every nonchalant face, shrug or sigh as he links his pinkie with yours, plays with your hands under the table, squeezing your thigh in the car. it's all just second nature to him. the way he grips your waist a little tighter as a man walks by makes your head spin...the suave just oozes from him and engulfs you.

not to mention back at home too...caressing the small of your back as you guys cuddle, each touch like a shot of espresso. the very occasional squeeze and grab of your hips as he glances at the tv. Is he that oblivious to how he drives you mad? or is he completely aware? maybe that's why he does it so much.

even when he's fucking you he can't keep his hands to himself, as if literally being inside you isn't enough. squeezing your tits, caressing your ass, groping it, kissing and touching your legs with his head between your thighs. slinking a hand around your waist as he's pound-

"love?" he mumbles, snapping you out of the day dream. he's taken his attention away from the tv. cute. "hmn?" you blink at him, he's now scanning your face to see what's wrong. before he can even ask,

"why do you touch me so much?" you blurt out, not even taking a moment to think how it sounds. he raises a single brow. "not that it's a bad thing! just...it's...nice" you look around trying to find your words before meeting his gaze again. he gives a soft breath, almost a laugh. he's used to your questions now. he plants a kiss on your forehead and sighs. "you're irresistible".

satisfied with his answer, you lay your head back down on his chest and you both continue watching the show. his silk fingertips never once stopping their pacing on your back.

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jjkwifestyle · 2 months

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"no more cooking or baking to calm your nerves." sobbing. can't wait for more tho!!

Power to the king | Min Yoongi pt. 1

Fantasy/historical au, viking au (attempted lmao), Yoongi x female reader

aaangst, female melancholia, sexism, Yoongi is an asshole (he gets better i promise), loss of girlhood :(

cw: writer trying to be funny and failing, typos probably

This chapter is just the intro, just to introduce you to the characters and to explain the motivation behind the main characters further behaviour.

word count: as always i have no idea

The air is thick in the reception room you’re standing in. Your father is looking at you with stern eyes. His face is rock hard as always and so is your mother’s. they had called you in here to talk to you and now you were awkwardly sitting in a chair while your parents tower over you. Everything involving your parents was always awkward. Their mere presence made temperatures drop five degrees, which was a spectacular skill to have in the icecold climate already you lived in. You think you know what this is about. You’re getting married off. Nineteen years under your parents’ roof is enough. You had been waiting for it with a rock in your stomach since your eighteenth birthday because they had married your older sister when she was that age. This was two years ago, and she was supposed to marry the crown prince of the kingdom but then your father and the king fell out over something you don’t bother to understand. Your sister married some other rich man of noble blood and moved away to a town in the middle of nowhere. You had barely seen her since. Your father had been the king’s right-hand man for years until two years ago. Now they were on less good terms, but your father was still an important adviser to the king. The prince had remained unmarried.

“you’re getting married Y/N”. Even though you had seen this coming from miles away the statement still stole the air from your lungs for a second. There was no arguing with your father, this had been taught to you a long time ago. Even if your father had been kinder there would have been no escaping this. A life without marriage was out of the question for a woman of your status. Besides you’d have to be pretty unlucky to end up with a husband who created an even colder environment than your parents. You had observed your mother for years and learned that the best way for a woman to find happiness was to just make the best of it. Quietly undergo the whole ordeal and if you’re subtle enough you can do whatever you want out of the public eye. If you play your husband just right, you could get him to do anything and more importantly get him to let you do what you want. If that wasn’t the case, there were enough tricks to keep him in the dark about whatever you said and did with your friends. “To whom?”, you asked and it felt like those words got stuck in your throat not allowing any air to pass. Who was to decide what the rest of your life would look like? If you were lucky, they’d marry you off to Jung Hoseok, he was the son of another noble adviser and he had been your friend for years. Although you wouldn’t be in love at least you knew you would be safe, which is more than most women could say. “Crown prince Min Yoongi”, your father replied curtly. You almost felt the need to straighten your back at the mention of the prince. He had a reputation for being cold and unkind but at least you had never heard anything about a tendency for violence. “How is that possible? I thought your relations with the king were strained”. “The last harvest in this province wasn’t good, the people are struggling and can barely pay what they owe us, as governor I have to make sure our people survive and the kind could help us, this marriage could be what we need to restore the relationship with the king”. This was typical for your family; everything was explained simply without drama or euphemisms. Not a single acknowledgment of what the impact of this marriage might have on you. They don’t care and you know you don’t have the right to care either. “The king has apparently been fearing a revolt from my side, so he agreed. You can go now”. That was it. This coldness towards you was all you had ever known but you never managed to shake the frog that appeared in your throat every time.

“I found a wife for you”. “You mean the maid that just served us dinner?” “This is no time for jokes Jungkook, your brother should have been married two years ago but because of her father’s stubbornness it took me two more years to find yoongi a bride”. “I guess you’ll be marrying the maid then Jungkook”, Yoongi says without as much as a smirk. “Nobody will be marrying any maids any time soon; this is serious”, the king barks. Yoongi finally looks at his father: “Who is she?” “The daughter of governor Leifsdottir”, “Are ya not quarreling anymore then?” “Stop speaking in that stupid accent Jungkook!”, the king barked again. That seemed to be the only thing he was truly good at. “You sound like an old farmer”, yoongi said and this time with a hint of a smile. “Mother thinks it’s funny”, Jungkook dramatically pouts. “The queen is not in her right mind, quit your fooling around!” dogs could learn something from our dear king. “The governor of Varberg and I have put aside our differences. Besides, we both could benefit from this union. It will keep him calm and in exchange I will help financially, his people are suffering”. “May I at least know her name before you throw me into this joyous union?” “Leifsdottir Y/N” “When are we to marry?” “In two weeks”. Yoongi simply nodded and got up. No point in arguing this, he knew that. Besides, he didn’t care who he would marry, he didn’t care about much anymore. Living with a father sucks the life out of a person. The king did it to Yoongi’s mother and he could feel he was doing it to him too.

On the day of the occasion, you wake up feeling rotten inside. The last two weeks you had spent filled with dread. You never asked to be queen, it involved being liked and that was not your forte. It was so much responsibility that had just been dropped on your shoulders. On top of that you weren’t ready to give up the relative freedom you enjoyed. After this day it would be marital duties and nothing else for you, and as future queen you wouldn’t even have a household to run to keep you occupied. You had met Yoongi once, when he was set to marry your sister. He had visited you here and you had talked to him briefly while your sister was getting ready. Since you had already had the opportunity to talk once your parents hadn’t found it necessary to make you meet a second time, convenient as always. Now you’re sitting on a bed in a room in the palace they appointed to you. You feel like you’re choking, all last night was spent crying and panicking. When you hear a knock on the door you straighten your back, over your dead body were you going to let anyone know how you’re feeling right now. If you were going to be made queen you’d do it well, you weren’t going to spend your first day as queen to be, crying. You’re not a coward. “Good morning, madam, it’s time to get you ready”. They wash and dress you and your face doesn’t move a muscle. You don’t struggle, there’s no point.

Yoongi casts a look into the mirror as he gets into his formal attire, “Come in”, he says after hearing a knock on his door. “Ready to give the people what they want?”, Jungkook says as he saunters into the room. “Why do there need to be so many people?”, Yoongi exclaims as Jungkook flings himself onto his bed. “You’re the crown prince brother dearest, everyone wants to know who their future queen will be. They need to see if she’s pretty so they can know if they like her”. “Really, they don’t want to know if she has any interesting takes on how to run the kingdom?”, Yoongi asks sarcastically. “If yer gonna be king yer gonna have to get a better perspective of ye people”. “Jungkook stop impersonating your professor, it’s so bad nobody even gets who you’re trying to imitate”. “If this is any indicator of how you’re going to treat your wife maybe I should take her of your hands”, Jungkook laughs but is brutally interrupted by a pillow in his face. “All right mister grump, they sent me in here to tell you it’s time to get you married”.

According to custom you walk from the palace to the church in procession, and since Yoongi is the crown prince everyone is there to watch the procession. You walk beside your soon-to-be husband, when the procession started, you had tried to seek eye contact, but he didn’t attempt once to look you in the face. You might as well not have been there and so you didn’t try to make contact again. You feel naked in your wedding attire. You’re dressed to the nines but every eye in the city is on you, and you can feel it in your chest. Finally, after what seems like ages you arrive at the cathedral’s doors. The high priest is waiting for you with an unsettling smile on his face. He spreads his arms and welcomes you. You and Yoongi stand face to face while the priest starts rattling off what he has to say. You don’t hear any of it, you don’t make eye contact, instead choosing to look at the crown prince’s chest. He might be looking at your face but you wouldn’t know because you refuse to look at him at suffer the same rejection as before. Your father hands you a sword, the sword with your family crest. Yoongi is handed his family’s sword and when the priest gives the sign you exchange swords. In the process, your hands touch for a split second. His hands are warm which is surprising with the freezing cold blowing around you. After that there’s an oath which you mindlessly repeat, Yoongi does the same. The priest stops talking and before you know it the ceremony is over. You’re driven to the palace for a festive dinner and when you walk into the rowdy dining hall you finally wake up. The entire wedding had gone by in a haze, you had barely had a thought since this morning. It was like your brain had shut down in fear of the realisations you would have if you were conscious. When you sat in your chair next to Yoongi’s at a table looking out over the entire hall, the thoughts came flooding in. This was your life now, the quiet well-behaved wife of the king. No more walks on your own, from now on you would be shadowed by guards step you took outside the palace. No more playing with the animals your family owned, no more cooking or baking to calm your nerves. It wasn’t fitting for the queen to be in the kitchen. You would always love to go to the forest and just run or find herbs to use in the kitchen. That too would be over now. You were no longer a girl, you were a wife, you were a woman. The little freedom that girls have women have to say goodbye to. From now on you got to enjoy in the endless performance that is every woman’s life. You feel tears well up in your eyes. You clench your fists, no way would you let them see your weakness so soon, but it was too late. The tears were falling down your cheeks now and everybody could see. You feel Yoongi turn to you on your right. “Get yourself together”, he sneer whispers.

Now is the moment you’ve been most nervous for. Men think that woman don’t exactly know what happens on a wedding night until it happens to them, but they don’t know just how well women have managed to pass on information without them knowing. Behind closed doors and in hushed voices, most young girls are told everything they need to know. You know what’s coming and as rational as you are you know that Yoongi will not give you any love or warmth. You know he will come into your room, barely undress himself and only touch you when it’s absolutely needed. Still, you find yourself hoping that he will be kinder, that under his ice-cold exterior hides a man full of love. That this man would only reveal himself to you and that you would not need to be so alone for the rest of your life. The moment Yoongi enters the room and closes the door you know it’s idle hope. He doesn’t even look at you. “I will not touch you if you don’t want me to, nobody’s going to check”, it’s a kindness you’d never expected. People always acted like it was absolutely necessary to consummate the marriage the first night. You’d never known that the crown prince would go against tradition that easily. Besides, wasn’t producing an heir your only purpose here? “What am I here for then? I thought I was meant to give you an heir. “We have time, the rest of our lives even, besides I couldn’t touch you anyways”. Ah there was the real reason, you weren’t desirable enough, of course. “Well then I will just get to bed”, you said. At that Yoongi walked back to the door. With his hand already on the door handle he said: “don’t cry like that in public again, I don’t need all my subjects seeing that my wife hates me. It’s not good for my reputation. If you can’t control your emotions excuse yourself and deal with them somewhere private”. With that he slammed the door behind him. You were left in complete silence, sitting on the bed. How dare he. As if he wasn’t the one who dragged you from your home to marry him against your will. This is the moment you made a decision. You would never show any emotion in front of your husband. If he wanted stone cold, he could get stone cold. He didn’t deserve to see the vulnerable side of you and so he never would.

@lifeless-firefly @emerald-notes

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