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new _world || choi seungcheol

summary: the night of your 18th birthday left nothing to be desired; waking up to no hint of any soul bond left you one of the unbonded. almost eight years later, however, you find out that you are very much not unbonded, and that your soulmate is someone who you admire. very much. pairing: choi seungcheol x reader genre: soulmate au, soul bonds, fluff, angst warnings: not a lot, overwhelmed and insecure mc, mc believes she's unlovable, bad thoughts, scoups falls first, hopeless romantic scoups, word count: 3.3 k part 1 of ?

masterlist

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Despite the normal day you were having, bosses who never seemed to learn how to use their volume button properly and coworkers who continued to get into your space despite you constantly reminding them how much you enjoy your singular personal space, you felt the tension building in your body like no other. 

You could feel how tense your shoulders grew as the day trudged on, shuffling, and crumbling on the invisible weight that seemed to settle write in the crook of your neck and shoulder. “Coat hanger pain” is what your doctor had called it, another symptom of your undesirable stress and anxiety. No massage on earth could help it though, as you had been to numerous masseuses, some even recommended by your doctor. None had worked or even lessened your pain. 

By lunch time you had decided you needed a break, a well-deserved break, if anything. So, you had scheduled your couple-day wellness time, something your company thankfully provided despite your supervisors absolutely hating that they couldn’t deny the requests. You would be off work for the next three days, as well as the weekend, so five days total. 

That should definitely be enough time to relax and take the ever-growing load off your shoulders, you think, more like you hope. 

In addition to the break, you decided you would also treat yourself to your favorite take-out, having been depriving yourself of it as of late due to work.

It had been a split second decision, but something completely worth it as you kick your front door closed behind you and retreat to the couch, almost immediately dropping your work bag and coat onto the floor in favor of placing your food onto the small table that you had placed in front of your couch. 

You tried to ease your mind, empty your thoughts as you watched mindless reality television, but your attention was caught by a program about the research and cause of unbonded.

Unbonded were people who never received a soul bond on the morning of their 18th birthday. There are a few well known soul bonds. 

Soul transport, where one member of the soul bond transports to their other. 

Soul glow, where upon being in the presence of your soul mate, your body will glow in an attempt to draw the two souls together, only the people in the bond can see the glow. 

Soul bloom, where a crown of flowers favored by the other soulmate will appear and will only go away once you touch your soulmate.

Soul string is the last well known one, where the “red string of fate” ties you to your soulmate, growing thicker or disappearing depending on how close or far away your soulmate is.

You woke up to nothing. Not even one of the rarer soul bonds like the soul mark. You had waited, days, weeks, and now eight years later, you had resigned yourself to the fact you were one of the unbonded. It was something that constantly hung on the back of your mind, watching your friends and even coworkers discover their bonds and finding their soulmates over the years.

But it wasn’t meant to be for you. 

Suddenly feeling a little nauseous, you put the bite of food you were about to eat back into the take-out container, your thoughts getting to you again as the program continued to play. You had always dreamed about having a soulmate, someone who would love you unconditionally and take care of and be there for you. 

You had been so used to doing everything yourself, by yourself, that you secretly wished for someone to take care of you. Someone who you could just turn your thoughts off with and they would make all the important decisions for you. Maybe you just wanted ot be babied, you didn’t know, but you were tired of being alone and being crushed by the seemingly unbearable weight hanging from your shoulders at any given time. 

“Unbonded are found to be people who are deemed “unlovable” and individuals who don’t fit in with soc—” You can’t help but want to throw your remote at the man who spoke as you turned the television off. 

You had heard those words way too many times now and grew resentful at how those words hit right into your core. 

Yeah, you did feel unlovable sometimes, but you didn’t think that warranted not being gifted a soulmate by the universe. You tried to be better, to help those in need never when you yourself needed help, thinking that then, maybe then, the universe might take pity on you. 

“No!” you exclaimed firmly. There was no way you were gonna set yourself up for more unbearable thoughts and tear stained pillows. Not again. 

“You’re gonna sit, enjoy your food, drink some wine, and watch your favorite movie. This is a well-earned break and you are going to enjoy it.” You told yourself, trying to break out of the negative thoughts and mood you put yourself in. 

And that’s exactly what you do. You indulge in the food, watch your favorite movie, laugh out loud at your favorite parts, and even have a glass of wine or two. 

But you still go to bed dejected, taking the words of the program from earlier to heart. Maybe you were unlovable and unworthy of a soulmate. Maybe it was time for your dreams of having a soulmate to come to an end and accept that it just wasn’t meant to be for you. 

A small tear fell from your waterline as you fell asleep, heart and head heavy at the thought of your future. 

-*-*-

You dreamt you were enveloped in the best hug ever, big arms wrapped around you and small but loving kisses placed against your temple. You remember burrowing into the person’s chest, reveling in the warmth you were feeling and the sense safety you were experiencing. It was like nothing you had felt before. 

Seungcheol’s dream almost mirrored your own, his arms wrapped tightly around you, almost covering you with his entire body, holding you against him and keeping anyone else from seeing you so vulnerable. He loved how you fit just perfectly against him, how you curled deeper into his embrace, your nose nuzzling against his clothed chest, taking in his comforting scent. 

He couldn’t help but to bring one of his hands down your hip and to the back of your thigh, cupping it and moving your so your leg was propped up over your hip. He needed to feel closer to you, desiring to feel closer to you in any way he can. 

Neither of you wanted the dreams to end, but your phone alarm drew you from your slumber. 

“Fuck.” You bite out, having forgotten to turn your alarm off the night before. You try to untangle yourself from the warm weight you felt on top of you, holding you to them—wait a minute. 

You open your eyes, alert and scared at the fact that someone was in your room, in your bed with you, only to stare into the sleepy, closed eyed face of Scoups from your favorite kpop group, Seventeen. 

You blink heavily, trying to get rid of the sleep still in your eyes, almost hoping that your eyes weren’t lying to you. They had to be, right? There is no way your ult bias of all people was currently wrapped around you, holding you tightly to their chest. 

Your body tenses in shock, still for a couple of seconds before you try to forcefully remove yourself from the man’s embrace, surprise and slight embarrassment fill your body as he only tightens his hold on you. 

“Stop moving, baby.” You haven’t practiced your Korean in a while, but you knew you didn’t misunderstand his words as he tries to nuzzle into your hair.  “Go back to sleep.” 

“Uhm, excuse me, sir? I’m not sure how you got here, but I am really freaking out.” You whisper, not wanting to break the atmosphere but also wary of what kind of reaction Scoups will have once he realizes he isn’t at home in South Korea but in your bed in America. 

However, he doesn’t react like you thought he would. You imagined him pushing you away, maybe in disgust or fear, and angry yelling asking you what was going on or how he got here. None of that happened. 

“His eyes opened, not recognizing the room he was in or the person he was holding, but he knew exactly what had happened. Only one thing could explain what had happened to him.  

Smiling down at you, he couldn’t begin to think of how to express his excitement, only holding you closer whispering as he did so. 

“Finally.” You watched the word leave his lips, this time in English. Confusion flooded you as your eyebrows furrowed at his statement. You couldn’t understand what was going on. 

You had to be dreaming still, that was it. 

You were dreaming. 

But your alarm was still going off. 

“Uh, sir? I’m not sure exactly what you mean, but if you could let go of me, that would be nice.” You try again, hoping that some sense of the situation you found yourselves in would hit him, but it didn’t seem to work. 

“I’m never letting you go, not now that I’ve finally found you.”

Despite appearing unbonded, Seungcheol had always known he had a soulmate, had a feeling gripping his soul and wanting him to follow the feeling. He had always desired to have a soulmate, someone to take care of and who would understand his sometimes overprotective and possessive nature. He knew he would wait as long as he needed to, for any semblance of a bond to kick in, despite people trying to convince him otherwise. It wasn’t normal, he had been told, for late soul bonds to occur. But here he was, holding his soulmate to his chest, in her room only the heavens know where. 

Soul Transport.

His bond with you transcended space and time and brought him to where and when you needed him the most. He could see the tear stains on your cheeks, how puffy and red your eyes were. He had the sudden desire to hide you from the world, scaring away all of your troubles and worries and keeping you with him at all times. 

You would never be subjected to taking care of yourself ever again. Not while he was there to do it for you. All of your wants, needs, and desires would be met by him. Your soulmate. 

You were his soul. 

The only thing to snap him out of whatever trance he was still in, smiling softly down at you, was his phone ringing. 

Scoups reached down to the pocket of his sweatpants to grab his phone, giving you the opportunity to scramble out of his arms and bracing yourself across the room. You observed the idol, watching as what seemed to be disappointment crossed his face for a second before he answered his phone. 

“Hello?” Seungcheol answered the call, already knowing one of his members was the one calling him, probably wondering where he disappeared too.

“WHERE ARE YOU?! We’ve looked everywhere. We have a meeting with our managers in twenty minutes and you’re nowhere to be found!” Jeonghan yelled into the phone, making him wince and pull away for a second. 

“I’ve found her.” Was all he said, smile growing on his lips again. 

“Huh? What are you talking about? What do you mean you found her?” This time it was Joshua on the phone, grumbling coming from the background.

“I’ve found my soulmate.” Seungcheol was barely able to get his sentence out before he heard screaming on the other end.

You, on the other hand, was just lost in complete shock at the situation you woke up to. You went to bed last night crying about not having a soulmate and being unlovable, and now, now you had not only a soulmate, but your soulmate was your ult bias from your favorite kpop group. 

There was no way in hell you weren’t dreaming. 

Either that or the universe was really fucked up at the moment, giving you false hope only to probably take it back.

You couldn’t help but to watch Scoups, sitting up in your bed and holding one of your plushies to his chest, smiling as he listened to whoever was talking on the phone and responding back. You were too in your head to even begin to try and translate the conversation, caught up in the way he was just smiling at you, so softly and with all the love in the world. 

You weren’t gonna lie, it was making you a little uncomfortable. You were so unused to anyone looking at you in a positive light that you didn’t know how to react or think. 

A hand gently grabbing onto your own snapped you out of your thoughts, looking up to see Scoups looking at you concerned. 

“Are you okay, my soul?” Oh my gosh, his English was so adorable, you couldn’t help but fangirl for a second. He called you his soul. He called you his soul. He really did think you were his soulmate.

“Uhm, I’m not sure.” You replied honestly, truly unsure of how you were feeling. You felt tingles and sparks suddenly at his embrace of your hand and looked down, only for black words to slowly appear on your forearm right under the palm of your hand. 

His name was now written in black script on your arm. 

A soul mark. 

You looked at his own forearm only for your name to be written on his skin, your handwriting staring back at you. 

Now you knew you weren’t dreaming. 

Two soul bonds were rare. Almost unheard of. Your own bond with Scoups was soul transport and soul marks was an even rarer combination. Looking up at him, his expression mirrored your own, one of complete shock.

“Hello? Cheol? You still there?” The voice of Joshua came from the speaker on his phone, breaking the moment between you and your soulmate. 

“Yes, we are here.” His eyes refused to leave you, like he was trying to imprint the image of you into memory. 

“Hello there. My name is Joshua and I am a friend to your soulmate.” Joshua’s voice was so sweet and he spoke. You figured he was there to translate for Scoups, seeing as Joshua was from the states and spoke English fluently. 

“Hello Joshua. I uh, actually know who you are and who my, uh, soulmate is. I am a fan of your group.” The blush on your face wasn’t even considered a blush anymore. Your entire face was red from embarrassment as you looked at your Seventeen posters right behind your bed on the wall leading Scoups to look. You couldn’t even look his way once the smirk grew on his lips. 

“And I do speak a little Korean. I’m uhm, still learning though.” You finish off, looking anywhere but Scoups who was still holding your hand, his thumb now brushing softly against your palm. 

“Oh, you are a carat? That’s awesome!” You could tell Joshua and Scoups had become genuinely excited at the fact that you were a fan of them, and it made you smile a little bit. Joshua then asked for your name, and upon hearing you say it, you could see Scoups mouthing it, the gentle smile still on his lips.

After exchanging a bit of information about yourself like where you live and work, the conversation turned a little deeper.

“Well, Cheol wished for me to explain to you what needs to happen. I’m sorry about this, but soulmate laws are a little different in Korea.” You finally looked back to Scoups, only for him to bow his head a little bit. “Because your soulmate is South Korean, you are now considered a South Korean citizen and therefore, fall under our soulmate laws and registry.” Joshua finishes, but you still don’t understand what is going on. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t quite understand what that means.” You tell both men, trying to make sense of why Joshua was telling you this. 

“Well y/n, it basically means you will need to reside in South Korea with Seungcheol, as South Korea has a ‘No Separation’ policy.” Your life seemingly flashed in front of your eyes. 

Yes, you hated your job and all of your coworkers, as well as your small, shitty apartment. But it was all you had for yourself. It was something you accomplished on your own. 

But you’ve always wanted to be taken care of. This could be your chance to be with your soulmate and he obviously seems to want to take care of you. your inner voice spoke up. 

It was true. Just from what you know of Scoups, he loves to take care of his members and those around him, but you had to remind yourself that you don’t truly know your new soulmate, only what the cameras show of him. 

“Seungcheol wants me to reassure you that he will do whatever he needs to do in order to make everything comfortable for you. Well, he actually wanted me to tell you that he will provide everything for you and that you will never want for anything again but it seemed a little too forward.” Joshua rushed out the last sentence causing a surprised laugh to leave your lips. 

It was almost too perfect. 

You had a soulmate who fit every wish of your dreams. 

Everything started to feel overwhelming. You didn’t know how Scoups was so accepting of this, seeing as he has had to wait longer than you have for the bonds to click between you two. You felt Scoups squeeze your hand before drawing you into his chest, enveloping you into his embrace. It’s like he could tell you were about to fall apart and he was there to hold the pieces together. 

“Our managers are already booking plane tickets for you to travel back here, and the plan will leave tomorrow morning. I’m so sorry about how fast this has to move, but for both of your safety and because of our hectic schedules, we need to get you both here as soon as we can. Is this enough time to get things sorted out for you? If not, when you arrive, our team will help you settle everything else.” Joshua’s voice seemed a thousand miles away and you felt like you were floating. 

“It seems I don’t have a choice, so yes.” You could feel Scoups squeeze you tighter before talking into the phone and ending the call. 

He held you for another couple minutes, not wanting to let go of you. You didn’t want him to let go either. You knew the bonds were real now, that your soulmate was indeed Choi Seungcheol from the kpop group Seventeen. The safety and reassurance you feel just from his touch was enough for you to accept everything. 

To believe everything would be okay. 

“My soul?” By the heavens above you loved his name for you. You don’t think you would ever grow tired of it. You could feel the heat rushing towards your cheeks as his name for you reminded you of everything going on right now. 

Reluctantly pushing away from Scoups, you made your way to your closet, looking for the luggage set your bought when you last visited your family. Once you found it, you turned around, only to find Scoups looking over your kpop collection. You grew a little embarrassed, really not expecting your soulmate to be a kpop idol. 

You needed to start packing if your flight was going to be leaving tomorrow morning. You set your luggage on the floor, earning you a look from Scoups who moved forward looking ready to do whatever is needed. A man on a mission. 

You were leaving tomorrow to live in South Korea with your soulmate, and by the heavens you would try to fit everything you could into your luggage set. 

RM x Vogue Korea x LV

400 days before yoongi is back [congrats guys we're entering 300s]

SUGA | Agust D TOUR 'D-DAY' The Original SPOT #1

Between the Titles

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)

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

Length: ~9.5k

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

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

m.list + support my work

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this morning you have notes to write.

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

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

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

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

I’m in Love with Mothman…

Well there it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.

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

“Get in line.”

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

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

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

“Bummer.”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi,” you sing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he smokes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”

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

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

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

“Are they the right copies this time?”

“Double checked them myself.”

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

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What's this?”

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

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

Of course he has.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.

“Looking for something?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

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

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

“Yoongi,” you say.

“Y/N.”

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

“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you croak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

“And he can hear you, so shut up.”

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m getting coffee.”

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

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

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

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

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

‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’ 

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

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

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

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

“Snooping for secrets?”

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

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

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

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

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They were out.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

“Because…”

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

“If you’re leaving, so am I.”

“Why?” your roommate whines. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go ahead.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.

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

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

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

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

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom. 

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

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

“Yoongi?” 

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

“Jesus, you scared me.” 

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

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

“This is my job.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Who says it’s stopping me now?”

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

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

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

“Could have fooled me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was months ago.”

“I’m a patient guy.”

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

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

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

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

“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You thought about this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, right.”

Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.

Maybe He Just Likes You

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

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

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

and no one recovered [for @cordiallyfuturedwight]

Hoseok weekly ↳ 55/78

for @hoseeok

his messy hair 😳

bonus:

HUSH | MYG - TWO

pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?)

premise: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops !!

wc: 10k

for more details, pls see the master list (x)

note from holly: if you've read hush over on wattpad, then you've already seen this! sorry!! but this is everything that was on wattpad--the next upload will be 100% fresh hehe

warnings: alcohol, foul language, creepy men in bars, sexting (minimal!! very brief!), yoongi is both an asshole and a good guy, oc and yoongi are dumb!! and argumentative!! we learn a teeny tiny bit more lore for the night that never was!!

the app (x) | the band (x) | part one (x)

minors dni!!!

GOLDEN CLOSET STUDIO Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"Back again so soon?" Jungkook grins when you traipse into his studio the next morning. 

Slumping down onto the sofa with a groan, you get comfortable like it's a second home to you. Only just gone midday, you're exhausted. You'll tell anyone who asks that you went out for a morning run, but you'll be lying through your teeth.

See, what made you tired may have given flushed cheeks, but sadly no cardio was involved. Just some pixels. Words. Another goddamn video call of a bedroom you know so damn well but have never stepped foot within. From his belly button down, you'd recognise your Damocles boys in a heartbeat. Wonder if you'd be able to tell if you saw him in the wild, fully clothed. 

You doubt it.

No, what's made you so tired isn't the things that get you up in the morning, but rather the things that keep you up all night.

Or just 'thing'.

A singular.

You're not sure you want to classify him as a person, because currently he's just pixels on a screen - but the images those pixels so often make? The dirty words that form in negative spaces just for you to see?

Yeah. You think that he's too good to be true. Can't be a real man.

"Meeting," you mumble into the cushion of the chair. "You know how many logistics are involved in taking you guys on tour? It's mad."

"Logistics?" He snorts, knowing your job has nothing to do with that side of the business.

"I'm shadowing," you reply. "Jinyu sweet-talked someone she knows in that department. Following one of the planners around for the week."

"Really tryna work your way up, huh?" Jungkook asks, before quietly musing, "Hope Jinyu'll sweet-talk me some time."

He's not wrong. About working your way up, that is. Jinyu will never sweet-talk him.

Big Hit is a great stepping stone - an industry outlier, built from the ground up - but you don't want to be in your brother's shadow for too long. 

You fear it'll look like you're complacent; as if you want an easy life that you don't have to work hard for. Get some experience, get a good reference, and get out; that's the plan. Maybe work somewhere overseas, away from the confines of your family name.

You don't entertain Jungkook's musings, instead opting to shuffle a little further into his sofa. It's leather and still smells brand new - not because it is, but because Jungkook is meticulous in his cleaning regimes. Will probably wipe it down after you leave. Is perhaps the neatest rockstar you've ever known - not that you know all that many. 

And that's exactly your issue; even if you want to get out of Seokjin's shadow, you've no idea where to turn to. Bright light saturates everything else. Here, you're hidden. Safe. Comfortable.

Well, comfortable except for one particular thorn in your side.

"Get your song sorted with Yoongi last night?" You ask, genuinely curious about it. You're also incredibly nosey, and Yoongi is a dick. What you'd like to hear is that he's annoyed and frustrated, because that's how he makes you feel. 

It's selfish to think that way. The album cycle is well and truly underway, and the boys are cramming every spare moment into perfecting it. You aren't too aware of the process, you just know that Yoongi speaks to you even less now that the stress is mounting.

They're made for the stage. Would spend all day every day performing, if it was sustainable. Don't enjoy the downtime - but you think it's because the slowness of it all interferes with their live fast, die young bullshit.

Jungkook shakes his head. "It's missing something. Can't figure out what. We're gonna leave it until after the Europe dates. Hopefully will have found some inspiration over there."

You accept his answer without a response. Know that any advice you could give would be redundant. You don't know the first thing about music production, and think it would be a waste of energy to float ideas for a song you've not even heard.

"Think Yoongi needs to rest," Jungkook muses a little mindlessly. "Was here till stupid o'clock last night."

You mumble a response, and Jungkook takes it as an indication to continue.

"Last email he sent was at like, what? Three in the morning? How his brain could've still been working, I've no idea."

"He's a night owl," you hum, as if it's a new discovery. "Works better that way. It's like you work best after a good sleep. He works best a little sleep-deprived."

"Yeah but how?!"

"I dunno. Brain science. Ask Yoongi. He probably knows. Psychology n shit."

Jungkook just rolls his eyes. He won't be asking Yoongi.

Just like he also won't be asking Yoongi if he wants to join you all for drinks later that evening. 

That job? Yeah, that's up to you.

It's only because you lost against them both, playing rock-paper-scissors. Neither you, Jimin, nor Jungkook wanna ask Yoongi, mainly because you all know he'll just say 'no.' What's the point?

They're already half a bottle down, drinking in Jungkook's studio (even if Hoseok strictly forbode it the last time they got legless at work (as if his orders have ever stopped them from doing anything they wanted)) when you finally meet them again. 

They're getting a headstart on the evening's festivities. It's nothing special. Just a chance for them all to hang out properly after the Seoul shows. Don't see each other enough outside of work obligations, because they spend so bloody long working. A few days rest from one another is always welcome - but exceed three days, and they start to get withdrawal symptoms.

"Ready to go?" You ask, but are met with curt shakes of their heads.

Jimin passes you the bottle of beer he's been nursing on, and as you take a swig, he reminds you, "You've not asked Yoongi yet."

Lips pressed to the rim of the bottle, you roll your eyes. Have half a mind to backwash in retaliation, but you don't fancy bickering this early on in the night.

Shaking your head, you swallow down the froth. "He'll say no."

"Buuuuut," Jungkook sings, as if he thinks he can serenade you into asking Yoongi. "What if he says yes?"

"Well, one of you can ask!" You whine. Yoongi's studio is the last place you want to go to - especially after the messages he sent you last night, warning you about your relationship with Jungkook. "Give him your doe eyes, Kook. It'll work."

A game of rock, paper, scissors is legally binding, though. Jungkook tells you so. Says if you don't go and ask Yoongi, he'll be forced to take you to court.

"I've got Big Hit lawyers," he reminds you.

"Is this a threat?!"

"Yep. Now go ask Yoongi!"

You argue a little longer. Jimin takes two shots during that time. Jungkook interpretive dances whenever you make a compelling statement as to why you shouldn't be the one asking. You frown whenever he does the robot.

And so, mainly to get away from any more of Jungkook's bizarre hip-gyrations, you traipse down to the end of the corridor, where Yoongi's so-called Genius Lab resides.

The wait at his door is awkward. You question yourself, what you'll say, how you should stand. First impressions are everything, and if he's greeted with shitty energy, he'll give it back in return. You know him well enough to know this for a fact.

After a lifetime of waiting (27 seconds, to be exact), there's a mechanical whir of the lock coming undone.

"Hey," you offer a smile as you're greeted with his typical face of thunder. "Been sent to retrieve you. We're going out tonight. All of us."

He knows the plans. Is in the group chat. Ignored the messages for a reason.

His stare is a little frosty but not unkind. Just uninterested. "Can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both?"

You might be deluding yourself, but you think he smiles slightly when he says that.

"Ah, but you can and you will go to the ball, Cinders," you joke, giving him a small curtsy. "All work no play makes Yoongi a dull boy."

You're joking, but you believe it. He's been miserable the last few months. Keeps himself hauled up in his studio when they're not on the road, and avoids social interaction like the plague. It maddens you. How is he gonna write songs about life and the importance of living one, if he won't let himself do the same?

He's hard to read as he sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Shakes his head, then opens his door a little wider. Encourages you into his space.

A candle burns on his desk, faintly vanilla in its scent, making it feel far cosier than actually is. The room is sullen; dark greys and little else. In fact, it surprises you he's gone for such a pretty cream candle. LED lights that are hidden in the walls glow a deep blue, and it's no wonder he's so miserable. There's no passion in his little pit. No life. Just him, some screens, and the whir of computer fans.

"Will you give something a listen?" He asks, quite clearly seeing you as a last resort - but when you hit rock bottom, the only direction you can go in is up. He knows you're not musical, not like Jin, but perhaps he needs the ear of a consumer, not a creator. "Been wracking my brain trying to think of what this needs. Have listened to it so many times that nothing sounds right anymore. I just- Could you?" He pauses. Looks quite uncomfortable when he adds, "Please?"

You assume the file up on the central screen is the song he's been working on with Jungkook, so you oblige. Kick your shoes off and leave them by the mat. It's been a while since you've been given the luxury of access to the Genius Lab. You used to know the code.

Things with Yoongi used to be different, though.

Not much has changed within his four dark walls since then. He's gained a new painted canvas in the corner of the room, stacked behind the existing ones. It's deep navy blue. Sort of like him, you think. The blue continues. Illuminates his work area. No wonder he never sleeps. The mood lighting is cold. Alert. Is bound to fuck with his brain.

There are more speakers than you can fathom, and switchboards you can't even begin to understand. The programs that Yoongi's running on his computers are familiar, though. You've seen them enough times to get a rough idea of the composition. Can see tabs labelled for Jin's vocals.

Yoongi turns his chair as the door clicks shut, automatic lock whirring into place. There was a time when that sound would have excited you. Not for any lewd, scandalous reason - just for the fact there used to be a time, many moons ago, when you thought Min Yoongi was the hottest man to have ever graced the earth.

And can you blame yourself?

His midnight hair gracefully frames his face, perfectly waved, dark eyes stark against his pale complexion. His skin is dewy, cheeks a little puffy from his lack of sleep and the fact all he has in his system is an iced americano and blue Powerade - yet still, his features are sharp. A white shirt hangs off his broad shoulders, dainty bracelets sitting on his pretty wrists.

Every bit the heartthrob, he's only gotten better with age - but you've grown up, too. Are wiser now. Understand that devastatingly handsome men will always inevitably devastate you, too.

It's for that reason Min Yoongi doesn't bother you in the same ways that he used to. That, and the night that never was.

As you said, devastatingly handsome men will only ever devastate you, too. He's proven that point already.

He points to his chair. "Sit."

The way he's so demanding with his tone annoys you. You shake your head. Choose to stand. "It's cool. Just play the song."

You don't mean to be so sharp. So curt. You're just thinking about how unbearable he's been recently - especially last night. He'd left you on read. Obviously wasn't happy with your response, not that you care.

"Please don't be difficult," he says softly. "Just sit so you can listen properly."

Why your stature could possibly impact your ears and their ability to listen, you'll never know - but you don't argue. As much as Yoongi's contempt for you these days annoys you, you don't want to make it any worse than it already is.

The leather of his chair is warm from his perch. Kind of nice how despite his cool demeanour, he's always a little toasty. He brings the heat of Daegu with him wherever he goes.

"I'm all ears," you tell him, and watch as he presses down on the play button.

"It's not the full song," he says over the melody of an upbeat track. "You'll know the bit I mean though. It's like, not bad, but-"

"Yoongi, shush," you smile, making sure you catch his eye as you do so. Don't want him to think you're snapping. You just wanna hear the sections he's uncertain about in context with the rest of the song.

Quiet as the track begins to echo out, there's an uncharacteristically quaint piano faintly guiding the track. You know he plays, but it's rare for it to be a focal part of the songs he creates.

You understand immediately which section Yoongi's having trouble with - not because it sounds bad, just because the drop before the final chorus doesn't hit quite right. It builds and builds but the arrival at the final chorus is underwhelming.

"Rewind it a bit," you say, wanting to hear it again. Confirm that it's the right part.

Yoongi does as you ask, leaning over you slightly, and says, "Somethings off, right?"

Nodding, you listen for a third time. "Take away the guitar," you say.

He does. It's better, but still not right.

"Maybe you've overcomplicated it?" you muse, thinking that he needs to strip it back entirely, but not wanting to offend him.

"Hmm," he hums. "You think?"

He mutes a few more layers on the track. Plays it again. It's getting there.

"Better, right?" you ask.

He nods as he stands up straight, listening to it over again. Frowns. "Still not quite there."

"I think it might benefit from some distance," you suggest. "Come out with us tonight. Get your mind off this track. Might even get some inspiration."

Shaking his head, he watches as you stand and head towards the door. He's not been out with you since the night that never was. Doesn't enjoy the prospect of risking it all after a couple of drinks inevitably turns into a couple of bottles again - of which he knows it will. If you and Jimin are together, it will be messy. Just how it goes. Throw Jungkook and Tae into the mix? Disaster waiting to happen.

"Look," you sigh. "I know it's not really your thing - but the rest of the boys are game. They all want you there. Just think about it, okay?"

He purses his lips together. Smiles, and turns to face his computer screen once more. "Thanks for your help."

And just like that, you're dismissed. Considering the way he'd messaged you about Jungkook the day before, it went pretty well, you think. Try not to dwell on the fact he couldn't be less interested even if he tried.

It's funny, 'cause as Yoongi stews in his chair, rocking ever so gently, he sighs. Shakes his head. Grumbles to himself quietly: "'they all want you there'... but do you want me there?"

The boys aren't so disappointed when you return with no Yoongi behind you. They all knew what his answer would be, and only sent you so they didn't have to deal with his rejection.

"Took your time," Jimin notes.

You shrug. Deadpan. "Yeah, sorry, got distracted. Too busy shagging him."

"Really?!"

"No, of course not," you laugh, as if it's the funniest suggestion in the world. You sort of think it is. "Nah, he just wouldn't be convinced."

And so it comes as a surprise to everyone when Yoongi shows up at Jimin's place a couple of hours later with a bottle of whisky in hand.

"Shut the fuck up," is all he says as he walks into an absolute commotion, practically everyone in the room elated by his decision to join in. He hides his smile poorly, occasionally letting his teeth show despite his protests.

From the sofa, you catch his eye. Nod. He bunches up his face a little. Nods back - but is quickly distracted by Jimin holding up a clear shot glass filled with fuck knows what. You, too, find yourself distracted by chatter with the rest of the boys and a couple of the girls from the artist liaison team.

In the corner of the room, your phone is plugged into a charger. It's been there since you arrived. You've no need to check it - but you can never leave it too long.

You smile, butterflies kissing your tummy and making their way through your body when you eventually check it.

D4m0cl3s: got a work thing tonight, so probably won't be able to message much gonna be thinkin' about u tho don't miss me too much, clemmie x

The smile is hard to hide. You blame it on the alcohol.

Kind of like how Yoongi smiles half an hour later when he checks his own phone.

Cl3m3ntin3: been a busy bee today, sorry :( all work, no play? :( it'll make you dull, damocles boy x

But then he watches you as you laugh with Jungkook about something trivial. Reads over his messages again. Shakes his head.

Remembers you trying to convince him to join for the evening. How you'd called him Cinders. Told him that all work and no play made him dull.

His heart thuds in his chest. He swallows harshly. Pours a whisky. Swallows that, too.

Breathes a sigh of relief as he taps through a message - 'it's a play thing for work. promise i'll behave x' - and watches your phone after it's marked as 'delivered' in his chat feed.

Your phone is screen-up on the kitchen counter, just within his line of vision. It doesn't light up. Doesn't vibrate. Receives no message.

"Thank fuck," he mumbles, the sinking feeling in his chest lifting as he grabs a fresh whisky.

He quickly walks away from the scene of a crime that never was. Sort of like the night that never was. Is so pleased, in fact, that he's happy to sit beside you on the sofa as Jungkook sets up a drinking game with Jin.

Silly, really, how a few drinks seem to make him forget the concept of 'do not disturb' mode.

"Hey," you smile and he comes to sit down. "Glad you made it."

"Me too," he nods, lips thin, chin dimpling as a shy smile graces his face. He's a little whisky tipsy. Doesn't feel the need to keep such a strict distance from you, now.

"To a good night," you raise your glass to him, and he reciprocates. Clinks them together.

"To a good night."

STAIRWAY BAR Itaewon-ro, Yongsan-Gu

♪ // You First (Re: Remi Wolf)- Paramore

"You're never gonna be this young and this hot again," Jimin slurs after a few too many lemon drops. It's his third time making this point, because it's the third time you've shooed away a guy trying to make a move on you.

They've all been perfectly fine. Nice enough guys, you're sure, but you aren't interested in random hookups. The night really isn't about that. All you want to do is let your hair down with the boys you've known for most of your life.

As Jimin whines about the fact no one is ready to move onto a club yet, bored of the bar, part of you considers the novel idea that one of the men in your rejection pile could have been your Damocles boy. A funny thing to think about, really. He did say he was busy tonight. Said it was for work, but everyone knows how rowdy work dinners can get after the boss leaves.

He could be here. Could have his tail between his legs. Could be looking at you right now, without a clue.

The reality of that wouldn't please you, for it would mean he's out there searching for other women.

While he'd be well within his right to, you selfishly find that that you don't want him to. In fact, all you wanna do is send him a message. Let him know you're thinking of him. That you wish you were at home right now, alone in your sheets with nothing but an internet connection and that damn app to keep you company.

You're with friends, though. Can't open the app without fear of endless ridicule - and not to mention the fact your brother is with you. Not worth it.

As you come to join them, a fresh drink in your hand, you're easily distracted. Are brought back to reality by your favourite people. Neon lights on the ceiling, and relics of time spent in the bar pinned to the walls. Photobooth pictures, foreign currency. Life is embedded into the seams of this place, and it's reassuring, in a way. Makes your dependency on your Damocles boy a lot less intense. You can forget him. Live life. Neglect to check your phone.

"Objection!" Jungkook chimes, following you and Jimin to the corner booth of the bar where the rest of your friends sit. "Older women are, like, so hot. So damn hot. Damn." And then he's thinking to himself. Brows furrowed, pouty lips whistling out a hearty sigh as he shakes his head. Thinks about Jinyu. A couple of the older women at the record company. About Jimin's mother. Laughs. Nods. "Yeah, older women are where it's at."

Both of you look at him with an air of confusion, and yet neither of you question it.

"What did I miss?" Jin beams when he rejoins you, as a member of the bar staff follows him with a bottle of Ciroc resting in an ice bucket. Another staff member will soon bring you cans of drink to use as mixers, but you know damn well these boys will be shotting it down straight.

The bottle won't be on the house, but you know Jin will have charged it back to the company. Will get a bollocking from Hoseok the next time he's in the office. Doesn't care, cause he knows the band makes the record company more money than anyone else on the roster at the moment. The way he sees it, it's their money anyway.

"Jungkook's just declared his love for older ladies," Taehyung deadpans from the sofa opposite yours. "Nothing new."

"Better older than younger," Jin asserts, playfully pushing against your forehead as he walks past you and back to his seat.

As much as you're your own person, you're still his little sister, and the rest of his unruly group of friends will do well to remember that.

Jungkook snorts. Throws a smirk in your direction. "I can make exceptions."

"And I can get away with murder, Kook," Jin assures him - and he's probably right. As much as they like to play into the rock and roll lifestyle, they've got power. Fame. Something that hides them just as much as it projects them. "Don't even think about it."

There's laughter and chatter amongst everyone at such a declaration, but you can't help but wonder if a certain pair of eyes glanced your way upon hearing that.

It's not like Yoongi doesn't know Jin harbours such feelings. Told you the exact same thing, once: that Jin'd murder Jungkook if anything ever happened between the pair of you.

But you also remember what came next.

Even if it's never been spoken about since, you know that remembers, too. The way he refused to reply to your last text is testament to it.

See, he's been avoiding you since long before you got your little job with the company. Would turn down plans if you were in attendance. Declined invites to dinner, and bailed on drinks. Once you started working in such close proximity, it was harder to keep his distance, and so he built up walls.

They're steep, and they're topped with barbed wire. Impenetrable, or so it would seem.

Climbing has never been a strong point of yours, and scaling walls doesn't feel like a pastime you'd enjoy very much, so Yoongi's safe distance from you is kept. He's feline, in that way; how he'll stalk up trees and sit in amongst the branches, peering down at you. Out of reach, holding all the cards.

Flicking your eyes across to him, you find him embroiled in conversation with Namjoon. He's laughing, which admittedly does make you smile. It's been so long since you've been afforded the luxury of witnessing such a thing.

But you're torn from your thoughts by a sudden, sharp tug on your wrist, and don't even realise Jimin is dragging you out of your seat until you're already stumbling behind him. With a shrill yelp and soft giggle, you let him pull you to the stairs that lead up from the basement bar to the earthly realm above.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, as if you have any choice in the matter. He's got a death grip on you. You're coming along whether you like it or not. "The rest of them are being boring. I wanna dance."

"Maybe I was enjoying being boring!" You argue just for the sake of it, tapping at your pockets to make sure you've still got your phone with you. Not for any particular reason. Just to be safe. Totally not because you fear losing your only contact with your virtual lover. Nothing like that at all.

"Tough," Jimin asserts, not caring where you both end up just as long as there is a dancefloor and a dark corner.

It isn't for any sinister reason, but just because he isn't looking to be the life and soul of the party. His face isn't recognised in the same way that the other boys are, but it doesn't matter. He attracts attention regardless. Goes with the territory of having a face like his. Irresistible to men and women alike. You're yet to meet anyone who doesn't think he's the most beautiful man alive - though Jin certainly does take issue with such a title being awarded to anyone else but him.

But just like Jin, there's a magnetism about Jimin. Moths to a flame, the rest of the boys follow suit and head up towards the street. The entire area code is a cluster of bars and hole-in-the-wall food joints. It's made for this time of the night, when the clouds are shielding the eyes of the moon from all sorts of sin, just a few stray stars guiding the way.

Light pollution bleeds upwards and out. Even if you know the stars are there, you can't see them - and it's not like you get the chance to check either way, for Jimin's already pulling you down the stairs to another basement bar.

This one is larger - two stories. Quieter on the first floor, it's the second level where he wants to be.

A planner in both professional and personal life, even though he seems erratic and all out of order, Jimin has everything under control. Knows the managers of most (if not all) of the bars on this street. Called a favour in this afternoon for one of the downstairs booths, just adjacent to the dancefloor, to be roped off & reserved. Knew that some of the boys would, in his mind, be 'boring', but still wanted everyone together. It's the best of both worlds. He can dance, and they can talk, or whatever they wanna do.

♪ // Desert Eagle - Silica Gel

Min Yoongi doesn't dance. He drinks. He observes. He watches the debauchery unfold from a safe distance, much like he does with you. Sometimes - not always - he thinks. Ponders. Wonders if maybe he's wasting his time by not indulging in the same way other people do. If he's missing out. Considers perhaps his friends are right to revel in such mindless frivolities.

He doesn't debate his choices often, but as he gets comfortable in this new place, he can't help it. Thinks word must have gotten out about their planned attendance, 'cause he notices far more eyes on them than normal. Far more women vying for their attention. Men, too. Whether it be sex or status, their intrigue is always fuelled by something.

The rest of the boys revel in it.

Yoongi doesn't care for it - but there's a reputation to uphold. A brand image that being spotted in clubs and getting up to no good only helps. Seals them as the real deal. Gets them out of the bracket of 'posers' or manufactured, not that it really fuckin' matters.

There are two girls to each of them. Supply and demand. There aren't enough of The Scouts to go around, but people will share. Will take all they can get. Sharp eyeliner, pretty hair, the girls all have their wits about them, and it's potentially the worst part of it all - they're making the conscious, informed choice to lower themselves to a standard well beneath their worth.

The club stinks of sticky liquor and smoke, but beneath the veil they're all wearing the same perfume. Whatever's currently being marketed as 'irresistible' to men. Was vanilla a few years ago. Yoongi is certain it's something muskier now, but isn't sure what. Makes no difference to him.

There's only one perfume he knows he really likes, and has trained himself to despise it by association.

It's a shame that he hasn't trained himself to stop looking in your direction whenever he thinks of you. Is part of the reason he doesn't like drinking around you. Makes such stupid mistakes. His malevolent mask fails to hide him. The facade slips.

Tongue resting in the corner of his mouth, he doesn't realise he's staring. Eyes dark as they watch you with Jimin, Yoongi wonders if you've always had that tattoo just above your elbow. It's small, and dainty. Hard to make out from where he is, but when your arms are in the air, he's fixated on it. Thinks it must be new.

But then your arms drop to rest on Jimin's shoulders, and he's reminded of what you look like when you're all hot and bothered. Reminded of that night. The one that never was. Haunted by the rivulet of sweat that had trickled down your skin in a sauna that neither of you had any business being inside; just you and him in a silent descent into sin, and the smirk on your lips as his eyes had followed the droplet down your body.

His attention is yanked from you when an ice cube lands in his lap. Glacing across to the direction it came from as he pushes it to the floor, Yoongi scowls at Jungkook. "The fuck was that for?"

"Remember the rules," Jungkook smirks. "Look, but don't touch."

"Wasn't fuckin' looking," Yoongi sneers, completely ignorant of the women vying for his attention. "Was just thinking Jimin needs to to sober up. Man's a state. And unlike you, I wouldn't touch her if humanity depended on it."

"I'm a man of the people," Jungkook teases. "If repopulating the earth was my duty, I'd do it. Can't believe you wouldn't."

"She's got where she is today through sheer nepotism and audacity alone," Yoongi counters. "Doesn't have the kinda genes you'd wanna repopulate the earth with."

"Foul," Taehyung laughs. He's the only one of the boys without women hanging off him. Is stern and authoritative in his rejection of their advances; not yet married but wears a ring around his finger to let them know he's deadly serious. Landed himself in hot water a few months back after photos of him talking to a girl outside a bar - no matter how innocently - circulated online. A bad angle and misrepresentation of events had almost decimated the one thing he cares about more than the band: his relationship. Refuses to ever let it happen again. "Absolutely foul, Yoongi. You know you don't mean that."

"He just needs to get laid," Jungkook chimes in. "Has been celibate for so long he's forgotten how good sex is. Used to be a time he'd fuck anything willing with a pulse-"

It's not untrue. He was reckless in his youth - but aren't we all?

"Yeah, and then I grew up, Kook," Yoongi says with little to no emotion, getting to his feet. Taps his pocket to check for his phone, and then taps the other for his wallet. All there. "Should try it."

When Yoongi looks back up to the crowd, you're gone. He rolls his eyes. Shakes his head. Is almost mentally berating you, as if you've done something wrong - but you haven't, and he damn well knows it.

Perhaps that's the most frustrating part of it all: everything falls back on him. The awkwardness. The cold shoulders. The night that never was. If he would have just made more sensible choices back then, things could be easier now.

It's not that things are hard, as such - just that they aren't how they used to be. Rose-tinted glasses, and all that.

Over by the bar, there's a haze around you: clouded judgement, misted intentions.

The smallest things put a smile on your face, thanks to the alcohol in your veins. Could be the song that's already been played three times coming on yet again. Could be witnessing some random guy get pied by every single girl he approaches. Could be the way your vodka orange takes like juice. Anything and everything feels light. Airy. Breezy.

"What's so funny?" Some guy asks, leaning in a little closer to you - and just like that, your mood is soured. You're not here to make friends, but rather spend time with your pre-existing ones, and judging by the look on his face, he's hoping for a little more than friendship.

"Oh, nothing," you smile politely, crossing your arms over your chest as you angle your body away from his. Hope that he'll get the message.

He does. Just doesn't like it very much.

"No need to be a bitch," he sneers under his breath just loud enough for you to hear.

Normally, you'd leave it. Let him have his little tantrum. Be a big baby.

But you were in such a good mood, and you're annoyed that he's ruined it.

Wanna ruin his, too.

Snapping back to face him, you're about to launch into a tirade, but you come face-to-face with a chest that looks far too good in a simple T-shirt and find yourself faltering, instead.

Yoongi looks down at you, eyes dark, scowl ever-present. Says nothing. Just nods. You think he's asking if you're okay - so you nod back. Won't get into a debate over the fact you were perfectly fine, and have no issue asserting your boundaries with strangers.

Shoulders broad, the guy who had been bothering you is entirely eclipsed by Yoongi.

Glancing across to the bar staff, Yoongi nods. "Hibiki." Glances down at you. Checks the colour of your glass. It's obscured by the bar lights, but he knows it isn't dark enough to be coke, and remembers your order from before things got complicated. Figures some things haven't changed. Looks back towards the server. "Vodka Orange." Passes over his card. Says nothing to you. Just keeps his eyes on yours.

There's a subtle blush dusting his cheeks. The heat, you think. It's unnoticeable for the most part, but sometimes the lights hit him just right, and you're reminded of how warm he can be. How inviting.

He's always been impressive. Taller in sheer presence than he is in stature. Even back in high school, his nature was domineering. Respected. Lips gently parted, you're unable to move. Suddenly, nothing is funny anymore. It's heavy. Thick. Suffocating. You're deaf to the bass of the music that thumps through your body. Ignorant of the people moving around you.

But then Yoongi's being offered his card back, and Jimin bounds on into you like a lost puppy finally finding its owner.

"For me?!" Jimin exclaims as the drinks are slid across the bar, passing the vodka orange to you and picking up Yoongi's whisky for himself.

Shaking yourself from the shackles of Yoongi's stare, you look down. Realign your mind. Glance back over and nod a silent thank you - but then you turn and leave the drink by the bar. Head for the bathrooms. Refuse to look back, so utterly perplexed by what on earth just happened.

In a frank, factual recount of the events, Yoongi just stood beside you and ordered a drink.

In your hysterical, deluded mind, Yoongi just stood beside you and opened the skies; let a flood of water torrent down. Drowned everyone in the process save for you - except you're the one gasping now as you stare yourself out in the bathroom mirror.

Phone still on don't disturb, you pull it from your pocket and check just in case he's thinking of you.

Not Yoongi, no. You push him out of your mind. Think of your Damocles boy. He's the one you wished had joined you at the bar. The one you've been yearning for all night.

And sure enough, he has been thinking of you, too.

D4m0cl3s: there are some weirdos out and about tonight, clem keep yourself safe for me, okay?

It's strange, how guilt needlessly creeps in so silently that you don't even realise it's there until an invisible hand is over your mouth. You're suffocating again, or so it would seem. Drowning, maybe. Perhaps Yoongi wasn't saving you at all; he was dragging you down instead.

You wish you were at home. Wish you weren't so drunk. Wish you could think straight. Wish your balance was a little better - but it's not, and as you try and think of a response that goes beyond 'i miss you' or a 'you should be here', you stumble a little. Lose your footing. Grab onto the sink to stop yourself from falling over entirely, only to send your phone crashing to the floor.

"Fuck," you curse, scrambling down to get it, only to be greeted with a fracture splintering right over the top of your front camera. Pulling up the app, it's very quickly clear that the camera absolutely ruined - but for the most part, your screen is okay. "Fuck."

You think it's a sign: go home.

Even if you're drunk, and you're in the business to make some bad decisions, you know that your Damocles boy is right. There are some weirdos about tonight, and as fucked up as it all seems, 'safe' feels a lot like a message thread with a man you've never met.

Instead of replying to him, you open up your thread with Jimin. Let him know you're going home. Make your way up the stairs and out of the bar without looking back. It's rare for you to cry when you drink, but it kind of feels like you will now, and for no good reason. Just had a little too much, that's all.

The light around fades from the invasive red of the club into the murky blue hues of the streets.

And yet, there's a lovely little red flag waiting by the top of the stairs, unaware of your decision to head home, too.

"You leaving already?" You chirp in surprise upon realising who it is.

The sound of your voice, and the fact it's addressing him, seems to take Yoongi by surprise when he turns to face you.

"I, uh," he pauses. Looks down. Seems to be a little flustered. You wonder what's going inside that head of his, but when his eyes meet yours again, you decide you're better off not knowing. "Can't be home too late. I'm sorta seeing someone. Gotta get back for them."

"Oh," you say quietly.

I'm seeing someone.

"Yeah."

It's not like it matters, it's just that you never expected to hear him say those words. He's married to his music. Always has been. Spends his nights in the studio, not sleeping next to someone else.

Or perhaps he doesn't anymore. Just goes to show how little you know of his life these days.

"That's nice," you chirp, swallowing down your surprise. "Yeah. That's really nice, actually. I'm pleased for you."

In a way, it makes sense. Perhaps his strangeness lately has been less to do with you and more to do with himself and the fact he genuinely doesn't care about the past anymore. Thoughts of the night that never was are genuinely reserved for your brain, and your brain alone. Have no place in his. His warning about Jungkook was due to lessons learned by him.

"And you?" He asks, noticing the slight discomfort in your tone. He wouldn't normally entertain such frivolous conversations with you, but he's only human. Alcohol still gets him a little loose-lipped, too. "What's new in your love life?"

You laugh, now. Good fuckin' question. Genuinely don't know how to describe your Damocles boy, or if you even want to.

"Nothing new."

"No?"

"No," you smile in such a way that Yoongi knows you're not telling the whole truth - but who is he to pry?

"Well," he says, then coughs to clear his throat. Look out to the street ahead of you both. It's full of drunk revellers, and you're certain at least half of them will have The Scouts in their playlists. Yoongi's position in the band means he's never front and centre, so no one notices him like this. If they do, they're being incredibly discreet about it. "I'm sure you'll meet someone soon."

"Maybe," you shrug, knocking your shoulder against his arm. "Be easier if you didn't stand in front of every guy who shows an interest in me."

"It was one guy," he laughs, knowing not to take you too seriously. "And you know he was a creep. Was just standing in for your brother."

"Yeah," you nod, not caring to counter him, or to remind him how fucked up it is to refer to himself like that. Folding your arms over your chest, you're regretting the lack of a coat. Had left it back at pre-drinks, because a little bit of liquor and you suddenly think you're a child of the sun. "You're right. Thanks for that."

"No worries," Yoongi shrugs. Is about to offer you his jacket, when a taxi rolls up. "This yours?"

"Yeah," you nod, recognising the number plate from the taxi you'd ordered via an app when you'd been in the bathroom. "Want a lift?"

He shakes his head. "Gotta head to the studio first."

"Yoongi, you're drunk," you laugh. "What did I tell you about all work?"

"Yeah, yeah, dull boy," he laughs too - but it's not you he's thinking of as he recites it. It's the girl he's heading home for that enters his mind, and how she'd said something similar. Shaking his head, he's confused at how easily thoughts of her intertwine with how easy it can be to joke with you. Puts it down to the alcohol. His head's a mess. "Inspiration doesn't wait. Let Jimin or someone know when you're home."

"Get in the cab," you insist at his need to be difficult. "I'll route it past the studio. Inspiration doesn't wait," you imitate a little childishly, which does get him smiling. "Better to get to it quickly, no?"

He looks around. Looks a little uncomfortable. You don't take it personally. He looks like this a lot of the time around you. Even before it all got weird.

Eventually, he sighs. Relents.

"Route it to yours," he says. "I'll carry on to the studio."

"Studio is closer," you tell him, knocking your head to the side, pulling open the door. "C'mon. The driver will leave if you don't hurry up."

"And Jin'll kill me if you get stolen," he reminds you, as if that would be likely to happen. Even if the taxi driver was a creep, there are cameras everywhere in places like this. You're as safe as can be. "You first. Non-negotiable."

"You're a tough bargainer," you hum with narrowed eyes. He is at least here, and not walking in the cold. Would have to cross the river to get to the studio, and the thought of any of them drunkenly walking along it alone scares you. "Fine. But you better not get stolen, either. Twitter would have a meltdown- no, Twitter would kill me if you get stolen."

"Shut up," he laughs. Knows The Scouts have a fanbase that could scare even political leaders into submission, if they really wanted to. "They don't even know who you are."

But Yoongi is forgetting who your brother is. Forgetting that there's a good reason why Jungkook has 'look but don't touch' etched into his brain. Forgetting that there are Twitter accounts dedicated to posting updates from your socials, just for a glimpse of The Scouts.

And as you let silence simmer into the taxi, not caring to keep up a conversation, you're none the wiser that those exact fan accounts are currently screaming into the void.

The Yoongi-dedicated update accounts, too.

In fact, the entire app is on fire - and it's not gonna be an easy one to put out.

03:31AM

D4m0cl3s: you still out, clem?

Cl3m3ntin3: why? miss me?

D4m0cl3s: never

Cl3m3ntin3: hmmm well in that case, yes i am x

D4m0cl3s: i think you're lying you answered far too quickly

Cl3m3ntin3: i think you should just admit that you miss me and u just caught me at a good time :/

D4m0cl3s: but i don't? and ur nose must be soooooo big pinocchio

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah you do you've missed me sooooo much tonight, havent you? bet you've been all mopey just thinking about me aaaaaaall night me & my proportionally sized nose x

D4m0cl3s: dunno what you mean

Cl3m3ntin3: well, are you home?

D4m0cl3s: almost

Cl3m3ntin3: not even home yet and already texting me... but you don't miss me? you're lucky you've got such a nice cock i wouldn't let your lies slide so easily if you didn't

D4m0cl3s: so you're only with me for my cock?

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm not with you

D4m0cl3s: ouch noted

Cl3m3ntin3: you're the one who refuses to have me, remember?

D4m0cl3s: you know it's not like that, clem

Cl3m3ntin3: i know, babe i'm just fucking with you figuratively (sadly) i'm with friends though - i'll let you know when i'm alone, alright?

D4m0cl3s: don't worry about me enjoy your night trouble message me in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: if this is a ploy to make me message you first, it wont work

D4m0cl3s: finei 'll message you

Cl3m3ntin3: keen

D4m0cl3s: you love it

Cl3m3ntin3: suuuure i do

D4m0cl3s: stay safe, babe drink water before bed

Cl3m3ntin3: you wanna drink some clementine juice before bed?

D4m0cl3s: i dont think they make clementine juice and no you know the rules sleep off the alcohol first then send me pictures of that gorgeous cunt in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: and what will i get in return?

D4m0cl3s: the video i've just taken of myself stroking my big hard cock just for you

Cl3m3ntin3: fuck send it now? pls x

D4m0cl3s: keen and no x

Cl3m3ntin3: c'monnnn :(

D4m0cl3s: in the morning, baby just know that i'm a little drunk but so fuckin' hard

Cl3m3ntin3: no whiskey dick? i'm impressed

D4m0cl3s: i'm thinking about you nothing will ever stop me from getting hard when im thinking about you

Cl3m3ntin3: watcha thinkin about? gimmie specifics x i wanna touch myself

D4m0cl3s: that pretty cunt of yours how fuckin' wet you get god i wanna fuck you nice and slow NO FUCK STOP TEMPTING ME YOU SIREN

Cl3m3ntin3: 🙁

D4m0cl3s: in the morning

Cl3m3ntin3: you promise?

D4m0cl3s: i promise, baby go spend time with your friends message me if you need anything

Cl3m3ntin3: your dick?

D4m0cl3s: anything other than that you'll get it in the morning, clemmie promise x

D4m0cl3s is offline

GENIUS LAB Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"All good?" Yoongi hums as the door to his studio clicks shut. 

He'd left the door on the latch so you could get back in when you went to the bathroom. Could have just given you the code, but he didn't want you to think he'd be making a habit of this. It's a limited-time offer. Not one that can be redeemed whenever you like. It's now, and now only.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, pulling on the back of the spare desk chair Yoongi had rolled up beside his. You don't look at him, just at the screens as you tell a little white lie. "Just let Jimin know I was okay."

Yoongi grunts some sort of agreement, but doesn't vocalise a response as such.

It's not like a complete subversion of the truth. A text has been sent to your group chat. The one with just Jungkook and Jimin. No one else needs to know your business, as far as you're concerned.

It's just that a few more texts have been sent to your Damocles boy—but that's none of Yoongi's business. You're sure he wouldn't care to know.

You're also sure he's regretting the request for help bestowed upon you on the ride back. He'd mentioned the song he was going to work on, and you'd offered to lend an ear again. 

It's not an unheard-of thing. There are a couple of tracks on the last album that have been tweaked as a result of your ear, including their biggest single. You're not listed in the credits, but you never asked to be. Was just helping out a friend—even if said friend then decided to become an asshole when they started making a name for themselves.

You're tipsy, and so is Yoongi. It's easier to forget how fraught things have become when you're like this. You wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't had a few too many drinks. 

You also probably wouldn't be trending all over twitter, but you're still blissfully unaware of this.

"Same track as before, right?" You ask, kicking your shoes off to get a little more comfortable on the chair.

Again, words fail Yoongi. You're forced to decipher his small noises, 'cause it's all he tends to offer you. It's not like it's a uniquely you issue—the boys have learned to speak in Yoongi-code, too. 

"Okay, play it from the start," you tell him. "Show me what we're working with."

There's a cautious nature to the way Yoongi works. So preoccupied with creating perfection, he hates letting people hear his work before it's reached his self-imposed arbitrary standards. There's only a very small circle who gets the privilege of seeing how his brain works.

Despite his ever-present disdain for you, it seems like you're one of the lucky few. He'll never acknowledge this. Never admit that he favours your opinions, because he genuinely doesn't think he does.

You're frank with him. Will tell him how it is. Don't sugarcoat it. Aren't seeking his approval, so don't care to lick his ass just to keep him happy—not that he ever wants you to lick his ass. Could think of nothing worse. Not because he isn't into it, but because the thought of being with you repulses him in a way he can't quite describe. Even thinking about it makes him shudder.

But maybe that's the issue. Maybe the shudder is indicative of something else entirely.

"Yoongi?" You ask, drawing him from his thoughts. The song has finished, but he doesn't even really recall listening to it at all.

"Hm?" He hums. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"The lyrics," you say. "What's the song about? 'Cause at the moment, musically, it sounds like a heartbreak song and love song all at the same time, and I think that's what's confusing about it. It can't decide what it wants to be."

Yoongi frowns.

"It's not really either," he supposes.

In the dim lighting of his studio, Yoongi is at his very best. Focused, he's shrewd in his astute calculations. Can put together different sounds and construct melodies you wouldn't even be able to dream of. For all of his issues, there is one undeniable truth: the man is a musical genius.

It's why this is all so perplexing to him. He hates not knowing how to make things right. This is his job. It's what he excels at—and yet he's failing.

"Well, what's it about?" You softly ask, turning to look at him. "Do you have the lyrics?"

Guard clearly up, the way Yoongi looks at you is puzzling. Whatever he's written isn't something that he wants to share.

"What?" you laugh, trying to not make a big deal of things. You know how quickly he closes up, and can already sense it happening. "You told me you're seeing someone, remember? God forbid you accidentally expose the fact you're a human being with real feelings."

You half think he might smile.

He doesn't.

Instead, he reaches across his desk for a small black notebook. A little weathered, it's clearly seen a lot of thoughts in the past. The leather of the cover is tarnished, and there's a faded sticker from some instrument brand wrapping around the spine.

"Just don't ask any fuckin' questions," he grumbles.

Rolling your eyes, you gladly accept the book. Tuck your thumb between the pages where a natural divide occurs. It's testament to how long Yoongi has spent agonising over the same words.

His handwriting never changes much. Always messy. Always hard to decipher.

Or at least, it's hard for other people. You've never found it to be too taxing.

What's curious this time are the little doodles on the page. Blossoms and small fruits.

"Cherries?" You ask, chirping with a little curiosity. It's hard to work out exactly what they are, but cherries seem like the most likely thing.

Yoongi just grunts.

Getting anything from him is like getting blood from a stone.

"How the fuck do you have a functioning relationship?" You mutter, casting your eyes back down to his words. The way he refuses to converse with you is infuriating.

"I said no questions," he curtly reminds you.

The way you roll your eyes this time is far less kind. Tossing the book back down on the desk, you reach for your shoes and get to your feet without a word.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," you tell him, as your hand reaches for the door handle. "You asked me for help, Yoongi—but I can't do jack shit if you won't let me."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for critique on my relationship, did I?" He snaps back. Feels his skin get all hot. Clammy. Relationship. That's not how he'd define what he's got going on. He doesn't know why he did call it that. Doesn't know why he didn't just ignore you, when you're clearly trying to wind him up.

"You're impossible," you tell him, patience thin. The alcohol made it easier to be friendly with him, but it also makes it easier to fight, too.

"And you're unbearable!"

"Me?!" You say with such offense it almost surprises Yoongi. Turning around to fully face him, you let go of the the door handle. Let it whisper shut, the lock softly clicking into place. You're willingly trapped in the confines of his studio. Could just leave. Instead, you choose to fight. "Oh, you have some fucking nerve—"

"I thought you were going?" He cuts you off, responding to your change in position by getting to his feet too. He's not one for confrontation, but there's something about you that just gets under his skin. Makes him wanna fight right back. "So why don't you just fuckin' go?"

"I am," you assure him. You should have known that this would end in disaster. "But maybe if you channelled some of this pent-up frustration into your music, maybe you'd actually get somewhere."

"I don't need you telling me how to do my job," he sneers. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm doing perfectly fine without your unsolicited advice."

Unbelievable. Was he not the one who asked for your help? Repeatedly?

"Holy shit," you scornfully laugh. "Listen to yourself, you deluded prick! You asked—"

"Yeah, well if you didn't insist on sticking your big fuckin' Pinnochio nose into everything—"

"My big nose?! Oh, you are such an asshole."

"You're no fuckin' daisy, either," he snaps. Doesn't even really know why he's being so rude. Just knows he doesn't want to back down. Doesn't wanna let you win. "Just do us all a favour and quit before the tour. No one wants you there."

It's never been a secret that Yoongi harbours contempt for the way in which you got your jobs, but you know damn well that you've proven your worth. If it was anyone else saying these words, you'd probably be offended.

Instead, you just shake your head. Laugh. Walk a little closer just to piss him off. Encroach upon his personal space.

"Tell me, Yoongi," you say quietly, picking off a little dust from his shirt just to see how he reacts. To your surprise, he lets you. Just looks down at you. Watches to see what you'll do next. Eyes flicking up to his, the air between you is frightfully thin. "If I quit, how would you explain it to Jin? Hmm? Would you tell him the way you speak to me?"

"I've got nothing to hide," Yoongi replies just as quietly. There's an intimacy to be found somewhere hidden between your mutual disdain and heated anger. The kind of coldness that can only come from someone you once knew to be warm. "He knows you're a piece of work."

This does make you laugh. "Nothing to hide, huh?"

"Nothing," he says. His jaw is tense, and his eyes are even more so. "Nothing happened that night."

"Yoongi, I didn't even mention that night," you remind him with a smirk, pleased at your ability to get under his skin. 

That night has lingered with you both: the scent of damp cedar wood and the sensation of sweltering heat against your clammy skin. It's not the kind of thing you forget, even if you never speak of it. Not with Jimin, not with Jungkook, and especially not with Yoongi.

"Just get out of my studio," he growls, eyes centred on yours. He's unwavering in the way that he stares you out; unashamed and uncompromising.

"Gladly," you say as you pull away from him.

You're not gonna beg him to be cordial with you. This atmosphere is a product of his own creation, and as miserable as it is, he's gonna have to be the one to fix it. Both as stubborn as one another, you know damn well it's gonna stay like for a while.

The door slams shut. No amount of soundproofing can obscure the way Yoongi curses into the void left by you.

But right on time, as you reach the door that leads out onto the street, your phone vibrates in your pocket. It's a little longer than the vibration of your other apps, so you know exactly what it is. Who it is. Solace is found in the form of notifications from him. Satisfaction, too.

D4m0cl3s:fuck iti need you, now, clem

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

end of part two

say you can't sleep, m | myg

... baby, I know that's that me – espresso by sabrina carpenter

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Snapshots of a love story centered around coffee and soft skin, heh, isn't that just so suga sweet? Mmmm, I guess so.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; fluff they're cute as fuck; smut (fem reader, fingering + f-receiving oral at work, gasp, doggy, m-receiving oral in a bedroom, whew, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS – Yoongi's POV except final scene in your POV

--

“You don’t like coffee.”

She handed him the iced Americano with an enigmatic expression.

“But I like you.”

Then she walked away.

-

“Oh? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He looked up from his lonesome table, fully intending to tell the person to fuck off. It was too late and too dark and too restless for him to even think about socializing. He lifted his head and found himself speechless for several seconds. An enigmatic expression paired with a tight black dress. He took another sip of his whiskey to avoid making the pause awkward.

He caught a whiff of a heavy, rich, coffee-scented perfume.

Then he shrugged.

“Can’t sleep.”

She smiled.

-

“You know her?”

She sat a few tables away, wrapped in a tight black dress. A soft white knitted cardigan draped over her shoulders. Demure with a hint of sex. He recognized those black high heels with gunmetal buckles. They had been tossed carelessly by his door last night. He watched her hands dance in the air with her conversation. The man sitting in front of her seemed mildly interested. Black t-shirt, silver bracelets, faded blue jeans. She rolled her eyes and her lunch companion looked similarly annoyed, shaking his head of straight, long black hair. The waiter went by their table, carrying the handheld kiosk.

She tapped her credit card, already prepared.

The young man whipped his hands out in a what-the-fuck motion.

She shrugged.

Her black velvet purse was tucked in her lap, right above her plush thighs that had been wrapped around his neck last night.

“Better than you do,” he replied, and didn’t elaborate.

-

“I didn’t know you knew him.”

She gave him a confused look.

“Why wouldn’t I know my younger brother?”

Oh.

She handed him the iced Americano with a sly smile.

“But I’ll let him know that you were jealous.”

Fuck.

-

“You don’t have to.”

She took his hand and wrapped it around the cold drink, leaving him with a handful of condensation and consideration.

“I want to.”

She was about to let go but his other hand shot up, enclosing the back of hers. He watched her almost hide the way her breath caught. Her eyes shifted. Those parted lips were picture perfect softness that inspired wet dreams. Her skin was even more perfect up close and in the light. A tick of her eyebrow. He didn’t back down.

“Meet me in front of the café at seven tonight.”

She didn’t hesitate.

“Okay.”

-

Date after date, she wore the same perfume and the same enigmatic smile. Night after night, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck he was doing. Day after day, he looked forward to her occasional treat in the form of ice coffee. He admired her audacity to let everyone talk. Both of them deflected the topic when anyone asked. No sense in entertaining unsolicited opinions.

In bed, he closed his eyes and breathed in, remembering the way her soft skin smelled against him.

He was addicted to her perfume.

Then again, he already had a coffee problem so maybe it was all in his head.

-

From across the room, she smiled at him.

He acknowledged her with a nod, sticking his hands in his pockets so they wouldn’t shake.

The eye contact lingered for a moment linger before she turned and walked out the door.

After about ten minutes, he made up some excuse and left too.

-

He kissed the inside of her thigh and looked up.

Her knuckle was against her teeth, biting down lightly, calmly giving him an expression of apprehension and boldness. He cocked his head. She shrugged with one shoulder. He bunched her skirt around her waist.

And stared into her eyes as he licked upwards.

Hot, heavy, and with possessiveness.

She melted against the wall. Lashes fluttering, shivering under him, no sound. Probably because of where they were. The mischief in her eyes glimmered. Her perfect lips formed words both silent and damning.

Keep going.

To be perfectly clear he did not give a fuck about rules, but also he liked his job and didn’t want to get himself fired. Yet. He skimmed his lips over her soft skin and figured that at least it would be a cool story, letting his fingers sink into her shapely hips, toying with the hem of her panties with his thumbs. Her free hand wandered down to hold up her skirt. Helpful. He closed his eyes. Tongue, lips, teeth travelling up in a zig-zag from thigh to thigh. Her coffee-scented perfume faded as the scent of sweet sex prevailed, his index finger skimming over the heat, following the forbidden line.

Absolute silence.

But beneath his lips, her body was singing. Vibrating with pleasure. Pressing her shoulder blades against the wall, rolling her hips towards him. He opened his eyes to see hers under lidded lashes. Slid his finger under, down, the back of his nail drenched, and he pulled it aside, watching her sensual mouth form his name.

He closed his lips around the top and sank two fingers into her pussy.

Fuck, she tasted so good.

The shudder took over him before he could stop it. Delightful shivers as he watched her watch him when he cupped his tongue around her clit. Circling it gently. Coaxing. Slow and steady, admiring the way her slick walls closed in around his fingers. Thrusting deeper. He spread his knees more, wincing as he felt his hardening erection strain against even his loose jeans. She kept her hips still, melting into his momentum, looking hot as hell fully dressed with his mouth as her new accessory. He spied the curl of her pink tongue against the side of her lips. His fingers involuntarily twitched, digging his blunt nails into her thigh. Tongue against nerves. The steady climb to the heavenly high. Quiet breathing becoming labored, his cock aching at the image and taste of sweet evidence.

Her arousal dripping down his throat.

She came to his tongue, pressing the crown of her head against the wall and silently gasping to the ceiling.

No one found out.

At least, Human Resources didn’t let him know they did.

-

He spent a little more time checking out his outfit before leaving his apartment. Bomber jacket, loose shirt, slightly less torn jeans, and his nicest bag, a black leather messenger. Debated on a beanie. Decided against it and took a moment to tie his hair back into a low ponytail. The front pieces were too short to be tied back. He adjusted them in the mirror and out the door he went. Subway and then a short walk. He visited the usual spot, a café by the office, and she was already in line. The cashier seemed to have taken a liking to her, trying to keep her for a few lines of conversation. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care, courteously stepping out of line after she paid and waiting to the side for her order.

He contemplated walking up to her.

This was the first time he had been this early. He was not and never would be a morning person. A lot of the time he had to settle for the shitty coffee from the machine in the break room. He preferred an expert’s hand though, so he did his best to drag himself out of bed to get in line. Big chains had apps to order-and-go, but this was a mom-and-pop store that didn’t have the money for such technology. Honestly, now he was glad about that. A rare occurrence of the universe being on his side.

His gaze must have remained for too long because she looked up from her phone and her head turned, spotting him immediately.

He let his eyes linger when hers did.

A glimmer in her eye. Must be the morning sun. She raised her hand and beckoned him to her.

He stepped out of line and walked up to her.

“I can buy my own coffee, you know.”

The café smelled like stale morning coffee and yet somehow she smelled even better.

“Just let me do this one thing for you, hm?” she smiled.

He didn’t trust himself to respond. Instead, he stood next to her and stuck his hands in his pockets. He noticed several people looking her way but they all quickly reoriented their wandering eyes. It had to have something to do with the way her long black skirt clung to her hips or her courage of wearing a maroon faux fur cropped jacket out in public. Or maybe it was the way her tight black turtleneck clung to her chest.

“You can go on ahead. I’ll drop off the drink for you.”

He half-considered it. Maybe even take a moment to make it obvious for everyone.

Still, he didn’t want to leave.

“I’m still waking up,” he offered as his reply.

They weren’t looking at each other but he was highly aware of her presence next to him. He didn’t sense any discomfort. The café was getting packed. She scooted closer to him as a couple more people moved into the waiting section.

The barista called out her name.

She glided up to the counter. He watched her go, pit-a-pat beating in his chest. Admired every line, the way her hips swayed, the way stray rays of the sunrise made her hair glow. Watched her turn around in slow-motion mental cinema, raising her head, their eyes connecting, the corner of her lips rising when she saw him waiting for her.

She held out the iced Americano.

“Careful, someone might think we’re an item.”

He reached out and let his fingers graze her wrist.

“I think someone already does.”

He was talking about himself but he didn’t miss the pleasure in her eyes when the exchange happened.

-

She was a menace every time.

“I’m going to make sure you’ll need caffeine tomorrow,” she mused out loud.

He raised an eyebrow.

“And how are you going to do that?”

He somewhat regretted asking that.

-

The room was pitch black.

“You still up?”

The presence beside him shifted, facing him, but he wouldn’t be able to see even if he opened his eyes. He didn’t need to though. He knew the way the blanket draped over her arm, exposing the corner of her shoulder, her hair cascading over her neck covered in his invisible kisses and light bites. Her arm over her breasts as she adjusted her hand just under the pillow. The blanket dipped a bit further down the bed, then rose up sharply at her hips.

“Sorry if I seem restless,” she whispered. “I have insomnia sometimes.”

He had offered before, but she hadn’t accepted until tonight. He wasn’t sure what had made her change her mind.

“Me too,” he confessed. “I take a long time to fall asleep.”

Her voice was feathery and soft. Not pitched to act younger or be more appealing. True to who she was and where she was in her life. Her coffee-scented perfume reflected that as well. Dark and smokey and acidic. Full-bodied in every sense of the word. He heard amusement in her soothing voice as she spoke.

“That’s a very polite way of admitting that you’re nervous of the pretty girl in your bed being a closeted psychopath and smothering you in your sleep before taking all of your valuables and skipping town.”

He smiled.

“Don’t worry, I know all pretty girls are psychopaths.”

She laughed. “Won’t fall for my tricks then, hm?”

“I might if you actually tried some of yours on me.”

There was a pause in her breathing. A single flutter of butterfly wings, so slight he almost thought he imagined it.

“You think so?”

He kept telling himself he wouldn’t, but deep down he knew he would.

“Yeah,” he murmured, noncommittal.

There was a pungent silence.

Then he felt her warmth closer. Closer. Warm exhale tickling his shoulder. Her hand settled on his arm. A whirlwind of thoughts. He had always thought, oh, it would be annoying. It would be heedlessly complicated. It would die out quick. And, ultimately, it would be fleeting and unfulfilling.

Like a shooting star during a meteor shower.

“You’re something else, Min Yoongi.”

Meaningless was it was, he found himself making a wish as the weight of sleep swept him away.

-

Of course, he was scared.

Of course, he wasn’t going to acknowledge it or show it. People were fickle, complicated creatures that spent lifetimes trying to explain themselves to no avail. He was one of them. He had long ago accepted that he was part of the problem. Likewise, he accepted that he would never understand. He wasn’t about to encroach on the millennia of human philosophy and twist his brain trying to make sense of it all.

“I should leave.”

Best he could do was write some songs about it.

“Sit,” he commanded in his most inviting tone.

Better not to think about it too much.

He looked away from the stove for a moment to see the unsure shift of her eyes and the hesitation of her parted lips. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” She lifted her gaze.

He held it, but only for a second.

Any longer would have been too telling.

He turned back to the pan and replied with, “You cannot possibly think I’m that rude to kick you out before breakfast. Sit.”

Thinking about it too much would ruin it, anyway. It would make it less true. Convoluted. Muddled by past experiences and endless doubts. He refused to let that happen. He lifted the frying pan, tipping the fried egg onto the freshly made white rice. Set the pan down. Turned around with the bowl in hand, setting it on the counter in front of the barstool next to a small plate of his mother’s kimchi. He saw her hesitate once more. Maybe it was his imagination, or was that a flush of pink at the tops of her cheeks? He pulled out a drawer and added a pair of chopsticks by the bowl. Didn’t take his eyes off her movements.

She reached out and pulled out the barstool, sliding onto the brown leather.

Bowed her head to hide her smile.

“Thanks for the food.”

Yoongi silently let out the breath he had been holding.

-

Just before she walked out his door, she leaned in and kissed him.

She drew back.

“See you.”

He stepped forward and pulled her into a longer kiss.

“See you,” he breathed, missing her already.

-

He couldn’t look at he when she smiled.

Even as the corner of his mouth lifted and his teeth sank into the side of his lower lip.

Dark, smokey, acidic.

Her perfume was so familiar now. It settled into his palette, embellishing the dreamlike image. His hands rested on her waist, fingertips drumming against soft skin. Her fingers danced up his sternum and her lips hovered by his. Breath to breath. Her other palm on his chest. Hips to hips. The moment lingered. Almost to the point of discomfort, and then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

He wondered if he tasted like coffee.

The kiss melted into him. Warmth rushed all over his body. He should be used to it and yet he fell back under her spell. Under her kisses over his face and neck, under her insistent touch. He dug his nails into her back. She matched him, but harder, rougher, her tongue slipping into his moaning mouth as she scratched him up. Perhaps it was a perverted satisfaction but he rather enjoyed knowing that his pale skin would be marred in pink lines of passion. He didn’t want to be precious about it.

She straddled him and pressed her panties into his erection.

He griped her waist and kissed her harder.

-

He enjoyed it when she slipped her arm in his as they walked side by side. He enjoyed watching passerby glance at them with envy, especially when her head leaned against his shoulder. He enjoyed it when she tugged him to her and caught his lips possessively. He didn’t know when he stopped hiding the smile he had when around her. He didn’t know when he stopped wanting to be alone in his free time and instead wanted to fill it with her coffee-scented perfume. He used to work late all the time because there was nothing better to do, but lately there was a better reason to ditch his responsibilities.

It was careless but such was life.

Heh.

He loved to watch her face, and yet there was something about watching her back arch and her fingers curl into the sheets. Something about his hands gripping her hips and driving himself deeper. Something about the image of her ass and thighs bouncing with each forceful smack of body-to-body contact. Just something about it. Tight, wet, hot, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, dragging his nails down her spine, feeling her match his pace. He enjoyed fucking as much as the next guy. This was simply different.

Something about her, maybe.

She threw her head back, her visceral sounds music to his ears, pleasure incarnate, and he could feel each wave threaten to drag him under, into the permanent honeymoon haze. He let it take him, gasping, surrendering, wanting it again already. She moaned with him, clutching his pillows into a jumbled mess.

Fuck, so good.

One shared look.

To be honest, he was proud of the number of used condoms that piled up.

-

“A candle?”

She lifted the heavy glass lid and inhaled. Her eyes widened, sparkling with recognition and delight.

He stated the obvious. “It’s coffee-scented.”

“I love the scent of coffee,” she murmured. He already knew that. “You remember.”

He half-smiled. “Isn’t that your excuse for always getting me one? You like the scent but you don’t drink it?” He couldn’t help but tease.

She gave him a mischievous smirk. “Trying to throw me off your scent? It won’t work.”

He sure as fuck hoped it didn’t. “I’m trying to convince you to stop buying those expensive iced Americanos for me. I’m trying to cut down for my health.”

She frowned. But he shook his head, trying to dissipate any misunderstanding.

“Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t come up with the idea. My doctor did.”

Her gaze narrowed, unconvinced.

He shoved his hands back into his pockets so they would stop shaking. There was no bag or awkward gift wrapping for him to hold on to. It wasn’t his style, but he somewhat regretted it now. He tiled his head, relaxing his face despite the thunder within his ribcage.

“What?”

She replaced the lid of the candle. Her thumb ran across the embossed characters on the paper label. Capitalism had burned a hole in his wallet. He didn’t mind though. She held it close to her chest.

“This is an expensive brand. I’ve seen it at higher end stores.”

He was delighted that she knew. The cheaper brands had smelled far too fake and far too sweet. He wanted that rich bitterness. Dark and smokey and acidic. A scent that reminded him of them. She watched him carefully. He shrugged.

“You get what you pay for.” Chuckled, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Fair, once I considered the culmination of the price of all those coffees. And, anyway, I only wanted you to know that you don’t have to pay a price for my attention. You’ve had it all this time.”

Her eyes widened a bit.

He shifted his weight, about to walk past.

At the last second, he turned his head, pausing to whisper in her ear.

“But don’t think about buying anyone else a coffee, alright?”

Before he could make his escape, her eyes were already locked onto his, her lips centimeters from his.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Min Yoongi.”

-

“What?”

She grinned. Their hands interlocked. Holding tight, even though his back was flat against her bed. Her body hovered over his. She lowered, slowly. He sucked in a breath as he felt her hard nipples brush against his chest.

“You like that?” she teased.

He stared into her eyes, melting into her mischief. “Yeah.”

She pressed her soft breasts flush against him, rubbing back and forth. He closed his eyes, shuddering, her name in his throat. His other hand migrated to her waist and he squeezed her, wanting her to know his desire. Her coffee-scented perfume stuck to his skin, bitter and sweet and addictive, a guilty pleasure he didn’t feel guilty about.

His doctor had advised him to cut back on coffee and alcohol, his other guilty pleasures, so naturally he found himself tangled up in another.

Heh.

His fingers slid up, up, tangling in her hair, pulling her face to his. There was a split second where their eye lines connected under their lashes, and he froze up. She stared back. Centimeters of trembling air between their lips. His entire body could barely contain the want and yet. It wasn’t the first time they had been this close. Far from it.

But this was the first time Yoongi realized he would move heaven and earth for those eyes.

He squeezed her hand.

She squeezed back and closed the distance between them, her eyelids falling. His too, and he realized there was sex and then there was this. This, the goosebumps that erupted over his skin when her fingertips glided down his arm. This, the chain of kisses leaving him in a daze. This, the delicate shock of her lips travelling down his chest. This, the pit-a-pat and pang of something so dirty being so pure. Her mouth enveloped him and coated his cock with a thin layer of velvety saliva. Back and forth, so soft, just right, building a lovely desperation that he savored. Tighter, and he gasped, marveling at the suffocating gentleness that made him painfully hard. Pace so steady it was nearly maddening, his fingers twisting in the sheets, and he sucked in another breath, the air saturated with her scent, hitting the apex and at the same time falling so fully that he couldn’t hide it anymore.

She kept him hard, knowing the precise amount of softness and insistence. He didn’t need to say anything. She thought about him the same way he thought about her. Her hands fanned over his hips, extending the pleasure of orgasm. His exhale a shudder. Their eyes connected again.

He beckoned her back up, breathlessly.

She obeyed. Skin to skin. His fingertips touched her chin, conducting her movement.

He could taste himself in their kiss.

“You like that?” he whispered to her lips.

She smiled against his. “Yeah.”

One torn-open condom wrapper later, and there was nothing better than her legs wrapping around his waist once he was completely inside. Shivering breath, his fingertips grazing over her collarbones, and he was well aware of his own black hair tangled over his eyes. She looked up at with admiration and satisfaction, tightening around him.

“You should come over to mine tomorrow night. Spend the weekend with me,” he found himself saying.

Her expression amused. “Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your landlord.”

He pushed his hair back, cleaning his vision.

“Let that be my problem.”

Her eyes sparkled.

“I’ll think about it.”

Seemed like she already had though.

Slow and tense, leaning down. Deeper. Her legs sliding up, tighter. Each breath drawn in hotter, keeping their electric eye contact, and he lifted one of his hands to wrap around her wrist. She watched him, intrigued. He thrust downwards and she squeezed him all around, meeting his pace, their eyes closing, succumbing to the honeymoon haze in harmony, their wanton sounds melding together like sugar into coffee. Harder. Rougher. Her name falling from his lips and his from hers. His grip on her wrist slipped.

Their fingers interlocked.

He kept the high coming, over and over.

-

The room was pitch black.

“Can’t sleep?”

He stretched his arm over his head. His body was still running hot.

“Don’t want to.”

She hummed. “Why’s that?”

He should sleep but that would tear him out of this dream. “Pretty girl giving me insomnia.”

“Damn. Wish I could help,” she chuckled, curling up against his side.

He hadn’t known it when she walked into his life, light glimmering off her hair and adorned with a sweet smile. Day by day, catching himself watching her walk past. He admired the confident way she held herself, the assuredness in her stride, the sharpness of her wit. Then one day, the morning after a particularly restless night, she had walked right up to him, an iced Americano in hand. She had known his preference. Could have been observation or asking around. Or both. Didn’t matter, as it was clear she took the time and noticed his lingering gaze.

“Why me?”

Her soft cheek against his shoulder.

“You know why.”

He did but he still wanted to make sure. “You weren’t scared?”

She took a moment to recall. “Worst thing you can say is no. You didn’t.”

He turned his head. She scooted up, and now they were looking at each other in the darkness. He couldn’t see shit, but he had already memorized her face in moments, in snapshots of closeness, into dreams he couldn’t help but believe in. She brought her face closer and their lips found each other with him meeting her halfway.

He pulled her closer.

Yoongi had always believed, oh, love would be annoying. Love would be heedlessly complicated. Love would die out quick and, ultimately, be fleeting and unfulfilling, like a shooting star during a meteor shower. And maybe it was all that.

But he could also be wrong.

Kiss after kiss, falling stars in the darkness, and he couldn’t help but believe in wishes.

Maybe he was just too far gone. Too under her spell to be logical anymore. Her leg slid over his hip, their bodies seamlessly against each other and her hand cradled his face, breathing in his air. Her perfume still lingered, dark and smokey and reminding him of how this love started, or perhaps it had rubbed off onto his skin in their passion. He didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it.

“Don’t think about anyone else, alright?” she whispered.

His hand settled around her waist.

His lips touched her nose. Lightly, endearingly. Didn’t she know? She must. Maybe she wanted to hear it from his lips. He didn’t know the romantic thing to say. He was terrible at that. Always was, always would be. Then again, she had already given him the answer.

He smiled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

-

“Iced Americano. The largest size, please.”

The barista smiled sheepishly. “Busy day?”

You tilted your head, a stray strand of hair curling around your curved lips.

“My darling needs it.”

--

masterpost

Y/n: Okay, truth or dare?

Namjoon: truth

Y/n: How many hours have you slept this week?

Namjoon:

Namjoon: dare

Y/n: I dare you to get some sleep

Namjoon: I don’t like this game

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.2k (10k+ including kofi/patreon exclusive drabble)

a/n: the teaser for this got way more attention than i was expecting lol i hope u guys enjoy the final product!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better at the time.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

The position made it so that Jungkook was technically sitting behind you. Since you were on Mingyu's lap and sitting sideways on the couch, you were now being sandwiched by both boys. Jungkook still kept a small distance, making you have to turn around in Mingyu's hold to look at him.

While you probably embodied the image of a deer caught in headlights, Mingyu seemed completely relaxed, hands still comfortably on your waist.

"I was actually just catching Y/N up," said Mingyu, an overly cocky tone in his voice as his hands continued to feel up and down your waist.

"Oh? Without me?", chuckled Jungkook, leaning a bit closer.

"What the hell is happening?"

"How much did you tell her?", Jungkook ignored you, staring directly at Mingyu. His eyes would occasionally trail down to Mingyu's hands on your waist, a sour look overtaking his face.

It seemed like you had missed a few chapters in the friendship; there was some unspoken agreement between the two in which you were the main character. While it bothered you to think that they'd discussed you in private, the enigma of it all also excited you. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the way in which Mingyu's entire demeanor had become possessive when you brought up dating. The reason didn't matter when you were already beginning to heat up.

"Just caught her up a little on the, uh, situation," said Mingyu with an unrecognizable glint in his eyes, "Did you know she was thinking about dating?", he asked Jungkook, ignoring your presence while still having his hands on you.

Mingyu's hand had made it under your shirt by now, feeling the warm skin of your back.

"Oh? Since when?", he finally turned to you, scooting up a tiny bit more.

Due to his new proximity, you turned your head around, facing Mingyu again. That proved to be a mistake, as Mingyu was even closer to you. Jungkook also took advantage of this, braving a few more inches in closeness and letting his face come closer to your neck. He pushed your hair aside for better access, simply breathing against you as he awaited your answer.

Responding was the hardest thing in the world. Your mind was simply not working at the moment, the situation being far too intimate for you to fully function. On one side you had the huge hunk of a man that was Mingyu, warm hands against the bare skin of your back all while you sat on his leg. On the other, you had the gorgeous embodiment of a boyfriend that was Jungkook, whose fingers were now slowly running up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake while he nosed at your neck.

You had your two gorgeous best friends giving you the best type of attention all while your brain fizzled with your tipsiness.

"Answer him, baby," murmured Gyu.

"I- I just," you sighed when Jungkook began leaving feather-light kisses on your neck, "just thought about maybe getting b-back in the market? To meet someone and-"

"But you have us?", Jungkook sounded genuinely confused, seemingly unable to understand the platonic nature behind your friendship.

"That's what I said!", added Mingyu.

"But I want a boyfriend, n-not-"

"Boyfriend? Baby ...", Jungkook disconnected from you, grabbing your head to make you twist your neck in order to look at him, "That's just an upgrade. You want a boyfriend? We'll give you two. You don't need to be looking around for some loser," his eyes gradually lowered to your lips as he spoke, breath heavy against them.

"K-Kook, I-"

"Please say yes? Please just ... Let me show you? We can show you together. Right, Gyu?", he murmured, mere inches away from your mouth.

Before you knew it, you were nodding, far too desperate to voice your desire.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, you had thought of kissing Jungkook before. Being one of the prettiest boys you'd ever seen before, it was hard at first to keep your relationship with him fully platonic, having had to beat down a small crush you had developed on him at an earlier age. His kiss, however, was not something you could've ever predicted.

Even with the awkward angle, and Mingyu's hands still on you, Jungkook gave you the dizziest of kisses. He knew how to get you hooked immediately, starting with a heavy kiss that had you chasing him the moment he pulled away. With a quiet and breathy laugh, he kissed you again, languid and wet in the way his tongue snuck between your lips, seamlessly making its way into your mouth to play with yours.

Shamelessly, you moaned against his lips, hands digging into Mingyu's shoulders as he continued to hold you. The slight awkwardness of making out with Jungkook while giving your back to Mingyu, yet still holding onto him, was present in your mind. However, Jungkook's sensual yet playful way of kissing you took up most of your attention.

But you knew Mingyu to be a whiny mess of a man at times, so you knew it wouldn't be long before he attempted to regain your attention. The evidence was in the way he felt you up all throughout, hands on your breasts as he pinched at your nipples through your shirt, groaning at the feeling of your tits in his hands. Occasionally, his hands would go down to your cunt, ghosting the place where you needed the most attention before making their way back up to your chest.

Pulling you away by the waist, you were forced to separate from Jungkook, eyes still closed as your lips chased his own. This time Jungkook's lips also attempted to regain possession over yours, with his tongue catching a few last nasty licks of your own.

"It's my turn," grumbled Mingyu, making you turn back to him, "You're on my lap but kiss him only? Baby, we're supposed to share you!", he pouted.

Giggling, you got even closer to him, cradling his head in your hands as you lightly pulled at his hair.

You turned to Jungkook one quick last time, "Kookie?"

His eyes lit up at your question, giving you a view of his round eyes as he gave you his full attention.

"Scoot closer, yeah? Put your hands around me," you encouraged him, humming in contentment when he went above and beyond and began to kiss your neck in the process.

Turning back to Mingyu, there was still an ever-so-present pout on his features, making you giggle again before finally kissing his lips.

Now, Mingyu's kiss was completely different from that of Jungkook's.

You had known Mingyu for as much time as you had Jungkook. He had a bit of a reputation when you had first met, being known as a guy who would occasionally sleep around with other idols, and sometimes staff. Now at 26, he had been retired from that era of his life for a while, but you'd be lying if you didn't say he always made you wonder. He always had all the girls swooning, instantly falling in love with his outgoing persona and his incomparable charisma. His looks also did not help matters. Being so handsome and likable, you occasionally fell victim to his charms, sometimes needing to snap yourself out of R rated thoughts you'd have about him on nights you were feeling particularly lonely.

His kiss felt exactly the way he looked. It was rich and insanely hot. Mingyu made love to your mouth, using his tongue in ways you didn't know a man could. He was domineering in the way he kissed you, with a firm hand on your jaw so he could position you in a way that allowed him to kiss you just the way he liked. And he liked it nasty. He liked it wet and filthy and in a way that made you sure you'd cum if he kissed you for a little too long.

You could barely catch up to the situation, having one gorgeous man fucking your mouth with his tongue while the other suckled at the most sensitive spots of your neck. In the meantime, your cunt was gushing with essence, already so extremely wet you were beginning to squirm in Mingyu's hold.

You attempted to pull away once, only to be enticed into kissing Mingyu again as he groaned against you, tongue seducing yours once more. You attempted to pull away twice, having his arms wrap tighter around you. The third time is when you finally succeeded, whining against Mingyu's mouth that you needed more. This caused yet another groan to come out of Mingyu, only to be echoed by Jungkook's own groan against your neck.

They both disconnected from you, looking to each other in a decisive manner, almost as if to formulate a game plan.

"I want her first," said Jungkook, slapping Mingyu's hands away from you and attempting to move you onto his lap.

Mingyu stopped him, holding you tighter against him as he rebutted, "You? She's already on my lap. I should have her first."

"Dude, I'm about to blow up. Just let me fuck her and then you can have her while I recover," be argued, hands fighting Mingyu's off of you.

"Why can't I choose?", you butt in, annoyed.

Their demeanors swiftly changed at your interruption, both pairs of hands now touching either your waist or thighs in an intimate yet caring manner.

"What do you want, pretty? My cock? Hmm?", asked Mingyu with a sweet voice in an attempt to convince you. Meanwhile, Jungkook wordlessly kissed at your neck again, nibbling at your ear and smirking at how you shuddered at the feeling.

"I-", you were already lightheaded again, "I wanna suck your dick, Gyu. Want Kookie to fuck me while I suck your dick," you murmured, hand holding Jungkook's head against your neck to keep his kisses coming.

Mingyu groaned at this, nodding absentmindedly. He began to shift, attempting to get up in order to get himself ready for you, but you stopped him.

"Undress me? Both of you?", you asked in the softest voice you could muster. You wanted both their hands on you at once, feeling your nude body for the first time. You knew their desire for you was already clouding their minds, so you wanted to do everything in your power to relish in every single touch, every look filled with lust they would give you.

Without another word, both boys got up, standing you up with them. Their hands were messy and uncoordinated as they got every garment off you, feeling you up in the process. Your breasts were groped and fondled multiple times in the process, while Jungkook pressed your ass up against him any chance he could, groaning at the slight stimulation.

Finally undressed, you decided to turn around once more, facing Jungkook as you kissed him with no warning. You smirked into his mouth when you felt Mingyu grab you from behind and press your ass up against him, grinding slowly against you. You knew it wasn't enough to get him anywhere, but you enjoyed knowing he was needy enough to use you in such a fruitless way just for a little stimulation.

Meanwhile, your hands went straight to Jungkook's oversized top, hands sneaking underneath to feel up his muscular form, hands harshly rubbing on his strong chest. It seemed Jungkook was overly sensitive to your touch. He whined needy breaths into your mouth as you felt him up. Taking off his shirt, you moaned as you saw the gorgeous figure of your best friend.

God, he was the prettiest thing you'd ever seen. You couldn't wait until you saw the rest of his pretty body, sculpted by the endless hours of work you knew he always put into the gym. The endless hours in which you had accompanied him to said gym, always having to look away before you started to have inpure thoughts of your best friend.

He helped you in the removing of his pants and boxers, throwing his head back when your hands immediately went to find his cock and play with it. Burying his head in your neck, he groaned against your skin, whining at the feeling of your hands finally wrapped around him after having wanted you for so long.

Behind you, you heard shuffling, assuming Mingyu to have been removing his own clothes as he waited for his turn of your attention to come. You felt badly at leaving him hanging for too long, knowing him to have an overly impatient disposition when he didn't receive attention for extended periods of time.

Playing with Jungkook's cock just for a little longer, you gave him one last kiss before turning around and trapping Mingyu in his own kiss. Unlike with Jungkook, you didn't linger long, opting instead to push him down the large conversation pit – thank god for Jungkook's insanely big mansion – located just a few steps away from the couch where it had all begun. This way you could have all the space you wanted to play with your friends.

Now lying down, Mingyu looked you up and down like you were his next prey, licking his lips at the sight and motioning at you to come sit on him despite knowing that you wanted something else.

"C'mon, baby. Ditch him. Don't you want me instead?," he leaned upwards to try and convince you of sitting on him.

It was hard to deny him with his cock staring up at you in such a challenging manner. He was equally as gorgeous as your other bestie, but in so many different ways. Mingyu was so big and thick and buff, he had you salivating at the mere sight of him. He was so toned yet so thick, and his dick matched perfectly. God, the thought of that monster inside you had your eyes rolling back already. Did he really mean it when he said he'd be yours? That he and Jungkook would share you? The idea of a boyfriend sounded stupid in retrospect.

Despite all your better judgment telling you to jump Mingyu and let him impale you with his cock right then and there, you knew that starting off with Jungkook would give you a better buildup. You also knew that based on Jungkook's competitive personality, he'd become even whinier than Mingyu if you didn't let him take care of you first.

Fully determined, you turned back to Jungkook, who had been standing there in a trance, now having a better view of your body and keeping his eyes religiously glued to it. You grabbed onto him and walked yourself back to the large conversation pit, eyes glued to Jungkook's in a seductive manner as you guided him to the area in which Mingyu was already lying down. In only a few seconds, you let go of Jungkook and positioned yourself in front of Mingyu at an eye level with his cock while he sat up and looked down at you with a pained look in his eyes. In all fours, your back faced Jungkook, hinting at him to get behind you so that you could finally get back to business.

With a groan, Jungkook knelt behind you, needy hands feeling the curve of your back as he pushed you up against him. In the meantime, you began softly playing with Mingyu's cock, making him throw his head back at finally receiving some attention where he'd been craving it for so long.

"You're so pretty, fuck ... No one deserves you, baby. Too fucking pretty n perfect n fuck ... Can I fuck you now, pretty? Hmm? Let me have this pretty pussy while you suck off your bestie," rambled Jungkook from behind you, head lowered so he could kiss at your hips.

You whined and pushed up your ass against him, giving him the green light to do whatever he wanted, when suddenly he stopped.

"Fuck, wait. Condom?", he asked, making Mingyu groan, as you were about to engulf him in your mouth but also halted your movements to tend to Jungkook's question.

"It's okay, Kookie. The company put me on some new birth control. You can fuck me raw," you smirked up at Mingyu, giggling at yet another groan of his.

"He gets you raw? Baby, I'm the one who started all this! How's that fair?", he huffed.

Taking a quick separation from Jungkook, you gestured for Mingyu to lean down so he could meet you halfway. With a wet kiss, you made your way to his ear and whispered against it.

"I'm saving you for last, baby. Gonna ride you til I cry ... Now be good and cum in my mouth?"

He groaned so loudly his entire body vibrated under you as you crawled your way back to your previous position. Jungkook simply laughed at the interaction.

Feeling you up once more, Jungkook finally grabbed onto his cock and lined himself up, groaning at the gushing wetness that coated his cock as he entered you. Your own moan was masked by Mingyu's cock, which you were currently working into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck ... It's so tight, baby ... It's so fuckin' warm n tight n so pretty, baby. Such a pretty cunt," babbled Jungkook, immediately pussydrunk.

Could he be blamed? He had wanted you for years. From the moment he met you, he cursed at himself for being so damn shy and initiating a friendship with you rather than showing you his interest. His members constantly teased him over it, even so many years into his crush. When he first found out Mingyu also had similar ideas in mind, he felt conflicted. But he ultimately grew close enough to the two of you to the point where he wouldn't mind sharing you with his bestest of friends.

Your muffled moans completely took him out of it, taking away any ability to think or speak. He simply chased after you with his hips, canting them against your own as you pushed back against him.

"Is it good, pretty? Like my cock?" he winced at the way you tightened any time he'd speak to you.

"So good, Kookie. So big ...," you pulled away from Mingyu to breathe before going back to licking and sucking at his tip, moaning against him as his eyes rolled back.

You were practically centipede in Jungkook's living room, with Mingyu lying on his back as you gagged on his cock and Jungkook pounding into you from behind. All your senses were overtaken by the mindless quest for pleasure you had all taken on.

"You're so good with your mouth, pretty ... Fuck, look so pretty stuffed of cock," Mingyu gasped, throwing his head back, "Like how he fucks you, baby? Just wait til I get to you ... Gonna stuff that pretty pussy so good ..."

You moaned against his cock, already thirsty for him even as Jungkook continued to ram into you. Pushing your ass back against him, you felt Jungkook's nails dig into the skin of your hips, adoring how malleable you were for him.

"Baby ... 'm gonna cum soon ... Feels so fucking good, pretty. You're so fucking g-good for me. Wanted you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea ..." murmured Jungkook as he entered his high, hips lacking any control in their movements.

Jungkook had always been the most sensible of the bunch, never holding back from expressing how strongly he felt for the people in his life. The pleasure must've been so much that it made him unfiltered in revealing the undeniable effect you had on him.

"W-where do I cum? Fuck, gonna fucking cum, it's so good, baby. Take it so good for me, shit ..."

You were too busy gagging on cock to respond right away, so you had to take a minute to pull away and catch your breath, replacing your mouth with your hand while also holding yourself up with the other one.

"Inside? Cum inside, Kookie. I'll- I'll cum too," you were breathless, barely able to get the words out as a petulant Mingyu whined at you to help him finish, hands going behind your head and lightly encouraging you to get your mouth back on him.

"Inside? Fuck, okay, baby. Gonna fill you up, yeah?", he groaned, muttering to himself right afterwards, "Fucking finally ..."

His hips sped up drastically as his high approached, making you choke around Mingyu not just due to his girth, but due to the intense ramming against your ass. Though harsh and with an unmatchable energy, you continued to try and push your hips back toward his own, wanting to milk him dry as your own high invaded your senses.

His desperation for you made you feel so incredibly good, like you were the prettiest girl to ever exist. It made you arch your back a little deeper, take a little more of Gyu's cock, dig your nails a little harsher into the cushion of the conversation pit. You heightened all your actions just to feel him a little more.

And then it reached its crescendo. All while Jungkook whimpered and cried at how sensitive he felt at your tightening walls, Mingyu also found his own high. You were too distracted with your own orgasm to acknowledge him asking you for permission to cum in your mouth, instead suctioning more intensely to wordlessly give him an enthusiastic yes, please fill up my mouth with your cum.

By the time Mingyu filled up your mouth, Jungkook had already finished his high, now kneeling behind you as he peppered kisses all over your back and hips, whispering against you how good you had been for him and how pretty you looked with his cum leaking out of you. Fully drunk on the aftermath of his high, Jungkook loved on you like any lover would.

In the meantime, you attempted to swallow every bit of Mingyu's essence, moaning against his cock afterwards as you licked at every lone drop that made it out of your mouth.

By the end of it, you were all completely spent. Each of you dropped one by one, with Jungkook lying on his back as he caught his breath, you falling onto Mingyu, and Mingyu attempting to pull you up to climb his body so that he could kiss you again.

With the very little energy you had regained, you crawled up Mingyu's body, making out with him as he attempted to lick his way into your mouth in order to taste himself in your mouth. Kissing evolved into feeling each other up, which then became grinding your now sensitive pelvises against each other. Surprisingly, Mingyu was still half-hard, which gave you the perfect surface to grind your cunt into. He sat up, making you sit up with him before beginning to leave kisses on the side of your neck.

"Baby? Gonna ride me like you said, right? Just .. Fuck, want that pretty pussy, baby. It's my turn to have that tiny little cunt wrapped around me, yeah?", he murmured between kisses.

You gave in to him easily, gasping at every word that accompanied every kiss.

Nodding mindlessly, you almost forgot to think back to Jungkook, who was probably still recovering from his orgasm.

"W-what about Kookie?," you mumbled when Mingyu began positioning you above his cock.

"Don't worry about me, pretty. Just enjoying the view", you turned back to see Jungkook lying back on his elbows, one hand on his semi-flacid cock as he began to work himself up at the sight of you sitting on your best friend.

Well, that worked well enough for you.

"Now pay attention to me, princess. Been ignoring me all day today," Mingyu grabbed onto your chin to make you look at him, thumb softly rubbing at your chin as he tilted your head back.

You were insanely wet by now, not only from your orgasm but also from just Mingyu's mere presence. Knowing how intense and touchy Mingyu always was in PG scenarios, you couldn't help your eyes rolling back at the thought of him between the sheets. His heavy cock on your tongue had been enough of a taste to know how good it'd feel when finally inside you.

His strong hands lifted you up a bit, rescuing his dick from under you as he helped you position it under you, holding tightly onto your hips when you began to lower yourself down. You would've moaned and whined at the immense stretch, but Mingyu had different plans for your mouth. His thick fingers slipped into your mouth, making you gag a bit before you began sucking on them.

Too many things were on your mind, with all your senses being invaded by Mingyu – though also accompanied by Jungkook's low moans of pleasure behind you. Even as your body was bouncing against Mingyu's, attempting to match his thrusts, your head was completely empty of any thought. All you could think about was Mingyu, and his cock, and his fingers, and his pretty body, and and and-

"Feel good, princess? Love my cock, hmm? Tell me how much you like my cock, angel," he groaned as he took his fingers out of your mouth, using the wet fingertips to tweak at your nipple as his mouth engulfed the opposite one.

"So much ... It's so big. Fuck, Gyu, you're s-so big ..."

Barely able to formulate words, you cried as Mingyu helped you bounce on him, occasionally opting to grind in a way that made your clit get the perfect stimulation. It all felt too good. Mingyu's gigantic hands on your body while his lips suckled on your tits as Jungkook groaned so prettily behind you. You were far too sensitive and alert to hold back from the life-altering orgasm that was to come. So, you voiced this concern to Mingyu.

His response came in the form of flipping you around and trapping you underneath him. His big hands held onto your waist, lifting you a bit so he could angle himself just right. Eyes rolling back and nails digging onto the bed, you lost yourself in him. Jungkook seemed to be completely lost to pleasure also. You could finally see him after Mingyu flipped you over, and fuck ... He looked so desperate, so depraved in the way he hammered into his cock, mouth permanently agape as he let out little praises to you.

"I need you to cum for me, okay, princess? Show Jungkook how good I make you feel. Need you to milk me dry, yeah? Can you do that for me?", he dumbly talked down at you with a tone that could only be seen as patronizing in any other context. But here, you loved it. You loved how dumbly he treated you. Because it was true. You could not think, you could not speak. Your senses were all gone and replaced by a constant stream of cock cock cock as Mingyu finally made you reach your orgasm.

Mingyu played with you through the entirety of your orgasm, rubbing at your clit with one hand while holding you with the other, his lips constantly attached to your tits.

"G-gyu, I- fuck! C-cumming! Please, I-" you had no idea what you were begging for as your orgasm completely took over, making you tighten around Mingyu as he mumbled into your chest, letting you know of his own impending high.

Despite having already had an equally fulfilling orgasm, this second one brought out a new sensitivity in you. Falling under Mingyu, you whimpered at the way he flipped you over again to lay on his chest, caressing your back and pressed you up against him, even more when Jungkook laid beside you and softly ran his hands through your hair.

The three of you laid there together, with you halfway laying on Mingyu while Jungkook laid on the opposite side of you, cuddling into you. Behind you, you could feel Jungkook's flacid member, meaning he had also reached a second high along with you and Mingyu. Lying there together, completely sober now, you eventually let sleep take over you, nuzzling into both boys in a satisfied manner.

A few days passed by since your encounter with the 97s. They were pretty eventful as far as your job went, attending a few photoshoots and practicing constantly for whatever new activity was coming up for your group. However, things between you and your friends had remained stagnant. You didn't think they had ghosted you or anything like that, but the timing of your busy schedules picking up right after breaking your platonic relationship did make you anxious.

When you'd woken up that next day, Mingyu was gone, having left one of the packs of ramen cooked and ready for you with a note attached detailing how much he enjoyed last night, saying he had wanted to stay and say goodbye but had a a schedule that had been calling for him. It was signed with his name and a little heart.

Jungkook had been half-awake already, having carried you to his bed when he had woken up, right after Mingyu's departure. You had wanted to talk about last night, but also had a schedule over at the company, so you left after cuddling with a sleepy Jungkook for a short while, not really discussing anything, yet sharing a sweet kiss as a goodbye for the day.

And so you hadn't really seen them since then. It was the unfortunate reality of idol life. That night had been the first in a few weeks in which you'd even been able to see each other. You were unsure when the next one would come, but you needed it to be soon. The remembrance of that night kept messing with your head, especially any time you'd see either of your friends in passing at the Hybe building, never being free long enough for a worthy interaction.

On the fourth night since the incident, you finally had more time off for yourself, hoping maybe they did too. Mingyu got ahead of you in that aspect, texting you the previous night, somehow aware of your time off, and asking you over. There was no deeper interpretation to be had in his message, as it was pretty straightforward. Nervous as to whether to expect a repeat of last time or a conversation about it, you let him know you'd be there.

Jungkook and Mingyu had always been closer to each other than to you. Going out together was always easier for them since no scandalous rumors would arise from it. They were also often in the same friend groups, knowing more male idols than you did due to the nature of the industry. It was easy for you to assume that they had already spoken about what had happened, even before it happened. Throughout the night, they kept referencing some type of agreement they'd had regarding you and dating. It was hard to assume, but you wondered if they meant sharing you – as strange as it sounded.

Your questions would only be answered tonight, leading you to some anxiety before finally arriving to Mingyu's.

~

"I missed you," were Mingyu's first words when he welcomed you, trapping you in a warm hug as he usually did. Hugging Mingyu was, in your opinion, one of your life's greatest privileges. He was so big and strong, it always felt like being completely engulfed in the safest of spaces.

His hug was followed by one of Jungkook's, less tight in nature but just as rewarding. He held onto your waist and nuzzled against you, always attempting to bury himself in whoever he held in his arms.

Quietly, they guided you to Mingyu's living room, slightly smaller than Jungkook's but still very much reminiscent of a millionaire's home.

You looked over to the coffee table, tilting your head in confusion at the presence of cans of diet soda rather than the usual alcohol Mingyu would always provide. Sensing your confusion, Mingyu chuckled.

"No alcohol today. Thought you might wanna talk about what happened," he sat down on the couch, patting the empty space next to him so you'd join him. Behind to you, Jungkook joined, sitting on a lone seat facing you and Mingyu. No matter where you looked, the two boys would be in front of you.

"We've been keeping you in the dark, huh?," pondered Jungkook, handing you a freshly opened can of soda, "Sorry about that. No easy way to tell your best friend you're into her."

Oh. He was going straight to the point.

"I like you, if that wasn't clear already," he let out a breathless chuckle, attempting to hold eye contact but failing.

He was much better at this when he was working his way into your pants.

"And so do I," interrupted Mingyu.

Wait.

"Are you-"

"We both like you."

"I- Have you talked about this?"

"Uh, it's come up, yeah," Mingyu scratched the back of his neck.

"I don't really know what to say ..."

"We just ... You had fun the other night, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, it was great," you took a breath, "but we're friends. Right?"

You weren't sure if you were being rational or not. Did you like Mingyu and Jungkook? Sure. But together? At the same time? You had never considered such type of relationship.

"We- we don't have to be just friends," added Jungkook, not much confidence in his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again, "We like you, and we know that you like us back. Maybe not in the same way, but you do. That night would've gone very differently if you didn't."

You could've lied. You could've lied and left it off as an amazing one night stand with your two best friends. But the thought of never feeling what you felt that night ever again was not something you wanted to risk. It wasn't just about the pleasure. You had meant what you said that night; you wanted a stable relationship. You wanted someone to call a best friend, but be more than that. Someone to hold you at night. The three of you had always been glued by the hip, but you had never really thought of what it'd be like to take the next step – to have them be that person (or those people).

There were just too many questions in your head. Would this change your relationship negatively? Would they actually want to share you? Would this go anywhere?

You opted for answering Jungkook's question with another question.

"Are you okay with both of you liking me?"

They looked at each other for a moment before Mingyu ultimately answered.

"We've discussed it," he started, "When we first realized we both liked you, it did cause some tension. But the closer we got to you, the more we realized that we just wanted to be with you. Whether as friends or as more, we just wanted you."

You gulped at the confession, feeling your face heating up all of the sudden.

"I- I don't know what to say, I- I like you too. Both of you. I always thought that it was just as friends, but ... there'd be moments where I'd wonder. And after that night, I just-"

Jungkook leaned forwards, grabbing onto your hands. He smiled, ignoring most of your words and paying attention to what he cared about the most – you liked him.

"You like me back? Us? Do you- We could treat you so right. I- I've wanted you since we met. I've liked you for so long and ... Not just for sex. We could be more," his words were slightly frantic in nature, almost as if he wanted to sell something to you.

He didn't need any selling. You liked him. It became more and more glaring by the minute.

"Nothing has to change. We've been friends for this long. Just ... That guy you're looking for? To settle down with? That could be us," added Mingyu, placing a palm on your thigh for reassurance.

"What happens if I say yes?"

Mingyu's eyes grew dark.

"Do you want the PG version?"

You shook your head, mouth agape as you looked to Mingyu.

His face lit up as he leaned closer and closer to you, lips approaching the sensitive spots he had discovered on your neck just a few days ago. Stopping for just one moment, he looked to Jungkook to gesture he sit opposite of you, making you become sandwiched by both men yet again.

Now with both boys kissing down your neck, you allowed your head to rest against the back of the couch, attempting to fight the shudders escaping your body at the sensation.

"As our girlfriend ... we'd take you on dates," Mingyu sucked at a particularly sensitive spot, licking at it afterwards, "buy you pretty gifts, keep you warm at night," he took a pause, licking up the length of your neck, "take care of you every day."

Jungkook continued from where Mingyu left off, leaving soft whispers of kisses under your ear, "We share you. We take you home, cook for you, protect you," he nipped at your lobe, "We love you like no one else could ever imagine."

By now, you were gone. Through their whispered promises, their hands had decided to intrude your space yet again. Jungkook's had found a home between your legs, running up your skirt and gracing at your cunt, but only enough to have you puffing out breaths of desire. Mingyu's had migrated upwards, lowering the straps of your dress and liberating your breasts, hands needy as they pulled and tweaked at your nipples.

"What do you say, princess?", Mingyu pulled away, lips reaching your own, "Wanna have two boyfriends?", he pecked at your lips sensually.

"Mhmm ...", you nodded pathetically, not trusting your voice.

Jungkook groaned at your answer, hand finally slipping inside your panties, "Good girl ..."

"Fuck, gonna treat you so good, gorgeous," said Mingyu, continuing to kiss at your lips tongue seeking your own.

His lips trailed down to your breasts, sensually licking at your nipples, gradually giving them more and more attention. By the end of it, you were crying at the sensitivity.

Jungkook continued to play with your cunt, driving his fingers through your folds at a rhythmic pace that made your hips take a mind of their own, grinding upwards with a complete lack of coordination.

You were so focused on Jungkook's fingers that you didn't notice Mingyu making his way down your body, now kneeling between your legs as his lips made their way up your thighs, marking them to his heart's contentment.

"So fucking pretty ... Been wanting your pretty thighs around my head for years, princess ...", he mumbled to himself, nosing his way towards your cunt. When he finally arrived, he nudged Jungkook's finger's away, sticking his nose against your cunt as he took a shameless whiff of your scent, groaning gruttaly against you.

"So good ... Fuck, need this pretty cunt so bad. Can I have it, baby? Hmm? Let me have a taste of this pretty pussy?" he asked between depraved licks of your cunt through your panties.

Hiccuping back a sob, you nodded, opening your legs wider as you took a hold of Jungkook's hand for support.

Needing no further confirmation, Mingyu went straight into your cunt, ignoring the obstacle of your panties by pushing them aside. In the meantime, Jungkook's hand went to your chin, turning your whiny lips to his own and giving you a languid kiss. His tongue played with your own, taking advantage of your constant cries of pleasure to suck at your tongue and bite your lips as much as he desired.

Your hands went from holding onto Jungkook for support to his pants, undoing the drawstring as he continued to kiss you. With shaky hands, you snuck your hands in, pulling out his hardened cock as you began to jerk it in your hand. Now you were even; equally pathetic cries being released into each other's mouths as you both chased your highs.

Beneath you, you almost missed the way Mingyu's hips began humping against the couch, groans being released into your cunt due to the stimulation. You were far too distraed by kissing Jungkook, but Mingyu's eyes were rolled all the way back as his hips became uncontrollable, cumming in his boxers just moments before he licked you to completion.

Even as you came, Mingyu's lips didn't leave your cunt, just as yours stayed on Jungkook's. The room was a mess of wet sounds of tongues as Mingyu finally separated himself from you to take a breath.

"Prettiest fucking cunt," he mumbled to himself as he let himself lay on the floor of his living room in exhaustion.

"C-cum! 'm gonna cum ...", Jungkook managed to mumble against your lips, attempting to pull back but being enticed by your lips to continue kissing. Your hands sped up at his warning, warning his pretty seed to coat your hands as he reached his nirvana.

With a last groan, Jungkook froze against you while riding his high, hips pathetic in their movements against your hand. Bringing up your hand to your lips, you made a show of licking the remnants of cum, grinning when you beard a unison of groans from both boys.

Out of breath, Jungkook leaned against you, cuddling into you with a satisfied yet smile.

"So, was that a yes?"

Mingyu made his way to the couch again, taking up the last bit of personal space you had.

You chuckled.

"Yes. That was a yes."

to read short 2.7k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, oral (f receiving), jerking off, cucking, penetrative sex, reunion sex, etc.

wc: 296 (teaser); 2770 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Fuck, missed you so much. You have no idea," whispered Jungkook against your neck.

After having cornered you in one of Hybe's many endless hallways, Jungkook had grabbed you by the hand and led you to an empty changing room, pushing you up against the door and burying his face in your neck. It was mostly innocent, sans the feathery kisses down your neck. His hands were still in appropriate places.

"I was only gone for a month," you giggled against him.

"A month too long. Do you know how annoying Mingyu gets when you're not around? Jesus Christ," he groaned in mock annoyance, refusing to separate from your neck.

Breathing you in, he hummed, arms wrapping impossibly tighter around you.

"Where is he, by the way?"

"What, not enough attention from one of your boyfriends?", he softly bit at your neck in defiance, licking at the mark he left when you jumped in surprise.

"No! Just ... Missed seeing you two together."

After only a month of entering a romantic relationship, you were embarrassed to admit, but you had become quite needy, always wanting them around. This had led to a few problems within your company, which was blissfully unaware of your three-way relationship, but still had to deal with how much closer you had gotten – especially in public. There had been a few more rumors as of late, though none actually traced back to anything credible.

"He's at the gym. Should be here any minute, though, since he knows you're back."

"Hmm," you hummed, disconnecting him from your neck despite his complaints, "Wanna start without him?" you grinned.

With a boyish nod and a peak of his bunny teeth, the pretty boy agreed, dragging you over to one of the empty couches in the room.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

bts and how they would react when you fall asleep in their lap

pairing: bf!bts x reader genre: absolute fluff warnings: none masterlist

namjoon and jungkook

feel absolutely blessed that you felt safe and comfortable enough to fall asleep in their lap.

would definitely freeze for a couple seconds once they realize but then would begin to play with your hair, softly running their fingers through it or massaging your scalp.

does whatever they can to keep you asleep.

would shush the other members.

jimin and hoseok

completely enamored with you

would feel compelled to kiss your skin gently, definitely listening to their umpulsive thoughts

would bring you closer or into a more comfortable position.

would try to cover you with a blanket but don't want to move you in anyway.

taehyung and jin

would feel so soft looking at you.

very gentle and would try to wake you thinking how it couldn't possibly be comfortable to sleep on them.

would end up carrying you to their bed and laying next to you, admiring you up close.

yoongi

so in love with you that he just gets that lil gummy smile on his lips before deciding that he is way to comfortable now to move.

would absolutely get comfortable with you, gently moving you both so you were laying down

cuddled together with his arm around your waist possessively.

body language screams "wake her up and you die"

i hope they know how much their hard work and art helped me through a lot...

take five

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 10k

glimpse: dr. min yoongi’s a board-certified dermatologist; skilled, renowned, and in-demand — oh and also, he’s divorced.

alternatively, you’re yoongi’s nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out — he never said anything about accepting though.

[ angst, fluff, unrequited love, so much pining ]

notes: inspired by yang seok-hyeong and choo min-ha’s dynamic from hospital playlist!! you don’t necessarily have to watch it in order to read this :D this idea has been sitting in my notes for like a year now (yikes) and i’ve only found the wILL to do it now!! took a short break because i’ve been mostly just pumping out stem koo for the past months, but here’s a yoongi piece to cleanse everyone’s palate!! this has got to be one of my favorite pieces ever hee-hee

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback/requests/love to my askbox anytime!!

[ part two ]

“Now where the hell did you hear that?”

Yoongi looks at you incredulously and for a moment, you think you’ve actually hit homerun with your stupid myth of the day because not only does he roll his eyes at you, he also scoffs and stops in his tracks.

“Just somewhere,” you mumble under your breath and hope that Yoongi doesn’t ask you for the exact source and citation because he already looks irked with what he just heard. “But they say it’s true though! If you don’t immediately drink water when you start having hiccups, you would have a breakout the next day or hours later, even.”

There is bliss in ignorance.

There is bliss and beauty in ignorance and it comes in the form of knitted brows and an agape mouth on Dr. Min, his eyes trained on you as if you asked him the stupidest question he's ever heard (you probably did) in his career and perhaps his lifetime.

Every week, from Monday to Saturday, Yoongi comes to his own clinic between the window of 8 to 8:15 in the morning wearing a bucket hat and his choice of clothing to wear under his white coat. Only his right hand would be occupied by the Louis Vuitton Keepall Bandoulière 45 bag, which he later tosses as soon as he enters the clinic and see his employees scramble to catch and save it, just to give himself a little chuckle every morning. He really couldn't care less if none of them manage to catch it, but it's kind of nice having a pointless yet joyful routine.

Additionally, every week, from Monday to Saturday, you come to Serendipity Aesthetics at 7:00 AM to drop off your things so you could walk to the expensive coffee shop to buy equally overrated coffee because after all, your place of work is in the heart of the luxury district. Between the window of 8 to 8:15, Dr. Min walks in and throws his designer bag into the air, to which every employee tries to catch so there wouldn't be a single scratch (but everyone knows that he literally wouldn't care if nobody could save it), and every single time, you're the one who catches his bag.

Also, every week, from Monday to Saturday, you make sure that you're Dr. Min's first interaction of the day.

It always starts with a pathetic skincare myth that you ask him to verify while he either confirms or denies it for you while walking to his office, giving him his coffee that you buy with your own money. It originally started with you searching compilations online and eventually, they got so boring and repetitive that you started making up your own.

The more ridiculous it is, the more reaction you get from Yoongi.

You quickly learned that by now and every morning, you get to see the way he furrows his eyebrows and you're convinced that if you say your myth in a defensive and completely-swayed tone, Dr. Min would actually look at you to deadpan.

This time, however, you probably struck gold.

"I would actually fire you if you even thought for a second that it would be true."

Granted, maybe the gold you thought you've struck is just plated and would turn green overnight.

"Very funny, Dr. Min. No explanation today?" you try to coax one from him because the door to his office is looking especially near and he doesn't allow you to enter anyway.

"I think it's pretty self-explanatory that I studied to be a doctor for more than a decade, have my own clinic, and threatened to fire you for your useless myth of the day, don't you think?" he hums lowly, wiping his finger to press his code onto his door.

"You do have a point," you sheepishly mumble at being outed more harshly for your tactics, "can I ask you something else though?"

Yoongi's eyes are glued on his phone as he just waves you off to both shoo and acknowledge you at the same time, leaning his weight to the door so he could both watch the highlight reel of a show he watched just last week and carry his bag.

"Later. I'm busy."

"No problem!" you stammer because you're not sure if you're ready to ask him anyway, wordlessly pushing the door open for him because he's deeply immersed on his phone. "Can I ask you over lunch? I-..."

... know a place.

Yoongi's door already closes on your face as the result of him kicking it backwards as he enters, making you take a step back to gather yourself.

You are not ready at all to ask him.

It's no secret that you have a crush on Dr. Min. Not at all. Practically everyone knows how head-over-heels you are for him; even the man himself actually.

It was embarrassing at first when it sinked into you that everyone collectively knows how you trail after him like a stray kitten whose gotten their first feed of the day, but later on, it’s something you actively and unnecessarily took pride in.

That way, you could ward off any other people in the clinic who have an eye on him! Dr. Park says that it’s the equivalent of a dog peeing on a fire hydrant within a street that nobody likes to walk in, but you just dismiss his comment as per usual. You’re sure that it’s impossible that no one likes him a little more than usual as an employee would, but perhaps they’re just not as showy as you are.

You can't pinpoint exactly why you have a crush on him because truth be told, you liked him in entirety. It was gradual, sure, but you liked him as a whole even from the start. Something about him’s so pulling that you find yourself complaining silently sometimes.

Liking him is easy. The variables aren't.

It just so happens that Dr. Min doesn't like you in that way, or in any way at all, but that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that. Everybody starts from zero at one point.

"Not to burst your bubble, buttercup, but you do know that Yoongi used to have a wife, right?"

Jimin, the cosmetic surgeon of Serendipity Aesthetics and Yoongi's business partner, asks you. He has no ill intent — he actually finds it adorable to see you pining after his best friend who's done nothing but turn you down.

It’s harsh, entertaining, but not laughable. Even the secondhand embarrassment and heartbreak makes Jimin look away whenever you ask Yoongi about his weekend. It’s a game of cat and mouse, but the only difference is that the mouse is unfazed and untouchable, and the cat's scared yet determined.

Coincidentally, Jimin's your childhood friend. Both his and your parents would assign him to watch over you even if he's just some years ahead of you. It even strengthened the bond of you treating him as an older brother and him fulfilling the role well, just as annoyingly.

Your communication hasn't been consistent especially when he entered medical school, which is why you've rarely ever heard about Yoongi before you even worked here. None of it matters though because it feels that you’ve been with Jimin for a lifetime in a literal sense, feeling a stroke of fate because somehow, he’s the common string that bridged you and Dr. Min unknowingly.

You like him a healthy amount. In a very respectful, healthy, almost pitiful amount.

"Yeah. I knew that," you sigh dejectedly, stirring your iced coffee that’s already gotten too watered-down for your taste. “She’s the model, right?"

How could you not?

How could you not know who Dr. Min’s ex-wife is because even before you worked in his and Jimin’s clinic, you’ve already heard of her?

You once saw her in an LED billboard once at a prime spot in a busy street. You saw her face on a promotional liquor poster in a convenience store without knowing that she was the wife of your then-crush (who you didn’t know yet) at the time. You see her large signature on the wall at a restaurant you regularly eat at but don’t have the appetite for nowadays.

"Mhmm, Jihye."

Jimin hums in agreement, spooning a portion from your plate and into his mouth because you’re too preoccupied to swat his hand away.

"Is she your best friend?"

Jimin rolls his eyes playful at the tone of your voice who’s suddenly gotten meek. "No, that's you, buttercup.”

You atleast feel comforted that Dr. Min’s ex-wife, whom you barely know, hasn’t managed to snatch perhaps your favorite person in the whole world. She once had Yoongi and that’s something you can stomach because it’s their life you’re not a part of, but something tells you that you’d be a little more bummed to know that Jimin and her are close just like the two of you.

“We were friends at best because I'm close to Yoongi and well... y'know..." He coughs awkwardly, eyes hesitantly looking up at you before he buries his face to the noodles to the point he could feel the steam rise to his face. "I was the best man at their wedding."

Jimin notices the way your mouth is just fixed on your dumpling, unmoving. It's only rare that you ask him about Dr. Min because there's always the guilt that you're just using your friendship with Jimin as leverage to know more about his colleague, but in the few times that you do ask about him, it always has something to do with major facts you can't immediately grasp your head around.

"Don't worry! They were in a relationship for three years, and only married for one. They knew each other even before Yoongi became a resident."

"That does not help me, Jimin. At all."

He only sheepishly scratches the back of his head, going back to his words which he now realizes did nothing to make you feel better.

"Relax. If you say something superlatively dumb enough for your skincare myths, he'll probably take the hint and date you out of pity."

You unclench your mouth on the dumpling, finding no will to chew it now that Jimin, once again, opened his mouth. "Made it even worse, actually."

He's no stranger to you feeling bummed but he knows that he's somehow in a bind because he's in a point of conflict between you and Yoongi, both his best friends. He can't exactly give you false hope in order to cheer you up, but he can't lie either and say that you don't have a solid fighting chance with Yoongi.

You're frowning but he knows you understand, well-aware that you'd recuperate soon enough.

"Cheer up. Just ask him out and if he denies you, then be it! I had a hand in designing this clinic, remember? It's big enough for you to avoid him."

"Not sure if I should feel inspired or discouraged," you tut under your breath, pressing your forehead down the table so you could ignore him while he leaves you alone. "Thanks, Dr. Park."

Jimin rolls his eyes at the nickname you use to spite him and only call him when the other employees are around, in which case there aren't, just because he did the equivalent of making you gulp orange juice after brushing your teeth like his sudden "I was the best man at Yoongi's wedding" revelation.

You don't know how long your forehead's been pressed to the table but it feels long enough to the point you hear a familiar set of footsteps you didn't anticipate to come this soon, immediately straightening your posture.

"Dr. Min! You're here!"

Yoongi looks up from his phone and nods, completely unsurprised that you're here in the breakroom at the exact moment that he comes in.

"Dr. Park bought everyone lunch today, yours is in this bag," you gesture to the meal you've separated and took the initiative of writing his name on so no one would "accidentally" claim it for themselves because it's always the one with the extra sauce and napkins.

He only hums as he plops down to the seat parallel to the paper bag, not registering it at all that you did it on purpose so he'd be sitting beside you. You didn't actually think he'd fall for it, but it's one of the times you feel indebted to his eager attention to his phone because he doesn't notice.

Yoongi sets his phone down on the table as it's held up by his convenient popsocket, immersed in slurping his own noodles to be oblivious of you who's close to losing your shit right beside him.

The opportunity is sitting right next to you and you didn't expect it to come this soon because if you knew that Dr. Min would be setting off your tentative plans unknowingly with how everything's coming to place, you probably would've rehearsed endlessly in front of a mirror.

"Can I ask my question now?"

Dr. Min's in the middle of chewing when you ask but he doesn't flinch, already aware that you ask him so much questions within a day that he feels like he's working with a nosey toddler.

"Go. You're gonna ask it anyway," he replies monotonously and continues chewing, bringing more noodles to his mouth even if his cheeks haven't deflated yet.

His nonchalance is what simultaneously intimidates and eggs you on, finding the words leaving your mouth with no filter at all.

"Can I ask you to go out with me? I'll only ask you five times and after that, I'm gonna get off your tail."

There's no beat of silence because Yoongi keeps chewing and you're sure you heard a chuckle in-between, looking at his side profile while holding your breath. You're just about to apologize for crossing a line you've been toeing for the better portion of a year when he looks at you once, briefly and lazily.

"Okay."

The word doesn't immediately click in your mind as you stumble with spelling out the letters in your head. Are you hearing it right? Is this just a side-effect of Jimin randomly clapping his hands beside your ears when you're getting groggy?

"O-okay? As in, yes?"

"Okay as in yes, you can ask me to go out with you," Dr. Min clarifies calmly, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips when he sees the favorite part of his show appear on-screen. "Asking me to go out with you is different from going out with you."

You're shell-shocked because that's exactly what you asked of him and you're even more surprised that he interpreted it as such, the weight of his approval now dawning on you.

"Of course."

Yoongi only hums but he can't bring himself to get another bite because you don't let a second go to waste, seeing your face plead closer to his peripheral vision that he only manages to give you a side-eye.

“Can we go out later, Dr. Min? I actually checked your schedule and you have nothing booked past 4 PM!”

You try to tone down your excitement and you're glad that the expectation of him answering you in the first try is only an afterthought, because he shoots you down twice as quick as you asked.

“No.”

“Do you have plans tonight then?” you prod with a gentle smile, trying to see if you can sway him even in the slightest.

“Nope.”

“Then why don't you wanna go out with me?” there's a light-hearted frown on your face and as much as you know that it won't elicit a reaction from Dr. Min, it's only playful. There's no real accusation nor anger behind your tone.

“Because I don’t, Y/N," Yoongi actually chuckles and he looks at you as if you're the silliest goose he's ever come across a pond. "You’re on closing duty later, bye!”

( ♡ )

“Good morning to my favorite dermatologist in this whole wide world!”

Yoongi hears you greet him cheerily and it almost makes him flinch because you materialized out of nowhere. He's about to scold you for doing that because who knows if you get mistaken and accidentally give a faint-hearted client with the shock of their lifetime, he really was about to — but he sees his cinnamon bun on your hand (courtesy of Jimin telling you his favorite dessert for the price of one cheek kiss), and all the words melt from his mouth.

“Good morning.”

Dr. Min almost snatches what you're holding and you almost huff, trailing beside him as his fingers quickly undo the familiar teal box packaging of his favorite pastry.

“You forgot 'Y/N, my favorite nurse in this whole wide world'.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t forget anything," he adds for good measure but something doesn't quite fit because as much as his hand is holding a box that houses his favorite type of sweet, his other hand doesn't feel warm. There's no cylindrical cup on his hand that makes his palm just the right amount of toasty and he realizes it the hard way because he raises his hand, ready to take a sip of a whole lot of nothing.

"Where's my-"

“Here’s your coffee.”

"Thanks," Yoongi feels the familiar warmth in his hand in a second and he sighs in relief inwardly, but there's just something off. Feels that there's something actively off because it's definitely more warm than what he'd feel in his regular cup. "Huh? Why is it in a mug?"

He wonders out loud and the sight of the ceramic mug is enough culture shock from the usual lidded paper cup he sees almost every morning, looking at you as if you've told him the worst insult known to man.

You didn't exactly think that Dr. Min would react as differently as this because Jimin said that coffee is still coffee to him, but in the process, you've directly forgotten that your friend told you right after Yoongi's coffee preferences — is that he tends to be a creature of habit.

“From the shop. I-I also bought the mug from the coffee shop so I can present it as this.”

You thought Dr. Min would be pleasantly surprised as he holds the too-expensive ceramic excuse for a coffee mug, but you don't know what to anticipate as he casts his eyes down.

GO OUT WITH ME? :), written in cocoa powder amongst the white froth, a product of going to the coffee shop extra early and having to fend off the red-haired barista with the bunny smile because he thought you were asking him out.

"Mhmm," Yoongi spends a second longer looking at the foam art before he takes a big gulp and effectively washes away what you significantly paid higher for than his usual coffee, trapping your wince at the back of your throat. You're looking at his Adam's apple and he looks just one gulp away from finishing it all, and he does right in front of you. "Can't. I'm taking my mom to go shopping."

You awe unconsciously as it's a known fact within the clinic that Yoongi adores his mom a lot and you see her quite often, having extra snacks being delivered personally to the employees each time because she's a nice and sincere woman.

“I can carry the bags?" you're only half-joking, a cheesy grin on your face, but Dr. Min only shakes his head at you and disappears into his office.

That's your second chance gone as quick as the latte disappeared into Yoongi's throat, but atleast you know that he doesn't hate the beverage and he can reuse the mug.

There's still some merit in your attempt somewhere.

There's never an empty instance in the clinic. It's always full. It's a little more high-end than most clinics and you could see it in the design and layout of the clinic itself, but it doesn't mean it's fully-exclusive. You see celebrities and socialites every other day and with the hands-on nature of your work, you're not as starstruck and bothered as you used to be.

There would always be more than a handful of VIP clients but that doesn't mean they're the only clientele. Serendipity Aesthetics isn't that snooty, and it's something you can manage with.

Your work's just as tiring as the doctors' and not a lot of people credit you for it, but it's something you shove to the back of your mind at the end of the day. You only scrunch your nose under your mask when you see the 73rd trustfund baby come into the clinic for the day, unfocus your eyes so you couldn't roll them when they manage to bring in their wealth that wasn't questioned into the conversation, and move on to your next patient.

You've just finished giving a diamond peel to a breadwinner mother (whom you've had a nice chat and laugh with throughout the process) when your eyes immediately lock in to the figure that knows no queues nor other clients as she walks past, walking straight to Dr. Min's procedure room.

And of course, you don't know whether fate is on your side or not, but you're the only assistant available to assist so naturally, Hoseok, the secretary, looks at you with a knowing nod.

You don't know what to expect when you come inside the procedure room, making yourself as small as possible when you knock twice briefly and enter, standing in the corner with your eyes trained on your clipboard.

Yoongi nods at you once in acknowledgement as his attending assistant, and you can barely acknowledge him back because the Jihye, who was Mrs. Min at one point, is in your direct line of sight.

She's sitting down but you can still see her graceful posture then with her shoulders pulled back and her hair framing her face perfectly. The casual sweater ensemble she wears is probably more expensive than your whole closet could be, but the gray of it doesn't dull her out at all. There's creases on the material since she's sitting down and is therefore not taut, but the wrinkles look poised on her figure nonetheless.

Her manicured hands sit prim and proper on Dr. Min's desk and you can't help but think how they used to look with a wedding band on her ring finger, your thought process making you look at his hands that are clasped right in front of him.

She smells expensive and important, just like how Dr. Min does. Not only do they have a figurative scent of gravitas surrounding them, but they also carry it literally. When they shared a home, have they started smelling like each other at one point? Does the intoxicating smell of daisies on Jihye become Yoongi's scent on his white coat at one point?

"What do you want, Jihye?"

You find yourself holding your breath in anticipation of hearing her voice in-person, and it's everything you've ever expected.

"Undereye fillers, please. I have campaigns and Fashion Week back to back so I need a touch-up."

Expensive, important, elegant, sweet.

Yoongi sighs under his breath, standing up from his seat to examine closer. You almost move to stand beside him to assist but you forget that of course, Dr. Min has his own penlight. You're paralyzed at your corner but you can't help but watch.

You watch him press Jihye's undereyes lightly with the pad of his thumb and then with his ring finger, assessing intensively but holding her lightly as if she's made of glass.

"They're not that sunken-in like usual. You still want a touch-up?"

Jihye laughs sweetly, putting a hand on her chest as she tilts her head up at Yoongi.

"Ah. You're still so sweet to me."

Yoongi doesn't indulge her with a laugh but instead just rolls his eyes, going back to his seat as he types into his chart. "Would that be all?"

"That's it for now," Jihye grins, clutching her purse to her chest as she rocks back and forth on her heels even if she's sat down. "Always down for a facial from you though."

"Jihye."

Yoongi clicks his tongue and gives his ex-wife a warning gaze, and just for the slightest fraction, you feel him turning his gaze to you. His gaze that's not for the purpose of feeling sorry you had to hear that, but rather for the purpose of telling his ex-wife that the two of them aren't alone.

"Yoongi."

She drawls sweetly and you could only look away because this banter of theirs doesn't concern you at all.

Dr. Min ignores her and looks at you, a firm line on his lips.

"Get me the materials, Y/N."

"Extra ice too! I wanna munch on some," Jihye adds as you're on your way out and you make the note of getting more ice from the freezer because she asked so, filling up a champagne glass neatly.

You wheel in your cart and you could only reply with a stiff nod when she thanks you eagerly, already plopping an ice cube to her mouth.

You wait as you see Yoongi become gentle, all from the way he injects the filler to massaging the skin underneath Jihye's eyes.

They're divorced and yet they look casual as they've always done this. They probably did and still continue to. They look like they still belong to each other.

You can't deny that Jihye's pretty and although you're not privy to details if she has work done or not, it doesn't change the fact that she's pretty. She must and is the prettiest girl in the world for Yoongi because obviously, he married her. Loved her. Maybe even currently love her even.

You feel silly. A little more silly than usual like what Yoongi points you out to be because after all, you're an assistant at work who's holding the tissues and the icepack, feeling as if you have the right to intrude or even be jealous of the fact that your boss, the one you have a pathetically huge crush on, is laughing with his ex-wife over an inside joke like what all couples have.

Like what all couples, divorced or not, have.

( ♡ )

Yoongi thinks he's actually managed to escape you.

He's in his procedure room simply because the airconditioner blows colder and not because he has a patient to meet at the moment. It's his favorite kind of quiet; no one's daring to knock on his door, no shoes squeaking, no you who keeps asking him questions at every waking moment you could find.

Come to think of it, not only did he barely see you today, but he also barely saw everyone in the clinic. It's unusual to say the least because for the hundred times that he passes by Hoseok, he now realizes that he barely occupies his position at the front desk. He's heard nothing from Jimin either whose office is just right next to his, unaccustomed to not having someone knock on his door until he budges and lets him in because the guy just wanted to hang out even in silence.

Actually, he doesn't know anyone's whereabouts at the moment. The clinic's full even at lunchbreak but it oddly feels quiet, making him put his phone down and debate to whether or not he should check up on everyone.

“Give me a facial, please.”

Yoongi practically jumps out of his seat when he hears someone pipe up from right behind him, goosebumps forming at the back of his neck as he automatically flinches.

He knows it's you but he didn't know it would be you who's sneaked up on him out of nowhere. Sometime in his whole thought process, you've already opened the door to his room without him noticing and he's badly reaping the consequence of not being perceptible enough.

"Holy fuck," he clutches at his chest from the shock upon seeing you that's slowly simmering down, throwing his head back, only to see you smiling at him gently as if you didn't age him atleast two years faster. "A facial?"

Yoongi grimaces at your crude plead, snickering to himself, but when he registers the weirded-out look on your face, he immediately remembers his profession and what you're actually asking from him.

“Yup! A facial.”

You seem to have no qualms about repeating your request and that's because you don't have any, feeling fully confident in yourself because you're certain that he can't deny such a trivial request at the time.

“Do you have a schedule with me? Have you paid to the front desk already?” Dr. Min asks you in succession and tilts his head at you, making his newly-dyed blonde hair bounce from side to side intentionally.

It's cute, really, but you didn't come here unprepared. After all, you believe that it's Dr. Min this time who owes you something.

“But it’s my birthday — you didn’t know?“

That throws him off the loop for a second and he doesn't even actually believe that it's your birthday at first, especially coming from you whom he believes is a big fan of bogus skincare myths and probably eats them for dinner.

He's about to ask you for some ID but the dots connect in his mind before he polices his employee over their own birthday; why everyone's been missing, why Jimin couldn't stay still the whole morning, why he's been seeing random balloons being held by patients in the waiting area, and why there's some bit of frosting left on the side of your jaw.

“Why would I know when your birthday is?”

“You hired me.”

You blink owlishly at what’s supposed to be an obvious answer but Yoongi reads it as being a smart-ass.

“I hired you for your credentials, not your birthday,” he rolls his eyes and you already know he’s fully recovered from the unintentional spook you’ve given him. "Actually, scratch that — Jimin told me to hire you."

You'd like to think that you'd get hired nonetheless if not for Jimin, but the thought lingers heavily on you. It leaves a bad taste on your tongue and you’re unaware that it shows on your face because for a second, Yoongi feels as if he should apologize because he may have took it too far. In full honesty, the whole concept of it only struck you now and you don’t know what to think of it, especially in a day you swore you’d only be self-indulgent.

You miss a single beat and the needier part of Yoongi’s guilt feels compelled.

“I’m-…”

“Nevermind. It’s okay! But it’s my birthday, and you told me that you give your employees a free facial as a birthday gift!”

Yoongi feels saved with your smooth transitioning but his eyes narrow once he recognizes the gist of what you’re saying, deeming it to be a little too demanding because all he wanted to do this afternoon was to lay back in between appointments.

"I can just give you a gift card,” he offers and he thinks you’re gonna accept the upgrade which is why he’s about to stand up and retrieve it from his office right this instant, being stopped abruptly when you block his way out of his chair.

“No. I want a facial.”

He hasn’t even started telling you that he has some designer gift cards in his drawer as well but you already shake your head no to what he was about to say, unrelenting when he tries to walk past you that only prompts you to hold your arms out horizontally.

“Fine. It’ll just be a quick one after the last patient and-...”

“Actually, your patient for this hour just cancelled because she has to appear in court for evading taxes or something.”

He blinks once, clearly unnerved. “Oh. Naeun? Again?”

Dr. Min hums to himself about taxes and turns his back on you silently, making you stammer in place because you don’t know if you’d accept rejection at your birthday this early into your attempt. You want to ask one more time if he’s still giving you a facial or not because you’re just standing there as still as an idle video game character, waiting for a prompt that would directly address you.

“What are you doing?” he asks you and you look straight to the mirror that’s in front of him, wide-eyed at being guilty for simply just standing in his presence. “Lie down already. I thought you wanted your birthday present?”

You realize belatedly that Dr. Min’s standing by his employee benefit because while he had his back turned on you because it turns out he was just preparing the tools and equipment he needed for your facial, not because he was annoyed at you and wanted you to take a hint by making you look at his back.

You've never been in this position, actually — the one where you're lying on the patient's bed and Dr. Min's looking down on you, the mix of a scowl and a small smile on his face just to appease you.

He's gentle. Much more gentle that you thought now that you're on the receiving end of his hands. Puts the least amount of pressure in holding up your head to put on a headband before setting you back down, his hands close enough to your face that you could smell the familiar scent of the clinic's hand soap.

You surprisingly melt when Dr. Min dots the cold cleanser to your face and rubs gently in small circles, expecting to flinch because of the overwhelmingly new experience, but there's just something in the way he caresses your face that puts you into ease.

“Jimin and the others prepared me a cake in the breakroom awhile ago.”

Your eyes are closed and you're relaxed and you don't entirely know if it's still a good look on you because Dr. Min's still rubbing in the cleanser, not entirely lying when he says that he's considering on rubbing in the lather to your mouth because he expected you not to talk this much considering he's already in the midst of giving you a facial.

“I pay all of you and you didn’t offer me any,” he mumbles in faux dejection, but the thought of having cake with the chocolate icing he's swiped from your jaw does sound appetizing.

“You were out on lunchbreak.”

You were out on lunchbreak with your ex-wife.

You withhold the last bit that you came to know because of Jimin, since he was on the way to Yoongi's office to invite him for your impromptu birthday lunch but couldn't even finish his invitation because Yoongi already uttered urgent lunch and Jihyo in the same sentence.

“Do you know what my wish was?” you speak meekly but Dr. Min doesn't notice the dimming hope behind it, one that's about to wear off sooner or later.

“Humor me,” he murmurs and that's when you hear the familiar beep of the steamer in your side, knowing that it would grant him 20 minutes of separation from you which he probably craves.

You've memorized it by now — steaming your face doesn't actually open your pores, and neither does washing your face with cold water close them. Steaming just loosens the pores which therefore allows products to seep in deeper and further.

Apart from that, there's one thing you've also come to memorize.

“That you’ll go on a date with me.”

Dr. Min chuckles and atleast you know that it'll soften the blow you expect by now.

“Nope. I’m watching a movie in the cinema with my friends tonight.”

You open your eyes and he closes them right back because it'll hurt to open with the hot steam, unconsciously doing it with a tut on his lips.

“It’s my birthday," you weakly offer with a pout on your mouth and you're oblivious to the half-smile Dr. Min has on his face because of course, your eyes are closed and have been threatened once again to be fired if you don't keep them closed.

“It’s my movie time.”

( ♡ )

Nothing’s going right.

You watched a movie last night with Jimin and it ended up having a cameo of Jihye, making the remaining thirty minutes in the cinema become a darkroom for all of your doubts and insecurities, while Jimin chews your remaining popcorn as silently as he could (because it would be a waste) while rubbing circles on your forearm.

You drank with him all night but he's counting his shots because he obviously has some clients to attend to the next day. It's not exactly a good look of being hung-over with his eye twitching as he completes a rhinoplasty at 1 in the afternoon.

Your car wouldn't be fixed for another week and when you hitched a ride with Jimin and passed by the shop, it's because your car's in the corner and everyone's working on a flashy blue Maserati, in which he made the off-hand comment that it looks like Jihye's but he isn't entirely sure.

Everything from last night until today makes you feel like you don't have control over anything at all. It's deflating and pitying and it adds to the ever-growing con list of what it's like to have a crush on your divorced boss.

So while Dr. Min's standing in his gown since he's assisting Jimin, and in turn you're assisting them and the two of you are alone because Jimin's still washing his hands outside, you ask.

“Go out with me?”

“Can’t.”

“Okay.”

Yoongi's eyes widen at your straightforward reply, cutting to the chase. There's no pleas, no rebuttals and most of all, there's no underlying curiosity. No sneak-handed question that inquires what exactly were his plans.

It's just a plain okay that he can't wrap his head around, making him look at you whose gaze is set on the patient's gown.

“It’s Jihye’s grandmother’s birthday today. She’s old-old — you get the point. Still thinks we’re together and we don’t wanna break her heart.”

He feels compelled to explain even if you haven't asked him remotely, preparing himself for any added questions you might have.

“M’kay. Have fun tonight.”

The question marks visibly float on top of his head and he doesn't know what he's missing, the opening of the door to the surgery suite signifying Jimin's entrance furthermore making his head cloudy.

“Yup. Gonna have a blast with my ex’s family," he says it either as a snide remark or a half-attempt in getting a reaction from you; either way, it dissipates into the air and he gets nothing.

You accept that nothing's going your way and it rarely does otherwise.

Yoongi keeps looking at you like he's never met you before.

( ♡ )

Yoongi enters the clinic, throws his bag into the air, and his eyes practically pop out of his head when he sees that it's Hoseok who's holding it.

Where are you?

It's emptying, almost. He's not hearing a skincare myth first thing in the morning and he doesn't have a warm cup of coffee on his hand, be it in a regular cup or a mug.

In fact, he's walking alone to his office and he feels the need to keep darting his head around because you must be hiding in one of the many vantage points you could spring out of.

There's a shadow set on the large couch, and he feigns his surprise that it's you who's gonna jump beside him any moment now, but it turns out to be the fake plant in the corner.

It's the big green fake plant they bought for accessories in the event that a patient of theirs would be allergic to a real one, and Yoongi's never felt this much annoyance towards an overpriced leafy hunk of plastic.

Jimin hasn't arrived yet but he assumes that it's because you're with him. You've got to be.

Jimin arrives sooner than anticipated as if to calm the curiosity in Yoongi's mind but immediately furrows his brows at him because he actually looks disappointed that he's here.

Yoongi peers at the empty spot beside his friend, even trying to peer his head further for the familiar package deal named you that he carried in mornings.

"Is Y/N with you?"

"No...?" Jimin tilts his head, genuinely confused that he's asking him about you, but is even more confused to learn that you're not here. "Is she with you?"

"No," Yoongi shakes his head no somberly, awkwardly standing as he tries to look behind him to see if you've already creeped your way there. "Weird."

He exits himself from the situation even before Jimin can question him and they both think it's the logical thing to do, especially since it's concerning you and they've been dancing around the topic of you for some time now — from the perspective of the one being crushed on and a potential love interest, the other being your best friend.

You come in some time later, still early before opening but Yoongi's not used to it at all. This is perhaps the first time he's seen you arrive later than he does, but he's conflicted if he ever wants that to happen again.

He's looking at his schedule for the day yet he can't help but peek at his window, anticipating a you who's trying to steal a glance but there's no attempts made, just walking straight past his office and into Jimin's next door.

Weird.

His whole day started off weird and his first interaction is basically omitted from his book because it doesn't start with his usual habit of fact-checking your myth, leaving a bitter taste on his mouth.

He has his own stash of his favorite snacks in his office but he plans to drop by the breakroom nonetheless after flying through all of his appointments before noon, instead accidentally (but thankfully) walking out to the whiff of your perfume because you just walked in front of him, entertaining a client that must be a walk-in.

"Taehyung?"

You walk to the familiar face you probably last saw just a few weeks ago, seeing his face register you belatedly in warmth and relief.

"Y/N, there you are! I was about to start knocking on every door to look for you," he sighs and you know he sincerely means it, thankful you've showed up just in time because he probably would've caused a ruckus by doing that.

"What do you need? I fell asleep early last night so I didn't get to answer your call."

Yoongi thinks that if he stands still enough, he could be mistaken for a fake plant with a white coat. He tries his best to fix his eyes and not be caught eavesdropping and looking, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's the best at it.

This guy calls you? At night too?

"Just my lobes. I need you to stitch them up back to normal. Tried the rubbing oil method for like a month but it barely did anything."

"Ah," you hum in recognition, gently taking Taehyung's earlobe into your fingers that makes him tilt his head to you in obedience so you could examine it closely. "You only had small gauges. 10G, right? 2.5mm is something I can work on alone."

Yoongi manages to conclude that you're somehow familiar and acquainted with this Taehyung guy, easily taking him under your wing and into an empty procedure room as if the two of you do this everyday.

It's a minor procedure. Local anesthesia and some stitches and Taehyung could walk out in less than an hour. Normally, if the gauges are bigger and therefore the earlobe's more stretched out, Jimin's called in to operate but 10G is something you can do without supervision, meaning that you and said guy would be alone together in the procedure room.

“Need help?”

As a doctor, Yoongi's just offering his supervision and guidance — that's all.

Taehyung's already well-acquainted in his position and so are you, the past fifteen minutes he's spent talking and hyping himself up to stroll in as casually as he could already meant giving you much leeway in between.

“No need doc," surprisingly, it's Taehyung who answers, a warm smile on his face which makes his shoulders vibrate in the slightest to which you tut at him. "Y/N’s used to this already.”

Yoongi's surprised but he doesn't let it show, clicking in his mind that the guy seems like a familiar face he's seen before but he can't place it exactly.

“Oh. Are you a regular in my clinic?”

“Hmm? Oh, no! I’m a first-timer here. I just meant that Y/N’s-“ he gets cut off and it's because you bump your knee into his to stop talking and moving, your voice finishing up his small explanation. "Used to stitching him up."

Tae's kind of scared to talk even more because after all, you're the one who's holding the needle to his ear, not wanting to unintentionally test you further so he just whispers to Yoongi instead.

“Exactly what she said.”

Yoongi feels like he's barging into a couple's business whom he's not a part of. He's seeing you in action as you reconstruct Taehyung's earlobes and that's where the familiarity hits him, quietly awing to himself.

Isn't this Taehyung guy famous?

You didn't take his offer up for help but he still shadows you, maneuvering himself behind you instead of standing by the door alone, not even pretending to give you pointers to fill up the uncomfortable silence (for him) because you both know you're doing a great job.

“Hey, remember when I thought that guy was flirting with you in the bakery?”

Taehyung suddenly pipes up and you have to hold still with the needle in your hand, shoulders shaking in a slight laugh.

“Of course. You ended up punching my brother.”

The two of you fondly laugh and it feels extra humorous because the two of you are trying not to move your bodies to the best of your abilities, seeing his cheeks turn red from trying to stifle his laughs as much as he could.

“He didn’t know whether he’d feel mad or proud of me that time.”

Yoongi turns up the light brighter that focuses on his earlobes that makes Taehyung squint. Normally, that's his non-verbal way of saying that the two of you should not be a having a moment right now, especially with him in the room.

He quips his lips to the side but stays quiet, his once-stable breaths dragging out extra slow.

“You free tonight? Minhyung’s staying with me for a week," he complies when you ask him to turn his head slightly, getting a response to his offer just as quick.

“Yeah, sure! Missed him anyway. He’s how old now?”

“Seven. He pokes fun at me now.”

The reminder of meeting Minhyung when he was barely a toddler versus the comparison of bullying his older brother now makes you laugh, remembering all the fond interactions you've had and continue to have with him. Just last month, Tae called you in the middle of the afternoon because Minhyung was suddenly looking for you.

You wrap up quickly and you wouldn't realize if not for Dr. Min who's been standing behind you almost the entire time, a barely-audible bite to his words. "He's finished."

Dr. Min beats you into relaying the aftercare instructions and follow-up check-up, the lax nature of how he usually explains being a stark contrast to how he sounds quick right now.

Taehyung's oblivious to the difference you could notice but he listens nonetheless, bidding you with a sweet warm smile as he exits the room.

“Thanks Y/N, see you later!”

Dr. Min shuts the door behind him and proceeds to clean up the station you've worked on, getting you into work because you don't quite understand why he even came in here in the first place.

“You didn’t tell me you had Kim Taehyung the model for a boyfriend.”

He passive-aggressively murmurs but you catch it, thinking nothing of the unusual nature your superior is exhibiting.

“You know him? He’s that famous now, huh?”

Yoongi, however, freezes. It's far from your easy chuckle and way further from the territory of peace because his face morphs into confusion. “What? I was kidding with you. He is your boyfriend?”

"What?" your eyes glaze at the odd joke you wouldn't have bothered correcting in the first place because you didn't think he'd ask, much less assume, in the first place anyway. “Oh no, he’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Yoongi genuinely doesn't know what to feel about that.

Is he frustrated over the fact that Taehyung isn't your boyfriend at the moment, or is it over the fact that you're exes and therefore share history together in a way he can't decipher?

He doesn't meet your gaze, the pettiness running through his bones before he could register it as such.

“I don’t believe that. Pretty sure no one would go to their ex’s place especially at night.”

The words he's just uttered basically tells you that he's eavesdropped well and even added his own analysis to it, feeling offended because as what you can recall, you didn't even ask him for his own take.

“I’m hanging out with him and his little brother.”

“Still. No one does that.”

You play off the offense you feel into nonchalance, gritting your teeth as you disinfect the area for the next patient.

“You can be friends with an ex, it’s possible, Dr. Min,” you wipe extra hard at the bed, not even knowing why you feel defensive for a situation that doesn't even involve him. “We didn’t break up in bad terms anyways so it was more than plausible that we would be friends.”

He looks up inhumanely fast, eyes trained on you as if you've grown two heads within a second.

“That’s impossible.”

You humorlessly chuckle and that's the end of it, choosing to tune him out while you clean up as quick as you could because you don't even know if you could stay in a space with him any longer.

Yoongi finds it odd that you're not searching for his gaze, stopping right in front of you when you retrieve the remaining sanitary equipment.

“Have you even checked the schedule? You agreed to him so quick. Who knows, we’d probably do overtime.”

“Then I’m reminding you that I’ve never been absent ever since I started working here, and if we need to do overtime, I’m using my leave.

Dr. Min hardens his glare at you. “That’s against the law, I’m pretty sure.”

“I can ask Tae later, his mom’s a lawyer.”

You add harmlessly as it's the truth and it does make you curious if it's just his unknown pettiness or the law that's talking, seeing his eyes roll at your quip.

“Heh," he narrows his eyes and turns his back on you, quick hands moving into a blur while he goes on his way out. “The gauze’s contaminated now. Get a new one.”

Yoongi can't explain it but he feels like something's changed in his routine and in some way, it has something to do with you.

His entrance every morning feels weird and his arm wants to give out every time he throws his bag into the air because it's not your familiar face that squeezes in so close beside him even if there's plenty of space for you to walk on.

He finds himself looking through windows and wandering through hallways just to look for a trace of you, even if it's the little chocolate nibs you snack throughout the whole day or if it's your extra handkerchief that Jimin uses because he forgets his all the time.

You’re supposed to ask him anytime now, aren't you?

You've used four of your chances in four different occasions with no exact pattern to it, but Yoongi knows. He knows and feels that it's been too long ever since the last time you asked him out (that was two weeks ago) in the procedure room and he doesn't know when the next would be.

He's sure it's a tactic of yours. It must be. You must've been doing it in a certain method that trains him to miss you and look for you unconsciously, even if he's at home and not in the clinic.

Yoongi finds himself lingering around you and he doesn't know if he could just continue hovering and hovering in this way; in a way that's unlike yours because you're unafraid to stand so close to him, talk to him whenever you please, and trail around him like a lost puppy.

He thinks he's had enough when he sees you enter the clinic, just thirty minutes away from opening and goes straight to Jimin's office, walking out later in your scrubs that makes him audibly gasp in surprise.

You enter the breakroom and he finds himself tailing after you unceremoniously, not being able to wait atleast five minutes to enter.

You're just now eating your breakfast because you've had a late start to your morning, also waiting a little later for you to retrieve your car from the shop that took longer than what you initially expected.

You're mid-bite into your cereal when you see a shadow cast onto the table, looking up to see Dr. Min who avoids your gaze as soon as you catch him.

“Yes.”

You chew slowly and cover your mouth when he turns to you, arms across his chest while you try to swallow. “I’m not following...?”

He sighs heavily, not knowing he had to spell it out for you.

Yoongi sits beside you and scoots his chair closer to yours, leaning his face onto his hand that makes you confused even more on how he's willingly sitting this close beside you.

“Yes, I’m going on a date with you.”

You swallow your cereal without a fuss as it registers in your head collectively, a curious and inquisitive quirk to your lips that throws him off.

“I didn’t ask, though.”

“No, this is the part where you use your fifth chance to ask me out and I accept.”

It's quite entertaining to see Dr. Min act and talk so impulsively, not used to seeing him this frustratedly determined. “But I haven’t asked.”

Yoongi closes his eyes once, his shoulders relaxing.

“Then I’m saying yes for the four previous times you asked me.”

You snort to your cereal and you're thankful that it happens before you scoop another spoonful to your mouth, shaking your head somberly.

“That doesn’t count.”

Yoongi pouts childishly, his brows furrowing at the concept of you denying him this time and not getting what he wants.

“Yes it does.”

“I can’t take you out, Dr. Min. I’m actually a little short on some date money because I’ve been buying you expensive coffee every single morning.”

"Just Yoongi," he corrects but doesn't choose to comment on the fact that you haven't been buying him coffee for two weeks now and he's unknowingly formed a dependency on the coffee and you. “Then I’ll pay for the date.”

“Then that means you’re taking me out on a date.”

“I know, which is why I’m saying yes, I’m accepting-“

You stop the flow of words that makes Dr. Min frown even deeper, looking severely dejected but the guilt doesn't hit you as much. “You can’t. That wasn’t our deal.”

“Then ask me to go out with you.”

It's a suggestion he brings up softly, uncertainty lacing his features because actually, it doesn't sound like a suggestion at all — sounds more of a plead than anything.

“Hmmm,” you pretend to think even if you already had a concrete plan for the day. “I’m busy. Dr. Park needs me.”

Dr. Min clears his throat, sitting up straighter and looks at you.

“Please ask me to go on a date with you.”

“Dr. Park needs me.”

Yoongi exhales through his nose and stands up, straightening his shirt and rearranging the bucket hat on his head before he relents, leaving you alone.

You think that's just about the end of it, but you're wrong because you see Dr. Min pop into the breakroom the moment lunchbreak starts, picking up Jimin who's sitting beside you and ushering him out of the door.

"The fuck? Yoongi! Stop — stop pushing me! You seriously can't just throw me out of the-"

Your eyes are still fixed on the door that Dr. Min just pushed Jimin out of and locked him out entirely, barely glancing to the paper bag that he put in front of you.

He occupies the chair beside you and clears his throat once again, clasping his hands tightly.

“Five takes.”

"Huh? Dr. Min, did you seriously just-..."

Yoongi pokes your cheek to get you to look at him, effectively taking your gaze out of the door.

“Give me five chances to ask you out.”

You thought he wouldn't push it to this because you swore you know him — know him well-enough that he doesn't like you and wouldn't care enough to pursue you once you've stopped.

“Why?”

He blinks owlishly because you're still asking him why when he thought he couldn't make his intentions any more clear, the two weeks without the usual you making him realize it further.

“I could say that I’m asking you this so you could give me a taste of my own medicine,” his attempt at what's supposed to be a joke makes you scoff, later chuckling when he waves his hands around desperately to clarify. “But as much as my pride would like that,” he murmurs. “I uh, I do want to go out with you.”

Hearing it from him is surreal, to say the least. It's something you've never thought to hear and it's admittedly something you've given up on trying to hear not too long ago.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m going grocery shopping later,” you tell him and it makes his eyebrows knit in confusion, lips opening apart as he understands.

Yoongi grabs the prescription pad that fits snugly to his white coat, handing it to you as he explains it could be something for you to write your grocery list on.

“Thank you Dr. Min,” you chuckle at the wholesome gesture, a lot of pages left when you could've settled for a single leaflet.

“Great! I’ll be seeing you-“ he stands up and claps his hands, effectively being stopped when you reach out for him.

Then he understands.

“No.”

“I have a rewards card that’s been accumulating points for years now! You can use it," he offers gingerly, a grin on his face.

“Thoughtful, but no.”

“I can drive the cart really smoothly and I can promise you that I won’t even bump to your foot once," he nods for a convicting effect, thinking if he'd pass this time.

“Talented, but no.”

“I can lift all the grocery bags in one trip.”

“Nice try, but no.”

“No?” Yoongi parrots you with a tilt on his head, a slight pout on his face that makes him look warmer.

“No."

Yoongi accepts it and nod his head, pulling himself out of his chair before he convictedly talks again.

“M’kay. That was take one,” he says it out loud to console himself, earning a surprised gaze from you. “Four more chances left, right?”

Yoongi wordlessly stands and grabs a plate from the cupboard, taking out the lunch he's bought for you from the paper bag and sets your favorite food (courtesy of Jimin for a price of one hug) there instead, setting and plating it in front of you.

He taps two fingers on your cheeks, a cozy smile on his face as he tries to earn himself a loving smile from you before he exits the breakroom.

“Four more chances.”

met him last night | ksj (m) pt. 2

➥ PAIRING: seokjin x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: You’ve worked in the office with Kim Seokjin for quite some time but you never really pay attention to him. He’s basically your stereotypical introverted nerd with complimentary glasses decorating his eyes and sweater vests clinging to his torso. Coincidentally, you bump into him outside of work. You’re in for the shock of your life when you find some stuff out about him.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ plot twist ⋆ porn with plot

➥ CATEGORY: two-shot

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, bigdick!seokjin is real, protected sex, couch sex, praise kink, oral sex (rec m & f), face fucking, fingerfucking, cumshot on tits, cumshot on ass, little plottwist, doggy style, pinning arms back, cocky!seokjin, denied orgasm, missionary, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 6.5k

a/n: ughhh i can’t believe its finally done! part 2 (and final part) to mhln !!! not betaread or anything so ignore any mistakes plsss hope u like it <3333 tell me ur thoughts <3

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

You quickly straighten your back up, trying to hide your nerves with your eyes still glued to him, intently watching as he makes his way over to you. You lean back into your sofa, glancing up at him as he places his knee next to your thigh and his hand next to your head against the backrest of your sofa.

His other hand moves forward to tilt your chin up, his thumb gently caressing your jaw. “It’s a shame, truly,” he mumbles as he uses his thumb to start wiping off whatever is left of your lipgloss, bringing his gloss-covered thumb to his lips to lick it clean.

Your brows pinch together at his words. You swallow, an attempt at drowning out your nerves before asking, “What is?”

Silence settles around you for a few seconds before he decides to speak again.

“That I’ll ruin your pretty makeup.”

Those are the last words that leave his mouth before he hunches over you and presses his plump lips to yours. The finger that was previously on your chin travels down your jaw to your neck, gently wrapping his hand around your throat to pull your face closer to his.

You’re just about to return the kiss when he abruptly pulls back, face still a centimeter away from yours as he glances down at your lips. “You’re gorgeous,” he mumbles before plopping down on the couch next to you and tugs you to him by your waist, motioning for you to sit on his lap.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you hike your skirt up to lunge at him, throwing your thigh over his and climbing onto his lap. He sinks further into your couch and shifts his gaze up to your face, plump bottom lip trapped between his teeth as his hands tightly grip onto your hips.

He lets your hands roam his chest, letting you feel every dip and muscle as you look down at him through hooded eyelids, hands moving up to cup his face. Your face closes in on his, your lips softly pressing against his pillowy ones in a heated kiss.

His hands tighten their grip on your hips, fingers sinking into the fabric of your skirt which makes you yelp against his mouth. It gives him the chance to lick into your mouth and he does.

He tastes like tomato sauce and basil.

You wrap your arms around his neck in an attempt to pull him even closer, your breasts pressed flat into his chest.

His hands slide down the sides of your thighs, giving them a soft squeeze. His tongue dances around yours, head tilting to the side to close whatever distance was still in between you two.

Your hips involuntarily jolt and grind into his groin, a soft moan sliding up the back of your throat at the friction. A low grunt rumbles in his chest, his own hips bucking up into your core, returning the favor.

His erection hardens under your sex and your mouth salivates at the thought of his massive dick, you want to taste him. You want to taste him real bad.

You pull away from his lips with a deep inhale and say, “Fuck, I want to suck you off.”

His eyes shift up to stare into yours, an unreadable expression on his features. You can’t help but glance down at his swollen lips as you await his response, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of your panties sticking to your sex.

“Not beating around the bush anymore, hm?” A cocky grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he sinks even further into your couch, adjusting his hips in his seat to help you slide off his lap.

You get onto your knees in front of him, the cold tiles sending a shiver up your spine. You slowly travel your hands up his leg, softly squeezing his soft skin when your hands arrive at his thighs.

“Pull me out.”

The words leave his mouth filled with so much arrogance that you can’t help but reach for his belt straight away, unbuckling it with a quickness. Your eyes travel up his figure, glancing up at him through your pretty lashes but he’s already staring back at you, hand reaching up and resting on top of your head.

He lifts his hips off the couch to help you slide his pants down and he instantly palms himself through his boxers, his other hand moving down your face to tilt your chin up. “You’re so pretty.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip at his compliment, creating a tightness in your stomach and a squeeze in your core, pussy clenching around absolutely nothing.

You tuck your fingers under the hem of his boxers and slowly tug them down, watching in anticipation as his dick springs free from under the hem.

What the fuck?

Your eyes widen as you stare at his erection, it’s still hardening and it’s already bigger than any dick you’ve ever seen before. Big veins trail down his dark shaft, the head of his dick begging for attention.

A chuckle makes his chest rumble when he sees your reaction. His hand wraps around the base of his shaft, causing him to hiss at the touch, a soft grunt pushing past his lips. Your eyes shift to the precum leaking from his tip and you almost drool all over his slacks.

“How the fuck is that supposed to fit literally anywhere?” you grumble, eyes glancing up at him for the first time since seeing his dick and he’s just got a smug smirk sitting on his gorgeous lips.

“You can take it,” he quips, “can’t you?”

Oh.

Well, now you want to do just that.

He places his other hand on your cranium as he moves the tip of his dick across your lips, smearing them full of his precum. You continue to stare at him, never once breaking eye contact, giving him the best doe-eyes you can muster.

“Just tap me twice if it becomes too much,” he adds, a sincere look in his eyes. You nod to his words, placing your hands on his thighs as you mentally prepare yourself to have destroyed vocal cords tomorrow morning.

“Now, stop looking at me with those innocent eyes and open up that pretty mouth like a good girl.”

You don’t hesitate for a second after hearing his words, parting your lips to take him into your mouth almost immediately after. You lower your head, wrapping your lips around the head and you gently start sucking on it. The hiss leaving his mouth tells you that he enjoys that, making you push your tongue flat against his slit and swirl it around to collect his salty precum on your tastebuds.

His hand tenses on top of your head and his hips unexpectedly buck up, making you gag. You keep his dick in your mouth but glare up at him, just in time to see him give you a sheepish, apologetic smile. You grunt as you lower your head again, your saliva rolling down his shaft as you try to take as much as you can of him into your mouth.

“Holy shit,” whispers Seokjin, hand delicately stroking your hair.

You grab onto the base of his dick with both hands and let your saliva roll down your fingers to lube them up enough to pump the part you can’t reach. You begin to take more of him into your mouth but you haven’t even made it halfway down before the head of his dick hits the back of your throat, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” he moans, his head rolling back onto the backrest of your coach, his chest dramatically rising and falling as he chases his breath.

You hum in response, watching how his hips are tensing and twitching, trying not to thrust up into your mouth. You slowly pull him out, a string of your saliva still connecting to his dick as you continue to jack him off. “I’ll let you fuck my mouth but if I tap twice, you have to stop, okay?”

His eyes shoot open at the offer and he whispers a low swear word before he nods and gets up onto his feet. He slings his suit jacket off, throwing it somewhere on your couch as you get onto your feet, hiking your skirt up so you can bend at the knees and squat in front of him since your knees were already starting to hurt.

He moves to stand in between your spread thighs, hands making their way back to your head as he slowly guides his dick back into your mouth. You move your hands up his bare legs, digging your nails into his warm skin as he starts thrusting into your warm, wet mouth.

You try to blink back your tears but it doesn’t help, every small thrust hits the back of your throat and you’re seconds away from suffocating. The tears start spilling out of your eyes but you refuse to stop him, the way he’s thrusting into your mouth with his head thrown back and soft moans leaving his lips is making you want to keep going, be the reason for his pleasure.

“Fuck, can I cum on your tits?” he asks in between moans, his thrusts getting even rougher. You finally tap his thigh twice and he immediately slides out of your mouth, reaching for your chin to make you tilt your head up at him. He scans your face with a concern frown but you simply slap his hand away.

Your hand reaches up as you start unbuttoning your silk shirt, successfully taking it off, tossing it aside and unclasping your bra all in a few seconds.

He doesn’t have to fucking ask twice.

He grunts, fingers coming back to hold your chin in place to look at him. Your makeup has undoubtedly smudged all over your face but you don’t care, not when Seokjin is looking at you as if you’re the most beautiful being he has ever laid his eyes upon.

He continues to pump himself with his other habd, chasing his own release. You slowly move back toward the couch, sprawling yourself out on the edge of the couch’s cushions and pulling Seokjin forwards to stand in between your spread thighs. You lean your upper back against the couch, allowing gravity to work for you as you reach up to his dick and take it from him, aiming the tip at your chest.

Your eyes travel up to meet his gaze as you start pumping him, watching as he stares you down with such overwhelming lust that it’s got your useless panties no longer acting as a barrier because you’re pretty sure you’ve started leaking through the fabric.

“Fuck,” he pauses after a deep inhale, “you’re so fucking pretty.”

An involuntary moan escapes your lips at the praise but your hands keep going, wanting nothing more than for him to cum all over your breasts.

“You’re pretty too,” you say with a sheepish smile, still looking up at him with your pretty eyes.

“I know,” he moans and the sight makes you giggle. At least he’s funny.

His dick twitches in your hand and before you know it, white ropes of his warm cum start coating your chest and nipples. He moans several swear words as he cums all over your breasts, his eyes taking in the sight and committing it to memory.

You’re upper body is sprawled on the couch cushions, tits covered in saliva and cum, makeup running down your face, hair fucked up.

You blink up at him with hooded eyes as your hands finally come to a stop, still gripping the base of his shaft.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that,” he grunts, still chasing his breath as he wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

The Devil starts tugging on the corner of your lips, making you smirk. “Like what?”

“Like you want me to destroy you.”

You’re once again slapped in the face by his blunt words but you can’t help but want him to go through with that statement.

“But I do,” you reply, bringing up the back of your hand to wipe your chin clean of the saliva, or at least some of it.

“Yeah, I bet,” he mumbles as he starts unbuttoning his shirt and runs his hand through his hair, messing it up in the process.

He hunches over and pulls you up onto your feet, tugging your skirt down your hips without any obstacles and tossing it aside aggressively. He takes a seat on the couch and spreads his legs wide apart before tugging you toward him to sit in between his legs.

You move to tug off your panties but he stops you, just patting the spot in between his thighs, motioning for you to turn around. You blink at him for a moment before you place your ass right in between his thighs and lean your back into his chest like he wants you to.

His hand trails down your waist to your thigh, awakening the thousands of goosebumps underneath the upperlayer of your skin. He taps your skin gently, mumbling something about spreading for him and you comply.

He uses his other hand to hold your leg apart from the other by placing his hand under the back of your knee and pulling it up while his other hand slowly starts rubbing circles onto your clothed pussy.

You sigh at the friction, finally getting some attention and a soft moan escapes your lips.

“Fuck, you got that wet from sucking me off?” His voice rings in your ear and his proximity almost makes you dizzy, it’s the only explanation for the room that seems to be spinning around you. His words too, because they’re true. The kissing turned you on but letting him use your mouth left you dripping with arousal.

You hum in response as your hips start to roll into his hand, your eyes trailing down to your chest that’s still covered in his cum.

“Leave it like that, you look so pretty.” He must’ve noticed the way you were eyeing his load on your chest but you quickly nod, assuring him you were in no hurry to get rid of it.

He slowly peels your panties off your pussy, noticing the way they stick to your folds. He hums in delight as he pushes your underwear to the side. Your gaze shifts downwards and you intently watch as he effortlessly slides his fingers in between your folds, his fingers already soaked with your slick.

He pulls his fingers back, wanting a glimpse of his fingers covered in your slick. “Fuck,” whispers Seokjin.

You lean your head back into the crook of his neck as you moan softly, chest rising and falling dramatically. His lips leave soft kisses on the side of your neck as his fingers rub your clit, down to your slit, down to your hole to gently tease it.

You’re going to need all the preparation you can get because his dick will undoubtedly make you feel like you’re having sex for the first time all over again.

You impatiently rut your hips into his fingers but he just chuckles, gathering your slick onto his fingers and smearing it all over your sex.

“You’re so impatient, pretty.” His beautiful voice feels like it’s being ladled into your ear by a cloud yet his tone is coated in mockery.

You merely grunt in response before actually using your words. You grumble, “Put them in.”

A hoarse laugh pushes past his lips before he slides his middle and ring finger into your pussy, curling them right away. He watches you with a twisted smirk on his lips as you start writhing on him, bucking your hips the moment his fingertips graze your g-spot.

He shushes you quietly as he begins to fuck his fingers into you, slamming his palm against your clit and doing so at an angle that causes the disgusting gushing sound of your wet pussy to ring in your ears.

You shake your head, you plead, you cry, you do anything to let him know you want to cum, right now, right here on his fingers.

“Listen to that,” he mumbles, lips grazing the shell of your ear as he continues to curl his fingers every now and then. He watches you from the corner of his eyes, thoroughly enjoying how he’s got you writhing for him. “I need a taste.”

That’s all he says before hoisting you off of him and tossing you beside him, onto your couch. A gasp leaves your throat at the sudden strength he uses to do that and the way he drags you to the edge of the cushions, legs spread for him.

He settles on his knees in between your thighs, licking his lips at the sight of your glistening pussy in front of him. “Would you look at that?” he whispers, using his fingers to spread your folds for him.

Fortunately, he wastes no time and lowers his mouth onto your sex, tongue pressed flat against it as he licks up all of your arousal – that he’s the sole cause of.

A pathetic whimper slides up the back of your throat, legs jerking and body squirming under him but he simply chuckles. “I haven’t even done anything, look at you squirming.”

But then, his smile is nowhere to be seen and he’s got a black expression on his beautiful face. “Stay still,” he demands, his voice low and his eyes fixed on your pussy.

Your hips are restrained by his hands, holding you down against the couch as his tongue goes on a rampage against your poor clit. You cry and mewl under him, thighs shaking and fingers gripping at the pillows decorating your couch.

“Fuck,” you moan once he shoves his tongue into you, nose bumping against your clit and teasing you further while he fucks his wet muscle into you.

All you can do is moan and cry his name, fingers tugging at his perfectly styled hair but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“This pussy,” he mumbles as he shakes his head. “Might never get enough of it.” He dives right back in, mouth completely and aggressively devouring you as if he didn’t just have a meal.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum,” you sniff, hips jerking and thighs clenching but he continues to hold you down, not allowing you to escape his grasp. Your warning words only seem to encourage him as he completely sucks you for what you’re worth.

His precision and movements never falter, continuously stimulating your clit. “You’re already making me hard again,” he says matter-of-factly once he pulls back from your pussy. You think he’s edging you but that thought gets thrown out the window when he suddenly hooks his hands around the back of your thighs and shoves your legs toward you, pressed against your torso to spread you out even more for him.

If this pose isn’t embarrassing enough, him staring down at your pussy like this would certainly be enough to make you anxious.

“What?” you ask quietly as you glance down at him, your chest still in- and deflating from all that pleasure you received just now.

He glances up into your eyes for a few seconds with an unreadable look in his eyes before shifting his eyes back down to your sex, so spread and so exposed for him. “Just admiring your pussy. Can’t I?”

Your teeth roughly bite down on your bottom lip, eyes still watching his every move in anticipation.

But then he simply chuckles to himself before closing in on your pussy again and licking, sucking, making out with your nether regions as if he hasn’t eaten in days. Holy shit, he’s fucking good.

Ugh, why would anyone want to ditch him?

You almost flinch when he exhales slightly, something you’d describe as a quick chuckle. His breath drapes all over your pussy, making you glance down at him but he’s already staring at you.

“Why, thank you.” He rises to his feet as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and ditches the rest of his clothes. “But I was never stood up.”

Your brows pinch together. What is he talking about?

Hold on.

Did you actually say that outloud? Fuck. You goofy bitch!

“What do you mean, you were never stood up?” you mumble as you watch him rip a condom package with his teeth and slowly roll the condom onto his massive dick, giving it a few test tugs.

“Yeah, I lied,” he says nonchalantly as he pulls your leg up and slings it over his shoulder, pulling you to the edge of the couch whilst he stays kneeling on the floor in front of you.

“You lied? How did you lie? I saw you there, sitting by yourself…”

“Yeah, about that...” He slowly starts to push in, making sure to watch your face for any sign of regret or un-readiness.

But you simply squeeze your eyes shut at the burn, he’s inhumanely big and you’re already seeing celestial bodies on the back of your eyelids from how tightly you’re squeezing your eyes shut but he’s being very careful, clearly experienced in this regard.

Did he decide to spring that bullshit on you whilst pushing into you so you’d forget about it?

Well, it’s working. What the fuck?

You can’t help it, your teeth are digging into your bottom lip and your eyes are finally open once he bottoms out. Your walls are burning from the stretch, clearly not very welcoming in these few moments. A few of his hair strands are sticking to his forehead from the sweat but he never loses concentration of going slow and steady.

“You okay?” he whispers, gently rubbing your clit in hopes of helping you relax.

“Ye… Yeah, I think,” you whisper in response, mind clouded. You can’t think about anything else right now.

He slowly nods his head. “You’re going to squeeze my fucking dick off, doll. Relax for me,” he whispers as he reaches over to smooth out the scrunch in your brows with his thumb.

Damn, he’s so damn sexy. You really don’t know him at all.

“Well, clearly I’ve never had something that big shoved in there,” you snark, struggling a little as you do your best to just relax but of course, it’s easier said than done.

“I’ve never fucked anything this tight either,” he chuckles as he leans a bit closer into you, still fully shoved into you, yet not moving. “Let me kiss you.”

You stare into his big brown eyes, your own eyes dropping down to his lips before trailing back up to his eyes.

“Just breathe. You can take it, princess. Look at you, you look so pretty under me.” He leans further down until he’s pressed his lips against yours and if this is him trying to get your mind off of getting split in half by his dick, it’s working.

Because kissing Seokjin is otherworldly. His lips are so plump and pillowy, you could kiss him for fucking hours. You wonder what his lips would look like after making out for hours, swollen and red. Fuck.

He kisses you gently, one thumb still rubbing your clit and you’re trying so hard not to clench around his dick because you’re scared you might actually squeeze his dick off.

“Move,” you demand after a few moments of kissing, wrapping your legs around his waist and caging him in by locking your feet with each other behind his back.

He slowly, very slowly, starts to pull out of you, leaving the head of his dick inside before pushing back into you.

You mewl at the intrusion, throat dry with the sounds you’ve been letting out.

“Shhh, you’re doing so well. Taking it like a champ,” he whispers against your lips, steadily thrusting into you.

Ugh, what happened in your life for the nerdy intern to be talking you through sex right now?

“Faster,” you mumble once he pulls away from your lips, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I hear you,” he chuckles as he picks up the pace of his thrusting, hips rolling into yours at a delicious pace.

“Fuck,” you moan, actually enjoying the burning fullness he gives you. “Fuck, you– you said something about… about lying to me?”

He glances into your eyes, a pinch in his brows as he tries to keep himself from just moaning in response. “Yeah, I lied to you, princess. Sorry about that.”

A cry rips through your poor throat when he suddenly starts snapping his hips into yours, pounding you at a pace and with a type of strength that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Is he doing that to stop you from interrogating him?

“Shit, you’re making a mess on your floor, beautiful.” He says it with such cockiness in his tone that it makes you want to smack him right across the face but he’s just so fucking fine that you have no choice but to let it slide.

You watch as he reaches over to grab some of the paper towels that you placed on the coffee table earlier and uses them to wipe down his cum from your chest to avoid making a mess on your couch.

At least he’s considerate, you suppose.

You drop your head further back against the cushions, moans continuously spilling from your lips as his hips pound into yours, his dick rubbing every single millimeter of your slick walls.

Tears spill out of your eyes from all the sensations ripping through your body, your own hand coming up to shield the outside world from your loudness but Seokjin is quicker, slapping your hand away from your mouth.

“Let me hear how pretty I make you sound.” He simply continues to fuck into you, making sure your leg stays secured against his torso and over his shoulder.

He deliberately fucks you at an angle that makes the squelching of your pussy that much louder and embarrassing. “Listen to that,” he whispers, mockery on his face and a curl at the corners of his lips.

“Shut up,” you whimper, cheeks heated in embarrassment. “Don’t think I–” you yelp, “I forgot about you telling me you lied to me.”

He merely hums in response and leans back a bit, grabbing both your legs by the back of your knees and pushing them toward your chest while he continues to snap his hips into yours, stretching you out so harsh yet so fucking good.

“If you ask the right questions, I promise I’ll answer honestly.” His ragged breathing betrays his act of nonchalance but you’re too fucked out to point it out.

Ugh. Is this a game to him?

You inhale a shaky breath. “Did you get stood up or not?” you ask, hoping he’ll give you the clarification you’re looking for despite already having told you that he lied to you about it.

“No,” he replies, teeth digging into his plump bottom lip as you clench and squeeze around him.

You manage to ask through moans, “So, she did show up?”

He shakes his head, eyes glued to the way his dick slides in and out of you. He abruptly pulls out and turns you over by your waist, pressing your face, stomach and chest deeply into the cushions of your couch and wastes no time slamming back into you.

“Fuck!” you cry out with your knees now on the floor, mouth practically drooling all over your couch as he tugs your arms towards him and bends them at the elbows to pin them into your lower back, keeping you caged and with no other option than to take it.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“No,” he grunts in reply, hips continuously snapping into your ass and his eyes glued to your bum recoiling against his body.

What the hell? He’s not making any sense.

If she didn’t show up, that means he got stood up, doesn’t it?

Wait.

The realization sets.

“Did–” you pause, trying to catch your breath. “Did you have a date at all?”

He hums in response as he fucks you, one hand keeping your arms pinned and one hand coming down to squeeze the soft skin of your ass.

“I didn’t.”

Huh?

An involuntary sob escapes you, earning a cocky chuckle from him. Bastard. “So,” you start, “what were you doing there?”

He was just sitting there. He hadn’t even ordered yet. Why the hell was he there?

He kisses his teeth with a loud smack as he stays quiet for a few moments after your question. “I own the restaurant.”

Record scratch.

What?

You echo, “You own the restaurant?”

That restaurant is very fancy and pricey, why was he working in a company like yours if he owned a restaurant like that?

“Well, my dad does.” He lets go of your arms to grip both your hips, rocking you back onto his sex instead of fucking you. “I’ll be inheriting it soon.”

Fucking hell.

That explains the expensive car.

The next few moments are just filled with moans, heavy breathing and skin slapping. His fingers dig into your skin, gripping you tightly as if you’d slip through of his fingers.

Your own hand reaches down and starts rubbing at your clit, teeth abusing your bottom lip as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Fuck,” you whimper as your orgasm starts approaching.

“You gonna cum?” he whispers, slightly picking up the pace of his thrusts.

You quickly nod your head, face still buried in your coach and it’s going to be very fun to clean that makeup off your couch.

“Go on, then,” he encourages, his hand coming down to your ass in a rough slap, making you jolt forwards from the impact.

Swear words continue to fall from his lips and you struggle to even form a coherent sentence.

But then, the world stops spinning and the room starts to.

Your phone is ringing. Fuck!

You slowly reach over and turn your screen to face you, curses falling from your lips.

Seokjin asks, “Who is that?”

Fuck. “It’s Taehyung. He probably wants to know if I got home okay. I’ll just text him la–”

“Pick up,” he says, thrusts never halting. Actually, his hips pound into yours even harsher. Bastard.

You squeal, “I’m not going to pick up while I’m–”

He cuts you off. “While you’re getting fucked by me?”

“It has nothing to do with you. Just… you know. Me getting fucked.”

A sultry chuckle leaves his mouth and he gradually slows down in pace, sensually rolling his hips into yours. “Go on, pick up.”

An exasperated sigh leaves your mouth quietly as you accept the call and put the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Yo, where are you?”

“I’m uh,” you mumble as you shake your head, trying so hard to not focus on the way the tip of Seokjin’s dick softly kisses your cervix with each thrust. “I’m home.”

“Alright. Cool if I come over?”

Your eyes almost pop out of your eye sockets. “What? No. You can’t come over.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because,” you pause as you glance over your shoulder into Seokjin’s eyes with an expression on your face that only feeds his damn ego. “Just because, okay?”

“But you– oh.” Taehyung goes quiet. “Oh. I see how it is,” he says and you can practically hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

“Bye, Taehyung.”

“I bet you’re getting dicked down by big dick Seokj–”

Your thumb quickly slams down on the red hang up button before you toss your phone aside, ready to hear Seokjin’s comments and questions about the phone call but he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he picks up the pace again, fucking you just the way he seems to like it.

He places his hands on your shoulders and continues to fuck the absolute shit out of you, making you arch your back and ruin your throat with the way he’s pounding your poor pussy.

The consistent thrusts and his silent whispers of praise are what ultimately send you over the edge, your entire body shuddering and falling limp against the couch as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. You pathetically cry out under him, clenching around him, the entire room spinning as his big dick slides in and out of you.

“Shit, you’re so fucking hot,” he mumbles as he spreads your asscheeks apart, eyes glued to how he slides in and out of you and the way your tight pussy grips onto him. “Can I cum on you again?”

Fuck. He can cum wherever the fuck he wants.

“Yeah,” you whimper in overstimulation, not having enough energy or sass to roll your eyes at his cocky chuckle. Bastard.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispers, hips snapping into your ass as he chases his own high. It doesn’t take long until he completely pulls out of you and yanks the condom off, aiming his dick at your ass and unloading all over your bum, coating your skin in his cum.

“Fuck,” he groans, watching as you reach for your ass and spread your cheeks for him, looking over your shoulder at him.

He mumbles, “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You merely hum in response, still in the clouds from that orgasm as he milks himself of every drop on your soft skin.

After he comes down from his high, he focuses on catching his breath but doesn’t wait for much longer until he reaches for the roll of paper towels again. He quietly cleans you up, slow and steady, making sure not to spill before he moves onto the mess you made on the floor.

He gently tugs your panties back up your legs and by the time he’s helped you sit back onto the couch, he’s already fully dressed.

He looks down at you, wiping some of your makeup with the paper towels but it’s not doing much. “I like how fucked your face is,” he comments, rubbing your chin with his thumb as he stands before you.

A scowl forms on your face but it just elicits a chuckle from him before he leans down and softly pecks your lips.

He reaches for your elbows and helps you rise to your feet, asking for directions to your room.

Once he’s helped you out of your clothes and thoroughly cleaned you up, he helps you into bed.

When the click of the door handle being turned reaches your ears, you stop him by calling out his name and it makes him glance at you over his. shoulder. “You can just stay. It’s really late.”

He stares at you for a moment before chuckling and adding a shake to his head for good measure. “One conversation and I’m spending the night? I wonder how long it’ll take for you to fall for me.”

You roll your eyes exaggeratedly and pettily turn onto your side, giving him your cold back. “Then don’t stay, I was just trying to be polite.”

His obnoxious laugh rips through your eardrums and it’s like he’s the only person on Earth with you now.

It isn’t long before you hear the ruffling of his clothes and the mattress behind you dipping under his weight.

You try to go to sleep with his soft breath grazing your neck but unfortunately, you can’t ignore it and it takes you a whole lot of time to actually doze off.

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The soft clinking of metal wakes you out of your slumber. You slowly awaken, your eyes meeting his figure in the corner of your room as he buckles his belt in front of the mirror.

You slowly sit up and rub the sleep out of your eyes. “Why did you lie to me?” you hoarsely ask him, this time not beating around the bush.

He glances at you through the mirror for a second, probably surprised that you’ve woken up. He then fully returns his attention to himself and shrugs his shoulders with a hint of nonchalance. “Why were you nice to me when no one else was?”

At this, you can’t help but frown. What kind of a question is that? “Because I’m a decent human being?”

He tilts his head to the side at your answer, eyes staring at you through the mirror in silence for several seconds.

“And I’m not.” He turns around to face you. “Does that answer your question, lovely?” he says it with so much nonchalance and arrogance, like he genuinely doesn’t care at all.

You idly blink at him through the mirror from where you’re seated, mind booming with all the images of nerdy Seokjin and it’s like you’re staring at a completely different person. Are you sure he doesn’t have an evil twin or something like that?

He slowly walks up to you and it makes you sit up even straighter and for some reason his proximity still makes you nervous. Your eyes slowly travel up his body, finally glancing at him through your pretty lashes.

“I put my number on that note over there. Call me whenever you need me.” He nods towards your nightstand and you follow his line of direction, noticing a pink post-it with his number, name and a winking smiley scribbled on it.

When you turn your head back to look at him, he raises his hand and strokes your head before leaning down to press a gentle peck to your pouty lips. “Or whenever you want me, I don’t judge.” He winks at you, rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb before straightening his back and gathering his wallet and keys.

Is this really how it’s going to go?

“Wait,” you call out. He cocks an eyebrow at you as he absentmindedly slides his wallet and keys into the pockets of his slacks.

You say, “Am I supposed to just… act like nothing happened?” With a slight shake to your head, you continue, “Tomorrow at work? Like you haven’t shown me your true colors?”

Is he going to act like nothing happened? Is he going to be the same Seokjin you’ve always known? Will he have a distinct look in your eye every time he looks at you? Couldn’t you just out him to the others? Why was he comfortable showing you such private matters about himself?

His dark eyes stare into yours for a moment longer and it almost stings, it stings the way he stares you down. The faintest smirk creeps onto his lips and you can swear you just met the Devil, standing face to face with evil reincarnated.

Then, he simply shrugs his shoulders and drops them again as he heads out the door, not even looking back at you.

“It’s not like anyone would believe you anyways.”

And with that, he exits your apartment, leaving you to process what happened in the past 12 hours on your own.

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pov: you met him (also that duality like damn) {cr. 0613data}

met him last night | ksj (m)

➥ PAIRING: seokjin x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: You’ve worked in the office with Kim Seokjin for quite some time but you never really pay attention to him. He’s basically your stereotypical introverted nerd with complimentary glasses decorating his eyes and sweater vests clinging to his torso. Coincidentally, you bump into him outside of work. You’re in for the shock of your life when you find some stuff out about him.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ plot twist ⋆ porn with plot

➥ CATEGORY: two-shot

➥ WARNINGS: wild & flirty taehyung (cause why not?), strong language, tension, sexual tension, nerd!seokjin, plot twist, two-faced seokjin? basically hes not what he seems like, reader is a bit of a hypocrite, mentions of biphobia/misogyny, awkward interaction in a grocery store, mentions of sexual acts, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 10.9k

a/n: aaaa im glad this is finally out i just wanted my own ver of a hannah montana story man. jkjk but yeah i hope u enjoy <33 lmk what u fink.

a/n 2: pt. 1 is pretty slow but pt. 2 has all the mind-blowing filthy smut i promise✍🏽

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

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to: Y/N.Y/L/N@companyemail.com

from: Karen Smith

This is the 3rd time this has happened! I demand to speak to anyone that’s in charge.

“Ugh, she won’t stop complaining,” you groan as you finish reading another email from the same customer who’s been complaining for 4 days straight because the delivery man delivered her package to her neighbor.

You’ve tried to explain multiple times that he had no choice due to her absence at the time of delivery but she’s adamant on letting you know she doesn’t approve.

You rub your eye with the knuckle of your index finger, careful not to smudge your eyeliner or mascara before you let a loud sigh push past your lips and slouch in your chair.

Your co-worker and friend, Taehyung, glances over at you from the desk next to yours with an amused grin on his lips. “I dealt with her last time. Good luck, she won’t let up.”

With a turn of your head, you finally meet his gorgeous eyes that glimmer with mischief and it annoys you to the core. Your glare throws imaginary daggers at him, an irritated scowl forming on your face.

“All she did was order some balloons and confetti. I’d understand if she had ordered something expensive like a phone or console,” you mumble in annoyance, your eyes flickering to the bottom right corner of your monitor to check the time.

It’s 3:34PM. Under 30 minutes until you get to clock out. You swivel in your chair, head thrown back as you stare at the ceiling, lost in thought. You close your eyes, allowing the built-in ceiling-air-conditioning to softly fan over your face while you think about what a shit week you’ve had.

“You’re too frustrated. Thought about fucking it out of your system?” You hear Taehyung’s deep voice way closer than it was before, making you snap your head in the direction of said decibels.

He has rolled over in his chair, now sitting right next to you with a shit-eating grin on his lips. You merely grunt in response, lifting your leg and placing your foot against the edge of his seat’s cushion right in between his thighs in one swift motion, missing his groin by a hair before you kick his chair back in the general direction of his desk.

He laughs as he aimlessly rolls back to his desk, grabbing onto the edge of the wooden surface belonging to his desk before turning to fully face you.

“I’m serious, Y/N.” His tone does sound more serious but you just wave your hand at him in dismissal as you return your attention to your inbox that’s bursting with emails waiting for a response from you.

“You offering?” you tease, playfully, without looking at him, eyes still fixed on the screen in front of you.

A deep chuckle leaves his throat before he continues, “If you’d asked that a week ago, I would’ve fucked the shit out of you.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise as you turn to look at him but this time it’s Taehyung that’s avoiding eye contact, eyes glued to his screen as his long fingers gracefully dance over the black keyboard in front of him. Taehyung has always been flirty, has always made dirty jokes but that’s what they were. Jokes.

This time, he says it like it’s a confession. Like he’s serious. And you hate to admit that it rattles you to the core.

“Be normal,” you mumble, uncertainty coating your tone as your hands fidget with the bundle of papers to your right, pretending to look busy and unbothered.

He glances at you for a moment before shrugging and saying, “I’m not lying.” He returns his gaze to his computer, right hand draped over the cursor as the clicking of his mouse sounds louder than ever.

“But as you know that cute guy asked me out again and I can see it going somewhere,” he explains as he brings his other arm up, leaning his elbow on his desk and bringing his hand up to rub his lips with the tips of his fingers.

You idly blink at the side of his face a few times, eyeing his side profile. He truly is a sight to behold. A chorus of swear words start clouding your mind. Taehyung was down to fool around with you and you didn’t take that opportunity? You must be fucking crazy.

Well, in your defense, he wasn’t obvious about it. But you do wish you’d gotten to spend at least one night with him, just to see what you’re missing out on. He has never hidden his wild lifestyle, partying every weekend, meeting new people everyday, it makes you so very curious because you aren’t like that at all.

You like staying home, you like being in bed, you like rewatching your favorite shows on Netflix.

The soft knock on the door to your office snaps you out of your thoughts, your head automatically turning to look at the door as it’s being pushed open.

One of the long-term interns turned employee pushes his face into the room, politely bowing his head at you and Taehyung as his eyes peek at you above the rim of his glasses.

You’re acquainted with Seokjin but he’s really quiet and doesn’t really engage in much conversation, though, he’s always been polite and has never made you uncomfortable or anything.

He did once buy you a brand new, expensive keyboard and cursor because he felt so guilty for spilling your cup of coffee all over them. He kept apologizing even when you told him it was okay. He returned the following day with a new set and insisted on installing it for you.

Or another time when you left him speechless for buying him a box of chocolates for Valentines day, despite the fact you had bought one for everyone at work. He almost dropped to his knees to thank you, which made Taehyung burst into laughter as you tried to stop the giant with broad shoulders from being so dramatic.

You always do your best to be nice to him because everyone at work kind of dodges him, in fear of having an awkward conversation or assuming he’ll start rambling about his Pokemon card collection.

He has never said anything about owning a Pokemon card collection or anything of the sort. It’s just one of the many dumb stereotypical jokes they’ve made up about him, simply because he graduated top of his class, wears dorky sweaters, has glasses sitting on top the bridge of his nose and is socially awkward.

Or is he? They’ve never attempted to even have a conversation with him that lasted longer than 30 seconds.

With you, he isn’t awkward. He’s quiet but he’s not awkward. Yes, you have to do most of the talking which can make it awkward for you but he’s just a guy that keeps to himself. Who wouldn’t when they get treated like this?

He walks further in, muttering a low ‘excuse me’ before turning his body to address you, “Y/N, are today’s report files done?” Seokjin quietly asks you, referring to all the complaints you have to print out that need to be on your manager’s desk at the end of every day.

You nod and point your chin towards a bundle of files on your desk. He smiles at you politely and you return the smile, unfortunately, yours is fake. You’ve had a shit week and you can’t bring yourself to start small talk with him like you usually would.

He must’ve noticed you’re not in the mood so he just gives you a curt nod and takes the bundle of papers, fingers wrapping tightly around it as he spins on his heels and heads out of your office again. He disappears as quickly as he appeared.

You don’t pay much attention to him as you return your gaze to the screen in front of you, a quiet sigh leaving you as you continue to do what you’re paid to do.

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You absolutely hate going grocery shopping on Saturdays, which is why you usually don’t. But when you swung the door to your fridge open and found out you had run out of milk, it had you cursing like a sailor. To think you’d have to start your Sunday morning without your mandatory bowl of Frosted Flakes and cup of coffee has you grunting in annoyance as you reach for a plastic store basket.

You sling it over your forearm and start walking around the store, already knowing your way around your go-to supermarket. Your eyes trail some of the new products, fingers silently tapping the handle of the basket against your forearm. You make your way to the refrigerated dairy section of the store, eyes skimming the see-through glass doors until you find what you’re looking for.

You fill your basket with some cheese, yoghurt and 3 bottles of whole milk before closing the glass door and turning on your heels. You start heading towards the checkout counter because you don’t want to be here any longer than you need to but your feet slow down in their pace once your eyes fall on a rack of condoms.

Your eyes scan the different brands, the different sizes, the different flavors. Even multiple types of lube hang on rods in front of you and Taehyung’s words instantly come rushing back to you.

Is he right? Should you just fuck it out of your system?

You aren’t the type to really have one-night-stands but Taehyung is. And he’s the happiest, most carefree guy you know. His happy-go-lucky attitude is branded on your brain wrinkles and you crave that same carelessness.

Before you can even let your rational self talk you out of it, you reach for a random box and turn it over, eyes skimming over the small white letters on the package.

Pffft. Extra thin for maximum stimulation. Ultrasmooth inside for a more natural feel. Made from premium latex.

Your eyes linger for a moment longer before you hear your name coming from somewhere on your right side.

You turn your head to look at the person, only to be met with the quiet long-term intern turned employee you’ve worked with for a few months now, Kim Seokjin. His fluffy brown hair is draped over his forehead like always, kissing the edge of his signature silver-rimmed glasses. His plump lips are big and pink, stretching to give you a polite smile.

“Oh, Seokjin?” you say with surprise in your tone, the box of condoms in your hands completely slipping your mind.

With a single nod of his head, his gaze slowly drops down to the box of rubbers in your hands that you’ve been ogling at.

“Having trouble choosing?” he asks in a neutral tone, the question catching you off guard.

You glance at the condoms again with a frown as if you’d forgotten you were even holding it, heat instantly rushing to your cheeks and ears in embarrassment. It’s only now that you realize you’re still holding a pack of rubbers that are made to cover a penis before it enters a hole.

You quickly place it back in panic, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips, “Oh, I uh.. I was just curious,” you mumble, shaking your head at the fact you let that lunatic talk you into checking out condoms in public. Damn you, Taehyung.

“Are you sure? I can answer some questions you may have.” His words are so well enunciated and polite that it relaxes you a bit.

You’re both adults. Adults have sex. This shouldn’t be embarrassing, not in the slightest.

His soft tone reassures you that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about so you glance up at him for a moment. You idly stare at him for a few seconds, committing his features to memory.

He’s quite beautiful. Very beautiful actually, you always seem to forget that fact about him but you’re reminded of it every single time you’re near him. Unfortunately, his personality isn’t really anything interesting so you don’t feel that attracted to him.

“Y/N?” he says with his brows pinched together, hidden behind his fluffy brown locks.

You must’ve been ogling him like a fucking freak for him to be calling you out like this. Fuck.

“Oh, right,” you blurt out, “well, I was wondering…” You don’t even know how to go about this but his calm and soft demeanor makes you feel at ease, despite your heart racing in your chest.

You continue, “I just wanna have some as backups at home but I’m not sure which size or brand to choose.” You’re relieved that you managed to say that without stumbling over your words but the hiccup in your chest is still being persistent as hell, though. You can’t help but be a little embarrassed.

“This brand is good,” he says without hesitation, pointing at a black box before tugging it off the metal rod and handing it to you. “Size medium is your safest option. They fit most people.” The words leave his mouth so nonchalantly, as if he’s talking about the weather.

If he notices how surprised you are at his reaction, he doesn’t show nor comment on it.

“If they don’t fit a regular medium then they’ll usually have their own.” His eyes finally meet yours as the words leave his lips, still no sign of judgment or disgust on his features. It makes you drop your tensed shoulders in relief.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” you reply quietly, nodding your head as you process his words. It makes sense, of course. If someone has an unusual size, they’ll have their own condoms, no? Whether that be too small or too big.

“Thank you, even though that was more than a little embarrassing,” you chuckle to deter the embarrassment you’re experiencing at the moment, placing the black box of condoms in your basket before turning to face him again.

There’s a flicker of something unusual in his eyes and it catches you off guard for a moment but he quickly offers you a smile, his perfectly straight pearly whites making an appearance. You try not to be stereotypical but you can’t help but wonder whether that must’ve been the result of braces.

“Anytime.”

With that, he spins on his heels and disappears behind a corner at the end of the aisle. You slowly exhale the deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding and press the back of your hand against your cheek, the heat from your cheeks spreading through your skin, knuckles and fingers.

You gently shake your head in hopes of cooling down and head toward the checkout counter, waiting your turn as you unload your unpaid products onto the black conveyor belt.

The line is slow but at least it’s moving. When it’s finally your turn, you offer the cashier a polite smile as you reach for your wallet but you’re stopped by a hand on your elbow. You snap your head in the direction of the person that’s touching you, only to be met with familiar beautiful brown eyes behind thin silver-rimmed glasses.

“Sorry, I’m kind of in a rush. Do you mind me butting in?” Seokjin asks, holding up the products he’s holding in his hand. You’re surprised by the sudden interruption but you shake your head, muttering a quick ‘of course not’.

He quietly thanks you and begins by placing a bag of coffee machine capsules, a bag of Doritos and a small black box onto the conveyor belt, next to your stuff.

He walks around you from the back and presses his card to the payment terminal, paying for all your stuff as well. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, lips slightly parting as you watch him bag your goods.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say as you tap his bicep to get his attention.

He simply shrugs his shoulders and offers you a kind smile, his hand coming up to the bottom rim of his right lens, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with the back of his index finger. You suppose paying for your stuff is his way of thanking you for letting him cut in line.

Your gaze shifts toward the products that he hasn’t bagged yet, the black box of condoms catching your eye. You pick up the box, thinking they’re yours but you notice the golden ‘XL’ letters immediately. That is definitely not the same box. Is he buying you another box of condoms as a thank you?

What does an ‘extra large’ dick even look like, though? That sounds ridiculous. “I thought you said mediums were fine?” you chuckle as you turn the box over to examine it properly.

“Oh,” he pauses, “those are for me.”

His words process in your mind a little too slowly to your liking. As soon as you realize what he just told you, your head snaps in his direction and he’s already looking at you with a small awkward smile on his pretty lips.

You absentmindedly blink at him a few times, your mind screaming at you to say something and end this excruciating awkwardness.

“Oh,” you start, “oh! Right, yeah. Of course. My bad.” You drop the box of condoms back onto the counter as if it burned your hand, heat spreading through your face, ears and neck all over again. And your burning cheeks had just started cooling off from the previous encounter, great.

A soft chuckle escapes his throat quietly, his head shaking in dismissal. “It’s fine. No worries,” he says as he gathers his stuff and loads them into another plastic bag before handing you yours.

“I’ll see you at work,” he pauses as he turns to look at you one last time, “Have a good weekend, Y/N.”

And just like that, he turns around and starts heading out, an air of his confidence still lingering around you. Your eyes intently watch his retreating figure as if you’re in a trance, his broad shoulders on display in the black shirt he’s wearing.

You can’t believe that just happened and what’s more unbelievable is how calm and nonchalant he was about the whole thing.

At work he seems so introverted, so shy, so timid. But today, he approached you, initiated small talk and even helped you with your concerns about fucking condoms.

Not to mention the fact that you just made him tell you that he has a monster in his boxers.

What the fuck just happened?

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Your legs lazily carry you toward your desk the following Monday, feet dragging across the floor and shoulders slouched. Taehyung greets you from his desk as chirpy as ever and you simply nod in response, plopping down into your seat with a grunt.

He laughs at your grumpiness with a shake of his head before he returns to the work that’s waiting for his attention. You bring your hand up to shield your mouth as you quietly yawn, desperately in need of some coffee. You glance to the side, batting your lashes prettily at Taehyung with your hands clasped together under your chin.

Taehyung turns to look at you, an amused frown on his face. “What do you want?”

You pout at him, tilting your head to the side as you continue to bat your eyelashes. “Coffee,” you innocently say, making your eyes big and doe-like.

He laughs and shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with the knuckles of his index fingers. He leans back with a loud groan and slouches in his seat, staring up at the ceiling with his hands on his stomach as he turns in his chair from side to side.

He loudly sighs. “Only because you’re my favorite co-worker.” He finally gets up, yanking his phone out of the charger and tucking it into his pocket.

“I’m the only co-worker you see!” you exclaim with a scowl, watching as he blows you a kiss and heads out of your shared office. You childishly huff and cross your arms, spinning in your chair as you stare at the ceiling. You should at least start your PC up but you don’t think you could even get your brain to work and do something as simple as that.

You snatch your phone off your desk and check the time, 8:05AM. Too fucking early to do anything. You grunt and toss your phone back onto your desk, playing with the earring in your earlobe as you wait for Taehyung’s return.

It doesn’t take long for him to enter the room again, two cups of steaming liquid in his hands as he pushes the door open with his hip. He struts up to you and places the cup next to your keyboard. He brings his free hand up to flick the back of your head, causing you to yelp in surprise.

You snap your head in his direction, one of your hands flying up to the back of your head and your other hand reaches out to hit him but he quickly dodges you with a giggle, making sure he doesn’t spill his own cup of tea—he hates coffee—and burn his fingers.

He plops down in his seat and takes a sip, humming in delight with his eyes closed as the warm liquid slides down his esophagus. He pulls his lips away from the rim of his cup with an obnoxious ‘ah’ exhale which makes you groan in response.

You’ve never met anyone as annoying as him.

You roll your eyes at his ridiculousness and huff, a small smile on your lips as you eventually mutter a quiet ‘thank you’ to him. You take a sip of your coffee and moan, enjoying the taste on your tongue.

“So, how was that date?” you ask him, remembering how he mentioned something about the cute guy asking him out again.

To your surprise, he groans and puts his paper cup down on his desk with a loud thud, almost spilling the piping hot liquid everywhere. “He was a fucking asshole about me liking women as well so I called it quits.”

Your eyebrows pinch together, a slight stinging in your chest at his words. People can be such assholes.

“Oh, that’s horrible. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” You turn your chair to face him, a small pout on your lips.

“It’s okay, I fucked his friend anyways.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, making you scrunch your nose up at the shameless confession. You’re grateful you weren’t sipping on your hot coffee because that information would’ve easily burned your throat.

He snorts at your reaction, picking up his cup and taking another sip of his lemon tea, hissing at the heat on his tongue. “What about you? How was your weekend?” he asks you after he’s swallowed it down, eyes curiously glancing at you.

You shrug your shoulders. “It was fine. Boring.” The last word leaves your lips in a mumble, downing the rest of your coffee in one big gulp after it cools down a bit.

“I told you to loosen up, didn’t I? Have some fun, you’re young, you should be enjoying your twenties.”

His words instantly throw you back into Saturday, a twitch in your eyebrows as you recall the bizarre scene clearly.

“Oh, my God,” you mumble, staring at the computer in front of you before turning to look at him with big eyes.

Taehyung’s eyebrows raise in surprise before scrunching together, tilting his head to the side in curiosity as he looks back at you. “What?”

You pinch the tip of your nose and sniffle to prepare yourself as you think about how to explain your strange incident from this weekend. “What do you think about Seokjin?”

His frown doesn’t let up. “The quiet intern?”

“Yeah.”

The confusion on his face turns into complete perplexity, the question catching him completely off guard. “Uh? I mean…” He confusingly shakes his head to collect his thoughts.

“Pretty cute, tall, broad shoulders, geek, boring as hell,” he pauses. “Why?”

You nod to his words as you listen, agreeing to what he’s saying, “Would you believe me if I told you last Saturday he…” you begin, slowly processing the words you plan on saying out loud for the first time since it happened. “…He bought me condoms?” you finish, still uncertain about it as the words leave your mouth.

He instantly lunges at you in his chair, big eyes and a big shit-eating grin on his lips. “Wait, what the fuck? What are you talking about?” He gets out of his chair and places his big hands on the armrests of your chair as he hunches directly over you.

You sink into your seat, a bit surprised by his proximity as he leans into your face like he’s trying to decipher whether you’re lying or not. You try to ignore the lump forming in your throat. Taehyung is still a very attractive man after all, even if he’s your friend.

“Yeah, and it’s all your fault. If he didn’t see me ogling the condom section like a fucking weirdo because you told me to loosen up, that awkward interaction wouldn’t have happened.” You push your hand flat against his hard chest to push him back but he doesn’t budge, too intrigued by the exciting events of your boring weekend.

He laughs when he tells you, “Oh, that nerd wants to fuck you so bad.”

You screech, adding your other hand to his chest which finally allows you to push him off. He laughs loudly, running a hand through his fluffy golden locks as he stumbles back a bit. He still looks absolutely flabbergasted.

“No, you freak. He was being nice,” you mumble, disregarding the thought completely.

“Tell me everything,” he says with a smirk as he leans his butt against your desk, facing you with his arms crossed over his chest.

You explain the entire thing in vivid detail as you remember it, mind wandering to the way Seokjin’s brown eyes stared at you as you picked up his box of condoms. The image will never leave your mind.

You look around to make sure no one’s going to barge into your office and hear you talk about the strange conversation you’re having with your co-worker about another employee’s private matters (and parts). “Then after he paid, I picked up that box and he said those were for him.”

“Oh, so he actually fucks.” He strokes his chin at the new information. “What size were his condoms?” Taehyung can’t help but smirk, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

Your response is just a grunt, your attention returning to the computer in front of you. You completely ignore his question in hopes he’ll drop the topic but he’s Taehyung.

“What? Is he walking around with a little dick? Or is he blessed?” He nudges you with his hip, causing you to groan loudly as you try to push him off your desk. “Come on, I went and got you coffee.”

A heavy sigh pushes past your lips as you look up at him, guilty about the fact you’re about to reveal private information about another colleague. “XLs.”

You watch as his expression completely becomes that of a cartoon character. Eyes widened, jaw dropped, eyebrows raised.

“Shut the fuck up!” he beams. Grabs you by the shoulders. Shakes you slightly. You childishly groan his name but you make no efforts to stop him.

“Damn, who would’ve thought?” he mutters as he drops his hands from your shoulders to lean back against your desk, hands tucked into his pockets. He blankly stares ahead, eyes glued to the white wall in front of him as he continues to think about the revelation. “Shit. Nerd with a big dick. I should’ve called dibs.”

“Get back to work, you horndog.” You nudge his hip with your elbow, finally getting him to go back to his chair with a low chuckle.

“How long until you think he tries to make a move on you?” Taehyung purrs, taking a final sip of his tea. He crumples up the paper cup. Tosses it across the room. Completely misses the trash can. He isn’t the athletic type.

You shake your head in dismissal, a scowl on your face. “He’s not going to make a move on me, he was just being nice,” you say before you pause and momentarily glance at him to add, “don’t make it weird.”

He chuckles lowly, muttering a quiet, worthless apology. He begins, “Well, just because he’s big doesn’t mean he knows what to do with it. It’s not about the size of the wave but about the motion in the oce–”

You cut him off with a loud groan, “That’s enough out of you, freak.”

With a final laugh, he finally drops the topic of your timid co-worker’s penis and returns his focus to his work.

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The rest of the week goes by so damn slow. And so does the next week. And the week after that. And the one after that.

It’s been weeks, months. Work is taking its toll on you again. It makes you twice as excited about going out to eat with a few of your friends this Saturday.

When Saturday afternoon finally rolls around, you take your mandatory everything-shower. You take your time washing your body and hair, shaving every nook and cranny of your body and exfoliating your skin.

You feel good.

Once you hop out the shower and wrap a fresh towel around your naked body, you saunter into your bedroom. You reach for your phone, unlocking it by typing in your passcode and instantly checking the groupchat.

[3:54PM]

Olivia

The reservation is at 6, don’t be late!

Olivia

I’m looking at YOU Taehyung

Taehyung

Now why am I in it

Taehyung

See how I do nothing and still get pulled into shit

Olivia

😒 Shut up

Hoseok

you get pulled into shit because you’re always at the center of it

Taehyung

Yall are some hating ass people bro

[4:01PM]

You

no ur just dumb

Taehyung

Oh I’M the dumb one OK

You roll your eyes and chuckle as you toss your phone onto your bed, getting ready to do your hair and makeup after you’ve slid on your black lace panties and matching bra.

After you’ve finished styling your hair exactly as you like it, you start with makeup.

You keep it pretty minimal. You hold your hand mirror in front of your face and get to work. You just color your brows in a bit, apply some concealer and bronzer. A pretty shade of blush to the apples of your cheeks and pretty wings of liner on each outer corner of your eyes. You pick up your phone to text Taehyung, in desperate need of a second opinion.

[5:13PM]

You

falsies or no falsies

You apply a coat of mascara while you wait for a response, making sure not to get any black clots stuck in your lashes. You soon apply a nice brown lip liner and a nude-peachy liquid lipstick on top, giving you the perfect kissable pout.

Your phone vibrates.

[5:15PM]

Taehyung

Falsies. Always falsies

[5:15PM]

You

👍 thnx

You chuckle as you apply lash glue to your pretty cat fake eyelashes you got from some random drugstore and place them on your desk gently as you wait for the glue to get tacky.

Your phone vibrates again.

[5:16PM]

Taehyung

I honestly don’t know what the fuck falsies even are but the more of anything the better

[5:16PM]

You

fake eyelashes dumbass

[5:16PM]

Taehyung

Oh. Show me the difference?

You sigh in exasperation as you apply fake eyelashes to only one of your eyes, tinkering with the band in the inner corner of your eye, tongue poked out at the corner of your mouth in concentration.

Once you’re satisfied with the lashes, you glance into your vanity mirror to see what it looks like from afar. You put your phone up and open up the front camera, staring into the camera with a sultry look to emphasize the difference of fake lashes versus no fake lashes, but with a peace sign to make it somewhat playful.

[5:19PM]

You

(image attachment)

You fight the urge to nibble on your bottom lip, to not ruin your perfect lip look of tonight as you anxiously wait for his response. You’re running out of time and you still have to get dressed.

[5:20PM]

Taehyung

Both are nice but definitely with

[5:20PM]

Taehyung

You look good

You smile to yourself when you read the message, beginning to prepare the other fake lashes.

Once you’ve wrapped up your makeup with a spritz of setting spray directly onto your face, you fan it down with your hand and place your hand mirror back in its rightful place.

You get up from your little vanity and head towards your closet, fishing out the white silk button up that compliments your waist and chest so beautifully and the black knee-length pencil skirt that hugs your ass and hips so well, making you want to bend yourself over any surface.

You snap out of your ludicrous thoughts and quickly slip your clothes on for tonight, walking up to your vanity as you’re buttoning up your shirt. You reach for a gold layered necklace and wrap it around your neck, leaving the top 2 buttons unbuttoned so you can flaunt your pretty necklace.

You pick up your favorite perfume and spray yourself with the sublime scent, humming in delight as the scent enters your nostrils.

You push the needles of the small golden hoop earrings you fished out of your drawer through the already existing holes of your earlobes, clasping them up and turning to look at yourself in the mirror one last time before sliding a gold bracelet onto your left wrist.

You grab your small purse, tucking your phone and lipgloss inside as you head into your hallway, pushing your feet into your black pumps before unlocking your front door and heading out, making sure to lock up behind you.

You look and feel good for the first time in a while. Tonight’s going to be fun.

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Your night is filled with laughter and chitchat, surrounded by people you enjoy being around.

“He was so drunk he literally threw up all over that poor girl’s Louboutins.” Olivia goes on and on about the crazy night she spent with her best friend, Hoseok, last weekend. Taehyung is enjoying the outrageous story, laughing and slapping Hoseok’s shoulder as he listens to every word.

Hoseok, who has visibly reddened in his face, groans loudly, “You literally snorted so hard at that guy’s joke that you spat in his eye.” He shoots back in defense, ready to start their signature back and forth sibling-like bickering.

They continue on and on but it’s nearing 8PM and your social battery is running out.

As if he could read your mind, Taehyung waves a waiter over and asks for the check.

Taehyung had offered to go for drinks somewhere else but Hoseok and Olivia have to get up early and do some volunteering in her hometown’s new pub that’s co-owned by her parents.

You’re thankful, though, you really just want to go home. The night life just isn’t for you, you just want to cuddle up in your bed, watch a sappy movie or thrilling series and go to sleep. Like you do pretty much during all your weekends.

You excuse yourself to go to the restroom but on your way there, you hear your name being called.

Spinning on your heels, your eyes scan the area, trying to locate the voice that called out to you. Your patience is running thin and you’re about to continue your strut to the restroom until a soft hand gently cups your elbow.

You turn your head to look over your shoulder, met with chestnut brown eyes and big plump lips. It takes you a moment to recognize him without his fluffy hair draped over his forehead and no glasses decorating his eyes.

Your frown must be getting to him because he speaks up again, “Forgotten my name, have you?” he teases, dropping his hand from your arm.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise when his familiar voice booms in your ears, flabbergasted by the sight in front of you.

He’s wearing a 2 piece black suit, a beige dress up shirt under his black suit jacket, unbuttoned at the top. Even his damn neck is gorgeous, how is that possible?

His brown hair is in a side part, forehead and eyebrows on display, his bangs kissing the ends of his brows. You weren’t even sure he had eyebrows because his hair was always covering them. His signature silver rimmed glasses are nowhere to be seen and you assume he must be wearing contact lenses.

He’s absolutely fucking gorgeous. You already knew that but literally, what the hell?

Your brain is screaming at you to answer him already and not ogle him like you want to drop onto your knees and give him the sloppiest blowjob of his life.

“Of course not,” you blurt out, “Seokjin… right?” you finish, uncertainty in your tone.

He chuckles at your playful guess, not taking offense to your doubt. “Yeah,” he pauses, “what are you doing here? You look fantastic, by the way.” His gaze drags up your figure quickly and your heart jolts in between your lungs, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

“Oh,” you begin, “thank you. I was out with some friends. What about you?” You have to pretend that compliment didn’t just make your insides clench.

He scratches the back of his head with a defeated smile. “I was supposed to go on a date but I think I got stood up because she was supposed to be here 20 minutes ago and she’s not answering her phone,” he chuckles with an air of embarrassment.

Your heart sinks to your stomach at his words. People are such fucking assholes.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, placing a comforting hand on his bicep. Your hands tense on his arm because touching his hard bicep isn’t a smart thing for you to do right now. “I never understood how people can bring themselves to do something like that. It’s such a shitty thing to do.”

He simply shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll wait 10 more minutes and then go home,” he muses, glancing down at the silver watch wrapped around his left wrist.

You slowly nod as you drag your gaze up his body. Wow. You can’t stress this enough. He is absolutely ethereal.

“Enjoy your night, Y/N.” A smile stretches onto his lips as he takes a step backwards, still holding eye contact with you before he turns on his heels and returns to his table which isn’t far from the restrooms.

You stand there for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts before you silently make your way into the restroom with a heavy heart.

How unfair. He’s such a sweetheart, why would anyone treat him like that? He’s respectful, well-mannered, absolutely gorgeous and allegedly has a big dick. He’s a complete catch.

You abruptly put a stop to your own thoughts. What kind of a hypocrite are you?

You literally don’t pay him any attention because he doesn’t ooze confidence or act like a bad boy with a foul attitude that are beasts in bed. You are one of the assholes you’re complaining about.

With a long glare at the mirror in front of you, staring yourself down in disgust, your heart won’t let up. He doesn’t deserve this. No one does.

You reapply your lipgloss after making up your mind, retouching some of your makeup and fixing some of the hairs that are out of place before you strut out of the restroom and return to your table.

You glance at Seokjin on your way to your table but he’s immersed in his phone, absentmindedly scrolling. Your heart sinks at the sight again.

“Took you long enough, I already paid,” Taehyung mutters, nodding toward the empty seats that once belonged to Hoseok and Olivia.

“I’m staying here.” Your words make him glance at you in surprise, a slight raise to his brows.

“What’s going on?” he pries because he’s Taehyung.

You shake your head quickly, dismissing the concern in his tone. “Everything’s okay,” you say in a reassuring tone.

“Why are you staying here?” he asks, eyes furiously scanning the area.

You obnoxiously sigh, he won’t stop prying so you might as well just tell him. “Seokjin got stood up and I feel bad for him. I’ll join him for like… half an hour.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you for a moment, tilting his head to the side as he processes your words. There haven’t been any note-worthy incidents between you and Seokjin since the condom-thing so Taehyung never brought him up again but just as you thought he could finally act like an adult, a smug smirk creeps on his lips.

“You’re definitely getting fuc–”

“Out.” You cut him off, pushing him toward the exit.

He laughs as he heads out the door of the restaurant, throwing you his attempt at an ahegao face from behind the glass of the window outside. You roll your eyes in exasperation, holding up your middle finger in response before you start making your way to Seokjin’s table.

He’s still on his phone, elbows on the table as he mindlessly scrolls through whatever app he’s on.

You inhale deeply before approaching him, pulling out the chair opposite of him and plopping down on it.

This catches his attention. He peeks up at you from his phone, eyes glancing at you through his brows in surprise and confusion.

You return the eye contact and place your own elbows on the table, slightly leaning forward to close some of the distance between you two.

“Long time no see,” you joke.

He frowns for a moment longer before he chuckles and he locks his phone, turning it face down onto the table next to his utensils. “What’s up?”

You stare at him for a little while longer while he awaits your response in confusion. You part your pretty lips to speak, “That date is probably not coming. Thought I’d join you for a while, I don’t have any plans anyways.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, thick lips parting to say something but no words come out. He leans back into his chair, a certain look in his eyes that you can only describe as intrigue as he shuts his mouth again.

You tilt your head to the side, pretty eyes still intently watching him with a glimmer of something in your eyes that even you can’t put your finger on.

“That’s nice of you. Why, though?” he asks, voice neutral as if he genuinely just wants to know why you would do that.

You bring your shoulders up and drop them right away. “I just wanted to.”

He glances at you for a few seconds. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes but it’s gone by the time you’ve realized it’s skepticism. “It’s not out of pity, right?”

Your heartbeat stutters for a moment at how his voice seemed to drop an octave when he asked that, sweat forming on your palms. You quickly compose yourself and shake your head. “No.”

“Well then,” he says as he glances at the seemingly expensive watch wrapped around his left wrist, “would you like to order something?”

“Nah.” You shake your head at his offer because you really just want to go home but quickly realize he must not have eaten yet, since he was waiting for someone that never came. “But you must be hungry, right?”

He brings his fingers up to his face, absentmindedly rubbing his shaven chin as his eyes continue to study you. “Yeah, but I heard the food here takes quite some time to get to your table so I was just planning on leaving and eating something at home or something.”

“Hm,” you hum, fingers fidgeting with the hoop earring in your right earlobe. “I have some leftover lasagna at home. Would you like some?” The words leave your mouth before you can even think them through. Why the hell would you invite him into your home?

Thankfully, Seokjin is more of an introvert who also prefers the comfort of his own home, so he’ll probably decline.

“Sure.”

Your chest visibly stutters but you quickly compose yourself and rise to your feet in a hurry, hoping he won’t notice the nervous switch in your demeanor. “Cool, let’s go,” is all you say as you scramble to gather your purse.

He wordlessly blinks at you a few times before quietly chuckling and reaching for his phone as he tucks it into the pocket of his slacks.

He calls a waiter over and explains the situation before walking up to you, trying to get through the sea of bodies that are present. He finally reaches you as you wait for him by the exit of the building and places his hand on the small of your back as he motions for you to walk out the door first.

His touch, not even directly to your skin, sends an instant volt of electricity down your vertebrae. Stop suddenly acting a fucking fool around him when you didn’t even notice his presence before, you think to yourself.

“Did you come here by car?” he asks, taking his car keys out of his pocket before turning to look at you.

You shake your head. “Taehyung came to pick me up.”

He nods to your words whilst leading you to his car, warm hand still on your back. “Kim Taehyung? From work?” He leads you to a black Mercedes and you don’t know a lot about cars but this one looks insanely expensive. How does he have the money to own a car like that with the same salary you have?

“Oh uh,” you say as you snap out of your thoughts, “yeah.”

He opens the door to the passenger seat’s side for you and holds your hand for support, his other hand protecting your head as you get in.

Wow. Who would’ve thought he was such a gentleman?

It’s a stark contrast from when Taehyung called you a sexy bitch and told you to hop in his car earlier this evening.

Seokjin closes the door on your side and makes his way around the front of his car to the driver’s seat. Your eyes stay glued to him like a moth to a flame as he makes his way in, your heartbeat quickening again.

Why are you so nervous? It’s all Taehyung’s fault and his crazy scenarios.

“Earth to Y/N?”

You must’ve seemed lost in thought for too long because your nostrils suddenly fill up with a vanilla and musk scent, making you snap out of your filthy mind. Seokjin has leaned into your body, arm reaching across your chest as he tugs the seatbelt from your side over your torso and clicks it into the buckle.

Your breath is stuck in your airways as you freeze at his proximity, your palms growing sweaty again. “Oh, sorry.”

You don’t look at him as he leans back into his seat and buckles his own seatbelt, surprisingly not commenting on your apology. He presses a button on his dashboard, making the car roar to life before he places his hand on the back of your headrest and looks over his shoulder.

He starts backing out of the parking spot despite having a camera right above the car radio. Old habits die hard, you suppose.

You glance at him for a moment but immediately regret it. He is so fucking hot.

He must’ve sensed your eyes on him because for a moment, he makes eye contact with you whilst he’s still reversing out of the parking slot. There’s an unreadable look in his eyes as his eyes briefly meet yours before he looks back over his shoulder again.

He didn’t smile or anything, just glanced into your eyes and returned his attention to backing out of the parking spot.

Heat instantly rushes to your face and you turn your head to look out the window on your side, forcing yourself to not make the same mistake of gawking at him again. Not when you’re so close to him, at least.

He turns on the car radio after asking you for your home address and typing it into the built-in navigation system of his car before he accelerates and starts driving to your destination.

“Not to pry but are you and Taehyung…” His voice gets quieter as it reaches the end of his sentence, eyes still looking at the road in front of him.

“Huh?” You turn your head to look at him, mesmerized by his amazing side profile.

He slightly turns his head to look at you for a moment before returning his attention back to the road, a look on his face as if to tell you it’s obvious what he’s hinting at.

“Oh,” you say as you realize what he’s implying. You shake your head quickly and blurt out, “No, not at all.”

He only nods to your response, eyes unwaveringly staring ahead of him.

The rest of the car drive is uncomfortably quiet, the soft pop music playing is the only thing that’s keeping this silence between you two from being excruciating.

Luckily, the drive isn’t long and you’re in front of your apartment complex in less than 10 minutes. As you reach for your purse and unbuckle your seatbelt, Seokjin has already gotten out of the car and jogged to your side to open the door for you.

He holds his hand out for you to take and you do, hoping to the Lord that he can’t tell how sweaty your palms are. You swing your legs out of the car, placing your heels onto the concrete with a loud click as you get out. You let go of his hand to smooth out your skirt but really, you’re just wiping the sweat off your palms.

He locks his car with a button on the car keys and follows behind you as you fish your keys out of your purse, opening the door to the entrance that leads to the lobby.

The walk up the stairs is silent aside from your obnoxious heels clicking against the tiles, making you wince with each step you take. You make it to your front door and unlock, walking in and kicking your heels off. There’s a significant difference in your height now but he doesn’t comment on it and instead neatly places his shoes by the door as he closes it behind him.

You lead him to your living room and motion for him to sit down while you go and warm up the leftovers.

“This is a nice place,” he muses as he sits down on your couch, looking around to scan the room.

You quietly thank him as you disappear into the kitchen, taking the container out of the fridge and pulling open the cupboard to grab a plate for him.

This is starting to feel like it’s going to be a long night.

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With the empty plate of lasagna remnants on your coffee table, you’re seated right across from Seokjin who is on the couch opposite of you. The two of you had some small talk about work and cooking recipes whilst he ate but the silence has been going on for about 2 minutes now and it’s becoming uncomfortable.

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, he speaks up, “You don’t have to sit so far, you know. I don’t bite,” he says with a teaseful tone. “Unless you want me to.”

The words that leave his mouth so smoothly single handedly knock the oxygen out of your lungs, cause a twitch in your lips and bring a raise to your brows. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from his face, his smug face. Did he drink earlier?

“Did you have something to drink back in that restaurant?” you nervously chuckle, clasping your hands together to stop yourself from fidgeting in front of him.

His shoulders bounce with the way he chuckles, slightly shaking his head. “Would I have driven us here if I drank?”

It almost sounds like he’s mocking you and heat starts bubbling in your stomach at the way the words rolled off his tongue so smugly.

“What’s all this then?” you ask, waving your hand in a circular motion in front of you, aimed at him.

He tilts his head to the side in question. He silently reaches for his glass of water and a small smirk creeps onto his lips when he speaks after taking a sip and says, “Elaborate?”

The bubbling heat in your stomach has seeped to the rest of your body, burning in your veins all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

You stare at him for a moment longer before saying, “This façade. This persona or attitude you’ve got going on.”

The barely-there smirk stays glued on his lips, his hooded eyes make his gaze feel that much more penetrating.

“Façade?” he repeats, bringing his hand up to rub his chin, the silver watch around his wrist glaring in the light coming from your corner lamp.

“Yeah, you’re nothing like how you are at work.”

He slowly nods to your words, a glimmer of mischief flickering in his eyes that have gone from pools of honey brown to bottomless pits of jet black. “What makes you think this is the façade and not the persona I got going on at work?”

His words process in your mind but you can’t bring yourself to understand what he’s saying. Is he implying he’s always like this and the way he is at work is just an act?

“Why would you put on an act at work?” You lean further back into your couch, crossing your arms over your chest as you swing your right leg over your left to keep yourself from bouncing your leg up and down in anxiety.

“Because those people don’t need to know me.”

Your frown deepens at his words. “Those people? We’re your colleagues, Seokjin.”

“Yeah?” he muses, placing his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, hovering his face over the coffee table that’s separating the two of you. “Tell me, if you told them that you were with me right now, what would their reaction be?”

His question shuts you up right away.

Aside from Taehyung who already knows, your co-workers would most likely tease you. You wouldn’t call Seokjin the punching bag of your workplace but he’s definitely not favored in any way. They’ll usually have him do the work that they don’t want to do, treat him like he’s not there. You’re the only one that treats him nicely.

You press your lips into a thin line as your eyes visibly soften at his question, a guilty look on your pretty face.

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he leans back into the sofa, thighs spread and hands on his upper thighs. With a curt nod, he arrogantly adds, “That’s what I thought.”

You swallow thickly and look away from him, uncrossing your arms as you subconsciously fidget with your fingers again, picking at your manicured nails.

You can’t blame him, you suppose. You think about all the times people have dismissed him or dropped their load on his desk without another word, the vivid memories making your heart sink into your stomach.

“Why are you so nervous?” His question makes you snap your head in his direction, eyes slowly widening at him. How did he know?

You blurt out, “I’m not nervous. What makes you think that?”

“Why were your hands sweaty when I helped you get out of the car?”

Your mind travels at lightning speed to come up with a rebuttal but all you can say is, “I’ve always had clammy hands.” Dirty liar.

You try to keep eye contact with him to seem assertive but your pathetic heartbeat quickens once he rises to his feet and walks around the coffee table, toward you.

You shoot up in your seat, uncrossing your legs as he closes the distance between you two. You tilt your chin up, glancing at him through the pretty lashes you chose today as he stands before you, menacingly looming over your body.

“May I?” he asks, holding out his right hand but you have no idea what he’s asking of you.

You slowly and confusingly hold your left hand out to him but he gently turns your hand over by your wrist so the back of your hand faces down and your palm faces up. The tips of his fingers softly graze your palm before moving across as he presses the tips of his index and middle finger against the center of your wrist, right under the length of your thumb.

You stare at his fingers on your skin during the process but still being confused, you look back up at him.

The tension in the air can be cut with a dull butter knife.

His eyes aren’t on your face, instead, they’re still glued to where his fingers are pressed to your skin. His eyebrows are pinched together and he looks in a deep state of concentration. If you believed in magic, you’d swear he’s casting a spell on you right now.

Then, he subtly nods and lets go of your hand, watching how it flops back down to your lap. You continue to stare up at him, the dryness in your throat moving up and spreading throughout your mouth.

“Hands sweaty, heart rate quickened, breath heavy, fingers fidgeting, forcing yourself to look into my eyes,” he lists and then concludes, “You’re nervous.”

You realize he just took your damn pulse to prove his point.

He backs away and silently makes his way back to the opposite couch with a certain smugness, a clear indicator of his satisfaction at victory as he drops his ass back onto the couch. You stare at him with your mouth agape, a slight pinch between your brows and your mind racing with words to say.

“I’m not nervous, I’m just,” you start, “I’m confused. I don’t know what to make of you right now. You’re confusing me.” You finally find the coursge to speak up but your voice is quiet, your words almost incoherent.

“Well,” he pauses, “I don’t really owe you an explanation.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, a bit taken aback by his bluntness. “Can’t tell if you’re being an asshole or just bold,” you murmur, wondering if he’s just saying this to get a reaction out of you or if he’s just like this. He can’t be like this. This is not Seokjin.

Is it? Did you ever really bother to get to know him better?

He simply shrugs his broad shoulders and replies, “Either way, it seems like you like it.”

His words are like a punch to the gut, making you shoot your eyes straight at him as you clear your throat and lean forwards to act like you didn’t just hear him. “Excuse me?”

He starts, “You invited me over for food after pitying me. I’m done eating, I’ve been saying stuff that has clearly struck a nerve and yet you’re not telling me to get out.” His eyes scan the room for a moment before settling on you again. “Clearly something is keeping me here.”

Your glossy lips part and your eyes widen in disbelief, incoherent words and sentences bubbling up the back of your throat but never actually making it out of your mouth.

What the hell?

You clear your throat to speak again, “I’m just polite. And curious.”

“Curious?” he chuckles, “Don’t you know curiosity killed the cat?” The joke rolls off his tongue with another chuckle, making your stomach tingle with something you can’t put your finger on.

Curiosity killed the cat.

(Read: The cat being your pussy.)

His confidence, his look, his posture, everything is making him so much hotter than you’ve ever seen him before.

As if you needed it, your mind suddenly jumps to the vivid image of the golden XL letters on his box of condoms.

Maybe you should listen to Taehyung.

You ignore his smug remark as you eye his empty glass of water, nodding toward it before you ask, “Would you like something else?”

“Depends,” he says with an air of nonchalance, apparent by the smug shrug of his shoulders.

“On?”

“Whether you’re on that list.”

His flirtatious comment has your stomach doing backflips and a surge of heat shoots right down to your core. You hate how all he had to do was arrogantly imply he’d drink you up – no pun intended – and it’d have your panties sticking to your sex.

That’s it. You decide it’s time to bite back.

Just pretend it’s timid Seokjin from work, you think to yourself.

You get up from the couch and pour some more water into his glass. He reaches for the glass but you surprise him by wrapping your own hand around his glass before he can, bringing it up to your lips and taking a sip from his glass whilst keeping eye contact with him. After you’ve swallowed, you lower the glass back onto the table, leaving a stain of your lipstick on the rim.

He watches you with an arrogant raise to his brows and a faint smirk on those lips that you’d love to feel on your skin.

You plop back down onto the couch where you were previously seated before you say, “You’ve gone from bold asshole to bold flirt in the span of 2 minutes.” Your shoulders slouch and you hope you’re coming across as unbothered and casual.

“No harm in a bit of fun, right?” he jokes, a cocky tilt to his head as he continues to stare at you, reaching for the same glass and drinking from it.

“Sure, but where’s the fun in it if it’s all talk?” you quip.

Fuck. You can’t believe you just said that, your heart has shot up into your throat the moment the words left your mouth.

He simply smiles at your words before speaking up. “Do you actually believe that?” he says, his voice neutral and his expression almost mocking you.

You cross your arms and nonchalantly shrug, one of your hands coming up to allow your fingers to play with the earring in your earlobe before you part your lips to say, “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

He squints his eyes at you for a moment before he dryly chuckles, shaking his head as he looks down at the glass in his hand absentmindedly.

After a few moments of silence, he places the glass back down with a thud. He looks back up at you through his brows, his hand coming up to his face in order to push some of his bangs out of the outer-corner of his eyes with his fingers.

“If you want me to come over there and fuck the shit out of you on that couch, you should just say that. Don’t beat around the bush.”

Fuck.

You force the yelp that’s threatening to erupt from your throat to go back down by forcefully swallowing it down, a knot forming in your stomach and a tingle in your panties. Fuck, you’re so happy you did all that scrubbing in the shower before you left for the restaurant.

“Aren’t you the one that’s beating around the bush?” you quip, watching as his eyebrows raise in surprise and you’re glad you’ve caught him off guard.

“Hm?” he hums in question.

“Really? ‘Depends whether you’re on that list’?” you repeat his words before continuing, “If you want to come over here and fuck me, you should just say that. Don’t beat around the bush.” You shoot right back at him, satisfaction swimming in your stomach at your quick comeback.

His nonchalant response is immediate. “I want to fuck you.”

Well.

Your mouth dries out like you just scooped a spoonful of cinnamon powder into your mouth in the middle of the scorching hot Sahara.

You clear your throat and gulp, gaze trailing to the wall on your side. You see him staring at you in your peripheral vision and you can just sense the smug smirk on his lips.

But you’re not going to let him win.

You finally decide to speak up. You say, “Well, what are you waiting for? Come over here, then.”

He rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, moving the wet muscle across his back teeth before rising to his feet.

Oh, fuck.

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outro: tear ⌞speak yourself (japan)

[cr. namuspromised]

:(

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[123/547] — until we meet again, jungkook ♡

pocket-sized hopeminkook ♡

day 122/547 until joon returns cr. jung-koook