#bc hes so obvious about how much he liked it lmfao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kithtaehyung · 2 years

Text

starry night (m) | jjk

title: starry night pairing: jungkook x reader(f) rating/genre: m(18+) ; fluff , smut ; established relationship, gamer au summary: all you wanted to do was take your boyfriend on a super late date. warnings: fluff, language, a tiny bit of overwatch lingo, thigh riding, a cute ass date :’)), fingering, penetration, protected sex, tit play if you squint, spanking, they’re both competitive af, hickies, praise, body worship, self-conscious reader argh, multiple orgasms, jk has a big dick but what’s new!!, tatted jk is a warning in itself, koo is a softie for his baby girl :(((, idk this really is just soft smut lmfao note: this is for all the koo lovers out there! also, this is a revamp from the last version bc that one was a version i wasn’t entirely happy with :’)) can’t even describe how much happier i am with this now dsjklf if you’ve read it or not, hope you like the newest version and happy jk day! drop date: september 1st, 2022, 9am est total word count: 7k

“One more game, okay?”

From your spot in the doorway, you wait as your boyfriend pushes half of a clearly worn down headset aside.

“What did you say, babe?”

“One more game!” Giggling at his befuddled expression, you surge on, “Then get dressed. There’s somewhere we have to be.”

Jungkook glances at his monitor before shifting meaningful eyes back toward you, stoic. Very, very stoic.

“It’s 2am.”

You wave off the obvious reluctance. This is something you'd been planning for a week, ever since you read that damn article on your phone.

“Seems so,” you decide to tease instead. “Just let me know when you’re ready!”

In a rush, you bound back into the hallway—the door left wide open in your springy wake. Judging by the yell followed by a quick grunt, you assume he got thrown into another match before he could scold you properly.

Perfect. You have time to get everything ready.

Excitement fizzles along your bones as you scramble around the apartment, gathering things in your arms.

Do you have the date and time right? Yes. Are you absolutely sure that your boyfriend is going to slink out of his cave? Probably.

Well.

He’s coming along this time, whether he likes it or not. So no matter what his response is, you’re gonna make it a yes.

But your answer arrives a mere ten minutes later, sweats and three layers of clothing swallowing its form.

“Wait, that was quick,” you observe. “Were there leavers?”

“Two on our side,” he complains, frustration tugging his beanie down a little too far. "So boring.”

“Lame. Well, you can queue again after we get back from our date.” Snatching a blanket off the leaning pile next to your couch, you join Jungkook in the entryway.

But it’s only then that you realize something’s missing. “Oh, wait. Lemme get one more thing.”

While you poke your head in multiple rooms and rummage, your boyfriend continues his whining, “This date couldn’t wait until tomorrow? It’s freezing outside.”

Oh, it absolutely cannot. Not this time.

Offering a look of pity from a doorway, you sigh, “It really can’t.” You go back to your search, voice wrapping around the walls and furniture, “And we have a ways to go, so. You can sleep in the car if you want.”

His poor tone raises in pitch a couple pegs, “How long is this gonna take?”

“You’ll see!” Finally victorious, you secure the outdoor pillow you wanted—remembering it haphazardly flung into the dining nook during an impromptu pillow fight—and rejoin your boyfriend at the door. Flicking his nose with your free hand, you chuckle, “Always so impatient.”

The pout you receive is almost crushing, but you have to push forward.

However, as soon as you open your front door, you definitely think about chickening out.

Jungkook’s absolutely correct.

It’s bitingly cold outside.

“Shit, babe,” he winces, and you throw him an apologetic glance. “Are you sure you’re okay going?”

You nod while stepping out first, too affected by the chill to verbally reply. After you lock the door behind you both, you frantically follow him in a stilted race to your car.

Why does it have to be freezing? Why couldn’t you have gotten this idea during spring? Or summer!

Gritting your chattering teeth, you envy everyone in possession of a car with automatic-start.

But your jealousy is swiftly smothered, your boyfriend’s half-jog, half-hop form of travel pulling laughter from your throat instead of grumbles. With his puffed jacket swallowing his whole top half, he’s not far off from resembling a skittering ball of boba, and you can’t help but grin until your cheeks burn as much as your ears.

Your happy breath coalesces into the wind in soft tendrils. Even now, when it’s decidedly frigid, Jungkook somehow finds a way to keep you warm.

Just like he always does.

Goddamn, you love him. Though thrusting the two of you into near-subzero conditions in the dead of night may imply the opposite.

Regardless, you don’t have much of a way to go. After all, you had been meticulous in your planning, your vehicle a noble steel steed occupying the closest spot in the lot.

When you both settle inside with rapid puffing and shivering, you toss your pile of date items onto Jungkook’s lap. “Close your eyes for me, okay? You can’t know where we’re going.”

“Seriously?” He frowns in earnest now, shoulders knocking against his ears. “This feels more like an attack than a date.”

But despite his complaints, your boyfriend shifts the bedding in his possession before obeying, kicking his head back on the headrest and shutting his eyes. When you look over, you notice he’s already comfortable, arms slung around the pillow and blanket draped over his still legs.

There is still a downward slump to his lips, though. And while you can’t blame him, you still giggle because you know what’s coming. “Just trust me, babe. I’m sure you’ll like this place.”

Ugh. His tiny pout is still your favorite. “I bet not. But since you’re driving...”

After you pull out of your spot, a smirk carves into your features. “Bet for real, then,” you goad, tempting his competitive spirit. “If I win, you spend the whole night with me.”

It doesn’t work.

Without opening his eyes, Jungkook frowns with his whole face. “It’s the end of the comp season! I’m already pushing it not playing now.”

“Love the confidence, Kookie,” you chirp. “If I lose, I’ll never tear you away from your precious gaming chair again.”

A single sigh serves as his white flag of surrender. “Deal.”

And you don’t miss the grin in his tone.

Because if he’s thinking the same thing you are, he’s remembering the night you gifted him the damn thing.

Neither of you left that chair for awhile.

Finally, the car warms comfortably, and the accompanying music has you bopping your head and drumming gloved fingers on the wheel.

Jungkook’s melodic singing proves indicative of his content—a sign that he isn’t entirely against your mysterious scheme.

Scheme? More like a calculated risk. Either way, you can tell Jungkook’s interest is decidedly piqued, and it’s enough to make you even more thrilled.

Knowing the directions to the location by heart, you take necessary and unnecessary turns, twisting and winding through the city streets. Whether these cheeky moves throw your annoyingly observant boyfriend off or not, you can’t say for sure.

Regardless, you make sure that the trip is much longer than it needs to be.

Checking the time on your phone, you figure five songs is a good enough length of time to keep driving. So you finally decide to arrive.

When your destination comes into view, you roll into a parking spot and announce—proudly—“We’re here!”

As soon as Jungkook opens his eyes to survey the area, confusion mingles with relief across his whole demeanor, his brows moving in a stilted dance.

Reaching a breaking point, he outright laughs. “Seriously?”

The only thing you can do is cackle at his reaction.

You’re right back at your apartment complex, after all.

“Technically, this isn’t exactly where I wanted us to go,” you explain, smiling even harder at your boyfriend’s conflicting emotions.

You know he doesn’t really go out, and you knew that not giving him much to go on was going to frustrate him. But you thought of this idea and wanted to attempt it, since you both at least liked trying new things.

It’s so endearing to see him relieved that you’re home. But your date isn’t quite located somewhere inside. “We’re gonna hang out on the roof tonight.”

A blip of hesitation flashes across his eyes. “It’s even colder up there,” he notes, back to being the boy that didn’t wanna leave in the first place.

“It’ll be worth it! But we have to hurry, or else we’ll miss it.” You scramble out of the car without another word, and groan when Jungkook blatantly takes his time to get out of the passenger seat—slow, unhurried, annoying. “Oh my god, babe!”

“Okay, okay.”

“Follow me.”

The pair of you rush to get to the roof of your building—not without a barrage of complaints from him as you keep discovering stairs—and choose a spot to lay the blanket and pillow out. Lying down, you shuffle as close to your boyfriend as your puffy jackets allow.

You made it on time.

You think.

Crap, did you?

At least the wind isn’t too harsh tonight. This truly would’ve been a nice experience regardless if it wasn’t exceedingly and utterly cold.

But no matter.

Because above you, the sky is vast, and majestic, and speckled with tiny pinpricks of light. Not normally able to observe the universe at its fullest, you take in the current night with amazement, mouth opening in surprise as it claims your entire vision.

And you aren’t the only one steeped in wonder.

Beside you, Jungkook exhales, his awe leaving him in wisps. “Wow.”

“You like it?”

“This is nice.”

“It’ll get better,” you hope, recalling the article you based this entire night around. “Should be in just a moment.”

And you couldn’t have been more timely.

On cue, a wintry meteor shower graces the skies. Streaks of white, orange, and yellow soar across the dark expanse—tiny light trails carving bright, uncharted roads through an indigo ocean.

And the cold only makes this mesmerizing procession more memorable. Both of your bodies remain frozen, subtly forced to focus solely on the spectacle overtaking your eyes.

Extraordinary. Stellar.

Fully enraptured, you almost forget to gauge your boyfriend’s reaction.

So when you drink in his appearance, your heart flutters so rapidly that it threatens to collapse or burn out like a dying star.

All the celestial bodies congregate in his orbs, the meteors from above suddenly swimming in his pupils and sparkling across his irises.

Does he really encapsulate more in his soul than what exists in the heavens?

How is that even possible?

Your breath hitches without your permission, and you aren’t sure if it’s the weather that coaxes tears from your eyes or your love for the boy gasping skyward.

When Jungkook turns to face you, you know the answer is both.

Noticing your features, he simply smiles. One cheek is wiped. Then the other.

“I win,” you proclaim in a cracked voice, and he only laughs and tugs you in for a crushing hug.

“You win.”

Immersed in his warmth, you allow more tears to fall sideways, your adoration sliding straight into the rough material of his jacket.

There isn’t another place in the world you want to be, no other marriage of latitude and longitude that can coerce your bones. Curling your fingers around his coat, you whisper,

“But seriously, this is all I wanted to show you. You can go back to playing when we get back inside.”

“Look at me.”

Tilting your head, you aren’t allowed a second to think before soft lips descend upon yours, conveying everything from gratitude to love in the span of seconds. Before you can respond in kind, your boyfriend pulls back, his voice a plush tenor as he explains,

“A win is a win.”

“But you said—”

Another peck halts your tiny excuse.

“There’s always next season,” he murmurs, nudging your chilly nose with his own. “And I didn’t know you were showing me this.”

Thankful, you sigh, “Okay. Well, let’s go back inside, at least.” Attempting to sit up, you get tugged back down in a blankety heap. “What!”

“The meteor shower! Is there more?”

“Oh. No,” you sigh. “It’s already over.”

“Aw, man! Really?” Jungkook flops back to scan the galaxy again, as if some blazing trails would still be lingering in the dark.

Huffing out a laugh, you admire his childlike wonder, never wanting it to leave him behind.

“That was so cool.”

“It was,” you agree, getting to your feet. “I read about it last week. I figured you’d like it.”

Beaming up at you, your boyfriend gathers the blanket and pillow under his arm before standing, cradling one of your gloved hands in his sure fingers. “I like anything with you,” he admits, reserved in his expression but confident in his words.

And even though your body’s frozen, your heart is positively melting.

“Good thing, then.” You chuckle as you both approach the stairwell door, deciding to test his statement, “I’ll remember that when I ask you to knit with me.”

“Uhh.” Jungkook simply offers a cocked brow. “Warning you now. Don’t get mad when I end up better than you.”

“I have smaller fingers. You’re never gonna surpass me.”

“Maybe I already know how to knit.”

“Prove it.”

Jungkook yanks the ponderous exit open, holding it for you to pass through first. “When grandmas love you, do you ever have to prove anything?”

Tossing a disgruntled look over your shoulder, you scoff, “That’s not fair! Grandmas love you anyways.”

There’s a flash of teeth when he giggles at your glowing accusation. Rolling your eyes, you decide to catch him unawares. “But whatever. You know what I’m better at?”

“Mm, coming in second?”

“Running down stairs.”

Bursting into a sprint, you hightail it down the metal steps, chortling at the whiny shouts behind your descending form.

Down, down, down. Turn after turn.

Holy shit, how many flights are there?

You counted four on the ascent but it feels like a miscount at that moment. Your boots squeak with every stride, the stairwell thrumming with the two of you tearing through its indents.

Jungkook’s heavy shoes paired with the floofy baggage should slow him down, but his determination seems to grant him an extra boost. Hauling yourself forward, you expend every last drop of energy to reach the bottom floor first, huffing and puffing your victory brag when you achieved your goal.

A few steps behind, Jungkook breathily accuses, “Chea—”

“And the score is two to zero!” You abruptly cheer as you pompously shove the building door aside, steamrolling his wrong words with raised arms.

“Maybe I will go and queue again,” Jungkook teases behind you, earning an instant mini-grovel. At your whiplash display of emotions, he blows out a laugh, admitting,

“I’m kidding. But don’t test me.”

Your apartment is just in reach. Still breathing hard from the long descent, you retrieve your keys, hearing them jangle before you slot them into the door.

As much as you enjoyed your short-lived date, it’s nice to be back inside. The pair of you shuck off your coats and winter accessories as soon as you cross the threshold, both winded and thinking of the stellar event.

A stark difference in temperature, the warmth inside only tickles your iced cheeks. Slipping off your boots, you place yours next to Jungkook’s on the front mat before ambling to the living room.

It’s absurdly late, but the adrenaline from your sudden competition has you firmly alert.

Good. You’re sure to crash beautifully in about thirty minutes.

Puffed cushions greet you as you plop onto the sofa, and you curl your legs while waiting for your boyfriend to join. Your fuzzy sweater bunches around your waist, and you tut as you tug it back down, still self-conscious even after all these years with his assurances.

Light humming wafts from the entrance, and you simply bask in the soft notes, serene.

While you consider yourself pretty average in the choir department, your boyfriend truly is otherworldly. Your affection has reached the point where you’re thoroughly convinced he was a siren in his past life - or at least the reason behind those myths.

Tugging off the last of his overshirts, Jungkook joins you with only a simple tee. You shamelessly admire the way his chest and arms resist the material - and the way his waist does not.

Dumping himself by your side, he rests his fluffy head on your shoulder, and your body’s response is to hum on contact. “What now, miss two-zero,” he queries, giggling when you scoff.

“I dunno.” You lay your head on his, feeling the silkiness of his dark locks on your thawing cheeks. “I honestly thought you were gonna go back to playing, so. I didn’t make any other plans.”

Tenderly, you place a kiss on his crown of hair, your lips straying a beat after.

When he visibly perks up, you immediately know that, despite being holed up in that damn game room all week, Jungkook missed your touch significantly.

Which is perfect. Because you’ve been wanting his, too.

His eyes lift, traces of stars and diamonds embedded within their depths. Flitting his gaze to your lips, he seems temporarily spaced - a look he had been wearing recently. It’s like he has something he wants to say, but either has the words jammed in his throat or not there at all.

If he didn’t melt at your touch, this definitely would be where you started to worry. Instead, you’re just downright concerned.

“What, baby,” you whisper, slipping right into a sigh as a strong hand cradles your neck and smooth lips connect with your curiosity.

Jungkook takes his time, lazily kissing you as if he was destined for nothing else in existence.

And you respond, matching his relaxed strokes and letting him skip over the subject. Even as he lowers your bodies onto familiar cushions, you’re okay if you talk about it later.

Besides. You’re most definitely crashing soon.

This man will make sure of that.

Bunching your hands in his shirt, you tug him a tad closer, sighing through his hot breaths when you feel his chiseled weight on your stomach.

Leaving your wet and pouting lips, he only smiles before pecking your forehead, stilling in a delicate pause before dragging his nose across your countenance to kiss both cheeks.

And you can only shudder under his tenderness. In an attempt to hide—bashful nature taking over—you duck your head into the safety of his neck.

But you can’t run for long because Jungkook swoops in to reclaim your lips, the sudden move causing heat to swirl between your thighs and desire to fill your pupils. “Kookie.”

“Yes, baby girl,” he answers, a tiny trail of saliva between your mouths as he pulls away.

Your response comes out a sigh, “Nothing.” Reaching up to shift a long bang out of his face, you drink in his beauty, never running out of sips. “I just love you.”

Grinning, Jungkook’s eyes twinkle as he proudly reciprocates, “I love you, too.” He hauls his body up before taking one of your hands. “Come here.”

Wordlessly, you acquiesce for your self-proclaimed siren, letting him lure you from the couch to embark on a telltale journey to your bedroom—depths you would endlessly dive.

Glancing at your conjoined hands, you roam your eyes over his veiny forearms, admiring the ink on his canvas. Your favorite work of art. No museum in the world was worthy enough.

Jungkook turns in the doorway before pulling you close, bending to capture your lips in a shockingly heated kiss. Jerking your arms up to hold his biceps, you bury your digits into his muscles, dragging them hard the way he loves so much.

And it awakens a sleeping beast: inked fingers clawing at your pants.

“You want them off, baby?” When you receive a nod in response, you pause your movements to slip out of the material, letting your bottoms puddle around your feet.

Without warning, Jungkook dives in to lather your neck with hot breaths, wordlessly letting you know he wants the sweater gone next.

And, without fail, you resist and want to keep it on.

“You’re so beautiful,” your boyfriend mutters into your skin, fighting off those familiar thoughts he knows lurk in your conscience. “You don’t ever have to hide from me.”

“I know, but...”

“It’s okay.”

As he leads you both to your comforting bed, you melt into his increasingly searing nips and sucks, moaning as his tongue licks all the way up to your ear.

“We can make you feel good first.”

You don’t even register Jungkook sitting on the edge until your underwear comes in contact with his sweats, his erection rigid against your soft sex.

How can he get hard so quickly? How does this happen, time after time? He always blames you, but you never quite believe him. Then again, you never get enough time to—

A deep chuckle rumbles within his ribcage as he repositions you, body hovering over one of his thighs. His gorgeous, upsettingly tight thighs.

Teasingly, he asks, "This is where you like it, huh?”

“Yes,” you admit in a moan, wasting no time in sliding your slick core over his pants. “I like this.”

A hand comes up to slap your ass, and you buck forward on his leg when he rasps out, “Show me how much you do.”

Unsurprisingly, your underwear proves thoroughly soaked already, and you call yourself a hypocrite for wondering how Jungkook manages to get turned on so fast.

Under your boyfriend’s lidded observance, you only want to grind hard, with purpose. The friction you want exists in his bulging muscle, rubbing against your covered clit with each thrust, and you can’t help but squeeze yourself around his leg. Harder, tighter, stronger.

Drinking in your movements, Jungkook parts his lips, tensing his thigh at the perfect moment and chuckling darkly when you react.

“Don’t be shy,” he murmurs. “Wanna hear you, too.”

Mewling, you clasp your hands around the back of his neck, rolling your hips repeatedly and wordlessly thanking your boyfriend for working out so often. Fuck, just his thigh is almost enough to make you come. The tautness feels delicious under your clit, and sighs cascade out of your mouth like pretty waterfalls.

“God,” he groans, finally lifting your sweater and yanking it off your raised arms. When he realizes you opted not to wear a bra underneath your thin shirt, he kicks his head back in agony. “Fuck, baby.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree with a nod of your head. Biting your lip, you rejoin your hands behind his neck and continue to swivel your hips, clenching your thighs around his when your bundle of nerves hits just right. “Feels so good,” you gasp, your breath ragged and steeped in hunger.

“I know.” Your boyfriend tugs your shirt up until your breasts are freed, mouth encircling a nipple and sucking with a lick.

Fuck! Want gushes from your center as he admires your chest—each lick, each suck, each swirl of his tongue—soaking through your underwear and staining liquid white on his pants.

More.

You need a lot more.

Your core aches for a deeper intrusion and you both know it. “Kook,” you whimper, pressing your sweaty forehead to his. “I can’t. I need you.”

“Then lift up for me, love,” he responds, lightly patting one plump side of your ass.

Obeying, you release a drawn out moan as you feel him slide your panties over before one of his deft fingers slips into your folds. Rubbing your clit slow, he collects your sweet juices before lodging his digit in your cunt.

Fucking hell, he knows your body better than you do.

But of course he does. The times before have made him an expert. All those beautiful, tender, countless times before.

Watching your little jumps and tweaks seems to bring him joy, eyes alight with hunger for your pleasure. Inserting another finger, he starts to pump them in a steady rhythm until you felt that hidden spring in your body tighten alarmingly quick.

Shit! There’s no way you’re gonna come so soon, is there? Is there?

“Baby, I’m close,” you whisper in warning anyway, forehead hot and perspiration starting to coat your face. “You’re too good at this, fuck.”

“Come then, baby,” he coaxes with a smile.

You snap your lust-heavy eyes to his. “You sure?”

“Promise.” His smile tilts to the side as his confidence drips from the corners. “I’ll just make you come again.”

Fuck.

Chasing your high in earnest, your sticky thighs burn as you launch into a quick pace, outright fucking his hand as his slippery digits show no mercy. Your essence leaks out from between his fingers to stain your thighs, but you can’t think about anything else other than release. Release release release.

And it consumes you whole in an instant. Strong. Pulsing. Endless.

Swallowed by your high, you barely register Jungkook’s hushed praise and encouragement. Pleasure is the only thing you know as it surges through you, twisting across your locked limbs and leaving you weightless, elevated, teetering on the edge of a precipice.

Only the sight of your boyfriend licking his fingers clean is your sole, solid grasp on reality.

Because oh. That’s you he’s licking off his fingers.

Why does that always make you feel both turned on and embarrassed all at once?

Slumping forward into the crux of his shoulder, you inhale the heady scent that mingles with his cologne. “Holy shit, I think I saw stars.”

A breathy laugh cascades down your back. “Mm, let’s make that two-one then.”

“You would still keep score,” you huff, dragging your lips across his sweaty skin before attaching them to the base of his neck. As soon as your heated mouth latches on, Jungkook grants you better access, his reaction coming out in a low groan.

Taking the opening, you lick a trail up his column to his ear, sucking on his pulse once you venture back down. Feeling him sigh beneath you creates an urge, and you nip at his skin with more force than usual.

Arms tighten at your sides with a hiss. “Baby, yes.”

You alternate between nips and sucks along his smooth neck, imagining how beautiful it would be if he got it inked, too. Sliding your burning tongue up the shell of his ear, you bite down before pouring praises inside.

To your delight, Jungkook’s cock twitches on your thigh.

Humming, you ask with glee, “Did we find something you like, too?”

“Not sure.” He hisses again. “May need further tes—Fuck.”

You chuckle with joy as you lick his pulsing ear, the skin bright and angry from the torturous nick you just inflicted.

Experimenting and learning Jungkook’s body is something you will never tire of. It remains one of your favorite hobbies, and will stay that way for a wonderfully long time.

Worked up, your boyfriend finally yanks his shirt off, pulling you back in for a searing kiss when it’s thrown onto your laundry chair. Molding yourself into him, your nipples scrape his bare skin—the friction creating another set of swells in your core.

Hugging you close, Jungkook softly falls back onto your bed, keeping you aloft his rippling abdomen. Finally stretching out your legs, you feel relief in your thighs, wincing at the burn from strenuous use.

Goddamn, you’ll be surprised if you can walk to the next room when everything is over.

Jungkook isn’t privy to your thoughts. In this new position, he slips your underwear off before grabbing your ass, marveling at its plush curves like he’s never touched you before.

“You see it everyday, Kook,” you murmur between unhurried kisses.

“I do...” He presses his pelvis into yours, his hardened length sliding torturously against your dripping core. Your mewl harmonizes with his groan before he sighs, “But it’s just so perfect.”

You want him. You want him now.

Despite already reaching the summit, you’d plummeted back down and vow to climb again. “I’m still in a shirt and you’re still in pants,” you complain. “Take them off.”

Beneath you, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates through your chest. “You’re the one that held my thigh hostage!”

“Yes, and?”

“It was hot as fuck.”

“Exactly. Hurry up!”

“Okay, okay!” He huffs out a laugh. “Grab a condom then.”

Puffing, you push yourself up before slipping out of your already rumpled shirt. Chucking it as close to the laundry chair as you can—both of you humming in pride when it actually gets there—you start crawling across the bed to reach one of the nightstands.

“Ow,” you heave out, met with another light chortle. “My thighs.”

You hear the shuffling of clothes behind you as you retrieve a package from the drawer, sliding it shut before dropping your body in a tired heap.

Damn. There’s a lot of ground to cover between you and him. How the hell are you gonna get over there?

Deciding on the easiest course of action, you literally roll toward your unconcerned boyfriend until you mush into his muscular, bare form. “Hey,” you puff. “Feel sorry for me.”

As he situates himself on an elbow, your boyfriend’s lips mush just to keep a laugh from escaping. But he fails massively, his outburst above your nose causing his eyes to crinkle.

“That was the cutest shit I’ve ever seen.”

Pouting and trying to ignore the tingling you feel, you slap the condom wrapper against his chest. “Those stairs took a lot out of me. My thighs are officially tapping out for the night.”

Long fingers still on the metallic packaging. “Did you still want to keep going?”

“What? Duh.”

“Oh, okay. Just making sure.”

Tilting your head and smoothing out the covers underneath, you lament, “We haven’t even started on you yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Bending down to plant a heartwarming kiss on your forehead, Jungkook only smiles. “This is about you. I’m already happy.”

“Ugh, stop,” you whine, reaching down to take his velvety cock in your fingers. “Don’t be lame.”

“Babe.” A stern look darts your way and, after you hum in curiosity, he cocks a brow. “You literally made us get in a car so you could drive us back home.”

Laughing in earnest, you quickly admit defeat. “Damn, you got me.”

Your mirth is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips as he descends, an overwhelming appetite for everything you can offer. Pushing his cock further into your palm, his kiss deepens just as much.

His length always feels so weighty in your hand—so comforting, so familiar. But even in its smooth familiarity, you’ve never, ever gotten tired of pleasuring him. You were sure you could stay in and rub his cock until your arm fell off—or if he asked, sucked on it until he begged you to stop.

But he doesn’t ask for either of those things in that moment—solely focused on exploring your heated mouth until he maps it all. Jungkook really is orbiting around you and you alone, and you want to gift him the universe in return.

Relishing in the smoothness of his limbs and feeling safe in the embrace of his build, you stroke him in earnest—pulses in your core in sync with every groan you tug from his throat.

Suddenly, feverish lips leave you chilled.

“Hold on, babe.”

Leaning back, Jungkook effortlessly rips the wrapper open with his teeth before tossing it, his elbow digging into the mattress. After you retract your sticky hand, you watch with a small smile as he covers himself before hovering his beautiful body over yours.

But that’s all he does, and it’s intriguing.

What’s he thinking?

You’re about to ask when his words cut you off.

“You’re…” His eyes roam over your form, the heat of his gaze causing your arms to furl over your chest instinctively. Gingerly halting your limbs, he whispers,

“You’re the love of my life.”

So many things could’ve been said in that moment. So many phrases he has said before in similar situations. But what does he say? What does he go with?

You weren’t expecting that at all.

“Baby,” you murmur, blinking to quell the burn in your ducts. “If you keep saying stuff like that, I’ll cry.”

Gently nudging your legs apart, he slots his body in between. “I mean it,” he pledges, lowering himself to cage you in. Molding his entire body into your naked form, he shuts his eyes in wonder before regarding you with a loving gaze. Soft locks tickle your cheek as he kisses your neck, licking and sucking in the spots that affect you the most. “But I’ll stop.”

“For now,” you correct. “You can make me cry after.”

Jungkook’s breathy laugh will always be one of your favorite sounds. “Deal.”

Sighing, you reach up to clasp his flexed biceps, tightening your holds whenever he starts sucking on your pulse. How he went from worshipping you to devouring you was always intriguing. Maybe to him, they were one and the same.

Between your legs, your folds flutter with want, and you lift your hips as a tiny hint.

“Say what you want, baby girl.”

“You know what I want.”

“Nu uh.”

Feeling the abrupt girth of his head protruding your folds, you grunt with a harsh shot of breath. “Fuck,” you gasp. “I want you, but not all at once, fuck.”

“How are you always so tight,” your boyfriend wheezes, rubbing his length up and down your cunt before nudging in slow. “Holy shit.”

You whimper at the intrusion until you feel yourself adjusting.

But this was expected. Jungkook’s so damn large that you go through this every time. The only times that have been different have come after he’s eaten you out, and even then he’s still a bit big.

However. You know what proceeds the slight ache, and it’s completely worth it. The euphoric feeling of being completely and utterly together. One.

Your core molten and clenching around him, you purr at the way he goes deep, deeper, bottoming out. Above you, Jungkook starts perspiring in earnest, grunting as he keeps himself still. Sheathed entirely inside, he goes back to ravaging your neck, and you encourage him to finally move with a rock of your hips.

“So fucking big,” you praise, mewling when he chuckles during a deep thrust. “I love your dick, baby.”

“It’s yours,” he offers with no hint of hesitation, rolling his hips until you see another set of stars. With each long thrust, his ridges rub like heaven, your lower lips singing their gratitude in tight spasms. “I’m all yours.”

“You can go faster,” you mention in passing, though the breathiness of your voice gives away your desperation.

Maybe you are desperate. May as well lean into it. “Go faster. Faster.”

“If you start being bossy, I’ll come.”

“That’s the point, Kookie.”

Grunting in agreement, he slips a strong arm underneath your hips, lifting you at a slight tilt. The new angle allows him to penetrate deeper, and you sing his name in a continuous hymn with every other plunge. Again and again and again.

His lips connect with yours for the upteenth time that night, as if he was continually magnetized and couldn’t stay away for too long. Your breath’s stolen away with each pass—his soul pouring into yours to make up for its absence.

With each fleeting second, your skin proves slicker with sweat and effort. Exertion appears on Jungkook’s own body in the way his muscles and veins bulge, pulse, shove against the confines of his skin. Ever faster, his hips never tire as he finds a steady rhythm.

“Babe, fuck—”

“So fucking tight.”

Your breasts bounce each time he penetrates, and he curls his body to take one of them in his fiery mouth. You arch your back to aid his hunger, and you moan with every intentional lick and swirl of his tongue.

Nipping your bud, Jungkook smirks at your squirming before attacking the other, shoving his cock far into your sex just to see how loud he can make you whine.

Breathless, you go limp and take his hard rhythm in stride, riding the high of feeling so incredibly full. Only the sounds of your small mewls and his reserved grunts permeate the air, thickening the room and layering more sweat on your skin. You’re sure you look as fucked out as your boyfriend appears, lust manifesting in passionate blooms on his slick skin.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he lauds. “Love when you relax for me.”

“Feels so good, Kookie.”

“That’s what I want for you.”

Lolling your head to the side, your lidded gaze latches onto his inked arm. So pretty, just like him. You gnaw on your lip as you contract against his pulsing length, your body bumping with the knocks of his thrusts.

The desire that had been unleashed before coalesces again with a vengeance, sneaking up from the earth and balling itself inside your core. Sliding your eyes to meet Jungkook’s wanton expression, you whimper, “I’m close again, baby.”

“Fuck, I can tell.” He dips his forehead down to yours before sliding his hand to your hip. Gripping your skin, he’s sure to leave tiny bruises with how rough he holds on.

But you don’t care. You love when he loses control.

His heated breath ghosts down your features as he rolls in exaggerated thrusts, and his heavy hums clue you in to his own chase.

“You, too?”

“Ye... Yeah,” he grunts, voice high in pitch.

“Good. You’re so hot when you come.”

Your praise coaxes a whine from him before his motions became unpredictable and erratic.

There it is. He’s so close. Just one more push.

Abandoning your squelching sex, you suddenly use both hands to claw at the rippling muscles of his back. Angry red scratches tear through his nearly-unmarked skin—the only other scars from more passionate ones you inflicted before.

A strangled groan empties out above you, and his mouth flops open in unhinged desire. Darkened, blown out orbs bury into your sweaty face, and you squint to fire heavy lust in retaliation.

Contained energy threatens to burst inside of you. Another high in plain sight. Tugging at Jungkook’s long, wet locks, you shove his mouth onto your ravenous lips, impaling him with your furious tongue.

His breath shoots out between your fervent demands, “Gonna. Gonna come.”

“Do it, baby.”

With the next thrust, you’re pulled under instead, tumbling under the currents of your orgasm and spiraling out of control. Your boyfriend follows close behind, and you can feel him twitch furiously inside of your walls.

The moment only lasts mere seconds, but you feel afloat for much longer, your body wracked with release. Words of affection tumble onto your heaving chest before Jungkook slides out of your exhausted core, and his body dumps into an exhaustive heap right next to you.

Always a new and ethereal experience with him. You can’t explain how beautiful it feels to have him in your arms when you come, or when he reaches his own high.

In a way, you could say it’s touching. Laced with enchantment. Something deeper than love, if that were even possible.

But there aren’t any words in existence that can describe the feeling, so you only settle with conveying how you feel in your actions.

Lightly raking your hands through his sweaty hair, you smile before kissing the tip of his nose, nuzzling it before thumping your head back onto the comforter.

“We should clean up.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, his body not conveying the same willingness.

And you can’t blame him: your own limbs didn’t feel adequately attached to the rest of your body. You’re essentially strewn about the bed in parts yourself.

“How are your arms,” you grunt, struggling in your quest to achieve a sitting position.

Your boyfriend nudges your back with his floppy hair, helping you straighten in the most adorable way possible. “They’re okay. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

Sliding off the bed, your entire body feels like gelatin for bones, Jungkook jutting an inked arm out to steady your wobbling.

A giggle punctuates his inquiry. “That bad, huh?”

“Shut up. This is your fault.”

“Nu uh.” Standing and guiding your fawn-like feet to the bathroom, Jungkook counters, “I wasn’t the one hauling ass down four flights of stairs.”

“Yeah. That’s why you lost.”

“Brat.”

“You like it.”

As you both go through your clean up and bedtime routines, the light banter continues. It quickly transforms into delirium from being the dark early hours of morning, nonsensical quirks and giggles puncturing the apartment walls.

When you’re settled back into your bed, you curl your body into his. But you still aren’t quite comfortable: throughout your small time in the bathroom, your feet somehow managed to freeze over again. Seeking immediate thawing procedures, you slot them between Jungkook’s legs.

“Hell no!” He wiggles rapidly and attempts to run from your iced extremities, whining when your toes chase him down under the sheets. “So damn cold!”

“I’m trying to get warm!”

“Damn it... You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am,” you hum, your face smug.

Even with his protests, your boyfriend clamps his limbs around your feet to give them heat.

Silence settles like a light dust over your bodies. Heavy with contemplation and satisfaction, Jungkook quietly slings an arm over your body to pull you closer. Though he absolutely doesn’t need to keep his voice low, he whispers to your forehead,

“Thank you for the date tonight.”

Heart fluttering, you nuzzle into his chest. “Thank you for joining me. Sorry for ruining your rank.”

“Fuck my rank,” he huffs with a hint of mirth. “This was the most fun I’ve had in months. It made me even more sure of…”

Huh?

Of what?

Confused, you tilt your head within your small space. “More sure of...?”

“Umm.”

Feeling his hold tighten around you, you aren’t positive if you felt a slight shake of his fingers or not.

A slight, prickling feeling skittered over your skin, goosebumps flaring like your heart knew what he was going to say without him uttering a word.

“I was gonna save this for a better time, but, uhm.” He pauses, a million moments in between. “I just know I wanna marry you.”

Oh.

You still—only for a small beat—before relief bubbles from your throat.

When Jungkook regards you with a confused face, you breathily respond, “Is that what you’ve been wanting to tell me this whole time? I thought that was already the plan, silly.”

“Really?” Solace floods his features, and you can’t for the life of you understand how he didn’t get that impression before.

Does he really not know how incredibly and unabashedly threaded he has you around his tattooed finger? Who the hell else would you stand out in that weather for more than a millisecond for? For who else would you traverse the galaxies if he ever lost his way—tearing through planets just to find him and bring him home?

“Yes, really,” you giggle, wetting your lips before capturing his. “Just let me know the date and time and I’ll show up.”

Chuckling, he presses a tender kiss to your nose before padding around for his phone. His curious, determined face illuminates like a single star, and you fill the bed with mirth when he ponders aloud,

“Then when’s the next meteor shower?”

end.

A/N: YAAAAY if you made it to the end, welcome!! thank you so much for the support and always feel free to let me know what you thought. this is a revamped version and i am way more happier with this result, so if you’ve read both, thank you twice :D as for more jungkook content: it is coming!! got wips in the works and should be putting out updates/teasers soon. of course, any feedback will definitely be appreciated. my ask box is always open<3 ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist

2K notes · View notes

fairyofshampgyu · 8 months

Note

i love himbo ! gyu so much tbh like it's brainrotting me ngl 💔

I ONLY JUST SAW THIS NOW FOR SOME REASON SORRY BUT OMFG YES HIMBO GYU 😩😩😩 I think about him all the time especially after your himbo gyu headcanons you really brainrotted me hard 😪 everything you said was so true bro ‼️No but that picture you used as your header always reminded me of frat boy himbo gyu as well like !!😩 so now i think we need to talk about himbo gyu more or I’ll explode.

Okay but also look at these pictures like he also looks like a frat boy himbo here hsfhfjdh

Anyway himbo ! gyu being so damn obvious with his crush on you whilst thinking he’s subtle but every time you’re in the room he’s staring at you like a hawk and not paying attention to a single thing his friends are saying, his friends asking him a question but he’s completely zoned out daydreaming of you lmao and yet he’s also so oblivious to your crush on him somehow when you’ve been straight out FLIRTING w him he just doesn’t seem to get it 😭

Gyu when you guys finally start dating being the clingiest bf ever he’s literally like a golden retriever or a lovesick puppy for you like he’s so down bad and once he’s finally forced you to cuddle him at the most unconventional times, he literally will not let you leave him for hours whining so loudly if you let go 🙄🙄

Complaining when you do work and never doing his own, luring you in by promising ‘study dates’ and that he will fr study this time but he won’t shut up talking about random shit and distracts you sm and asks for like 50 kisses 15 minutes into the session

ALSO HES SUCH A PERVVV and he’s such a thigh and ass man omg he will not leave them alone but bc he’s so dumb for them, you can use it to your advantage and tease him so bad 😌 like one time he’s just walking on campus and you run up to him and hug him and say hi then do a little twirl in a extremely short skirt or revealing outfit and bro has already malfunctioned and gotten hard 😪 begging you both to just skip class and go back to your dorm to which you dramatically gasp at like “you’re such a perv beomgyu omg.. !🫢😰🤨🤨 I’m just wearing a cute nice innocent outfit tf”

When that was literally your devious 😈 plan all along LMFAO TO TORTURE HIM AND GO CRAZY OVER YOU

He’s begging and pleading so bad but you force him to go to his class and he’s texting you in his class as soon as he’s in there saying he can’t focus bc all he can think of is you but he never focuses in class anyway 🙄

So you send him a few innocent pics in his lecture 🤭… maybe of your skirt ridden up a bit, plush thighs on full display and your panties

HE GOES INSANE, sending you keyboard smashes and saying he’s “fr DYING rnaBAJFKDJ<$*) STOP DONT DO THIS TO ME Y/N HSJFJ IM GOING TO DIE AND EXPLODE” he’s literally so painfully hard in his lecture lmfao but you tell him to pay attention

When his class finally ends he practically pounces on you dragging you to his dorm 😭 and now you’ll have to care of the mess you made of him, fucking your baby so dumb <3

Beomie’s got a big cock but dumb baby doesn’t know how to use it himself you have to help him :( so pretty but can’t use his pretty little head of his all the time

Call him a dumb puppy and he’ll literally whimper and cum in his pants right there he loves it sm, pull on your dumb puppy’s hair as well

Yes, he’s a bit ditzy but he’s def not dumb when it comes to eating you out though like you said, he could literally stay there forever and he’s so pussy drunk for u, pretty lips and tongue so good at fucking you and sucking your clit, big dumb pretty eyes looking up at you, he’s always begging you to sit on his face like he loves eating you out whilst you sit on his face and gripping on your plush thighs as he whimpers and whines underneath you it’s literally his favourite thing

Pretty but no brains or maybe he just puts the act on a lot more just bc he knows how much you like it and go crazy when he doesn’t know what to do and looks at you with his dumb puppy eyes, he’ll use it to his advantage as well to get what he wants, he’s still a major spoilt brat 😒

#moots <3 #tbh idk what this is 💀💀#JUST WE NEED MORE SUB HIMBO GYU #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu hard thoughts #choi beomgyu smut #txt smut #sub beomgyu

270 notes · View notes

neocentral · 6 months

Note

that sungchan/eunseok incel mindset ask got me thinking abt them as bfs who force you to do sexual stuff when you're not ready and then force you to cross your boundaries when you are.

sungchan strikes me more as the type to kind of dissociate himself from the act, trying really hard to ignore your cries and pleas bc he knows he just has to take what's his and eventually loses himself in the pleasure, apologizing a million times when he comes to it (whether he's genuine or has figured out it's an effective way to manipulate you right back into his arms you're still not sure) and promising to never do it ever again, only for the cycle to obviously repeat itself until you're just too tired and drained to leave.

with eunseok it is what it is. he will push you down and restrain you if he has to, will even strike you hard across the face if you fight back too much, not afraid to choke you until you lose consciousness either. but he prefers for you to stay awake while he takes what you owe him as his woman, i mean, how else will you learn? he likes when you eventually become hopeless and submit to him, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible, but he also can't lie - he does get a kick out of hearing you whine and sob while he tears you apart. if you're not going to learn then he will make sure you at least suffer for it. and he won't apologize either. what for? getting it into that tiny brain of yours something that should have been so obvious and natural from the beginning? you should be thankful he's even willing to stay with you and teach you everything you need to know about serving your man - he's being generous and doing you a favor even if you can't see it yet. and it's not that you wouldn't like to see what happens if you ever try to leave him, it's that you would not live to. he would never allow it.

sorry for going off about eunseok lmfao he just makes me hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

moved to: @riizeblr

rating: 18+. mdni.

I disagree w sungchan I think he likes it but maybe that’s just me

but eunseok 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

I agree completely but I wanna add to the part where you said he gets a kick out of watching you suffer. I also think that he likes it but there’s a point where he gets annoyed at how dramatic your resisting and crying it. it was cute at first but at this point ? like he already started so just take it.

#tw noncon #tw abuse #starring… eunseok !#screenplay…#[RIIZE] play…#eunseok x reader #sungchan x reader #sungchan smut #eunseok smut #riize smut #riize #eunseok #sungchan

130 notes · View notes

mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Text

fic rec friday 3

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Memories Made by zjass06

"Hi! I'm Will! You're my new neighbour!" the blonde boy beams; Nico frowns in turn, peering curiously at this Will. "My ma' says not to talk to strangers," Nico replies as he sits himself upon the grass. Will plops himself down next to the dark haired boy, who giggles so purely it makes his smile contagious. "I'm not a stranger, I'm your neighbour! You live next to me now and we can be friends!" Or A few snippets of Nico’s life and how his friendship develops with Will, all within a much treasured treehouse.

childhood friends to lovers will ALWAYS be elite. to me. and the centrality of this treehouse in this fic is so fucking cute bc they absolutely are the type of nerds to have a treehouse they use well into their late teens lol

2. Mafia by @buoyantsaturn

Nico is the most terrifying mob boss in New York, and Will is his live-in doctor. A Mafia Au

MY FAVE SOLANGELO SERIES TBH. like is it toxic a little bit? yeah. did the second one make me squeamish? yeah. in the 6/7 years since its been posted, have i read it literally DOZENS of times?? you betcha. idk man theres something about the danger of it all. the insane mob boss and the doctor hes whipped for. SO SO much fun and so so so romantic

3. you stormed into the battlefield (of my heart) by fedyaism

“Doctor Solace,” he says, “would you be willing to tend to a foe?” Will blinks. (He had practically expected everything but this.) “I’m sorry?” “I need you to heal an enemy for me. Can you do that?” Grace asks in a tone that lets Will know that he wasn’t really asking. “An… an enemy, sir?” “Yes. I will send him to you.” “Of course, General.” (What else could he say?)

this ends ambiguously but i am Choosing to believe they find each other again and live happily ever after for ever and ever bc im a weenie. its just...man fuck the military and i got no fondness for war BUT this isnt real and ergo i can sigh dreamily at love that is inherently kind of tragic and all the more desperately beautiful for you, yknow??

4. It's a Process by @oh-hush-its-perfect

When Nico comes out to Hazel, she really isn't sure how to react. Of course, she loves her brother to pieces, but something is holding her back. It takes a while to get over old beliefs. It takes a while to become accepting. It takes Hazel a while indeed. A.K.A. Nico is gay and Hazel can't wrap her head around it.

contrary to what the summary may lead you to believe, hazel is NOT at all homophobic in this fic. in fact her number one goal at all times is to be supportive, even as she struggles, and you know what? thats more important i think. her love for her brother is so transparently obvious in this one, she spends like 8k words doing everything she can to make SURE she is loving and accepting!!! hazel i love you. also the campfire scene had me giggling fr

5. three times everyone thought they hated each other by lizamarri

and the one time everyone realized they didn't ~ ft. capture the flag, big three kids sparring, will healing nico and being sassy about it, and more. enjoy!

NOTHING hits as hard as flirt fighting. truly nothing. also 3+1s are my weakness i stg, theres just something about outside pov and the sheer clarity of how much they love each other and love driving each other up the wall lmfao

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

59 notes · View notes

eepyuii · 3 months

Text

frostbite — pt. 10

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; none. idiots in love

notes ; ITS YEARNING HOURS BAYBEE ‼️ for the first time ever, a bit of childe’s POV, wowie zowie!! also a bit of a cheesy chapter LMFAO, it’s just these two dinguses “reaching” the realization that they want each other so bad, it makes them look stupid.

also a smidgen hint at the end towards the next phase of this dumpster fire of a fic >:3

ok and finally- i know i already made a post abt it but like. would u guys still love me if i posted a luke castellan fic? it’s SO self indulgent bc i’m brain rotting from the percy jackson show so idk yet :>

previous | next | masterlist

old wooden planks creak with each step childe takes.

he’d long lost the count of the days he’d spent in this peculiar inazuman domain— the mystic omnyou chamber, his companions called it. though what a fascinating domain it was, ever-changing and ever-puzzling but most of all, ever-deploying more enemies for him to fight his way through. he feels like only now he truly knows what teucer must’ve felt like in front of all those mr. cyclopses all those months ago.

he felt as though he was given a little too much breathing room by the motherland, still being stationed in liyue with you whoever knows how long his mission was finished, so it was no less than perfect to hear the news of scaramouche’s disappearance from inazuma after taking the gnosis for himself. as much as he disliked to have to leave you in northland bank with the promise of the two of returning together still at hand, he dully needed to take up on his responsibilities as one of her majesty’s harbingers.

still, he could fair by through the remembrance of you and his love for combat.

it’s amusing how freshly burned into his mind the memory of your time together at dottore’s lab was, even when he was half-conscious and at his physically weakest. how you soothed away his wounds with the cool breeze of your cryo powers, how you kept him company while he recovered, how you called him a pret-

“psst— you’re doing that thing again.”

“h-huh..?”

the harbinger is snapped from his daydreaming by paimon naggingly whispering to him. as childe finds himself back in reality, he registers the sight of the traveler, xinyan and shiki taishou walking ahead distractedly through the narrow dusty hallways of the domain, while paimon had fallen back alongside him.

“are you back now? ok good.” the travel guide snides, hands sassily placed at her hips.

childe chuckles sheepishly. “i-i’m sorry, paimon, but i’m not quite sure what you’re talking about.”

“oh, come on, it’s so obvious! the entire time we’ve been here, you’ve been doing this thing where you either doze off thinking about y/n! y’know as someone so passionate about fighting, you really need to get your head in the game right now.”

he feigns an offended scoff. “that is entirely untrue, comrade. my focus is solely on figuring out this domain’s mysteries and defeating its monsters.”

there’s a brief pause, where childe thoroughly reevaluates what paimon just said.

“wait, how did you know i was thinking about y/n? i-if i were dozing off and possibly thinking about them!”

she scoffs. “puh-lease, you’ve been babbling about them since we got here! almost everything you’ve said has somehow trailed off into y/n, so much so that even shiki taishou is caught up on what’s happened with you two!”

paimon was someone known to be a bit eccentric and overreactive at certain moments, but she also had her moments of being very bluntly honest in other situations. this was one of them. the harbinger deliberates for a moment, out of all the time he’s spent venturing this domain with the paper doll, just how much information had he unwillingly retained about you.

suddenly, a moment of clarity washes over childe and he vividly recalls all the moments during his venture in the domain where he’s talked about you. saying things such as ‘i wonder how y/n is doing right now…’, or ‘hah, y/n’s cryo attacks would demolish these enemies.’ or even ‘oh! that reminds of this one time, when y/n and i were kids…’. lest we mention the multiple times he’s said ‘i can’t wait to return to inazuma with y/n and show them this.’ whenever he’d been exploring the electro land’s scenic locations.

poor shiki taishou.

but then again, is it truly his fault that the mystic omnyou chamber had so many moments and details that were so clearly reminiscent of you? o-or maybe… maybe this was just a domain and everything reminded him of you regardless. but that’s the more unlikely possibility.

he curses scaramouche in his mind for a brief moment. it was all because he decided to go rogue that childe had to leave so abruptly— just when he’d made amends with you, just when the two of you were restoring your friendship. just when you’d started to flash him that devastating smile of yours again, instead of the standoffish snarl you’d presented during his mission in liyue. gods, he could feel his heart pang against his chest. surely it was just the adrenaline of battle, though. even if the group hadn’t faced enemies in more than ten minutes by now.

an even further tucked part of childe’s mind curses paimon next, for pointing out how much he speaks of you, because now he truly cannot stop. he looks ahead towards the end of the corridor and he can’t see what’s next, can’t see the next tatami matted arena where he’ll face a new wave of enemies, something he thinks he wants— no, all he sees is you.

it’s like your face is burned into his retinas, your fond laughter burned into brain and the warm feeling of when he slept against your shoulder burned into his skin.

childe doesn’t doesn’t fight as well as before in the next battle, he’s sloppy and distracted. after the arena is cleared, he’s left with a scratch across his bicep— which, thankfully, the domain grants a healing sigil to mend.

but it’ll never cure him like you do, never soothe the very core of his being like your powers do and it’ll never look at him the same way you did, caring and attentive.

he remembers how he felt lookup up at you then— like you were the stars in the night sky. he needed to get this mission over with as soon as possible.

—

you could almost hear your mother’s nagging tone telling you to not play with your food. as delicious as liyuean cuisine was, you’d lost your appetite halfway through your meal- as well as interest in the tale the restaurant’s storyteller was telling.

it’d been probably the dullest week you’ve had in a while, no new assignments from the motherland, no events happening in the city and… admittedly, no childe.

you can’t find the effort to lie to yourself and say it’s fine that he’s gone, that it’s for the tsaritsa’s noble cause— you don’t care about it. scaramouche could screw off with the gnosis and live his life, as far as you were concerned. in fact, you’d say he deserves it, given all he’s gone through with the doctor, even if he could be an astronomical asshole at times— well most of the times.

and now you can’t decide who to blame for childe’s absence, the balladeer or the tsaritsa. either way, it’s affected you more than you’d ever admit out loud. it’s been such a monotone week not just because of the distinct lack of anything to do in liyue lately, but also because of a distinct lack of… someone to worry about. yeah, that’s what it was, just an unusual sense of calm and nothing to stress over, that’s all—

“even in all my years, i’ve rarely seen someone stare at an unfinished bowl of dragon beard noodles with such intensity.”

a rumbling, baritone voice quips jokingly from across your small table and you’re startled away from your thoughts. looking up, the comment is revealed to come from mr. zhongli, the consultant from wanshe— oh, who were you kidding, the now former geo archon.

you hadn’t formerly spoken to him since the mission to take, well, his gnosis. after the situation with osial was diffusd, you beared witness to an unsettlingly diplomatic exchange between mr. zhongli and the fair lady, where he gave away the very culmination of his divinity like it was spare change. of course, you’ve spotted him countless times around the harbor— merely enjoy the little things the city had to offer. you can’t truly fault him for making the decision that he did, six thousand years is, unspokenly, too much time to not peruse the fruits of his labor from up close.

“a-ah, mr. zhongli! it’s been so long since we last spoke.” you scramble to politely greet zhongli and briefly wonder if you should stand up to bow to him, which he seems to notice.

“my apologies for startling you, doctor— may i?” he gestures to the seat in front of you and you nod.

“yes, it has been some time. i recall you being there for the completion of my contract with the fair lady, but the last time the two of us had the opportunity to meet casually was the very same night we first met.”

you nod curtly— you’re tense, you don’t know why. you know he’s not an archon anymore, you were there to see it, but perhaps the real weight of being in the presence of someone so powerful, not just an archon but the oldest of the original seven, seems to have only settled in now. you feel almost as choked as when in the presence of the tsaritsa, which you know all the same that you shouldn’t be. zhongli chuckles amusedly.

“i ask you to treat me as though you would’ve that night in liuli pavilion, like any other acquaintance. chatting with a mere consultant of a funeral parlor requires no formalities. now— have you been well, doctor?”

you can still only bring yourself to nod wordlessly in response, there’s no need for zhongli to know how royally miserable you’ve been lately.

“and.. may i ask why you held such a glare towards your meal? is it not your liking?”

“oh, no the noodles are just fine, amazing even! i was just… contemplating wether to finish it or not.”

great cover.

“hm,” zhongli hums with playful suspicion. “while a reasonable topic of contemplation, it did very much seem as though you were rather staring through the bowl, as though there is something on your mind. i would not mind hearing what is it that vexes you, doctor— if you’re comfortable to share, of course.”

yeah there was no fooling a, again, six thousand year old divine being with a half-assed excuse like yours. you sigh.

“well— yes, you caught me. the last few days have been, uh… less than peachy for me.”

“what exactly is it troubles you these days?”

“i wouldn’t say it’s trouble but, there hasn’t been much to do at northland bank lately. and childe has been out on a mission for some time now— b-but it’s mainly the lack of assignments!” you stammer.

“is that so? i did hear of childe’s sudden departure for inazuma but it is curious that you’re being kept stationed here with essentially nothing to do. but, if i may— has childe been absent for as long as you’ve felt dull at work or would you say there is no relation?”

already at so few words out of sheer nervousness, zhongli managed still to render you completely and utterly speechless. what are you even supposed to respond to this?

“i-i uhm, i… alright, i won’t even try.” you sigh in defeat and zhongli looks coyly pleased. he patiently awaits for you to gather your thoughts and actually say more than two stammered sentences.

“i truly can’t tell what it is. i feel like i’m supposed to be worrying for him— as if he’ll get injured again or injure someone else o-or even worse, do something stupid but there’s just.. nothing! it’s like i’m so used to being aware of his presence and now there’s nothing and it’s- it’s frustrating.”

“you miss him.”

you pause. do you miss him? no, it can’t be so simple— you have a medical degree, it is most certainly improbable that you’ve been trying your brain over just missing childe. well, sure it was great that the two of you were starting to make amends and stopped being so on-edge around each other but… there’s no objective reason for you to miss him.

right?

“i would not say i even near the level of an expert on matters concerning relationships between people, but i’ve seen a lot in my time. enough to tell you with confidence that it’s most likely you just.. miss him, doctor. and that it is okay to feel this way. the two of you do not stand at odds anymore, you never have— it is reasonable for you to be affected by his absence.”

you furrow your eyebrows. “how do you know if… childe and i stand at odds, mr. zhongli.”

“well, i have witnessed it. both directly and indirectly— the tension and misunderstanding between the two of you during our meeting at liuli pavilion was quite evident and i’ve heard of how you opposed him in battle at the golden house. but that is all it has ever been, misunderstandings and disagreements, but you’ve never truly disliked each other.”

“h-how do you know-“

“he speaks quite highly of you, doctor.”

“wh-what?”

“childe has only ever spoken highly of you— i recall mentioning that had been looking forward to meeting you in person during our dinner, it is all because of how grand his description of you was. plus, during our eventual meetups, you’re mentioned at least once every time. and you, as we’ve discussed, do seem to hold some care towards him, to the extent that you first concern is his health.”

your heart aches and you hate it. it’s a terrible, void sensation that frustrates you to no end. why? why did childe have to make it so difficult for you? why can’t you ever feel simple feelings when it came to him? why couldn’t you ever just feel one way towards him with no smaller part of your brain saying something else? even worse, why couldn’t your brain ever think about anything else— literally anything, instead of just constantly orbiting around the mixed emotions you felt when it came to childe?

you just constantly, restlessly and unendingly seem to care about him.

“you know what, mr. zhongli, i think y—“

“ah, there you are, sergeant!”

a less familiar voice calls out from behind you and you turn around with a bit of surprise— it’s a man clad in fatui uniform, who you recognize as mikhail, one of the officers stationed at northland bank. he’s not exactly someone you interact much with, just a mere coworker you greet every other morning, so you’re perplexed as to why he’s seeking you outside the bank.

“mikhail, what is the occasion?” you ask, briefly eyeing zhongli to find that he remains with a neutral expression awaiting the exchange.

“i am deeply sorry for interrupting your lunch, sergeant, but ekaterina urged for me to find you as soon as i could. a letter has come in from lord dottore for you specifically— she says it is of utmost importance.”

—

the wharf is unusually crowded today.

an untimely flux of either tourists or returning immigrant citizens, perhaps it is an important time of year in another nation— although, childe could truly care less at the moment. he’s doing his best to politely push his way through the sea of people leaving their respective ships while almost unconsciously seeking you out within it. he knows you wouldn’t be here, as his return to liyue was unannounced, but his eyes fly to latch onto your likeness anyway.

childe ends up finding you right in the center of the harbor’s main street, practically right below the catwalks that lead to the bank. you’re slowly pacing back and forth, a piece of paper clutched in your hands and a vacant expression on your face— childe can’t find himself to clutch to those details right now, he just needs to get to your side. he makes large, determined steps towards you, big grin invading his features, and while he’s still approaching you, you spot him and your eyes widen even more. once childe is a mere two steps away from you, he stops.

“y/n! oh, it’s so good to see you!” he heaves out gladly.

“ajax—“ you reply in a quiet voice and his heart swells at the use of his real name. he truly can’t contain himself anymore and tackles you into a tight hug, one so strong that stumble back a bit.

his arms snake tightly from under your arms to above your shoulders and his head lowers from being against your own to reaching your shoulder blade— it is as close as he physically get to you, while trying to be respectful of your space, of course. you’re still in shock for maybe five seconds of the hug, but eventually you just let yourself slowly wrap around him and squeeze ever so slightly. both of you have your eyes closed to sink into the moment.

the hug is long, maybe twenty seconds so, and as childe becomes satisfied with its duration and pulls away, he remains with his hands to your elbows in a gentle hold. he sighs with said satisfaction and beams towards you.

“i have so much to tell you about inazuma! unfortunately, i couldn’t find scaramouche there but i managed to see so many beautiful places, so many amazing experie- wait.. what’s wrong?”

the harbinger pauses mid sentence when he notices the numbness in your expression and his bright grin falls into a concerned frown— you feel like the most terrible person for making him lose such excitement. your mouth opens and closes as you find what to say, but you eventually whisper it out.

“ajax, i-i… i have to go to sumeru.”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

58 notes · View notes

mitsies · 2 years

Text

boyfriend headcanons ; jjk!

megumi fushiguro, yuji itadori, yuta okkotsu / gn reader

; megumi fushiguro -

‣ megumi is an analytical loser at heart

‣ before you guys get together, he’s overthinking and freaking himself out about every little interaction you guys have had. ever.

‣ he carries these worries on with him even into the early stages of your relationship while he’s still unsure of what he’s doing

‣ megumi frequently worries about whether you really like him or not but because of his obvious emotional constipation he can’t really say or do much to express that

‣ since you don’t know, and since he’s so good at hiding how he feels, you never really know he’s feeling insecure

‣ but your affection shines through in the little things you do and he falls in love with you all over again !

megumi did nothing but stare as you traced the lines and scars of his palm absentmindedly, paying no attention to the trashy slasher film the two of you were watching.

he observed you gliding your fingers up and down his palm, a ticklish and gentle sensation which made his chest feel tight and warm. he thinks he’d die for moments like these, where you look so content just in his presence, he’d die a million times over just to see you so comfortable.

megumi doesn’t know how long he’s been watching you, but at some point you return his gaze and grin that stupid way only you can manage, a smile that makes face turn rosy and stomach do flips.

“what’re you lookin’ at?” you sidled closer to him on the couch and rested your head on his chest and megumi swore that you were something like an angel in that moment.

he only smiled, though, relaxing into you. “nothing. this movie kinda sucks, though.”

‣ megumi also needs to plan every little detail of every second of every day

‣ he has a full bullet journal of what he needs to get done and he likes it color coded in a very niche and specific way !

‣ he gets so embarrassed though about this habit of his LMFAO he doesn’t want to get made fun of

‣ at some point, you find out and for the sake of his dignity (not that there’s anything wrong w journaling!!!!!) you pretend not to know

‣ he realizes you found out though, when one day you purchase him a pack of fancy highlighters just because

‣ he collects stationary too LMAO i bet. he doesn’t use everything, for sure, but it’s endearing because he’s such a pragmatic little loser and his pens he never uses are the only clutter he keeps bc they make him happy :,)

‣ his favs are the ones you bought LMFAO not because they’re any good, but because you spent so much money on these overpriced supplies just for him!!

‣ speaking of clutter- megumi is such a neat freak, he has special places for everything and throws unneeded things out ASAP

‣ but he has a few exceptions- namely all the things you’ve ever gotten him. ever.

‣ he has a receipt for coffee from your first meeting where your phone number is messily scrawled on

‣ he has dried up daises that you’d picked off the park ground and handed to him just because!

‣ he keeps every single stupid sticky note or piece of paper or notecard or trinket you’ve ever given him even though he would never show you, not ever

‣ one of his favorite things to do with you is listen to music!!!!!!

‣ megumi adores music, he loves it when you give him recommendations or when you listen to his

‣ a small moment that really touched him for some reason was when you followed up on a band he’d told you he liked the other day, saying you gave their music a listen and that it reminded you of him <3

‣ he has a playlist of songs that make him think of u!! but he hasn't quite told you about it.. maybe one day!

‣ he’s into indie rock and maybe a little folkish music every now and then, one day he wants to learn to play the guitar so he can write you a song

‣ he’d take you to a concert but he gets so nervous in crowds, there’s too many people & and the music is too loud for him, it really just isn’t megumi’s scene

‣ but he likes to listen to music while he reads (because he’s good at multitasking and is a showoff) and his favorite thing is when you join him

‣ he loves hearing you hum along to the songs and inquire about the artists- he thinks your voice beats any of the music, though

the book in megumi’s hands is decidedly less interesting than the way you’re tipping your head to the beat of the song that’s playing, mouthing all the words like a top tier rockstar.

he thinks that it might be the late hour that’s got you so into the sound, and normally he’d urge you to sleep so you can wake up early for a morning walk but your smile is infectious and before you know it, you’re pulling him off the couch to dance.

his book falls to the floor, forgotten, as you pull him into a twirl which megumi hardly reciprocates, only turning clumsily and resuming his stagnant posture as you float around him.

a small grin is growing on his face, though, and he can’t keep it down. your face grows close to his when the song slows and megumi whispers into your kiss:

“you’re going to be the death of me.”

; yuji itadori -

‣ yuji is so smooth with you before your relationship begins- he’s all gentle touches and warm affection

‣ that is until he realizes he LIKES YOU.

‣ then he’s awkward as HELLLLL, like my boy can’t get within 6 feet of you before turning into a nervous wreck and sprinting away with a face pink enough to match his hair

‣ but when you guys actually start dating he reverts back to literally the sweetest boyfriend you could imagine

‣ he talks about you always. like seriously his friends are sick of it. he could go to the store with them to pick up like.. a toothbrush or something.. he’d be like ‘my partner brushed their teeth once’ LMFAO

‣ his love language is physical touch!!!!! but yuji understands that not everyone is chill with that- if you are, great! he’s never letting go of you! good luck!

‣ but if you’d rather not, yuji doesn’t mind being patient and waiting until you’re ready or just refraining from physical contact fully- you come first for him, always

‣ he likes to take u fun places!!! his favorites are arcades, festivals, theme parks, etc

‣ your first official date was to a theme park where he made the poor choice of trying to prove his bravery on the most intense rollercoaster there is

‣ a very stupid attempt of impressing you on his part!

yuji’s legs shook as he stumbled off the ride, clutching the railings like his life depended on them. you walked slowly behind him, glancing at him with amusement.

“everything okay over there?” you knew the answer before your boyfriend could reply. his face was unnaturally pale and he had collapsed against the metal fencing just outside the ride exit.

yuji nods weakly, not even looking at you, and gulps down a lungful of air before replying feebly. “yeah. yeah, i think i’m- i think i’m good to go.”

if his stuttering didn’t give away his nausea, his sickly attempt at standing back up put it on full display. yuji quickly sat back down, trying not to throw up his lunch. “okay. maybe i’m not good to go.”

you laughed and yuji felt his stomach do even more flips- he didn’t know if it was leftover adrenaline from the butterflies swarming his gut.

“y’know yuji,” you took a seat beside him and he looked over to you as you smiled softly, “you don’t have to try so hard to impress me.”

your boyfriend sputtered at this. his voice was borderline frantic as he tried to laugh your remark off. “who says i’m trying to impress you?”

you giggled and yuji felt his heart collapse in his chest. “i’m just saying,” you restate, “you already have me. so don’t worry about seeming cool to win me over, or whatever- i already know you’re a loser.”

despite your teasing jab, yuji felt his face flush warm once more and he leaned into your side. “i guess you’re right. i have you.”

‣ yuji loves to take you to his sports games!!!!!

‣ now that he’s a sorcerer, he doesn’t really have time for all the sports he used to play

‣ but whenever he has free time, he’ll take you to the park where he likes to play basketball with whoever’s there!!! if you wanna join, he’d love that, but if u just wanna sit on the sidelines and watch, that’s cool with him too!

‣ often times, young kids will come join him to play, and yuji loves to teach them how to shoot hoops and dribble the ball and whatnot

‣ when he can, he spends hours just cheering on and entertaining children :,) they all love him and soon enough, every young kid in the neighborhood gets all excited when someone yells ‘yuji’s here!’

‣ he loves goofing around w them and and often will involve you in these antics

‣ he has jokes planned out to make the kids laugh- his favorite trick to pull is to look over at you when playing basketball, and declare loudly that he’s gonna make this shot ‘just for you, babe!’

‣ then he misses by a mile <3

‣ (all the children thinks it’s hilarious and bursts out laughing. the fact that it’s all for show is a secret that you and yuji will take to your grave.)

‣ yuji definitely isn’t the smartest person alive and that’s okay, we love him for it!

‣ but his lack of critical thinking skills also comes with some downsides

‣ these downsides include: him getting lost. everywhere.

‣ he has absolutely no idea where he is at any given moment

‣ you once went grocery shopping to get some ingredients for a birthday dinner for megumi

‣ he wandered off and was lost for 30 minutes!

‣ when you noticed, you were about to go absolutely feral with concern until an announcement came up on the store’s speaker calling for you and asking you to claim your lost child

‣ surprise, surprise! it’s not a child. it’s just.. yuji! at least you found him!

‣ also, whenever you two go out to eat yuji steals ur food. LMFAO he tries to be so sneaky about it but he’s just.. not that stealthy

‣ you pretend to not notice. you think he knows you’re pretending. it’s a fun little game!

‣ okok. this last headcanon is just me pushing the perfect bf agenda but... yuji will insist u wear his clothes

‣ like, he would ask u if u wanted to wear his hoodie even when it’s hella inconvenient

‣ he doesn’t care LMFAO he just thinks you look so GOOD in his clothes bc he’s gross.

“yuji, it’s like, a million degrees outside.”

“but when you sweat it’ll make you cold so you’ll need to warm up.”

you raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, who looked worryingly serious next to you as he held up a familiar yellow hoodie.

“i love you, but i don’t think that’s how it works.”

an exaggerated sign left yuji’s lips and he stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. “i love you more and that’s why i don’t want you to freeze to death!”

you looked at him dully and he returned your gaze with his own pleading eyes. he knew you couldn’t go too long without giving in- and he was right. you rolled your eyes and raised a finger at him.

“okay, fine, i’ll wear it.” before yuji could cheer, you cut him off:

“but only if we can get ice cream.” your boyfriend nodded eagerly before you even finished.

“the really expensive place in shibuya- and you’re paying.”

; yuta okkotsu -

‣ i have so much to say about this man you aren’t even READYYYY

‣ yuta is secretly a major sappy romantic

‣ yeah he watches romcoms. yeah he is ashamed of that!

‣ he’s a sucker for the soft, sweet romantic moments that the two of you share

‣ he loves to mess with your hair, no matter the length, and put it in braids if he can! and he adores it when you do the same

‣ it’s actually probably his favorite way of relaxing- his head in your lap, probably on the outskirts of the school campus, with you running your fingers nimbly down his scalp

‣ he doesn’t seem like the type to take you on big dates- he’d rather hang out with you somewhere quiet and peaceful

‣ this means a lot of quality time in one of your dorm rooms, the woods just outside the school, or even in the common room at night when no one else is awake

‣ when yuta was overseas he wrote you letters <3 he knows he can just text you, and he does every day, but he thinks it’s just a fun thing to do and his heart melts when you send one back

‣ in his letters, he includes stupid stories of things that happened to make you smile, he talks about how much he misses you, and all the new things that he wants to tell you and show you once he gets home!

‣ because he was overseas for a while, and the timezones were so different, he couldn’t really call you because you were never awake when he was

‣ so the both of you also got into sending long, ramble-y voice notes, just for the sake of hearing each others’ voices.

‣ he thinks everything you say is magical honestly, the guy is so down bad for you it’s kinda pathetic

‣ you could be like snorting a line of coke on the voice note and he’d still giggle and kick his feet and twirl his hair !!!

‣ yuta’s camera roll if full of pictures of you! not in a creepy way, but he loves to take candid photos of you because he just thinks youre so pretty always

‣ (a lot of these pictures are actually very unflattering but he insists they’re cute)

“oh my god,” you laugh, “what the hell is your lockscreen?”

yuta glances down at you pressed into his side as the two of you sit on the floor of his dorm room. he smiles as you narrow your eyes at the image. “what do you mean, it’s just you!”

much to yuta’s dismay, you raise your body off him and make pointed eye contact. “did you really have to pick this picture of me?”

the image in question is of you enjoying ice cream. you are blissfully unaware of it coating your cheek, and you are eyeing the cold treat with humiliating intent.

“you look cute,” is all your boyfriend responds, sliding an arm around your shoulder to pull you back in close. you comply with a hefty breath. “it’s so embarrassing, though.”

he laughs and you feel like a part of you is lighting up with the sparks he sends through your skin. “maybe it is,” he agrees and you groan, burying your face in his chest, before he continues.

“but i think you look pretty in any picture.”

‣ yuta is such a sweetheart but he’s also not down with the kids and their trends 😞

‣ once, nobara told him he ‘slayed that,’ and he looked around all concerned and asked ‘i didn’t hurt anyone, though, did i? did i step on a bug or something?’ LMFAOOOO this loser

‣ he is so gullible and trusting when it comes to you, you could tell him anything and this man would take your word as LAW

‣ you tell him the earth is flat? he’s selling any globes he owns and following a flat earther reddit

‣ LMFAO ANYWAYS.

‣ he is mega defensive of you like he is all his friends but like... tenfold

‣ when you’re walking by a street he subtly guides you to the side of the path farthest from the road

‣ he’s so casual you don’t even notice he’s doing it at first- and to be honest, he doesn’t notice either

‣ it’s just instinctive, to always keep you as safe as he can

‣ he’s so observant too, he knows you’re cold before you do and he’s already handing you his jacket

‣ and this is my most important headcanon i’ve ever had but. YUTA PLAYS GUITAR OKAY.

‣ specifically acoustic, he never received any formal education but figured things out pretty easily with some online videos

‣ his love for playing guitar developed in his solitude, before he came to jujutsu high- but when he met you, the songs of longing he played turned into love songs

‣ i will do ANYTHING to push guitar player yuta agenda. i have a whole drabble relating to this here (/safe link)

‣ anyways. he learned a bunch of love songs that he wanted to play for you one day but he’s too nervous to show any to you- one day, though, he plans to play one he wrote just for you

‣ finally. for being a special grade sorcerer yuta is clumsy as HELL

‣ he’s like a baby giraffe minus the height, constantly tripping over his own legs. it’s like when he’s not in combat mode, some switch is flipped off and he just suddenly loses his motor skills LMFAO

you hear him before you see him. a loud thud echoes across the field of tokyo’s jujutsu college, and you turn from your conversation with maki to try and discern what made the noise.

the answer to your question is lying face-first on the floor of the track, limbs splayed awkwardly and a cloud of dust rising comically.

maki is instantly cackling wickedly, as you roll your eyes and speedwalk to where yuta is peeling himself up off the ground. his face is reddened and his white uniform top is covered in a layer of brown.

“that kinda hurt,” he admits sheepishly as you make your way to where he is not sitting on the ground, rubbing his sore cheek.

you make a face at him as you kneel down and brush the dust off his top. “this is the 4th time this week.”

“i didn’t think you were counting.”

“i had to,” you shrugged, “just to keep you in check.”

once you’re satisfied with the cleanliness of his uniform, you rise to your feet and extend your hand to pull yuta back up. he takes it tightly, even though the both of you know he’s more than capable by himself.

that was your first mistake.

underestimating his strength, yuta tugs so hard that you end up sprawled on top of him, both of you now laying on the ground. he topples back with another thump and you fall across his chest, knocking the breath out of him.

maki’s vicious laughter can be heard even from across the field, and- was that a camera clicking? you pull yourself off yuta and see- gojo is somehow there, snapping a dozen pictures.

at this sight, you simply collapse back into your boyfriend with an embarrassed groan. “i’m never gonna live this down.”

an awkward chuckle escapes yuta and he pats your head tentatively. “my bad, i think.”

you wrinkle your nose at him before finally sitting up, allowing him to do the same. the camera is still clicking in the background.

“yeah, it is, a thousand percent.”

“i’m assuming i owe you?” yuta can’t help but grin when he sees a mischievous glint in your eye.

“big time.”

998 notes · View notes

comradekatara · 2 months

Note

with another atla revival on its way (I hate Netflix) I’m starting to see “shipping wars” again and I’m hating/fighting for my life with all these z*tara shippers. I guess, for me, people who ship them together fundamentally don’t understand or even like Katara and yet they will hail themselves as the only people who get her (in what universe…) and claim that Zuko would have treated her infinitely better than Aang (I can’t with people). I’ve had a look on your page and FAQ and I think we share the same thoughts on the ship with the whole coloniser x colonised aspect (this is not to say I don’t like Zuko, but still). I guess what I’m asking is do you think these people get her as a character? ALSO finding out that the comic book writer shipped them and broke up Mai and Zuko made me feel some type of way.

i like how you said “on its way” only 22 hours ago (as of 2/29) despite the fact that natla fully came out a week ago. that said, i still haven’t seen it, so in my mind it also doesn’t exist (at least until i do actually watch it tomorrow). also, for what it’s worth, i do think that breaking up zuko and mai is the right call, it’s just that the execution was fucking awful, because gene yang cannot write for shit and doesn’t understand these characters. but it’s also really funny that he apparently ships zvtara (like, that tracks) but also their only prominent one-on-one interaction in the comics is when he physically restrains her…. lol. lmfao even.

as for the way zvtara shippers talk about katara and aang it truly is bonkers insane the lengths they’ll go and the reaches they’ll make to justify why their personal preference is, in fact, morally correct. i mean, intellectually correct is one thing, because i believe in making a persuasive argument and citing your sources, but morally correct??? they’ll act like aang is some awful toxic misogynist (yes, i know) and that zuko is in fact a paragon of support and respect for women. when we’ve all seen firsthand how he behaves as mai’s boyfriend (sidenote: the fact that they’ll claim that MAI is the one who is “abusive” to ZUKO is crazy. people hate women so fucking much it’s unreal).

in terms of how they discuss katara, it’s not so much the fact that the ship is literally colonizer/colonized (although it is), but the way that shippers deliberately play into these colonial biases and dynamics when portraying them. i actually think had zvtara shippers not been egregiously racist about it for so long, i wouldn’t really mind the ship itself. like, they are very obvious narrative foils who parallel each other in many ways and their arcs are inextricably bound up in each other and incredibly meaningful to both of them. i can understand why people read katara touching his scar in the catacombs or zuko jumping in front of lightning to save her as romantic. not my personal cup of tea, but like. it’s not NOT there. i don’t even object to people calling them soulmates tbh, because like. yeah. they are???

however. the complete lack of understanding as to what colonialism is or how it functions (ive literally seen ppl say that zuko isn’t a colonizer bc he never personally occupies territory, as if he didn’t BURN DOWN SUKI’S VILLAGE, and that the swt was colonized by the fn because they don’t explicitly occupy land like they do in the ek) really pervades the (romantic) interpretation of this dynamic as i’ve observed it over the years. a lot of katara in fire nation reds, as “fire lady,” abandoning her culture for zuko’s sake (despite this apparently being egregiously problematic when katara does this for aang’s sake). one time i came across a literal pocahontas au?!?!?? like. it’s SO dire.

and beyond the very obvious racism, the way they paint shipping zvtara as feminist and progressive is insane because, as you say, they do hate katara. i don’t know how to explain to these people that sanding down all her flaws and turning her into this angelic maternal endless well of compassion and emotional labor means you don’t actually like her character as it is presented in canon. acting as if katara lacks flaws (she is, in fact, deeply flawed) or so much more mature than the rest of her friends and must suffer that burden every day (hint: she’s not and she doesn’t) until the noble zuko comes along and is so gracious towards her and her alone (he’s literally the most immature of the lot, screams and whines at her, and at everyone) is just. a really impressive amount of editorializing. and they turn aang and sokka into these whiny, idiotic babies to justify that decision, as if aang and sokka are not highly intelligent, wise, capable, and responsible in their own right.

katara and zuko are in fact flawed in similar ways. they’re both impulsive, self-righteous, stubborn, myopic, callous, and filled with an unquenchable, blinding rage. it’s clear that when they are aligned in that rage, their dysfunction feeds into each other and they block the rest of the world out to satisfy their impulses. katara is able to pull back at the last moment in “the southern raiders” in a beautiful culmination of her internal character arc, but the entire build-up to this moment sort of showcases the ways in which they might not be great for each other as a couple. but people will do some incredible mental gymnastics to explain why they are nonetheless always right about everything, and why aang and sokka are always wrong and don’t understand katara at all. also, fwiw, reducing “the southern raiders” to who is right vs who is wrong when it’s actually about how various characters approach and process their grief in a deliberately subjective way is just. god. exhausting. i’m exhausted.

the thing about atla is that it is a well-written show, especially as far as its main characters are concerned. katara is so dear and special to me specifically because she is allowed to be so flawed and three dimensional and realistically human. and ignoring zuko’s myriad flaws means ignoring the depth that apparently makes him the most interesting character to 90% of atla fans. there really isn’t a need to editorialize and reduce canon to fit a neat little narrative, when the narrative that already exists is just. already really solid. and the thing is, i don’t even think you should have to change canon all that much to justify this ship, because it’s one of the central dynamics of the entire show. and yet, people still do. they really do. so i think that’s telling, don’t you?

#sl1mshadii #asks #hot takes #putting this under a cut bc i don’t want to be put on a list -_-#(even tho i know i already am)#also sidenote before anyone is like ‘but what about’ I AM ALSO NOT A FAN OF COLONIAL DYNAMICS WHEN IT’S ZVKKA. OBVIOUSLY #as ive stated before countless times . lol

73 notes · View notes

azulsluver · 10 months

Note

haiii!!! i’m new to ur blog but i’ve been frantically reading ur bully!au and omg…listen i don’t like bully!au’s in general bc they always get me so MAD!!1!1! like wdym ur falling in love w the same person that tormented you?!!! but in this case, hate reading your bully!au has me frothing at the mouth😭it’s so deliciously sick and aggravating to read and i’m getting annoyed just thinking about all the cruel and vile bullying shenanigans going on…LMFAO atp i’m teetering the edge of masochism💀so thumbs up for that bc i like ur works so far<3

but the more i think about it, despite everyone being such an asshat, i think the only people i could stand are silver and jack. they’re such bystanders so they’re not any better than the next person. but they’re not exactly going to lay their hands on you—err, not directly that is. they could stand there in the background and watch you get your ass ABSOLUTELY GET BEAT UP AND TORN INTO SHREDS but they’ll be there to pat your back and offer you a handkerchief, yk? from an outsider’s perspective, silver and jack are as much as part of the problem as any of them. they’re not actively helping you or stopping the others from laying their hands on you. but holy crap, imagine being in readers shoes for a minute. in some sick and twisted way, if i were the reader id CLING into silver and jack. i probably wouldn’t be able to think straight and not realise they’re not good, but after being hurt left and right i’d be picking up scraps like a stray dog. anything for a crumb of kindness. i see reader falling into their arms and believing that they (silver and jack) actually care about them, bc they don’t press on their bruises or make them cry. they provide reader a gentle hand for them to cry on to, hold them and caress them after a long day of pain.

just imagine, this very glaring and obvious favoritism from the reader towards silver and jack. i know the other boys would probably put a target on their backs, itching to snatch reader away from silver and jack. the others probably see that they’re manipulating or at the very least, being ingenious to the reader. in silvers case, i can see someone like sebek berating you about silver. yelling at you about how weak you are for falling into silvers facade. bc if silver actually gave a single crap, why would he let you continue to get hurt? isn’t it obvious, reader? he’s letting it happen so you can fall into his arms and he can use your pain to his advantage!!!!!1!1!1! at least sebek is being truthful about his feelings and isn’t putting up a front acting like he cares for you [sidebar: its a little tricky for silver. bc you see, it’s not like he doesn’t care but he just has an extreme case of a bystander complex. he’s not gonna do anything to stand in the way of you and the others, especially to malleus and lilia and suffer their consequences. but he’ll be there, at least. but to others that isn’t you, silver can come off as a slimy knight and shinning armor that uses his kindness to his advantage].

in jacks case, he’d get teased a ton from ruggie. ruggie would probably corner him and feel inclined enough willingly (without money) to interrogate jack. what’s with all this sudden closeness between jack and you, huh? you guys act like a lovely dovey couple. because one time leona had the misfortune on stumbling upon you in jacks arms and him holding you…ruggie had to deal with the short end of the stick afterwards. so now, it’s everyone’s problems (in reality, ruggie is also jealous…). this is where it’s a little different with silver. despite silver actually being sympathetic, even when it can come off unbelievable to others, jack…well. he does…a little? jack feels bad to an extent. but my gosh, sometimes when he sees you all beat up and weak and vulnerable, jack has to hold himself back from taking you right there. if he could ever, jack could be putty in your hands all the while wishing he had the power in him to keep you with him forcefully. whereas others think silver is ingenious about his feelings thinking he’s using reader, jack is exactly that.

in readers case though…since readers favoritism appears more and more blatant as time passes, they sure as hell will get their ass whopped 10x harder😮‍💨imagine being cornered by people like vil, leona, the twins, heck even kalim accusing you of all kinds of things. shaming you and calling you names. why are you getting particularly close with those two anyway? are you look for attention? are you that pathetic enough to go begging for scraps like a dog? or do you like them? perhaps…love them? either way, whatever you say (if you ever get the chance to defend yourself) they don’t care.

anyway, that’s just my thoughts🤤i might’ve made it a bit ooc but bully!au is a little tricky to grasp especially with some of the characters eccentric personalities.

AHHHH I LOVE THIS OMG!!?? THANK YOU FOR THE MEAL ANON GOING STRAIGHT TO THE LIST ^^

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #bully!au #was biting my finger and giggling the whole time

166 notes · View notes

here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

look down on me like that - 8 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst that is no longer eventual 👀)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: *deep breath in* 15.3k

contains: explicit sexual content and discussion of some dark themes .....yyyyyep �� includes past-tense discussions of the d3ath of a parent (reader's) and su1c1dal ideation (yoongi's) so please tread carefully loves 💜 some references to alcohol per usual, and plenty of confusing feelings and piss-poor communication..... i'll leave the rest as a surprise 👀 but here are your smut-specific warnings: kissing (‼️), nipple play, clit stim, a single pussy slap lol, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting (🤭), unprotected sex and pulling out (💀), orgasm denial of sorts, but it's cool bc reader has multiple orgasms, ok byeeeee~

A/N: welp..... i'm off to enter witness protection in case you all decide you hate this chapter 💀 not really but heuhjkghkfjgdsf dear god am i nervous to post this lmfao. hope you're ready for some ~answers to questions~ and a whole lotta callbacks to earlier chapters idk why i shoved them all in ch8 specifically but here you go. the scene at yoongi's apartment was one of the very first things i dreamt up in regards to this story and it's nuts to me that we're all the way here now 💜 hope you're ready for a little more insight into these two! also baby goth fans don't come for me..... i promise we'll get a better resolution there..... reader and yoongi just have to survive LA first 😩

an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for being wonderful betas, and to @nabiolive for the dead parent sensitivity read lmfao I LOVE Y'ALL

read on AO3!

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

~*~

In the morning, you wake up well before your alarm with an inexplicable uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. When it’s clear sleep is a lost cause, you decide to just get up, and you move through your routine slowly. Everything feels distant, not quite real, like it’s happening to someone else.

On the bus ride to the office, you let your eyes drop closed and try desperately not to replay the events of last night back. You should feel bad about the sex on the conference room table, and you do, a little. But your mind is stuck somewhere else.

Rain streaking down Yoongi’s windshield. The silence as he drove, disturbed only by the low rumble of his voice. The way he’d looked at you, and the heavy pause that hung in the air between you, for just a moment, until you’d fumbled open the door of his car and had practically ran back to the safety of your apartment. And his story— he’d told you something personal, with no malice or hidden agenda that you can manage to find, no matter how much you search for one. Something from when he was just a kid, growing up in Daegu.

You’re embarrassed to admit that it never even occurred to you that Min Yoongi might be a person with a past and a hometown and stories to tell. As long as you’ve known him, he’s always just felt like… a menace. A life-ruiner. An inescapable force.

The thoughts follow you as you step off the bus and make your way into the building and onto the elevator. You can’t figure it out. Yoongi could’ve easily left you to suffer in the rain, but instead he did something nice for you, without asking for anything in return. He’d related to you. He’d let you in, barely, but it’s something.

And you have no idea what to make of it.

Polite small talk with Jungkook as you unlock the front doors is a decent distraction, but you wonder if he can tell that you’re not all the way there today. You set your bag on your desk, then circle around to take a seat, only half-listening as he continues to talk.

“Did you stay late last night?”

You swear your heart stops beating. “What?”

He shrugs, like it’s an obvious question. “There’s the big overseas thing today. I’m sure you had a bunch of stuff to prep. Hopefully it wasn’t too late of a night?”

“No.” The word comes out harsher than you mean it to. You’re not quite sure why your body is suddenly doing emotional alchemy, taking your fear of being caught and somehow turning it into anger. “It wasn’t,” you say firmly.

Jungkook makes a face, like he knows he’s touched a nerve but can’t figure out why. “Okay. That’s good.”

You don’t respond— you just try to control your breathing, try to will your heart to quit racing as you start up your laptop and pretend to suddenly be engrossed in it.

“Well,” he tries again after a moment’s pause. “I guess I’ll see you at the presentation thing.”

“Okay,” you answer, your voice a little softer this time, but you’re still too scared to look away from your screen. When you do eventually work up the courage, he’s already gone.

Before you even have the chance to glance back down, like some universal joke at your expense, the front door of the office is pushed open, and Yoongi steps through. Annoyed as you are, you can only be grateful that his entrance didn’t overlap with Jungkook’s question. You probably would have died of embarrassment on the spot.

Yoongi’s usual dark sunglasses are nowhere to be found today, and he’s in nice clothes for the presentation, a button-down and dress pants, his hair styled. He does still have a death grip on a large iced coffee, but that’s to be expected, especially given the fact that he’s in a lot earlier than is typical for him.

It’s only when his eyes snap over to you for the briefest of seconds that you see the dark shadows sunken deep beneath them, weighing heavy on his face.

Yoongi’s gaze moves back to the hallway in front of him as quickly as it alighted on you. You open your mouth before you even understand why you’re doing it.

“Yoongi?”

He stops dead in his tracks and blinks at you a few times, clearly tired, clearly not expecting the interruption. “Yeah?”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

His mouth pulls into a flat line as he shakes his head. “Nerves. It’s why I don’t do stuff like this. Unless forced.”

You nod, unsure of what to say— or why you even asked. “Oh. Well, uh. Good luck.”

Yoongi lifts his coffee in a parting gesture, then disappears toward his lab without another word.

You try to focus on your work, to shove the interaction to the back of your mind with everything else you’re avoiding, but the screen seems to blur in front of you, until you finally push back from your desk with an exasperated sigh. The emails can wait.

Maybe, you consider, it would be good to stretch your legs. You can head into the presentation room early to set up before everyone arrives, and make sure everything is working for the several hours of agenda lined up for the morning.

Setting your shoulders back, you grab your things and make your way down the hallway. The thought feels like a good idea until you push the door open and encounter a severe case of deja vu.

Yoongi glances up from his laptop at the front of the room, blearily rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand. “Is it time already?”

You hover in the threshold, unsure. “Uh— I mean, not quite. I’m early. I can go, if you want.”

He shrugs, busying himself with something on his computer screen. “You’ll have to hear it anyway. Can I just run through it one more time?”

You take a few tentative steps forward, dropping your bag and laptop on the table, right where you sat to watch him the night before. The energy in the room feels entirely different now, and your stomach is twisted into knots that you can’t manage to breathe deep enough to untangle.

“Yeah, fine.” You pause, unable to help yourself. “Just… don’t expect the same treatment as last night.”

Yoongi huffs a dark laugh. “I wasn’t.”

Taking a seat at the table, you set about your admin duties and try to ignore the way Yoongi mumbles over his presentation as he taps through his slides at the front of the room. There’s only so much you can do without bothering him, and you fly through those tasks all-too quickly. You drag your bottom lip between your teeth as you glance back up at Yoongi, and then you inhale to steady yourself before you speak.

“Can you turn on the mic?”

His head snaps up, caught off guard. “Hmm?”

“I need to make sure the mic is working.” Yoongi’s gaze flits to the podium’s built in-microphone, then back to you as he presses the switch to turn it on. “Say something into it,” you instruct. “It doesn’t matter what.”

Yoongi’s eyes move back to the microphone, and it’s like you can see the delay in his brain from lack of sleep. You don’t know what you were expecting— maybe a half-assed ‘check, check’, at worst some sexual or smart-ass remark. Instead, he leans in far closer than is necessary, until his mouth is nearly touching the microphone as he whispers into it.

“Sugaaaaa.”

The live demo of the notorious producer tag that intros all of his tracks is so ridiculous, so unexpected, that you can’t help it. You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth a few seconds too late. “What the fuck was that?!” The question is only muffled slightly by your palm.

Yoongi’s head drops forward, his dark hair falling in his face, and you can see his shoulders shaking with laughter, too. “Sorry,” he manages with a gasp for breath, tilting back up to speak into the microphone, which you can now actually tell is working properly. “I’m so fucking tired, I think I’m going insane.”

You uncover your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief.

The sudden loud buzz of your phone against the conference room table makes you jump, and you quickly reach for it, for fear it might be an emergency text from your boss that needs immediate attention. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see it’s actually from Jungkook.

Presentation thing? Wanna sit together?

You read the words again and again, and a strange feeling rises up in your chest that you can’t quite name. As you stare down at your phone, you hear the distinct sound of Yoongi’s laptop shutting, and then his voice, no longer amplified by the microphone when he mutters to himself, “Fuck it. It’s as good as it’s gonna get.”

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, you glance up at Yoongi again, then back down at the text. With a final hard swallow, you turn your phone on silent and flip it over on the table, leaving Jungkook’s question unanswered.

The time is close enough now that you get to your feet to prop open the presentation room door, and then your colleagues quickly start to file into the space, filling in the seats around the large U-shaped arrangement of tables. It’s everything you can do to keep your expression neutral as your brain unhelpfully reminds you that Yoongi fucked you on one of these tables last night.

You try to manage something close to a smile when your boss enters with the team from the American office in tow, and you proceed to exchange pleasantries with them and fake laugh at their jokes when he introduces you.

As you’re listening diplomatically to one of them drone on about the flight to Seoul, you spot Jungkook slip in the door out of the corner of your eye, and it takes extra effort to keep the smile plastered on your face. The seats on either side of yours have long since been taken, and you glance over to see his eyes sweep the room before he moves to take an open spot at the far end.

You watch unabashedly now as he leans back in his chair, tilting to one side to pull his phone out of his pocket, and you can only pray he’s watching TikToks with the sound off rather than checking for a text that’s never coming.

When your manager repeats a question meant for you, your attention snaps back to the group. Sure your smile is nearly a grimace now, you apologize and blame the distraction on needing more coffee, which is enough to earn you a polite chuckle.

Eventually the room takes their seats as your manager moves to the front to start the presentation. You stay focused on copying down minutes as various speakers go through the company’s financials for the previous four quarters, the roadmap for the coming years, and a summary of top-level talent that the label has signed or directly worked with.

The discussion of talent leads smoothly into a quick review of achievements and nominations, and then Yoongi steps to the front of the room.

As he launches in, you can’t get over the stark difference between the Yoongi you’re used to and the one standing behind the podium in front of you. The man with the easy, confident, cocky demeanor is nowhere to be found, replaced with someone who barely looks up from his slides and speaks at a rushed pace, like he’s trying to get the words out as fast as possible. You bite down firmly on your bottom lip and try not to react at all.

He’s nearly halfway done now, and just as you’re thinking he might make it through the whole thing unscathed, Yoongi stumbles slightly over his words. It’s not a lot, a little slip-up that the rest of the room probably didn’t even notice, but you see a momentary flash of panic in his dark eyes. And then those eyes snap up to meet yours, and your stomach drops.

The memory of the two of you in this room, the thought of what you’d be doing to him if you were alone again, the way you could so easily make his voice shake and his knees threaten to buckle with just your mouth— it’s all too much.

You can’t help yourself as the smile you’ve been desperately trying to hide starts to spread across your face, equal parts supportive and indecent.

There’s a beat of silence, not long enough for anyone to think anything of it, and then Yoongi drops your gaze as quickly as he found it. He squints back down at his computer screen, and though he leans away from the microphone, you don’t miss the unmistakable sound of him clearing his throat.

“Excuse me,” he murmurs, and then he picks up where he left off, managing to get back on track without further issue.

You desperately try to ignore the warm flush of heat that creeps up your neck as Yoongi goes through the rest of his slides.

Time seems to speed by in a rush after his presentation, and you barely manage to keep up with the barrage of content. You’re more than grateful when your manager inevitably wraps up the session, reminding everyone to head to a nearby restaurant for a team lunch immediately following.

As the room begins to empty, you take your time finishing up the notes and firing them off to the broader audience. When you finally close your laptop and look up, you realize nearly everyone has left now, though as fate would have it, Yoongi has also lagged behind. He’s standing hunched over the conference room table as he types something into his own laptop.

You try not to overthink it as you hug your computer to your chest and take a few steps toward him. “Yoongi?”

He hums a response, and when he glances up at you, the bags under his eyes are just as prominent as before.

“Are you, uh— coming to lunch?”

He rolls his eyes, like the question is ridiculous. “I can’t. I’m drowning in shit I put off for the last two days.”

His words make you take a step back, and you immediately feel stupid for asking. Why do you even care what he does? “Right. Got it.”

You don’t wait around for him to say anything else, you just shove your laptop into your purse and pull the strap over your shoulder as you head for the exit.

Largely preoccupied with getting away from Yoongi, you don’t pay much attention to your surroundings as you slip out of the room, and you only get a few steps down the hall before a voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “There you are.”

“Jesus!” you gasp, whipping around to find Jungkook leaning up against the glass wall of the conference room, his arms crossed over his chest. “You fucking scared me, Baby Goth.”

“Sorry.” He gives a shy smile, nose scrunching slightly like he’s embarrassed. “I wasn’t gonna let you ditch me again. Lunch?”

You do your best to match his smile. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

The two of you meet up with the rest of the team at a restaurant well out of your price range, and Jungkook babbles freely as he stuffs his face, seemingly unbothered by how little you have to say in return. The chatter of so many people at the long table is a white noise that you can’t focus on any part of, and Jungkook’s usual comforting presence feels overwhelming today, nearly stifling. You push food back and forth on your plate but barely eat, your stomach uneasy for reasons you don’t want to dwell on.

“Min Suga seemed like he didn’t even want to be up there.” The mention of Yoongi’s pseudonym is enough to snap you out of your haze.

“Huh?” You glance up at Jungkook, your eyes widening slightly, and you force yourself to eat another bite of pasta as he continues.

“I don’t know, he went through it so fast. Guess it makes sense. He hates anything that drags him out of his lab, right?”

You aimlessly twirl your fork against your plate, around and around. When you first started this job, you would have agreed with Jungkook without a second thought. Laughed about it, even. Now you’re not so sure. You don’t want to add to this growing sense of friction, the weird energy in the air, but the words come out anyway.

“He was nervous, Jungkook.”

When you meet his gaze again, Jungkook looks confused, and you instantly regret saying anything at all.

“What, did he tell you that?”

You nod as you take another bite of food to avoid having to explain yourself.

Jungkook’s eyes drift down to the table between you, distant, his brow furrowed like he’s suddenly doing some complex mental math. “When?”

“Last night,” you murmur through your mouthful. “We both worked late. I helped him practice a little.” The explanation was meant to make the situation sound less incriminating, but somehow you feel like it only makes it worse. You hope Jungkook can’t tell how warm your face is starting to get.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, his gaze still not meeting yours. “I thought you said you didn’t stay late. When I asked you this morning.”

A rush of adrenaline hits your bloodstream so hard it makes you dizzy. “I—I didn’t. It wasn’t that late. Like an hour max. Didn’t seem worth mentioning.” You set your fork down, quickly hiding your hands in your lap so Jungkook can’t see the way they’ve started to tremble.

His only response is a slow nod, and then he goes quiet in a way that’s rare for him. It feels like an eternity of sitting and eating in silence before either of you says another word.

The conversation eventually picks back up again, and when it does, you try to tell yourself you’re just imagining that it’s slightly more stilted than before.

As you and Jungkook trail after the rest of your coworkers on the walk back to the office, you trade a few more polite questions about work-related projects, and then you fall quiet again, seemingly out of things to say. It’s a few stretches of city blocks, and then you see Jungkook’s head tip up, and he outright sniffs the air.

You can’t help but laugh a little, mostly because he looks like a dog, and then you smell it too. The unmistakable aroma coming from the street cart up ahead. You smile softly to yourself as you both slow to pass it, ogling rice cakes and fish cakes simmering in a pan of spicy sauce.

“God,” Jungkook groans appreciatively. “I would absolutely destroy some tteokbokki right now if I didn’t think I’d literally explode.”

“This is what happens when you help yourself to thirds every time you eat,” you chide him with a giggle, and the two of you nod to the vendor before you continue on toward the office. You only take a few more steps before you falter, and Jungkook turns back when he notices you’ve stopped.

“What’s up? Did you want to get some?”

You don’t know what makes you lie. “Uh, no. I, uh— I just realized, I think I left my scarf back at the restaurant. I’m gonna run back, but don’t worry about waiting for me. You’ve got work stuff.”

Jungkook shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “It’s cool, I can go with you.”

“No, that’s okay,” you say, firmly enough to make it very obvious you don’t want company. Maybe a little too firm, because Jungkook blinks, like he’s taken aback. Your stomach twists with a feeling that you imagine must be similar to having just kicked a puppy.

“Oh. Alright, well. I’ll see you later, then.” He pauses for a moment, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, and then he turns on his heel and keeps walking in the direction of the office. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch Jungkook’s retreating form until he disappears down the city block.

You try not to overthink the interaction as you retrace your steps to the cart, then head back to the office with a takeout bag gripped in one hand. Thankfully you don’t have to fumble for another lie of an excuse, because you don’t run into Jungkook or anyone else in your straight shot from the entrance to the door of Yoongi’s lab. Quick as you can, you punch in the lock code, then push the handle down and slip inside.

It takes you a minute to process what you’re seeing as you shut the door behind you. Yoongi’s arms are folded on the desk in front of him, and he’s slumped forward, head buried in the crook of his elbow. For a brief moment your heart drops, and then you take a tentative step closer and realize there’s no shake or shudder to his shoulders, only the smooth rise and fall of deep, steady breathing.

He’s asleep.

You close the remaining distance until you can reach out and gently place a hand on his back. “Yoongi?”

He inhales sharply, and you quickly pull your hand away like you’ve just been burned. Tilting his head to one side, he cracks an eye open, mumbling something that sounds like a question but is otherwise fully incoherent.

“You fell asleep,” you say dumbly, and Yoongi slowly sits up with a grunt, his eyes squinting, clearly readjusting to the room around him. He leans back to stretch, and several places in his back and shoulders crack impressively loudly.

“Fuck,” he sighs, voice strained, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Why are you in here?”

“I brought you lunch,” you murmur, lifting the takeout bag for him to witness. He frowns at it, then up at you, like he can’t quite figure out what’s happening.

“Thanks,” he eventually manages. “You can just leave it. I’m nowhere near done with all my—”

You cut him off before he can finish. “Go home, Yoongi.”

The look of slack-jawed confusion on his face is enough to nearly make you laugh. “What?”

“I said go home.”

His brow furrows. “You’re not my boss.”

“I’m not saying it as your boss,” you sigh. “But you need to eat, and sleep. This isn’t healthy.”

Yoongi huffs a little, exasperated. “That’s easy for you to say, but I have so much stupid admin stuff to get caught up on.” He gestures halfheartedly to a massive to-do list pulled up on his monitor, one he’s barely a quarter of the way through.

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you hum, feigning thought. “If only you had someone who could help with that. Some kind of… Admin Bitch.”

The comment must catch him off-guard, because he outright laughs. “You know, I still haven’t changed your contact name.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Then you should go before I question why I’m being nice to you. I’ll leave a note for tomorrow with anything I can’t figure out for myself. Assuming you trust my ability to do my job.” As if to indicate that you are no longer open to discussing the subject, you shove the takeout bag into Yoongi’s chest, and he wraps both arms around it, still looking entirely dazed.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t fight you, just slowly rolls his desk chair back and gets to his feet. You watch carefully as he shifts the bag of food to one arm, then grabs his work bag and slings it over his shoulder. “I, uh— thanks.”

You wave a hand as if to tell him not to mention it, and then you plop down into his chair and get to work, barely phased by the sound of the door clicking shut when he leaves.

~*~

As you settle in at your desk the next morning, it dawns on you how close the Grammys have started to loom, made abundantly clear by the overwhelming amount of prep you find yourself launched into. You don’t think you look up from your screen once, not even bothering to greet coworkers as they push through the doors, until the muted tap of something being placed on your desk startles you.

You see the cup of coffee first, and when you glance up expecting a pair of Baby Star Candy eyes, you instead find Yoongi hovering at the edge of your desk, like he’s not sure what he’s doing there. You make zero attempts to hide your total shock at whatever the fuck is going on in this moment.

He looks— good. Fresh-faced, like he managed to actually get some sleep, a little less gaunt. Even his expression seems weirdly pleasant, something you might mistake for happiness if you thought that he was capable of such an emotion.

There’s a crinkling sound, and when he gently sets a small wax paper pastry bag on your desk next to the coffee, you’re sure that you’ve overslept your alarm and are in the depths of a wild, ridiculous dream. It’s the only way any of this can be happening.

You blink up at him as you hesitantly reach for the bag, like you’re scared it might bite you.

“It’s maple,” he says as you slowly pick it up and investigate the contents. It’s still warm. “I asked for the most disgustingly sweet thing they had.”

Too overwhelmed, you set the pastry bag back down wordlessly. As you do, it’s only now that your eyes focus on the letters “AB” sketched in black marker on the side of the coffee cup, where a barista would typically write your name.

Yoongi’s eyes must be watching yours carefully, because he huffs a laugh as he sees realization dawn over your face. “Making them actually write Admin Bitch seemed a bit much.”

You can’t manage to find a laugh to match his, can only sit there, shell-shocked. When you look up again, he’s already walking backwards in the direction of his lab, but his eyes are still on you. “I’d tell you not to tell anyone, but I don’t think they’d believe you even if you did.”

And just like that, he’s gone again.

You remain unconvinced that both of his gifts aren’t secretly poisoned, but your desperate need for a fresh hit of caffeine overwhelms any other emotion. Carefully, you lift the cup to your lips and take a sip— it’s not scalding, but still perfectly hot, and your eyes widen as the flavor hits your tongue.

Two cream, three sugar. Exactly how you like it.

Before you’ve even had time to swallow, Jungkook is suddenly rounding the corner from the opposite direction, and you have to make a conscious effort not to choke.

He slows to a stop, and you watch him take in the coffee cup clutched between your hands like a lifeline. “Hey! You seriously snuck out for coffee without me?” His tone is mock-hurt, but you can’t help wondering whether it’s entirely put on.

Your gaze drops back down to the cup. “Sorry, JK. Someone else picked this up for me.”

Jungkook doesn’t pry into your vague statement, but a sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that maybe he doesn’t have to.

~*~

It’s Saturday night by the time your schedule aligns with Jimin’s for a night out, and given that it’s the last time you’ll see him before you leave for Los Angeles, you manage to guilt him into driving. The bar you choose is a shitty dive nowhere near your office, where you’re certain you won’t have to worry about any accidental encounters.

Or any encounters at all, as it turns out. The place is dead.

“I think we’re single-handedly keeping them open tonight,” Jimin murmurs with a grimace as you grab a pair of stools.

The bartender pours you each two shots and two beers, then returns to their side work at the far end of the bar in an apparent attempt to give the two of you some privacy.

It’s only once you’ve had your first shot and are halfway through the accompanying beer that you’re able to speak the words aloud: “I had sex in the office again.”

Jimin glances up at the ceiling, as if asking for strength, and you recount the full story mostly to the wood grain in front of you, unable to look your best friend in the face while you catch him up on everything.

When you fill in the final details, Jimin nearly spits his drink out. “Suga really hatefucked you on a conference table?! I need to go buy some lottery tickets.” He throws back his second shot, and there’s a smug smile on his face as he swallows it down. “God, I love being psychic.”

You shove an elbow into his ribs. “Listen. I don’t know what’s fucking happening anymore, Mochi. Sometimes he’s insufferable but now sometimes we apparently mildly tolerate and are even nice to each other. Like, coffee and a pastry nice.” You smack your hand on the bar for emphasis as you repeat the words. “Coffee. And. A. Pastry.”

“So,” Jimin clasps his hands together as he surveys you. There’s a look on his face like he’s clearly expecting you to draw some conclusion from all of this, but it seems to have entirely escaped you. “What have we learned?”

You drop your head down on the bar with a resounding thud. “We’ve learned that Min Yoongi is ruining my life.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Voice muffled slightly, you groan. “Don’t make me say it louder.”

“No, what did you just say?” You lift your head up to look at him, and his expression is deadly serious, his eyes sharp and focused. “Min Yoongi? I know Min Yoongi.”

You give him the same look right back. “You what?”

“We were trainees together. I— wait, Min Yoongi is Suga the producer? Really?!” He scrambles for his phone and you just sit there, dumbfounded.

“How are you only now telling me that you know him?”

Jimin glances up, incredulous. “Um, hi, because you literally never fucking told me Suga is Min Yoongi?”

You roll your eyes. “Please, surely I have said his name to you at least once.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to smack the bar, and he does so loudly. “Run those tapes back, ma’am! We have always called him Suga.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never even Googled him?!”

He makes a face like the mere suggestion is ridiculous. “I am an adult, with a job and a very needy boyfriend. Your chaos already monopolizes too much of my time.”

The search on his phone loads, and you watch Jimin tap and scroll slowly, mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Min Yoongi is Suga. Wow. I think I need a minute.”

Jimin’s earlier words finally catch up to you, and you finish the last of your first beer before you dare ask the question. “Yoongi was really a trainee?”

“He was,” Jimin confirms, gaze still locked on his phone. “Obviously he didn’t debut either. He left a few months before I did. I always wondered what happened to him.”

“What was he like?” Your voice comes out soft, a little unsure.

His eyes widen, staring off unfocused as he searches through his memory. “I mean, we weren’t super close, he’s a few years older than me. But it doesn’t sound like that much has changed if I think about what you’ve told me. He was quiet, not too personable. Worked hard. Didn’t really seem that close to anybody. I think maybe he had a difficult home life?”

Your stomach drops a little as Jimin pauses, choosing his words. “Like I guess his parents weren’t very supportive. So I think he felt like he had a lot to prove, and had really high standards for himself. But he obviously loved music. Makes sense that he ended up a producer. It’s like me and dance, right?” He picks up his beer with a shrug, staring thoughtfully down at the amber liquid. “Man. Those years were tough.”

As Jimin takes a sip of his drink and then continues on about his trainee days, your head starts to spin. You throw back your second shot in hopes that it might help.

You wish you could go back and unlearn this information, unsay the name Min Yoongi. Because you don’t want to think about him. You don’t want to know that Min Yoongi gets nervous about public speaking, that he likes his coffee iced, that he can’t say no to street cart tteokbokki, that he used to be a trainee, that he worked an unpaid job in Daegu, that he had a disapproving family and never felt good enough and maybe still doesn’t.

Min Yoongi was so simple when you first met him, back when he was a two-dimensional character, the antagonist of your TV show life, your enemy. But now he’s none of those things. He’s a real, flawed, complicated person, and your feelings for him are confusing and overwhelming. And you deeply do not want to think about your feelings. You don’t want to examine them, don’t want to hold them up to the light for fear of what you might find. It occurs to you in this moment that you don’t want to think about anything at all.

With a sigh, you scoot your chair back from the bar, then get to your feet.

“What are you doing?” Jimin interrupts himself to ask as you dig your phone out of your purse.

You’re doing the only thing that makes sense. “I’m gonna go fuck him,” you say, resigned, and then you make your way out the front door of the bar as you pull up Yoongi’s contact in your phone.

It’s only as the line starts to ring that you realize you don’t exactly have a location in mind. Sex in a bar bathroom is an experience you have no desire to repeat, and the thought of Yoongi seeing your shithole apartment makes your drinks threaten a return appearance.

You’re starting to consider that maybe you should just hang up and forget the idea entirely when Yoongi’s voice startles you.

“Uh, hi?”

“Hi.”

There’s a pause as you realize you didn’t actually plan how to have this conversation, and then you and Yoongi speak in tandem.

“I was just wondering—”

“Is there a reason you—”

“Shut up,” you snap, agitated by your own awkwardness. “What are you doing right now?”

Yoongi laughs darkly into the phone. “I’m sorry, is this a booty call?”

“Answer the question, asshole.”

There’s a slight shifting sound, like he’s making himself comfortable. “Nothing. Drinking.”

“Great, same here.”

Another pause, and you swear you can hear Yoongi slow blinking, can see the stupid smirk on his face when you close your eyes. “Would you like to come over, then?”

“Yes,” you answer, trying to sound more confident than you feel, and then you falter slightly. You’re not about to ask Jimin to drive you— you don’t trust him enough to stay in the car and behave, not when he’s been drinking. “Uh, are you by any chance near a bus stop?”

Yoongi doesn’t even try to suppress his snort of laughter. “I’m not. But I can send a car.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you say quickly, trying to think. “I can figure something—”

“Please,” Yoongi cuts you off. “If you’re really calling me begging to get fucked, the least I can do is provide the transportation. Just send me your location.”

“Fine,” you concede, and your voice comes out harsh. “But to be clear, I am not begging.”

He hums a low note, like he’s thinking it over. “Not yet,” he ultimately responds. “See you soon.”

You swallow hard as the call disconnects.

The time it takes for the car to arrive is just enough for you to slip back inside and finish your beer, and Jimin’s eyes narrow with frustration when you’re unable to explain yourself.

“Didn’t you just complain that this man was ruining your life?”

“Yes,” you retort. “And then I thought it over, and I decided that’s my job.” Your phone buzzes with the notification that the car is outside, and you quickly swig the last of your drink. “Bye.”

Jimin’s face twists like he’s holding further commentary back, which you didn’t think he was capable of doing without combusting. “Alright, babygirl,” he finally sighs, defeated. “Call me if you need saving.”

“I always do,” you deadpan as you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek.

~*~

Yoongi doesn’t say anything when he opens the door for you, just nods his head to the interior of his apartment to gesture you inside, letting the door swing wider so you can step past him. He shuts it again as you slip your heels off, and it takes you a second to adjust to your true height difference, the fact that you have to look a little further up to meet his gaze now.

“Want a drink?” is his delayed greeting, and you shrug.

“Yeah, okay. Just whatever you’re having.”

Without another word, he turns and heads down the hallway, and you follow after him, taking in your surroundings as you move further inside. It’s only now that it occurs to you how rich he must be. His place is identical to any one of the swanky, million-dollar Hannam apartments of which you’ve spent thousands of hours watching YouTube tours. You try to keep your expression neutral as you follow him into the living room, but it’s hard not to be impressed.

Yoongi crosses the room to a mini-bar, built into the far wall and softly backlit with inset LEDs. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth as you hover nervously for a second, then finally choose to drop down onto the large, L-shaped couch, setting your purse on the floor next to you.

“Thoughts—” When Yoongi’s voice breaks the silence, you start a little, not expecting it. “—on single malt whiskey?” He turns over his shoulder, and you shrug back at him.

“Never met one I didn’t like.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up, just barely. “Alright.” You watch as he grabs a dark green bottle off the shelf, coating the bottom of a glass with the amber liquid inside, then just barely topping up what must be his own drink. He crosses back to the couch, hands you yours, then drops down a respectable distance away from you with a sigh of effort.

The atmosphere is certainly different from what you’d expected, and Yoongi must be able to tell you’re a little on edge, not sure what to do or why you thought coming here was a good idea.

He glances over at you as he swirls the contents of his glass. “Not feeling up for much small talk tonight. Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” you say quickly. “We don’t have to talk.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you grit your teeth in anticipation of the smug smile, the cocky smirk at your unintended double meaning, but it never comes. Yoongi stays just as he is, slouched forward, his eyes unfocused, like he’s got a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once.

You turn sideways on the couch so you can look over the back of it and out of the large picture window behind you, where the city is alive in a blur of light and color, bracketed by the dark swath of the Han River.

Yoongi’s whiskey is strong but smooth, tastes like the bottle probably cost more than the entire bar-tab you and Jimin rang up tonight, and you sip it slowly. The thought of your best friend sparks something in your mind— you find yourself speaking again in spite of your previous statement.

“I just found out that you know my best friend. Park Jimin.”

At this, Yoongi looks up, clearly stunned. “No shit?” You nod, taking another pull from your drink, and he shakes his head. “I haven’t heard that name in years. How is he?”

“He’s good,” you murmur, the sharp taste of alcohol lingering on the back of your tongue. “He’s really good. He actually just performed in the concert I took Jungkook to.”

Yoongi pauses, glass halfway to his lips. “What group is he in? For someone in the industry I am atrocious at keeping up with this shit.”

“Oh, he’s not, he’s just a back-up dancer now. He never debuted.”

Yoongi nods slowly. “Well. Makes two of us.”

Your chest starts to tighten a little— you’re weirdly nervous to talk to him about this. It feels like uncharted territory. “I can’t believe you were a trainee.”

He leans back, resting his free arm over the back of the couch, fingers tapping idly. “I can’t either, most days. It was a long time ago. Feels like it happened to somebody else.”

Torn between deep curiosity and not wanting to pry, you stare down at the liquid swirling in your glass and leave it up to Yoongi. To your surprise, he keeps talking.

“So what did Jimin tell you about me?”

The unexpected question makes you laugh a little. “Uh… I don’t know. Said you sound like you’re still the same as you were back then. Keeping to yourself and working a lot.”

You don’t know if you should repeat everything, but the liquor loosens your tongue. “He said your parents weren’t very supportive.”

You glance up to see Yoongi shake his head, matter-of-fact. “They were not. So you can imagine how well they took it when I quit.” Your heart sinks at the thought. “Probably put a chip on my shoulder, if I want to be introspective about it. Explains the workaholic tendencies, maybe.”

He takes a longer sip of his drink this time, chasing his swallow with a grimace as he stares at the floor. “It’s funny. I always feel like I have to do better, even now. I get obsessed with work because it’s better than being depressed. And most of the time it feels like there’s nothing else to do anyway. I just work myself to death because it’s my only reason to stay alive.”

Your stomach drops sharply, and you can’t help but look over at him as he continues, feeling thoroughly unprepared for this sudden insight into the inner workings of Min Yoongi.

“It doesn’t even matter what milestones I hit, the fame, the fortune, whatever. I’m going to the fucking Grammys next week and it still doesn’t feel good enough.” His eyes flicker up to find yours, and his voice is quieter now. “Even if I win, I know it won’t. How sad is that?”

“You sound like my dad,” you mutter into your glass, and then your gaze snaps back to Yoongi as you realize what you’ve just said.

He looks as surprised as you feel, and you steady yourself as you take a swig of your drink and swallow it down. Fuck it. If he can overshare, so can you. “Work always came first, before family, before everything. And you know what happened? He dropped dead in his office before he even turned fifty. They said it was probably stress.”

There’s a flash of something in Yoongi’s eyes, but he doesn’t try to interrupt you.

“It makes me so mad,” you say, and you will yourself not to get emotional, your grip on your drink tightening slightly. “Because he worked so fucking hard thinking that once he got to a certain place, he’d be happy. Just a little more, then he could relax. But he never got there. He worked non-stop his whole life and then he fucking died. That’s it.

“And you know what’s really fucked up?” You don’t wait for Yoongi to respond— you can’t stop it all from coming out now, like a tap turned on high.

“People say grief makes you resilient, that it makes you stronger, or kinder, that we go through these things and they’re hard but you learn from them and grow or whatever the fuck. And I don’t feel like any of that shit is true for me. My dad died, and I just got worse.” A self-deprecating laugh flutters out around your words. “I’m selfish. I’m lazy. I make terrible choices. I deeply cannot fucking stand myself, if I’m honest with you. Jimin is like the one friend I still keep in touch with who knew me when my dad was alive, because everyone else just… didn’t know what to do with me. And I don’t blame them.

“And it makes me feel like such a fucking asshole, because he died, and I’m sitting here complaining about me. It’s like I don’t even miss him as much as I just miss… the way things used to be. The person I used to be.” You let yourself take a breath, but the final thought, the part you don’t usually say out loud, slips out with it. “It’s like she died, too.”

There’s a long pause that feels like an eternity, and you realize your heart is racing in your chest. You lean back against the couch with a sigh of frustration, too embarrassed at your own word vomit to do anything but stare at the stupidly high ceiling. You’re so wrapped up in the rush of saying it all— it’s been a while since you’ve gone this deep with anyone— that it takes you a second to notice that Yoongi is laughing softly.

“Wow. And here I thought you were just a slacker.”

The words make you glance over at him. You haven’t divulged these feelings to many people, but nearly everyone you’ve told has responded the same: awkward apologies, shitty words of affirmation you didn’t ask for, waxing poetic bullshit lies about how you’re not a bad person. A road paved with good intentions, things meant to console you that only make you want to scream.

But Yoongi gives you none of that. He just nods, like he understands.

“Well,” you counter, trying not to let the shock read on your face. “I thought you were just an asshole.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am an asshole. I’ll own that.” He smirks into his glass as he takes another sip of his drink. “Do you want to know something?”

“What?”

He suddenly pauses, like he’s not sure how to word it, like he maybe regrets asking the question at all. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so hesitant before. “You have to not make a big deal about it.”

“Okay,” you say simply. You’re willing to return the favor.

“The night I left the studio door unlocked, and there was the break-in,” Yoongi starts, his thumb fiddling with the ring on his index finger. Something twists in your stomach, an intuition you can’t explain that makes it immediately clear to you what he’s about to say. “I wasn’t thinking about locking up that night because I... was planning to kill myself.”

It’s like all the air is sucked out of the room, and you will yourself not to react, gripping your glass until your knuckles blanch. Your eyes drop to the floor as you try to process the weight of his words.

“But you didn’t,” you reply dumbly.

“No, I didn’t. I walked up and down the bridge over the river for a long time. Probably an hour, maybe more, I don’t know.” You look up to the window again, tracing the inkblot snake of the river in the distance.

“I thought about it, and then I decided to go home. I thought that maybe I could give it just one more day and see what happened. And then when I got to work the next day, I was in such deep shit about the break-in, I felt like everyone would blame themselves if I did it after that. Like they’d think they were too hard on me.” He laughs bitterly to himself. “Like I’m not always the one who is hardest on myself.”

“Yoongi,” you breathe. “I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs. “You don’t have to say anything. It just feels nice to tell someone.”

There’s a heavy silence between you, and heat rushes to your face as the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”

He glances over at you, brows pinched together like he doesn’t believe you. “You hate me.”

“I do not!” The insistence in your voice surprises even you. In an attempt to ground yourself, you press your palm to the side of your drink and try to focus on the feeling, the cool surface against your flushed skin. “I mean, I definitely did. But now, I don’t know. Would I really be wasting my Saturday night here if I hated you?”

Yoongi pauses with his glass halfway to his mouth, and you can see him fighting to keep a smile off his face. “Look at me, you came over here to fuck and I turned it into a therapy session. Christ.”

With a final shake of his head, he downs the last of his drink in one swallow. “You want a tour?”

You follow Yoongi as he takes a winding path through the various rooms of his apartment, and you continue to sip at your drink, barely processing any of what he shows you. Your mind is still spinning from the conversation, and that paired with the cotton fuzz of strong liquor makes everything feel muted and far away.

As anticipated, the tour ends in his bedroom, which matches the rest of the place: sleek, minimally decorated, and bathed in the soft glow of inset strip lighting that runs the length of the ceiling.

When Yoongi sets his empty glass down on the dresser, you mirror him, then watch as he steps in to close the distance between you. As your eyes search his, you realize you’re once again caught between conflicting versions of Min Yoongi, still trying to reconcile the one you thought you knew with the person who just spilled his guts all over the living room floor. It feels impossible to hold the two of them together in your mind.

Up close, his smirk seems to soften. “You’re a lot shorter without those heels.”

Before you even understand what you’re doing, or why, you take his face in your hands and kiss him. It’s only a split second, your lips barely brushing over his, and then you quickly pull away, struck by the reality of what you’ve just done.

“Shit,” you breathe, dropping your hands and taking a step back. You stumble slightly as a hot wave of shame rushes up in your chest. “Sorry, I just—”

You don’t get to finish the thought, because Yoongi’s touch is sliding over the curve of your waist, and then he’s dragging you back toward him until his mouth finds yours again. The taste of whiskey lingers on his soft lips as they move against yours— you can’t help but whimper a little at how hungrily he kisses you. Like he’s wanted to do it for a long time.

The idea overwhelms you, and you pull away from him again, your lips still ghosting over his. “Yoongi.” You try your best to sound firm when you say his name, pressing one hand against his chest as you look up at him. “This… can’t mean anything.”

You can feel the heat of his breath when he laughs softly. “It doesn’t have to. I’ve been trying to tell you that.”

Too desperate for his mouth to want to argue, you decide to let him win. “Okay,” you sigh. Your hand is already tangled in his long, dark hair by the time his lips meet yours again.

“Get on the bed,” Yoongi murmurs between kisses, and you do as he says.

Moving backwards, you crawl up toward the pillows while Yoongi crosses the room to hit a panel on the wall, dimming the soft lights overhead until they’re barely there. He comes back to join you, strong hands wordlessly guiding you to lay down beneath him.

It’s weird to not be rushing through this: to feel like you can take your time as he kisses you again, as you lick into his mouth to roll your tongue over his, as one of his hands starts to creep under your skirt to gently rub up and down the length of your thigh.

The motions of his hand push the fabric higher and higher, until it’s as far up as it can go, and he leans back, clearly not satisfied.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, and you nod, sitting up to help as he pulls your dress up over your head.

It occurs to you a beat too late that you’ve never been this naked in front of him before, and your heartbeat flutters. “You too,” you murmur, pinching gently at the hem of Yoongi’s t-shirt, and he smirks as he reaches one hand between his shoulder blades to tug it off entirely.

You take him in as he drops the shirt to his bedroom floor: he’s broad-shouldered in a way you’ve never noticed under all his baggy clothes, with firm definition in the muscles of his chest and arms, and there’s a flush of warm glow to his pale skin.

As you blink up at Yoongi, more than dazed, you realize his eyes are roaming over your body, too. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath, and you resist the sudden urge to hide from his surveying gaze. “You have great tits.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that, and the surprise of it makes you laugh.

“Just for that, I’ll let you see them,” you say, unable to keep the teasing edge out of your voice as you lean forward to reach behind your back. Your hands shake a little more than you’d like as you fumble to undo your bra and toss it off the side of the bed to join everything else.

Your nipples stiffen quickly in the cool air of his room, and when you lay back again, Yoongi covers your body with his, the movement paired with a groan that’s nearly a growl. You can’t hold back your own soft sounds as his lips and tongue move down your neck, and it occurs to you now that there’s so much that the two of you have never done before. So many steps you skipped.

Like the way Yoongi cups one of your breasts in his hand, rolling his thumb over your nipple to earn a louder whine from you. “Shit,” you gasp as he does it again, his mouth still trailing kisses between the valley of your breasts.

“God,” Yoongi hisses against your skin. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

With his thumb continuing to work at one nipple, he takes the other into his mouth, and you can feel the way your arousal is starting to soak through your panties as he sucks firmly at the stiff peak. You arch up into him, and then he’s shifting to roll your nipple between his teeth and tug, and you can’t help it— you flinch and yelp beneath him, overwhelmed.

He quickly pulls his mouth off of you, eyes flashing up to find yours. “Sensitive?”

You nod, face flushing, embarrassed. “A little bit of teeth is okay. Too much hurts.”

“Okay,” Yoongi answers softly. He licks up the underside of your breast to pull the bud of it back into his mouth, and the swirl of his tongue there soothes like an apology. When he just barely grazes his teeth across the sensitive peak, it’s enough to make you keen, your eyes rolling back as they flutter closed.

“Oh, fuck, just like that.”

With a wet noise, he pulls off to switch sides, repeating the firm suction, the drag of his tongue, the slightest brush of teeth. His fingers pinch gently at your other nipple, made slick with his spit, and he keeps working you lazily, unhurried, until your body writhes underneath his.

“Yoongi—” You try to catch your breath, and you run a hand through his hair to pull his mouth off of you. His jaw is still dropped open slightly when he meets your gaze. “Touch me.”

His lips pull into a smug smile. “Told you you’d beg.”

Your grip on his hair tightens in response. “Not begging. Ordering.”

Yoongi tuts gently, like he’s disappointed. “I don’t follow orders, sweetheart.”

As much as his teasing irritates you, a twin smile to his spreads across your face. “I’ll kill you,” you murmur, releasing your grip as he shifts back onto his knees.

It gets harder to focus on your bloodlust when his palms run over the curve of your hips, then press between your legs to part your thighs. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he deadpans as his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties and he starts to drag the lace down your legs.

“That’s fucking dark,” you can’t help but laugh as you kick your underwear the rest of the way off.

Yoongi licks his lips, clearly distracted, and you spread yourself wider for him. “This pussy,” he grunts hoarsely, like he’s talking to himself more than you. “Gets so puffy when you want it. All tight inside, too.” He unexpectedly slaps the whole of his hand over your center, and you gasp, your hips jolting up.

You don’t even have time to respond before he’s pressing a finger into you, your cunt squeezing tight enough to reward him with an audible noise as he fucks it in and out. “Fuck,” you groan.

“You get this wet just from having your tits played with, huh?”

The thorough analysis makes you huff a laugh, because he’s not wrong, and it stutters into a moan when his thumb gently starts to circle your clit.

“God,” you manage to choke out, “you’re fucking chatty tonight.”

Yoongi smirks, and you’re not sure why until he speaks again, his voice now pinched in a clear imitation as he withdraws his hand. “I’m sorry, is there somewhere you’d rather I put my mouth?”

Your jaw drops in disbelief as he repeats your own stupid tease from weeks ago back to you. “I’ve changed my mind,” you snap, sitting up a little, and Yoongi glances at you, already in the midst of settling between your spread thighs. “I do still hate you.”

“That’s fine,” he says with a shrug, and then he leans in to lick a thick, wet stripe up your slit. His mouth is immediately dizzying, and you drop your head back against the pillow, overwhelmed.

It’s another thing you’ve never done before, at least not with Min Yoongi. As he repeats the motion over and over, lazy long strokes where he drags his tongue from your entrance all the way up to circle your clit, you mentally kick yourself for every missed chance, every opportunity to have his mouth that you didn’t take.

“What the fuck,” you breathe.

Yoongi just barely pulls off of you, close enough that a string of your arousal is still joined to his lower lip when he speaks. “You’re not the only one with good head game here.”

He dives in again like he’s determined to immediately prove his point, and you shove your legs open wider as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

As much as you’d like to bruise his ego, it’s impossible to keep yourself from moaning when he pairs the firm suction with the press of his index finger back into your tight heat. As wet as he’s made you, he’s easily able to slide a second in beside it now, and your nails scratch helplessly over the sheets beneath you.

“Yoongi,” you gasp as he curls his digits to beckon inside you, stroking over your front wall and easily finding the spot that makes you gush. He does it again and again, like a button press, working up more and more arousal until you’re dripping down his wrist.

Even the way he hums against your pussy sounds like a smirk, but you’re too far gone to care. Yoongi starts to flick his tongue steadily over your clit, matching the rhythm of his fingers pumping into your g-spot, and you can feel the pressure in your core building, a band pulled tight enough to snap.

Your hips buck up toward his mouth in an overwhelmed reflex, and Yoongi’s free hand is immediately there like he was expecting it. His palm presses firmly to your lower abdomen to hold you down and keep you there, and even that feels good too, renders you entirely helpless to his mouth and his hands as he takes you apart.

“Fuck,” you moan, loud and unabashed now. “Fuck, yes, I’m—”

The feeling overtakes you before you can get another word out, and you nearly sob as your orgasm rips through you, your whole body straining hard against Yoongi’s strong hand as he pins you to the bed. The extra pressure on your core pushes a rush of fluid out of your cunt, enough to soak the sheets beneath you as your muscles contract around Yoongi’s fingers.

“Oh my god,” he doesn’t even pull away to groan, and the low vibration of the words against your throbbing clit makes your thighs tremble.

There’s a wet smack of his lips and tongue as he finally relents, the pace of his fingers slowing as he continues to work you through the aftershocks. You desperately try to remember how to breathe as you start to come down.

Yoongi is a fucking sight when he leans back to look up at you: long hair falling in his face, eyes dark with lust, lips and chin slick with your arousal. “Did you seriously just squirt?”

It’s been a long time since anyone has managed to make it happen, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed in a different way. Still recovering, you can barely get the words out. “Shut up.”

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘shut up’? It was hot,” Yoongi grunts, and you’re at least grateful that you don’t have to have the ‘it’s not pee’ conversation right now. He ducks his head down again as he withdraws his fingers, and his tongue drags up the crux of your thighs to chase a few stray droplets. You squirm, oversensitive, your legs nearly snapping shut around his neck, and he takes the cue to back off with a soft laugh.

You’re too spent to fight it when he starts to manhandle you a little, palms slipping under your ass to drag you further down the bed until your hips are flush with his, then encouraging your knees to pull up toward your chest. “Think you can do that on my cock?”

The question sparks something in your core, the first lick of a freshly lit flame, and you prop yourself up on your forearms to better meet his gaze. “Make me.”

Yoongi’s appreciative smile is nearly a snarl, and he shifts lower on the bed to quickly strip out of his pants and boxers. You watch as he starts to crawl back up your body, anticipation tightening in your core, and then a flash of realization crosses his face and he freezes.

“Fuck,” he swears, and your stomach drops.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot I’m out of condoms.” Your eyes widen as his gaze meets yours. “Do you have any?”

You shake your head. “Not with me.”

A muscle in his jaw works as he exhales a resigned sigh, and you reach out, one hand finding his bicep to stop him before he leaves. You want it too much, bad idea or not. “Just… fuck me anyway.”

His expression goes deadly serious, and there’s a long moment before he responds. “You’re sure?”

You swallow hard as you nod, your eyes searching his. “Just pull out, okay?” You hate yourself for saying the final word before it even leaves your lips. “Please.”

“Okay,” Yoongi repeats back to you, and his hands press to your thighs again to encourage your knees up as he positions himself between your legs. There’s a feeling humming in the space between your bodies, like the reality of the situation has settled over the both of you. The reckless abandon of the previous moment is gone, replaced with something slower, more hesitant. Heavier.

With your eyes fixed on his face, you feel it first: the weight and warmth of his cock grinding over your slit, sliding easily with how soaked you are. You look down to see it for yourself, flushed dark and hard enough to leak precum, trailing a glossy sheen over your folds as Yoongi guides it against you, one hand gripped firmly to the base. He teases the head of his dick over your clit and keeps it there, and you’re still sensitive enough to whimper at the feeling.

“Please,” you repeat, and he’s too focused to be smug about it. He just nods as he drags his cock back down to your entrance, then braces one hand against your thigh and starts to push in.

You exhale softly at the welcome stretch, familiar made new at the lack of anything between you. You can feel it all: the thick swell of the head of his cock as he eases you open, how he throbs gently as your walls squeeze around him, so tight that you can even feel the prominent veins that trace down his shaft.

You’re still wet and getting wetter from the way he fills you up entirely, your arousal drenching the length of him when he bottoms out with an audible slick sound. His cock twitches, buried to the hilt, and even that barely-there motion is enough to coax a breathy moan from you.

“Shit,” Yoongi laughs softly, and the tinge of humility to his voice makes you glance up at him again. “Not gonna be able to go that fast. Feels too good.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just…”

The words won’t come. It would mean too much to say what you want, and this isn’t supposed to mean anything at all.

So you don’t say them: you just hook your arms over his shoulders and pull his mouth down to yours. “Just fuck me,” you murmur against his lips. He grunts a low note of appreciation as he kisses you, as he starts to drag his cock out of you just to fuck it back in again.

It’s shallow, it’s slow, it’s nothing like what you’re used to with Yoongi, but it’s good. Good enough to make your kisses sloppy when you trade open-mouthed breaths, good enough to make you tilt your head and slide the flat of your tongue over Yoongi’s unabashedly, like an earned reward.

He pushes your knees up a little more, thrusting deeper this time, and the new angle drags the head of his cock right over your g-spot. You whine at the heavy weight of him, the shudder that ripples through you in response, and he stays there, stroking steadily to rub that spot again and again until your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh my god, Yoongi,” you gasp into his mouth.

“Shit,” he groans shakily, reaching one hand up to brush his hair out of his eyes. A few dark strands stick to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Squeezing me so fucking tight.”

Your arousal coils hot and fast inside of you as he keeps thrusting, and you have to break away from kissing him to tip your head back on the pillow and moan. “Fuck, please don’t stop, I’m—”

It feels like the final second before your climax when Yoongi pulls out, sitting back on his knees between your spread legs with a low groan. The sudden loss of his cock makes your walls clench at nothing, and you whine, petulant. “Yoongi!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, breathless. “Almost came.” You glance up to see him squeezing at the base of his cock with one hand, his chest heaving with effort. Your hips tilt up toward him, jealous.

“I miss your cock,” you whine, fucked close enough to be shameless.

“You’ll get it,” he retorts, and then you feel three of his fingers press in to fill the space he left behind inside of you. “Want to make you come again first.”

You keen as he starts to pump them, wrist angled just right to meet your g-spot each time. “Oh fuck, Yoongi.” The arousal in your core aches as he fucks you open on his fingers, and you can hear how wet you are in the soaked squelch of your needy pussy, can feel it leaking down your thighs.

His thumb brushes over your clit with every upstroke of his hand, and it makes you gasp, your moans starting to pitch higher. “Harder, baby, please, I’m so close.”

Too lost in the feeling, you barely notice when Yoongi laughs a little, but he does as you ask, and the way he pounds into you is just enough to work you over the edge. Waves of pleasure rip through your body as you come for a second time, squirting a little on his sheets again, your thighs shaking violently.

“That’s it, there you go, fuck,” Yoongi groans appreciatively at the sight.

You’ve just barely made it past your peak, still shuddering all over, when Yoongi withdraws his fingers to shove his cock back in again, and you keen.

He thrusts like a man close to his own end, fast and hard, his breath coming in ragged pants of effort and pleasure. Your pussy pulses around him, squeezing like a vice, so swollen with sensitivity that it really does feel like he’s splitting you open every time he fucks into you.

You moan unabashedly now and cling to him all over, legs bracketing his snapping hips, nails of one hand digging into his shoulder, the other hand tangled in his hair. Your cunt throbs and gushes around him as he strokes, and it still feels like you’re coming: you can’t tell if it’s an intensely drawn-out second orgasm or if the hot stretch of his cock worked you seamlessly into a third.

When he finally pulls out, you drop back against the bed with an exhausted groan, every inch of you fucked into oblivion. You can barely focus your eyes to watch as Yoongi shoves his hips up to straddle yours, one hand working his cock until his release overtakes him.

He flattens both palms to the mattress as he starts to come, groaning softly and rocking his hips so that his cock grinds against your stomach. The head of his dick twitches visibly, leaking pulse after pulse of sticky gloss over your skin, and he smears his cock through it as he ruts against you. He keeps going, rolling his hips and rubbing the mess across your stomach until he’s thoroughly spent, until you’re both flushed and sticky all over.

“Holy fucking shit,” is all he can manage when he finally collapses down on the bed next to you.

You glance over at him and nod, trying to imply without speaking that the feeling is mutual. He meets your gaze, and you lay like that for several long minutes of silence as your breathing slows, eyes fixed on each other as your heartbeats race through the comedown.

It’s hard to believe that any part of tonight has been real, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

As the post-orgasm glow starts to settle, exhaustion hits you like a train. You groan, breaking the prolonged eye contact to throw an arm over your face, blocking out Yoongi’s bedroom with the crook of your elbow.

You’re not expecting it when he softly says your name, and something in your gut tells you that whatever’s coming isn’t good. You will yourself not to look back again, to stay as still as a statue when you answer him. “Hmm?”

“You know Jungkook is in love with you, right?”

The plan to not move goes out the window at his words. Your pulse spikes, and you drop your arm to look at him, your face twisted in confusion. “What?!”

Yoongi studies your expression for a second, then makes a small hum of surprise. “Interesting. I figured you were just trying to let him down easy.”

“I— what?”

“You really didn’t know?” He scoffs, and his tone is enough to instantly make you set your jaw. “It’s pretty obvious. It’s funny, I guess he’s sort of inadvertently responsible for all of this.”

That takes a second to sink in, and you blink. “How?”

Yoongi stares up at the ceiling, seemingly nonplussed. “Well, when he asked me for the code to my office, I figured he wanted to take you in there and fuck you.”

Hot blood rushes to your chest, and you sit up a little. “You talked to Jungkook about fucking me?”

“No.” Yoongi blinks. “This was before anything happened. I haven’t told him anything. It was just clear he liked you, even back then, because I have eyes. So I was trying to do him a favor. He’s a good kid.”

You squint, still trying to catch up. “Why would Jungkook fuck me in your office?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s the only door that locks. Sometimes you get desperate.” You swallow the immediate urge to argue when your brain unhelpfully reminds you that you have in fact fucked Yoongi at the office. Twice.

“But you know, I figured he’d wine you, dine you, all that romantic crap first. I’m sure he’s a very respectable sex on the third date kind of guy.” That all-too-familiar smirk is back when he glances over at you again. “I guess neither of us realized who we were dealing with.”

You open and close your mouth a few times before you can remember how to speak. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Particularly not with your cum still on my stomach.”

Yoongi nods toward the en-suite. “There’s towels in there. Or you can shower if you want.”

Your head spins as you silently slip out of his bed, and you shut the bathroom door firmly behind you, wishing you could leave that entire conversation on the other side of it. Maybe his fancy shower will get hot enough to blast all the thoughts out of your brain, you reason, and it only takes a bit of fumbling with the knobs before you figure it out.

The water pressure is so much better than what you’re used to that you groan a little when you step under the spray. You turn in a semicircle, letting it beat down on your neck and shoulders as you close your eyes, willing the tension to melt out of your body. You really are exhausted, practically asleep on your feet, despite the way your mind is still racing.

You don’t know why you came here tonight. You don’t know what you thought would happen. You don’t know what makes you keep coming back to Yoongi, over and over, like a moth to a flame, like the definition of insanity. You don’t know why he opened up to you tonight, or why you decided to do the same— or what the fuck compelled him to say that Jungkook is in love with you. You don’t know if things are supposed to stay the same after tonight, or if they will be irrevocably different, and you don’t know which you’d even want.

You have no idea what you want, actually. Another drink would be nice.

The sound of the shower door opening startles you, pulling you up from your thought spiral, and your eyes snap open to see Yoongi shutting the door behind him. Without a word, he steps in to crowd you under the water, and you hate the way your heartbeat flutters when he’s close to you.

“What are you—” you try to ask, but you don’t get to finish the sentence before his hand cups your jaw and his mouth finds yours.

His kiss blots everything else from your brain, and in this moment, you’re grateful for it. You lean into him, letting him in deeper when his tongue traces your bottom lip, whimpering softly as his other hand presses to the small of your back to pull you closer.

You don’t know what he wants, either. Why he came in here. But you have a guess.

“Yoongi,” you murmur against his lips. “I can’t again. I’m so tired.”

“It’s okay,” he answers softly, and then his mouth drags you back in like a riptide.

You don’t know how long you stay there like that, kissing him under the steam and the spray, but you’re breathless when you finally pull away to look up at him. Water droplets are twined through his long, dark hair, collecting delicately on his eyelashes, trailing down his neck and over the muscles of his chest.

“You can sleep here tonight, if you want,” Yoongi offers, and before you can even process the words, he’s stepping back to push the shower door open behind him, and then he’s gone.

With the glass fogged over completely from the heat of the water, and the white noise of the fan overhead, you have no concept of when he leaves the bathroom, or what else he might be doing. You just know you feel entirely alone.

After scrubbing yourself thoroughly with a washcloth that you lather in Yoongi’s soap, you emerge from the shower, grabbing a towel from the linen cabinet to wrap up in. It’s weird to smell like him, sandalwood and musk, somehow both comforting and alienating.

When you nudge open the door to his room again, it’s empty, and the inset lighting has been turned off entirely, the room bathed only in the glow of the bedside lamp that’s been switched on.

He’s left out one of his t-shirts for you, and you recognize it as one you’ve seen him in often at work. You remember Googling the label once out of curiosity and nearly passing out at your desk when you saw the three hundred dollar price tag. You pull it on over your head, then return to the bathroom to hang your towel up.

As you slip back into the bedroom, you can’t help but wonder where Yoongi’s disappeared off to, but you’re too exhausted to go looking for him.

Though you figure he’ll be in eventually, your heart still sinks a little as you pull back the covers and crawl into his bed. It feels so much bigger when you’re the only one in it. You decide to leave the lamp on, then turn over to press your cheek to the pillow, and the waves of sleep almost immediately pull you under.

You’re still alone when you wake up in the morning, the other side of the bed entirely undisturbed.

Blinking slowly, it takes you a moment to remember where you are, and then the night comes back to you piece by piece. The lamp on the nightstand is still on when you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

Yawning and rubbing sleep from your eyes, you push open Yoongi’s bedroom door and pad down the hallway, trying to make sense of things. You have to retrace your steps all the way back to the living room before you find him, curled up on his side on the couch with one arm tucked under his head, still sleeping soundly.

He looks smaller like this. More vulnerable, maybe.

You wonder if you should’ve asked him to join you in his bed, and you wonder why he didn’t. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you decide to let him rest.

You move through his apartment aimlessly, like a patron in a museum. Something cracks open inside of you as you allow yourself to take in his place undisturbed, and with it, what could be. The idea that a night spent here could feel normal. The two of you in the clearly well-used kitchen, how you might sit on the counter with a glass of wine while he cooks dinner. Talking about your days, about the past and the future. Sharing a life. Fucking and showering and falling asleep in his bed, tangled up together.

For something so close, it feels impossibly far away in the harsh light of morning. It feels like something meant for a much better person than you.

When you make it all the way back to his room, you peel your borrowed shirt off and drape it across his bed like you found it. You retrieve your clothes from last night off the floor and pull them back on.

Thankfully Yoongi chose to fall asleep on the far side of the couch, so when you re-enter the living room, you’re easily able to grab your purse where you set it down the night before without waking him. You slip your heels on in his entryway, then open the front door and shut it as quietly as you can behind you.

You fish your phone out of your bag and scroll until you find Jimin’s contact, then press it to your ear as the line starts to ring.

~*~

You don’t hear from Yoongi at all on Sunday, and you barely see him at work the next few days. You don’t know why it surprises you. It makes sense. You said that night had to mean nothing, you left in the morning without another word, and it’s not like you’ve made any effort to reach out since.

But nevertheless, hurt feelings sit heavy in the pit of your stomach, stinging like salt in an open wound. You’re angry that Yoongi seems to be acting like nothing even happened. You’re annoyed that you have to spend an entire weekend alone with him in Los Angeles. And you’re pissed off that you have so much fucking work to do in preparation for a trip that’s all about him.

You keep your head down and just try to fucking survive. You stay silent in your meetings unless directly asked a question. You type furiously at your desk, forever behind on emails and late on promised deliverables.

The week passes by in a blur, and it doesn’t even occur to you what day it is until you find Jungkook waiting for you at your desk when you return from an afternoon meeting.

“Hi, Jungkook.” You try to say it gently, to not take your frustrations out on someone who didn’t even do anything. While you’ve made polite small talk all week, things certainly haven’t felt normal, and you can’t tell if he senses it too, or if you’re just letting Yoongi’s cryptic words plant imaginary strange vibes in your head.

To his credit, Jungkook seems unfazed. “It’s the last day before your trip!” he says brightly, and your eyes widen as you realize he’s right. “What’s the rest of your day look like?”

You take a seat at your desk and pull up your calendar to check, and he circles around to look with you. “That was thankfully my last meeting,” you respond. “Just getting back to my never-ending to-do list now.”

“Or…” Jungkook prompts, and you glance up to see him leaning forward to rest his elbows on the back of your desk chair, his chin propped cutely in his hands. “You could not do that.”

You blink up at him. “And what would I be doing instead?”

“I was thinking, it’s been a while since we’ve had a walking meeting. Plus it’s actually nice out. So you should take a break.”

Glancing back at your to-do list sends a fresh wave of dread through you, and then you snap your laptop shut with a resigned sigh. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Not only could you use the break, but you want things with Jungkook to feel normal again, even if the weirdness is only in your head. Maybe this is what you need.

Down in the lobby, Jungkook holds the door for you, and when you step outside, you realize he’s right. It’s one of those clear-sky early spring days, warm enough out that it feels like the world is starting over, like everything is coming back to life. You can’t help but feel like you could use a fresh start, too.

Though you expect to be led somewhere with food, Jungkook takes a different route instead, and you follow him a few blocks over to the entrance of a nearby park. You end up side by side on a paved pedestrian path, the length of which is lined with trees that have only just begun to bud.

It’s quiet, save for the distant noise of the city, the rustle of nature, and the rush of the occasional cyclist whizzing past. You walk slowly as you chat about nothing of importance: work, music, his dogs.

Jungkook glances over at you during a moment’s pause, with a look on his face like there’s a question he’s been waiting to ask. “So how are you feeling about your trip?”

You can’t quite manage to keep your expression neutral, your eyes rolling like a reflex. “Whatever. I just want to get it over with.”

“Ah.” Jungkook nods, and you can see he’s biting back some reaction. “For some reason I thought you might be excited.”

“What do you mean?”

He just shrugs. “I don’t know. You’ve been… different lately. About Suga. I thought maybe something was going on.” An uneasy feeling starts to wash over you.

“Nothing is going on with me and Yoongi,” you say, far too quickly. Jungkook glances at you, his brows pinched together slightly as if he’s unsure what to believe.

“Okay,” he says simply. You hope that’s the end of it, but then he keeps going. “That’s good. I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.”

Heat rushes into your face, caught somewhere between shame and anger. “Um, what does that mean?”

You grit your teeth when he just shrugs again. “I don’t know. He was such a jerk to you, and then suddenly it’s like you guys are hanging out and getting close and stuff—”

“We are not close,” you interject, and you hate how unsteady your voice sounds when you say it.

“Good,” Jungkook responds. “Because I thought maybe you might be, and it didn’t make any sense to me.”

Overwhelmed by his words, you come to a standstill on the pavement, and he makes it a few steps further before he realizes. As he turns back to face you, the words rush out before you can stop them. “I mean, I don’t see how it’s any of your business either way.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows again. “It’s my business because I care about you. He made you so miserable when you first started, so I don’t see how you could just forget about that and be into him, especially when you could…” He trails off and looks down, unwilling to finish the sentence.

“When I could what?” Another fucking shrug, and you can feel the rage inside you simmering now, threatening to boil over. Yoongi’s question comes back to haunt you— you know Jungkook is in love with you, right?— and the pieces start to slot together in front of you.

“When I could be into you?” you press him, taking an accusatory step closer. “Is that what you want to say?”

His gaze flits up to the trees above you, like he’s willing to look anywhere but your face. “No. I don’t know.”

The birdsong in the air has suddenly started to sound a lot more like screaming, and you have to suppress the urge to do the same. Instead, your voice comes out low and deadly serious. “You and I are friends, Jungkook. Just friends.”

“I know we are,” he says softly.

“Do you?” you snap back, vicious now. “Because it sounds to me like you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he responds automatically, in the same tone, and you scoff.

“Look me in my face and say it.” You take another step toward him, and his eyes meet yours. He’s silent long enough for you to understand the truth, and all at once, you feel like a fucking idiot.

“Let me make this clear to you,” you hiss. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions. And I do not have to explain or justify them to anyone, including you, because you are not my fucking boyfriend.”

When you spit the final word, Jungkook flinches like you’ve slapped him, but you can’t stop now. You’re so angry, it feels like it’s eating you alive. “When I want your opinion, as my friend, I’ll ask for it. Understood?”

You’ve never seen him look at you the way he does now, his eyes dark, his face twisted into a near grimace. There’s a long pause, and his voice is stilted when he finally speaks. “Yeah. Sorry I brought it up.”

The two of you walk back to the office in total silence, and Jungkook doesn’t try to talk to you again.

~*~

It’s early enough to still be pitch black outside when Jimin pulls up to the curb of your terminal at Incheon Airport.

“Thanks again for driving.” You yawn around the words as you reach down to unbuckle your seatbelt. When Jimin suddenly pulls you in for a hug, you groan at the affection, but he pays it no mind, dotting kisses over your hair that make you squirm.

“Love you, have fun. And be a slut!”

You roll your eyes as you manage to peel him off of you. “Bye, Baby Mochi.”

Slipping on a face mask, you push the door of his car open and climb out of the passenger seat. You swing open the trunk to grab your suitcase, then slam it shut again and step up onto the curb.

Making your way into the terminal, you dig your phone out of your bag to double-check the text from Yoongi, and then you glance up at the sign overhead to confirm you’re right where he said he’d be.

It takes a second for you to realize the person walking in your direction is Min Yoongi. The black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes is certainly not a bad look, but when paired with his black face mask, it makes him almost impossible to identify, or get a good read on. Rolling your suitcase ahead of you, you move toward him, and the two of you meet in the middle.

You wore sneakers today, so he still seems tall.

“Hi,” you say simply, a thousand different emotions swirling in your gut. You do your best to ignore them all.

Yoongi hums a wordless grunt back in response, then turns to face the already bustling security line. You mirror him, and for a moment the two of you just stay like that, like you’re standing firmly in the present and unsure of what might be waiting on the other side.

He gives a tired sigh. “Ready?” You’re surprised to learn he can speak this early in the morning.

“I guess so,” you answer.

Perfectly in sync, you both push your bags forward, stepping carefully toward a weekend that feels impossible to imagine.

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

#yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #look down on me like that

1K notes · View notes