| FUGITIVOS 16 |

| FUGITIVOS 16 |

SINOPSIS: Después de muchos años sin verse, Bomi se reencuentra con un antiguo vecino de su infancia y, lo que debió haber sido una reunión amistosa, terminó escalando hasta convertirse en un infierno, cuando Bomi es acusada de asesinato. PAREJA: Seokjin x female oc GÉNERO: Crimen, asesinato, misterio. N/A: NO PUEDO CREER QUE TERMINÉ ESTA HISTORIA. Empecé el 2018 y con fecha septiembre 2022, al fin le digo adiós. Espero haya sido de su agrado, muchas gracias por leer :):)

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Quejándose por culpa de sus músculos cansados, Bomi abrió sus ojos y trató de orientarse y recordar dónde estaba. Todo se veía blanco y luminoso, exceptuando la persona de pelo oscuro sentado en una silla al lado de su cama y descansando la cabeza sobre sus brazos.

Con cuidado y recordando los eventos con lentitud, Bomi acarició el pelo de Jin con delicadeza y soltó un suspiro. Considerando que lo último que recordaba era el sonido de la pistola disparándose, era un alivio ver que ambos estaban bien.

-Hola - murmuró Jin, incorporándose.

-Hola - sonrió Bomi, débilmente. Su voz sonaba ronca y apenas podía creer que Jin estaba vivo y frente a ella - ¿Qué sucedió? ¿Estamos en el hospital? ¿Por qué estamos en el hospital?

Jin sonrió débilmente y tomó la mano que Bomi aún tenía en su cabello, para presionarla contra su rostro. Besó su palma con los ojos cerrados y se enderezó con esfuerzo.

-¿Cómo estás?

-Me siento bien, nada me duele, creo que solo necesitaba dormir. Pero... Quiero saber lo qué pasó - refunfuñó Bomi, haciendo un puchero.

-¿Qué es lo último que recuerdas? - le preguntó Jin con una suave sonrisa, pese a que la alegría no llegaba a sus ojos.

-Que te tiraste sobre nosotros y el sonido de la pistola. Nada más - respondió Bomi, aguantando un escalofrío. Realmente era un milagro que ambos estuvieran ilesos.

Jin asintió y mirando a su alrededor, pareció ordenar en su cabeza lo que quería decir.

-Creo que cuando los empujé contra el suelo, te golpeaste la cabeza y por eso perdiste el conocimiento. Al menos, eso es lo que piensa el equipo médico, te hicieron exámenes y todo parece estar bien. Solo sugirieron que te dejara descansar... Ha sido un periodo de tiempo muy intenso para ambos.

Bomi se mantuvo en silencio y solo atinó a sostener con más fuerza la mano de Jin que aún se posaba sobre la suya. No tenía claro cuánto tiempo exactamente había pasado desde la fiesta, pero ahora, todas esas semanas parecían una pesadilla lejana. Si no fuera por el agotamiento que sentía en esos momentos, Bomi habría pensado que todo lo vivido no le había sucedido a ella.

-Cuando caímos al suelo, h-hyung y yo peleamos por el arma, pero esta se disparó y la bala me rozó el hombro.

-N-no - murmuró Bomi asustada, mirando a Jin con sus ojos llenos de lágrimas y buscando por todos lados el lugar donde se había hecho daño. Por primera vez desde que despertó, ella se dio cuenta que bajo la chaqueta que Jin tenía puesta, uno de sus brazos estaba sujeto por un cabestrillo.

-Estoy bien, apenas tengo unas vendas - le aseguró él - pero en el momento el dolor fue suficiente para que Dong hyung tomara ventaja, se pusiera de pie y me apuntara en la cabeza, mientras yo seguía en el suelo. Solo nos salvamos, porque la policía llegó justo en ese momento.

-¿Qué pasó con él? - preguntó Bomi, nerviosa de tener que volver a topárselo.

-Murió - contestó Jin apenado - Cuando la policía entró a la casa y lo rodeó, se disparó a sí mismo. Sé que no debería estar triste, porque estuvo detrás de la muerte de todos mis amigos, pero todavía me cuesta pensar... Asimilar que él, a quién creí conocer por muchos años, pudo cometer los crímenes que llevó a cabo.

-Está bien oppa - susurró Bomi de forma suave - Tendremos tiempo para hacer las paces con lo ocurrido.

-Eso espero.

-¿La policía pudo ver entonces la transmisión...? ¡No! ¿Qué fue de Yoongi oppa? - preguntó ella súbitamente - Tuve que dejarlo luego de que Chang Dong lo atacara...

-Es gracias a Yoongi que estamos aquí - contestó Jin - él está estable, no ha despertado y los médicos no saben qué tipo de secuelas pueda tener. Perdió mucha sangre, pero por ahora está bien y tengo la esperanza de que se va a recuperar.

Bomi abrazó a Jin tratando de no presionar su hombro y sollozó contra su piel. Yoongi se había arriesgado por ellos, estaba herido, pero al final había tenido razón y su loco plan había funcionado. Ella también tenía la certeza de que despertaría pronto y les haría ver que realmente era un genio.

-Tal como lo prometió, transmitió todo en nuestras redes sociales, pero no hizo solo eso. No sé en qué momento, pero les mandó el enlace directamente a los detectives a cargo del caso. Es gracias a esa decisión que estamos vivos para contarlo.

-Quizás se le ocurrió cuando Yoongi oppa volvió al estudio ese día...

-Cuando haya sido, eso permitió que la policía se lo tomara en serio. Nuestros seguidores intentaron llamar y dar aviso de lo que estaba sucediendo, pero al principio el retén más cercano pensó que se trataba de una broma. No fue hasta cuando los detectives llamaron para pedirles que se acercaran a la casa, que se lo tomaron en serio y se movilizaron. De no ser por Yoongi-ah, la policía no habría llegado a tiempo.

Suspirando como si pretendiera botar todo el aire de sus pulmones, Bomi se recostó en la almohada y apoyó su cabeza en la pared cerrando los ojos.

-Así que de verdad terminó todo - comentó Bomi, tras abrir sus ojos y posarlos nuevamente en Jin.

-Sí, gracias a que la transmisión va a ser considerada la evidencia principal, somos libres de hacer lo que queramos una vez que el hospital nos dé el alta.

-¿Qué vas a hacer ahora?

-No sé. Se siente un poco superficial el volver a actuar. Creo que voy a tomarme un tiempo.

-Sí, esa es una buena idea. Deberías hacer eso, descansar de verdad.

-¿Quieres venir conmigo?

Las palabras de Jin la sorprendieron. No porque su propuesta fuera algo totalmente inesperado, sino que porque Bomi creía que necesitaban algo de distancia. Para dejar lo sucedido atrás.

-Creo... Creo que voy a quedarme con mis padres un tiempo.

-Está bien. Entiendo que puede ser difícil verme ahora que todo terminó, ya que fue mi culpa que te involucraras en todo esto.

-¡NO! Jin oppa no... - Bomi volvió a sostener la mano de él entre las suyas, tal como ella lo había venido haciendo en el último tiempo - Necesito paz y silencio por un tiempo, y tú también lo vas a necesitar. Probablemente necesitaré terapia, sobre todo porque creí ver morir a Yoongi oppa frente a mí - sus ojos se humedecieron, mientras se le escapaba un sollozo.

-Sí - asintió Jin - Y t-tengo que hacer las paces con la muerte de Namjoon... Ya que pensé por mucho tiempo que él era el asesino. Ahora solo quiero creer que él realmente estaba en la fiesta porque quería arreglar las cosas entre nosotros. Y me arrepiento de que no le pude dar la oportunidad.

-Creo que es bueno que tomemos distancia el uno del otro.

-Y cuando estemos mejor, podemos volver a encontrarnos - añadió Jin, en un tono de voz sombrío.

-Me gustaría eso.

Jin apretó su agarre en la mano de ella y por un tiempo, solo permanecieron mirándose de forma pensativa.

-¿No hay forma en que pueda convencerte? ¿De venir conmigo?

-Lo siento oppa - sonrió ella con tristeza - Ya no tienes que protegerme más. Aunque te extrañaré.

-Está bien - dijo él y esta vez se puso de pie con cuidado y se inclinó hacia Bomi, para besarla en los labios.

Fue diferente.

Ya no se sentía como la primera vez, lleno de pasión e impaciencia, tampoco como los innumerables besos asustados y apresurados que compartieron mientras se escondían. Este fue un beso largo y cargado de esperanza, que llenó de lágrimas los ojos de Bomi. Pero ella se mantuvo firme, necesitaba tiempo para sanar y necesitaba hacerlo por su cuenta.

Tal vez algún día sería lo suficientemente fuerte como para volver a encontrarse con Jin. Verlo de verdad, sin tener que recordar los horrores de las últimas semanas.

Después de sonreírse el uno al otro por un momento, Jin se obligó a sí mismo a salir de la habitación y Bomi encontró que su partida le dolía profundamente. Llorando con deseperación, se aferró a las sábanas y se dejó sentir. Habían vivido tantas cosas juntos que verlo partir y alejarse de su lado por primera vez en mucho tiempo, la hizo creer que verdaderamente todo había terminado.

Y como pasaba con todos los finales, el sabor era agridulce.

-Está bien – se dijo, tratando de consolarse a sí misma – Él estará bien y yo también.

Soltando un profundo suspiro, Bomi se atrevió a cerrar los ojos, por primera vez sin temor de no volver a abrirlos nunca más.

Fin.

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| masterlist |

Vows (Part 1)

aka 10 ways to win your husband's heart: an arranged marriage AU

You're five years into your arranged marriage with Min Yoongi, and he's never once retaliated for anything you've done to him. One day you realise you've lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.

Pairing: Yoongi x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Arranged marriage, e2l, smut, angst

Word count: 12k

Warnings: Sex, swearing

Ah shit.

You lift the arm curled around your waist off you and commando roll out of the luxurious california king you’ve woken up in.

The beautiful man you woke up with shifts and his face presses into the pillow. 

You tear your admiring eyes away from him guiltily and grab his shirt from the floor, slipping it on, buttoning quickly.

You’re tiptoeing to the door when a grumpy deep voice makes you freeze.

‘That’s my favourite shirt,’ your husband says.

You reach for your patience and don’t find it. 

Min Yoongi has exhausted all your reserves of goodwill towards him.

‘I was trying to be considerate and not wake you up,’ you say through gritted teeth.

He snorts. 

Your blood pressure spikes.

You unbutton the shirt and seriously consider throwing it at his beautiful head.

You’re so annoyed it takes you longer than it should to register the way his gaze is roaming your naked body.

‘Min Yoongi,’ you say, injecting as much ice into your tone as you can, ‘you know we can only tolerate each other when we’re drunk.’

‘My morning wood’s not picky,’ he drawls, like it’s a compliment.

You roll your eyes. You know Yoongi’s always been attracted to you physically.

It’s your personality he can’t stand.

‘I’m sore,’ you tell him briskly, putting your dress back on. 

You’re not lying. You think Yoongi sometimes takes his anger with you out on your cunt.

You love it, really, but he’s got a generous dick and impressive stamina and you really are sore.

Yoongi, unusually, looks concerned. ‘Was it too much?’

You ignore the flutter in your chest as he picks your panties off the floor and passes them to you, smoothing a soothing hand over your lower back.

You step away from his touch as though his hand is burning. 

His sigh of irritation gives you life.

‘You’re deeply annoying,’ he tells you.

You smile, brilliantly, at him.

‘Oh Yoongi, are you this sweet to all the women you sleep with?’

‘Are you this annoying to all the men you fuck?’ he snaps.

Your smile falters for a second before you pull your mask firmly back in place.

You turn away from him and leave his bedroom without a goodbye.

***

Yoongi stares at the mark on his neck, just above the collar of his shirt, and thinks of you as he gets dressed for work.

Of course you’d had to mark him, even after he’d warned you not to. 

Sometimes you’re so fucking exasperating he can’t stand you.

Now he has to meet his entire board, including his father and grandfather, looking like a horny teenager.

He has a flashback to your beautiful thighs wrapped around his hips, ankles crossed behind him, as you begged him not to stop.

Yoongi tries to shut that image out of his head before the erection he’s had all morning returns, but the image is burned into his retinas.

Shit, it’s in living technicolour with fucking surround sound. 

Yoongi finishes getting dressed and stops by the kitchen for a coffee.

Mrs Gye, his housekeeper, smiles politely at him as she hands him his flask.

Yoongi thanks her, and is about to leave when he remembers.

‘Can you make some herbal tea for Mrs Min, please? She’s not feeling too well this morning.’

Mrs Gye nods, ‘of course, Mr Min.’

‘Don’t tell her I asked you to do it, just say you made some,’ Yoongi instructs. 

Mrs Gye looks like she’s about to protest, but Yoongi’s already out the door into his waiting car.

***

You sigh with pleasure as you sip your herbal tea on your way into work. 

Mrs Gye, your housekeeper, is truly a treasure.

She’d assured you that Yoongi hadn’t noticed anything different about his morning flask of coffee.

Yoongi’s a man of habit, so much so that he’s predictable in every way. 

One of the cleaners had dropped his favourite flask and cracked it yesterday. 

She’d been apologetic, but you’d been worried.

You know he’s got a big meeting with the board of his company today and you’d been determined not to let anything detract from his focus.

You’d driven to three places after work before you’d been able to find a replacement. You’d bought five, just to futureproof against any other flask mishaps.

Of course, all that driving around had made you late for dinner and Yoongi had been sure you’d been late on purpose.

You can’t blame him, it’s the sort of stunt you’d have pulled five years ago when you first got married.

You’ve changed but you’re pretty sure Yoongi sees you as still the same spoiled, immature heiress he’d been forced to marry, as the oldest son and heir to his family’s vast business empire.

Anyway, Yoongi’d been seething throughout dinner. 

He’d spanked you until your ass was red raw.

You’d begged for more.

You stifle the delicious shiver that runs through you at the memory.

Your mood drops as you remember him accusing you of fucking other men.

Sure, you’d accused him of the same, but you’ve always been faithful to him.

You just don’t know if he’s been as faithful to you.

You’d heard the rumours about him and his breathtakingly beautiful and terrifyingly talented media director.

Park Gyuri was a model and actress before she went to grad school and earned an MBA. She waltzed into Yoongi’s family company, and she’s been doing a bang up job of everything since then.

She’s also the woman Yoongi was dating before he was forced to marry you.

You stopped seeking out the rumours because it became upsetting.

In your heart of hearts, you don’t think Yoongi’s any more in love with you than he was when you got married.

In truth, you wouldn’t blame him.

You’d spent years being the exact cold hearted bitch he’d eventually accused you of being.

You’re surprised it took him that long to finally snap.

***

Yoongi smiles at Gyuri as she walks into his office.

She’s beautifully put together as always, and she’s wearing green silk today, a shade that complements her colouring well.

‘Free for dinner tonight?’ she asks.

‘What’s the occasion?’ Yoongi asks. 

‘Nothing, I just want to have dinner with my friend,’ Gyuri says, smiling affectionately at him.

There’s a pause before ‘friend’, so brief Yoongi knows anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed it, but he did.

Yoongi would be lying if he said he’d never considered what his life would be like now if he hadn’t married you. 

He’d probably be less annoyed on a day to day basis.

He’d probably still be a member of the country club you’d got him kicked out of.

He might be married to Gyuri instead.

He’s about to say yes when your face floats into his head. The look in your eyes when he’d accused you of being annoying, which is definitely true, and of fucking other men, which he doesn’t think is true. 

Yoongi says, politely, ‘Rain check? I’d like to have dinner at home today.’ 

He’s been thinking about how you said you were sore, and he wants to check on you.

You’ll probably ignore him like you always do but he wants to see you’re all right for himself.

Also, he’s aware there’s an underlying frisson between him and Gyuri, and he doesn’t want to explore that just yet.

For once, Yoongi doesn’t linger in his office after everyone leaves. He picks up his bag and calls for his car and heads home.

When he reaches home, he walks into the kitchen. Mrs Gye is at the sink whilst something’s simmering on the stovetop. She startles when he sees him.

‘Ah, Mr Min, you’re back early.’

Yoongi murmurs something about working at home and hands her his flask. Then he stops, looking at another identical four flasks sitting to dry on the draining board by the sink.

Mrs Gye sees his line of vision.

‘Mrs Min bought them yesterday.’

Yoongi’s first thought is that you’re plotting something devious.

‘Where is Mrs Min?’ he asks.

‘She went up to her room.’

Yoongi doesn’t often go to your rooms, in fact he doesn’t think he’s visited you there this year at all.

He knocks on the door and there’s a muffled response.

‘I’m in bed, is it important, Mrs Gye?’

Yoongi says, ‘it’s me.’

He senses rather than hears your response. In moments you’re opening the door, pulling a robe tight around your waist.

Your hair is messy, your face devoid of makeup.

You look up at him self consciously. 

Yoongi puts a hand on your arm. ‘Are you ok?’ 

You frown at him. ‘You didn’t kill me with your dick. I’m on my period.’

Yoongi bites back the laugh that threatens to erupt.

You ask, ‘would you like to come in?’

Yoongi follows you through your bedroom to your living area. 

You pour both of you water and sit in your favourite chair, legs curling underneath you.

‘How are you doing, Yoongi?’ you ask, yawning.

‘Do you want to sleep with me?’ Yoongi asks, suddenly.

You choke on your water. 

Yoongi waits until you’ve recovered enough to speak.

‘Right now? Jesus Yoongi I said I was on my period.’

Yoongi looks unperturbed. ‘I didn’t mean fuck, although if you’re down, I am. I meant sleep with me. Do you want to sleep in the same room?’

You stare at him.

‘Are we in danger?’

Yoongi stares at you.‘What? No, don’t be ridiculous.’

‘You can tell me, Yoongi, my family have security contacts everywhere.’

Yoongi massages his forehead. ‘No. Forget it. Just forget it.’

You get up hurriedly as he looks like he’s about to ditch you. ‘Yoongi!’

He stops. 

‘You want to spend more time together?’ You ask, doubtful as to what he really meant.

‘We’re married,’ Yoongi points out, patient. ‘We’ll probably have kids eventually. Shouldn’t we try to get to know each other?’

You have a flashback, vivid, of Yoongi calling you a spoiled, stuck up bitch.

‘Yes. Let’s sleep together.’

Yoongi looks at you for a moment. 

He holds out his hand. 

With a sense of trepidation, you take it.

***

‘It’s weird not to be fucking,’ you say to Yoongi, pulling the covers up to your neck, looking around his room curiously. 

‘It’s also 9pm. Why are you already in bed?’

You hop out and trip over a pair of Yoongi’s slippers, sprawling on the floor.

Yoongi looks at you, shirt half unbuttoned.

‘I’m tired,’ you say, crawling back into bed.

You pull the covers over your head.

A moment later you feel him sitting on the bed.

He pats over where your head is.

‘Come have dinner with me.’

‘Is that an euphemism for a blow job?’ you ask from under the covers.

You sit up suddenly and realise Yoongi’s sitting on the bed in his briefs.

You can feel heat rush to your face. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen your husband naked before, hell, it’s not even been 24 hours since you last fucked.

But this is different.

This is intimacy when you’re more comfortable with fucking.

Yoongi’s watching the way your eyes rove over his thighs.

‘See something you like?’ he asks, coolly.

You scoff. ‘Of course I like the way you look, Min Yoongi.’

You get up. ‘Let’s eat.’

****

Yoongi eyes you over the soup you’re stirring.

‘Why did you buy so many flasks?’ he asks.

Your eyes snap to his. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I saw them.’

You shrug. ‘You like them. I want you to have replacements if one breaks.’

‘That’s thoughtful.’

‘Just being a dutiful wife,’ you chirrup cheerfully.

Yoongi stares at you like you’ve grown another head. ‘You are definitely not that.’

You nod in agreement. ‘You’re right.’

‘Are you feeling ok? You’ve barely touched your soup and you already tried to get into bed.’

‘I’m on my period,’ you tell him, again. You get up. ‘I’m going to go get some of my things and bring them to your room.’

‘It’s our room,’ Yoongi corrects, gently.

‘Our room,’ you repeat. 

By the time you’ve finished gathering your things, Yoongi’s just got to his door.

‘After you,’ he says, strangely formal.

You shoot him a look and head to his huge dressing room.

‘You can use that side,’ he says, pointing.

The entire wall he’s pointing at is made up of bare clothes rails at varying heights. 

You pull open a drawer, intending to deposit your toiletries and underwear in it, and stop when you see the packages inside it.

‘What’s this?’ you ask.

Yoongi walks over from his side of the dressing room.

Together you look at the boxes from a well-known underwear brand. It’s the same brand you tend to wear.

You look up at Yoongi, and to your surprise, the tips of his ears are red.

Your impatient, unsentimental husband actually looks… embarrassed.

You wait him out.

Finally, he mutters, ‘sometimes if I see something I like, I buy it for you.’

You can’t believe your ears. 

‘Did you buy this for — someone else?’ you ask quietly.

Another thought occurs to you. 

‘Did you buy this for yourself?’ you ask. 

Yoongi groans, irritably. 

‘I bought all this shit for you. My wife.’

He opens the top box and rifles through what looks like a beautiful red silk and lace teddy. You glimpse the tags. It’s your size.

‘I got this after that night when you wore that red dress to meet the Hans because you look fucking breathtaking in red.’

‘How do you know my size?’ you ask weakly, stalling to give your brain time to catch up.

‘Your size is the only fucking thing I do know about you,’ Yoongi says, still irritable. ‘How many times have I taken your lingerie off?’

You stare each other into an uneasy stalemate.

‘You really didn’t buy this for anyone else?’ you ask.

‘Believe me or don’t believe me,’ Yoongi says, at the end of his tether. 

He stalks out of his dressing room, and you blink blindly at the stack of boxes in the drawer.

By the time you re-enter Yoongi’s bedroom, the lights are off and he’s a lump under the covers.

You climb in the other side and after a moment, scoot over to be closer to him.

He’s got his back to you, rigid, cold.

You put your hand on his shoulder to warn him, then kiss the back of his neck.

‘Thank you,’ you tell him.

You’re half- asleep by the time he turns onto his back. His hand brushes yours under the covers, not holding it but touching you.

‘You’re welcome,’ he says. 

You curl your pinky finger around his, like a promise, and go to sleep.

***

When you wake up the next morning, Yoongi’s already gone.

His side of the bed is rumpled, and when you run your hand over the sheet it’s cold.

You need to think. 

Even better, you need a third party to do your thinking for you.

You send your best friend Nara a text, then notice the time.

Shit. You need to get to work.

You hop out of bed, trip over Yoongi’s slippers again and scurry to your own room to get dressed.

Your morning is pretty dull, a bunch of meetings with clients, a team brief before your new product launch tonight.

Nara meets you for lunch. 

Kim Nara has been your closest friend since junior tennis club. She has an impressively strong backhand, a competitive streak a mile wide and is the most loyal person you’ve ever met.

She pours you some wine from the bottle she started whilst waiting for you, then sits back in her seat.

‘What was so urgent you had to meet today?’ she asks.

Her eyes narrow. ‘Did Min Yoongi knock you up?’

‘What? No. I’m on my period right now,’ you protest. 

You take a gulp of wine to fortify yourself.

‘But it does involve him.’

Nara takes a matching big sip. ‘Hit me.’

‘I think I should try to get him to forgive me.’

‘For what?’ Nara asks. There’s a mischievous light in her eyes now.

‘For buying Kim Seokjin instead of him at that bullshit charity auction? For sending that chain email to all his employees with his STI testing results? For getting him blacklisted from every golf course in the country?’

You cringe.

You’d been young when you married Yoongi, spoiled and impulsive and naive and terribly, terribly selfish.

Nara sucks in a breath to power what you know is going to be a litany of crimes. You’d write it all down if it wouldn’t kill you to read what an asshole you were to him.

You have no idea why he hasn’t divorced you.

You guess this is why he tries to break you every time you have sex.

Nara’s talking about the time you ran off to Switzerland for three months, but you tune her out.

You need to make all this up to Yoongi, a man who buys you gifts even when you’re barely talking, and who wants to be closer to you despite everything you’ve done to him.

You figure ten is a nice round number.

You’re going to do it. 

You’re going to find the ten worst things you’ve done to Min Yoongi and make up for every single one of them.

***

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Min, Mr Kim says he can’t see you until his bodyguard gets here.’

You gape at the expressionless secretary who’s been dispatched to give you the news. He nods apologetically, then withdraws.

The nerve of Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin is Yoongi’s best friend, and instrumental in your plan to make things right with Yoongi.

It looks like he’s going to make you work for it every step of the way. You’ve been waiting outside his office for ten minutes already, and there’s no end in sight.

The first attack you’d launched on Min Yoongi after you got married was at a charity fundraiser where there had been, to your devious delight, an auction.

Not just any auction. Seokjin and Yoongi had been part of it, and you’d very intentionally bid on Seokjin despite wearing the Min heirloom pendant around your neck.

You’d bid a ridiculous amount and won him, a record that was shattered not long after by the ‘purchase’ of a man with a rakish glint in his eye, Jungkook, you think his name was.

Even worse, you’d paid a horny elderly society lady, Mrs Kang, known for her constant innuendoes and wandering hands, to purchase your then new husband.

He’s never told you what happened on their date. 

On your date with Seokjin you’d dressed so provocatively you were a quick move away from being arrested for public indecency.

To his credit, you hadn’t once caught Seokjin’s eyes wandering below your neck.

He’d spent the whole date scolding you on Yoongi’s behalf.

You’ve had other shenanigans with Seokjin, but the auction is the most scandalous one by far. You’re not surprised he doesn’t want to see you.

You glance at your watch and realise you’ve been waiting for over twenty minutes.

You get up to leave and you hear your name called in a deep voice that’s definitely not Seokjin’s.

It’s a man, around six feet tall, who looks the size of a refrigerator. He looks like he could break you in half and not break a sweat.

You’re escorted into Seokjin’s office.

‘Y/N,’ Seokjin says, formally, from behind his desk. ‘Have a seat.’

You aren’t sure if Seokjin realises that you practically grew up in boardrooms much more intimidating than this. 

You sit behind his desk obediently.

‘I wanted to talk to you about Yoongi,’ you say, rushed, because you don’t know how much time you have.

Seokjin looks at you evenly. ‘I have no interest in discussing my best friend with you.’

‘We don’t have to discuss him. I just want to make up for all of the things I’ve done to him over the years.’

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. You’ve always found him intimidating, if you’re honest. 

‘Anyway, can you convince him to put himself up for auction at the Rose Ball next month?’

‘Why?’ Seokjin snaps. ‘So you can humiliate him again?’

Your hackles rise at his tone, but you remind yourself of your end goal. You’re not sure you can make Yoongi cuddly but you think you might be able to make him like you.

‘I won’t humiliate him,’ you say, humbly.

Seokjin glares at you. ‘I need more assurance than your word, funnily enough.’

You like how loyal Seokjin is to Yoongi, but he’s sure being an ass right now.

‘I’ll pay you.’

Seokjin frowns. ‘Do I look like I need the money?’

‘I’ll cook dinner for Yoongi and you,’ you offer.

He snorts. 

‘Can you even cook?’

‘Jesus what do you want Seokjin?’

You stand, and immediately his bodyguard takes a protective step forward.

You throw your hands up in exasperation.

‘Yoongi really wants to go to watch the Portland Trail Blazers when they’re in town next month. It’s right before the Rose Ball. Take him and I’ll get him to auction himself off at the Rose Ball.’

You put out a hand, forgetting about the bodyguard for a moment.

You pull it back quickly when he steps in front of Seokjin. 

‘Deal,’ you call happily over the bodyguard’s shoulder.

‘Wait.’

Seokjin steps out from behind the human wall and holds out his hand.

You shake it. 

‘Don’t fuck me or Yoongi over,’ Seokjin warns.

‘I won’t,’ you promise.

***

Yoongi’s already home when you get back after work. 

He’s dressed in basketball shorts, a sweatband around his forehead.

‘You look hot,’ you say, absently, as you search through your drawer in his dressing room for a loose tee.

‘Here,’ Yoongi says. He tosses you a plain tee, one of his own. 

You put it to your face and inhale. 

‘It’s fresh,’ Yoongi says, dryly.

‘It smells like you,’ you say. ‘I like it.’

You step out of your work clothes and pull it over your head. 

‘I’m going to bed.’

You pause before you leave the dressing room. ‘Hey, Yoongi. I got tickets to the Portland trail blazers game next month. Wanna go together?’

Yoongi gapes at you. 

‘You didn’t seriously just ask me out to a basketball game with my favourite team whilst wearing my t-shirt and nothing else.’

You hadn’t been thinking about anything naughty but you snap to attention at his words.

‘Are you still on your period?’ Yoongi asks.

He’s already rounding the central island in the middle of his dressing room, where he keeps his watches and jewellery.

He’s heading straight for you.

You squeak and retreat to the bed.

He’s a second behind you, landing right on you before you can even yank up the covers.

‘Let’s make out,’ he says, voice husky.

‘Yeah,’ you agree.

His lips are almost on yours when you stop him.

‘Do you still want to make out even if we don’t—‘ you trail off, and Yoongi looks at you oddly.

‘Fuck?’ he supplies, helpfully.

You nod.

‘Are you serious? What do you think I am? Some sort of brute?’

‘We usually just skip to the fucking,’ you point out.

Yoongi stares at you for so long you think he’s had a stroke.

Then he leans over and kisses your forehead. 

Your eyes closed automatically when his lips touched you, so it takes you a moment to realise he’s pulling away. 

‘I’ll see you at dinner,’ he says. 

He’s out the door before you get a chance to say goodbye.

***

You’re trying to pick something to wear to the game with Yoongi. You’re not really a fan of basketball, not like he is. Your only knowledge of basketball consists of what you’ve gleaned from pictures of celebrities courtside and what you’ve seen in movies.

Once you’re dressed, you run downstairs to where Yoongi’s waiting. 

‘They’re not courtside,’ you say, apologetic, as Yoongi drives.

‘You’ve said that a few times,’ Yoongi says mildly, signalling to turn.

‘I just don’t want you to be disappointed,’ you say.

‘I won’t be,’ Yoongi says. 

‘I don’t know anything about basketball,’ you tell him. 

Yoongi looks at you with such disappointment it feels like you need to seek his forgiveness for yet another thing.

‘I’m calling the best divorce lawyer in town right after this,’ Yoongi says. ‘But first, let’s watch the game.’

‘What? You’re divorcing me over a —- sport?’

‘Not helping the cause,’ Yoongi retorts.

You want to pout but you’re pretty sure he’ll just get annoyed with you. 

Yoongi drives into a multi-storey car park and backs into a space so sexily you get a little wet just watching him. 

He even does that thing where he rests his arm against your seat, as though it’s a habit he can’t break even though his car has a rear camera.

You want to hold hands with him as you walk to the arena, but you rarely ever touch when you’re not fucking. 

Yoongi says, without looking at you, ‘what is it now?’

‘This is kind of like a date,’ you observe.

Yoongi sighs. 

He’s never really indulged your fondness for romantic gestures, you guess he’s always seen them as childish. 

‘It’s a date,’ he confirms. He leads you to your seats as though he knows the arena well. 

You look around curiously. The seats aren’t courtside, but you’re only a couple of rows back, and the view seems fine to you.

‘Is this ok?’ you ask.

‘They’re perfect seats. Stop asking me or I’ll kiss you and ruin your lip gloss.’

‘This is kiss proof, actually,’ you say, seriously. 

Yoongi turns fully to look at you. ‘Is that an invitation for me to test it out?’

‘Let’s just see how the date goes,’ you say, leaning back in your seat.

You can feel his eyes on you. He scoffs, but he doesn’t sound annoyed. 

The game is an exciting one, but you spend it mainly watching Yoongi. He’s pretty even-tempered most of the time, but watching basketball really seems to get his blood going.

He cheers so loudly and enthusiastically you’re almost deafened. Once the game gets going he barely even seems to notice you.

You’re glad he’s enjoying himself. 

At half time, you get him to take a selfie with you to send to Seokjin as proof. 

You’ve just sent it when he leans over and kisses you on the cheek, quickly.

You turn to him, but he’s already turned away.

You think about the feel of his lips on your cheek for the rest of the game, and somehow the second half flies by.

Yoongi’s so hyped by the time the game ends that you keep smiling at how endearing he is. 

‘I feel like you need to talk about this to someone who knows about basketball,’ you remark as you walk back to your car.

He grins at you. ‘I might stop by Seokjin’s place.’

‘Ah sure,’ you say, a little crestfallen that he doesn’t want to go home with you.

You fiddle with your phone, realising you don’t even know where Seokjin lives. ‘Is home on your way?’

‘I’ll drop you off,’ he says. 

You’re quiet on the drive home. Yoongi pulls into your driveway and shuts the engine off. 

‘Hey,’ he says.

You turn to him. 

‘Thanks for getting us tickets. And thanks for coming with me.’

You smile. ‘It was Seokjin’s idea,’ you demur. ‘See you later, Yoongi.’

You get out of the car and are walking to the front entrance of your home when you hear the car door close behind you.

There’s footsteps, and by the time you turn, Yoongi’s standing in front of you, barely two feet away.

‘Hey,’ he says again. ‘Can I get a kiss goodnight?’

You reach into your brain for a snappy remark but come up with nothing.

All you can do is look up at him as he leans over you and kisses you. His tongue flicks at the seam of your lips, once, and then he’s pulling away.

He smooths your hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

The action makes your heart flutter helplessly in your chest. He rarely ever touches you like this. 

Yoongi rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, gently.

‘I’ll see you later. I’ll try not to wake you up when I get in.’

He waits, engine idling, until you’re safely indoors before he drives off.

***

You’re nervous. It’s the night of the Rose Ball, and the charity auction where you’re going to orchestrate the first stage of making up with Yoongi.

You’ve picked a red dress because of what he said about you looking pretty in red.

Yoongi knocks on your bedroom door, because you’d wanted to get ready alone.

You open the door and take in the vision of your husband in a white dinner jacket, hair pushed back from his forehead and styled beautifully.

There are silver earrings glinting in his ears, and his hair is currently silver to match. 

‘You look very handsome,’ you tell him, honest.

He holds out his arm. ‘I think you’re wearing red on purpose to fuck with me, aren’t you? Quick, say something annoying so the universe can tilt back to its normal axis.’

Gamely, you pout at him and whine, ‘why didn’t you get me any new jewellery to wear, Yoongi?’

‘I’ve got some pearls I can put around your neck,’ Yoongi suggests. 

‘I’d rather you put them down my throat,’ you say, suggestively.

‘There’s my spoiled little horny heiress,’ Yoongi says, approvingly.

You roll your eyes. ‘I’m not spoiled.’ 

‘Try saying that in a less whiny tone,’ Yoongi tells you unsympathetically.

‘I’m not whiny.’

‘I hope you saved up some money to buy Kim Seokjin again tonight,’ Yoongi says.

You frown.

‘I’m gonna buy you, not Seokjin.’

He snorts. ‘I hope you’re not expecting me to buy you.’

You pause. This is an angle you hadn’t even considered. 

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

At the ball, you read through the list of names up for auction. To your annoyance, Seokjin, Yoongi and you are all one after another, clustered together.

You think it’s an attempt to capitalise on the scandal of the previous time Seokjin and Yoongi were up for auction.

You’re nervous all throughout dinner, and by the time the auction starts you’re vibrating with nerves.

Seokjin stands when his name is announced, nodding at the emcee. Across the table from you, you can feel Yoongi’s eyes burning into your head. 

The bidding starts at a cool 5 million won, and rapidly escalates.

Seokjin, devastatingly handsome in a beautiful tux that emphasizes the broadness of his chest and shoulders, doesn’t even have the decency to pretend to be surprised.

You look at Yoongi and keep your hands perfectly still in your lap.

‘50 million won, do I hear 55?’ 

It’s a relief when the bidding closes at 75 million won. You don’t even see who the highest bidder is, concentrating on your husband sitting across from you.

When Yoongi’s name is announced, he stands and nods. 

You think to yourself again how beautiful your husband looks.

You keep up with the bids easily. To your annoyance, the bidding is fast and furious, and it’s only moments before you’re holding at 90 million won.

‘Do I hear 95?’ 

‘100 million won.’

You turn, aghast, and look into the diabolical and devious eyes of Kim Seokjin. 

Why the hell is Kim Seokjin driving up the bidding war on your husband?

Yoongi just looks amused when you stare at him, accusing.

‘110 million,’ you snap.

You try to stare the evil bastard down between bids.

By the time you get to 150 million won, you’re glaring daggers at Seokjin and Yoongi.

‘Sold to Mrs Min.’ 

There’s barely time to breathe a sigh of relief before you realise Yoongi and Seokjin are now patting each other on the back. 

To your chagrin, they leave the room as your name is announced.

As the bids escalate on you, you pull your phone out and send Yoongi a rapid fire text.

Y/N: Buy me or I won’t fuck you tonight.

Yoongi, the bastard, makes you wait on read.

You’re dialling his number when you realise two things. 

One, that the bidding’s somehow reached a hundred million won.

And two, that the main bidder is a very beautiful man whom you’ve never met.

‘Going once….’

You squirm in your seat as Yoongi and Seokjin walk back into the room.

If there’s any urgency in Yoongi at all that his wife is about to be sold to a random stranger, his face doesn’t show it.

You suppose this is exactly how he felt when you let Mrs Kang buy him.

‘Going twice to Mr Park Jimin.’

Yoongi lifts a brow, and his eyes snap to the beautiful man. 

He nods to the auctioneer, and bidding resumes.

Park Jimin seems pretty determined, but he’s no match for your husband.

Yoongi buys you for a shade under two hundred million won.

***

You’re trying to unfasten your necklace whilst Yoongi gets changed after the ball.

‘Two hundred million won,’ you say, teasingly. ‘Guess I’ll need to put out.’

Yoongi grunts, and a moment later he says, ‘lift your hair.’

You pull your hair away from the back of your neck and he unfastens your necklace for you. 

‘You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to,’ he says. 

Later, in bed, you’re lying awake next to Yoongi, thinking about the night.

‘Yoongi,’ you whisper.

He sounds like he’s stifling a groan. ‘What?’

‘Thanks for buying me.’

It’s so dark you can’t see any of his features.

Eventually, he says, ‘there was never a possibility that I wouldn’t.’

‘What?’ you ask, surprised. ‘Say that again.’

‘Good night, Y/N.’

***

You think that one of the things that irritated Yoongi the most about you when you first got married was your total lack of interest in getting to know his friends.

And so part two of making up with Yoongi involves Kim Namjoon.

He’s an interesting man, from what you know of him.

Like Yoongi and Seokjin, he comes from a privileged background. Unlike Yoongi and Seokjin, though, he’s not in the family business. He runs an art gallery in the city with his partner, Nayeon.

You’re apprehensive about approaching Namjoon at the gallery but you can’t think of any other way to meet him.

Seokjin’s less icy to you since you took Yoongi to watch basketball and since the successful completion of step 1, but there’s no way he’d voluntarily help you. 

You push open the glass door and decide to just walk around.

Unlike Seokjin, Namjoon doesn’t make you wait. 

You’re barely in the cool comfort of the gallery before he’s standing next to you. 

‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ he asks, politely.

You search his expression for hints of sarcasm, but he seems perfectly sincere.

To be fair, you’ve never tried to provoke him like you did Seokjin.

You decide to be as direct as he is.

‘I was hoping to invite you and Nayeon for dinner at ours,’ you say.

He doesn’t answer straight away.

‘I haven’t really tried to get to know Yoongi’s friends, since we’ve been married,’ you say, pointing out the obvious. ‘I’m trying to remedy that.’

Namjoon gives you a long look. 

You wonder what Yoongi’s been saying about you to his friends.

Judging by how wary all his friends are around you, you don’t think he’s been singing your praises.

You’re just about to speak again, when Namjoon says, ‘Yoongi often comes to ours on a Sunday night for dinner. I’m sure Nayeon would be really pleased if you could make it with him this Sunday.’

You smile, grateful. ‘I’d love that.’

Namjoon gives you another long look, then a dimple flashes in his cheek.

It transforms his face, which up until now had been rather stern and intimidating.

‘I’ll see you Sunday.’

***

Yoongi’s watching you polish off the last of the bread at dinner, bemused.

You figure now’s as good a time as any to tell him about how you’ve invited yourself to dinner on Sunday.

He takes it in his stride.

‘I’ll try not to embarrass you,’ you say, jokingly.

‘Like when you sent my sexual health test results to my entire company?’ asks Yoongi.

You look down at your plate. 

Shit, another thing you need to atone for. 

‘Sorry about that,’ you tell him, contrite.

‘It’s fine,’ Yoongi says, rolling his eyes. ‘I became a meme for a few months, I can cope with that.’

You put your hand on his arm. ‘I really am sorry. Want a blow job?’

Yoongi rolls his eyes again. ‘Are we so emotionally stunted we can only communicate through sex?’

His tone is cutting. 

You’ve been so soft for him lately that there’s a pang of hurt in your chest.

‘You’re a lot more tolerable when you’re fucking me,’ you say, coldly.

‘Likewise, princess,’ Yoongi snaps.

You get up from the table and go to watch TV alone in your rooms.

By the time you go in to Yoongi’s bedroom, it’s dark.

You slide in next to him and turn away, back facing him.

You hear a sigh, then his hand pats the sheets, looking for yours. 

You tuck your hands between your legs.

Yoongi’s hand travels down your arm, seeking your hand.

His thumb brushes over your clit, and you let out a surprised ‘oh’.

Yoongi shifts over, spooning you, chest pressing against your back.

‘Can I touch you, princess?’ he asks, voice low. ‘I’ve been thinking about how you pouted at dinner and I’m so fucking hard.’

‘I don’t want to cum for you,’ you tell him, petulant.

Yoongi nibbles at your neck, sharp teeth sending shocks of pain and pleasure through you.

‘I’ll make you cum anyway, princess. Get you grinding against my hand and crying my name. You always sound so pretty for me.’

‘Yoongi,’ you murmur, but your legs are already spreading to make room for him.

‘That’s my girl,’ he says, fingers slipping through your slick heat like he hadn’t expected anything less. ‘Let me fuck the spoilt brat out of you until only my baby’s left, hmm?’

Yoongi talks dirty to you until you’re creaming around his fingers, then his cock.

***

Yoongi looks up from his phone and gives you a quelling look.

‘Stop fidgeting.’

You hug the bottle of wine you’re bringing to Nayeon and Namjoon’s place to your chest.

‘Who else is going to be there?’ you ask.

‘Usually it’s Seokjin and me. Sometimes Gyuri comes.’

You think about that and wish, childishly, that you’d chosen a nicer outfit.

You realise Yoongi’s watching your face.

‘I appreciate you wanting to meet my friends,’ he says, carefully. 

‘Oh it’s about time I made an effort, don’t you think?’

Yoongi gives you a long look and rings the doorbell.

You’re greeted by a relaxed-looking Nayeon.

You don’t know her well, but she’s always struck you as nice. You feel an odd pang as you see the affectionate way Yoongi greets her.

Here’s a whole other aspect of his life you’ve never been involved in.

You volunteer to help Namjoon cook the rice. To your bemusement, he’s frighteningly accident-prone.

Within five minutes, you’ve saved him from putting his hand on a hot pan twice. You shudder when you see him pick up a knife to chop vegetables.

Nayeon nudges you. ‘Don’t worry. He’s not too bad. Someone always keeps an eye on him.’

‘Like a toddler,’ you mutter, then you remember where you are.

Nayeon just laughs. ‘I think of it as he’s still getting used to his size.’

You laugh. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t get any bigger then.’

You look up as Seokjin enters the kitchen with Yoongi.

Your eyes meet Seokjin’s. He nods coolly at you.

You smile back.

To your surprise, Yoongi claps a hand on Seokjin’s back. 

‘Yah, Jin, greet my wife properly.’

Seokjin pulls Nayeon into a hug, then stops just in front of you. 

You put out a hand for him to shake, and instead, he pulls you into a hug too. 

You look up at him, a little wary.

‘Don’t you need your bodyguard?’ you ask, unable to resist.

Seokjin narrows his eyes at you. ‘I’m watching you, brat,’ he replies, so softly only you can hear.

‘And Yoongi’s watching you,’ you return, snarky.

Seokjin’s eyes darken. ‘Clearly Yoongi’s too soft on you, given your attitude.’

‘Break it up,’ Yoongi’s voice says from behind Seokjin.

You slide around Seokjin and stand next to Yoongi. When Yoongi turns to talk to Nayeon, you flip Seokjin the bird.

He glares daggers at you but has to quickly rearrange his expression when Yoongi and Nayeon ask him a question.

You’re so busy fielding all the interactions that it’s a relief to sit down to dinner.

Ah shit. 

There are prawns in the broth, the one thing in the world you’re allergic to.

It’s your own fault. Early on in your marriage, for reasons known only to you, you’d decided to let Yoongi think you were a snob about seafood rather than just telling him you were allergic. Cue a very uncomfortable dinner when you’d refused to eat anything one of his chef friends had cooked.

Seokjin, next to you, looks at your untouched bowl pointedly. ‘Don’t you like it?’ he asks, voice so velvety it’s not immediately obvious he’s jeering at you. 

You grit your teeth and pray the epi-pen in your bag is in date. 

It’ll probably be fine, unless you have a whole prawn….

As if on cue, Yoongi hands you a prawn he’s just peeled.

You’d always thought Yoongi would be the death of you, but you’d thought the mechanism would be from hate fucking you into oblivion, or irritating you into apoplexy.

Not a fucking prawn that he’s peeled for you because he’s decided to be a solicitous husband for once in his life.

You can feel a few eyes on you.

‘Oh that looks delicious,’ you chirrup brightly. You accept the prawn, swallow it quickly, wait a beat, then excuse yourself.

You grab your bag on the way to the bathroom, fumbling for your epi-pen. 

You jab it into your thigh just as the familiar tingling starts in your throat.

The door opens, and you’re faced with Yoongi, staring at you. 

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he hisses. 

He grabs the epi-pen you’ve just dropped on the floor. 

‘Are you shooting up in my friends’ house?’ he snaps.

You shake your head, voice raspy. 

‘I’m allergic to prawns.’

Yoongi stares at you like he can’t quite believe his ears. 

‘What?’

You want to repeat yourself but your voice is getting hoarser. 

Yoongi seems to click into action then. ‘Fuck. Do you need the hospital?’

You nod. 

Moving faster than you’ve ever seen him, Yoongi grabs your arm and hustles you out of the bathroom.

He scolds you all the way to the hospital.

‘You’re an idiot, you know that? Why would you eat something you know you’re this allergic to?’

Two blocks away. 

‘Why couldn’t you just tell me? Of all the stupid stunts you’ve pulled—‘

At the entrance of the emergency room.

‘If you die from this I’m going to follow you into the afterlife and kill you again.’

You’d snap back if he didn’t sound more worried than angry.

Yoongi sits beside your bed, filling in a form on a tablet with your details. You can see him typing in your name. 

You grab his arm. ‘Not my name,’ you rasp.

Yoongi frowns at you. You fumble in your bag and pass him your driver’s license.

He looks at it for a long moment. 

‘You changed your name? You said —-‘

He cuts himself off with visible effort. You can see a vein throbbing in his forehead.

He fills in the rest of the form, swearing softly under his breath. 

You close your eyes and lose yourself to nightmares about prawns.

When you wake up, Yoongi’s sitting by your bed.

You say his name.

He runs a hand over his face. ‘How are you feeling, princess?’

‘I’m fine. Can we go home?’

‘They want to keep you in a little longer.’

You sigh. 

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were allergic to prawns?’ Yoongi asks.

He sighs. ‘That time, with Mingyu, when he made us all that food. I thought you were being such a bitch.’

‘I am a bitch,’ you say. ‘I hated you back then. I hated our marriage and I hated that it felt like I didn’t have any choice in anything.’

‘And so you decide to die because I fucking peeled you a prawn?’

‘Why did you do that? You always say if you can’t peel a prawn you don’t deserve to eat it.’

‘Jesus fucking christ. I just wanted to.’

‘What a time to choose to be the doting husband,’ you say, regretfully.

Yoongi snorts with laughter. ‘Are you allergic to anything else I need to know about?’

‘Assholes,’ you mutter. ‘That’s why Seokjin and I don’t get along.’

Yoongi laughs again. ‘You’re such a rude brat. He won’t stop calling me. He wants to apologise for putting pressure on you to have the broth.’

‘Nayeon and Namjoon want to know if you’re ok, too.’

‘Tell them I’m fine.’ 

‘Here,’ Yoongi says. ‘I’ll add you to the group chat and you can tell them yourself.’

You send off a few texts and put your phone down.

‘I need to call my lawyer,’ Yoongi says, running a hand through his hair.

‘You’re divorcing me over a prawn allergy?’

‘No,’ says Yoongi, patient. ‘Now that I know your real name, I need to get it changed in my will and also on all the properties I’ve invested in for you.’

‘Ooh, I’m in your will?’ you ask, intrigued. ‘What do I get?’

‘None of your business,’ Yoongi says.

You wave a hand threateningly. ‘I could kill you right now and find out.’

Yoongi fends you off easily. ‘You should be resting.’

‘We could be arguing about this at home,’ you point out.

By the time you’re discharged from the hospital, it’s the early hours of the morning.

When you get home, you’re greeted by Mrs Gye. 

‘I took care of it,’ she tells Yoongi.

Yoongi nods and thanks her.

‘Took care of what?’

‘Mr Min rang earlier and told us to get rid of all the prawns in the kitchen and pantry,’ Mrs Gye says. She’s apologetic. ‘We didn’t know you were allergic, Mrs Min.’

You glance at Yoongi, who’s slipping off his shoes. 

‘You didn’t have to —‘

He cuts you off. ‘It’s a risk I’d prefer not to take again.’

He starts up the stairs, heading for his bedroom. ‘I’m going to try and get some sleep.’

You hurry after him, because he’s not waiting for you. 

***

You’re coming out of your meeting with the manager of the third country club you got Yoongi blacklisted from when you spot a familiar face.

A familiar, beautiful but unwanted face.

‘Seokjin,’ you say, nodding politely.

He leans down, and automatically you present your cheek to him for a kiss.

‘How are you doing?’ he asks, courteously.

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. ‘I’m fine. And yourself?’

To your astonishment, he actually seems to be a little shamefaced as he says, ‘I’m sorry I urged you to have the broth at Namjoon and Nayeon’s the other day.’

‘It’s fine, you couldn’t have known,’ you say, neutrally.

‘What are you doing here?’

It’s your turn to look repentant. 

‘I got Yoongi blacklisted from all the country clubs. I’m getting him re-invited to all of them.’

Seokjin’s gaze is penetrating. 

‘You seem like you’re really trying to make amends,’ he observes.

‘Yeah well, I was, like you keep pointing out to me, a brat.’

He’s been walking with you to the lobby. 

‘Can I offer you a lift anywhere?’ he asks. 

‘Ah, I’ll just wait for a cab.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘Doesn’t Yoongi have a driver?’ 

‘He does. I don’t.’ 

Seokjin nods to the car waiting for him. ‘Do you have other country clubs to go to?’

‘I have four left,’ you say. 

Seokjin looks at you in firm way he does. ‘Come on. I’ll take you.’

You climb into the back seat with Seokjin. 

‘You’re not taking me somewhere to murder me and dispose of my body, are you?’ you ask, only half-joking.

Seokjin settles back in his seat and loosens his tie. 

‘I’ve got the afternoon off, and I’d prefer not to commit murder during it,’ he says, not reassuringly. 

With Seokjin by your side, the next meeting is almost enjoyable. You even get offered champagne, which you gulp down.

Seokjin looks at you, amused. ‘Stressful day for you?’ 

‘You make me nervous,’ you admit. 

‘I just don’t want Yoongi to be hurt anymore.’

You digest the idea that Yoongi wasn’t just inconvenienced and embarrassed, but actually hurt by your actions of the last few years.

That would imply he cared.

You’re staring out the window, thinking, when Seokjin says. ‘Of course, he didn’t want to marry you either, at the beginning.’

You chew on your lip. 

‘But he was willing to make his best effort to be a good husband to you. He’s decent like that.’

You turn your head so Seokjin can’t see your face.

He’s not wrong. Yoongi’s never once retaliated for anything you’ve done to him. 

Instead he’d grown progressively more cold and impatient and distant.

The wave of guilt surprises you with its depth.

‘I’ll make it up to him,’ you say, quietly. 

Seokjin puts his hand on your arm so you’ll look at him.

‘He has a real soft spot for you,’ he tells you. ‘God knows why, I would have punished you long ago.’

You flick your eyes up at him. ‘Luckily I married a more forgiving man than you,’ you say, summoning your haughtiest tone.

Seokjin just laughs. ‘We both want the best for him,’ he says. ‘Maybe you’re not such a cold hearted bitch after all.’

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself. We aren’t friends,’ you sneer, out of habit.

Seokjin turns away and laughs quietly to himself.

At your next meeting, Seokjin gets whiskey served to you. 

You’re a total lightweight, and with your empty stomach, you know you’re heading to a danger zone.

But damn, it’s also intoxicating having polished, suave Seokjin by your side at these meetings with older men. 

It’s after your final meeting, three drinks later, that Seokjin says, ‘dinner?’

You hold on to his arm to steady yourself. 

‘Maybe we can have dinner at mine,’ you suggest. 

‘Great idea,’ Seokjin beams. ‘I love Mrs Gye’s cooking.’

You never actually make it inside the house. 

Yoongi finds you and Seokjin sprawled on the front steps, arguing about which country club offered the best membership package.

You slap a brochure onto the steps between you. 

‘This was clearly the best deal,’ you announce. You squint but it doesn’t make the words any clearer. 

Seokjin sweeps the brochure away dramatically. 

‘Wasn’t.’

‘Wassss.’

Yoongi says, dryly, ‘why do people who can’t handle their alcohol go drinking?’

Both you and Seokjin glare at each other, then at him.

Yoongi sighs. ‘I can’t carry both of you at once.’

‘Take the asshole first,’ you snap.

Seokjin leans towards you menacingly. ‘What did you call me?’

Yoongi hurriedly lifts you up under the arms, and you curl into his chest. 

‘Take me to bed, Yoongi,’ you say, looking up at him. 

‘You’re heavier than you look,’ Yoongi grunts.

‘It’s my brain,’ you say, trying be helpful. 

Seokjin snorts rudely behind you.

Yoongi says, voice low, rumbling in his chest, ‘ignore him.’

You press a kiss to Yoongi’s chest. ‘Sorry I’m so heavy.’

He smiles at you with that looks like affection. 

‘It’s fine. I’ll just drop you if it’s too much for me.’

Yoongi helps you into bed and unzips your dress. 

‘Can you do the rest so I can get Seokjin?’ he asks.

You nod, convincingly. You’re still trying to tug your arm out of the sleeve when you give up and pass out.

Yoongi helps Seokjin into your bed and returns to his room to find you sprawled exactly where he left you, half undressed.

He slips your dress off you. You crack an eye open.

‘Yoongi,’ you say, whiny.

Yoongi replies, ‘yes?’

‘I just want you to like me,’ you say. For a moment you look completely lucid, and sad.

His heart gives a dangerous jolt then, like somehow, you’ve worked your way into it. Like a household pest.

Yoongi can’t bear the thought of exterminating you.

‘Stop being so annoying then,’ Yoongi says, trying to be stern but it comes out weak. He’s not even convincing himself at this point.

You put your hand over your heart. ‘I’ll try my best,’ you promise.

***

At breakfast, Yoongi frowns at his phone. 

‘Why am I getting invited to become a member of every country club in the vicinity?’

Seokjin, dressed in Yoongi’s clothes, mumbles something unintelligible into his cereal.

You look up from your pancakes and through your sunglasses at your husband.

‘I got you blacklisted from every single country club in the area when we first got married, so I spent yesterday getting you reinvited.’

You point your fork at Seokjin and say, grudgingly, ‘Seokjin helped.’

Seokjin sips his juice. 

‘Why did we drink so much?’ he asks.

‘You’re the one that kept asking for drinks,’ you point out.

Yoongi holds up a hand between you to break you up.

‘Why?’ he asks.

‘I’m making up for being awful to you,’ you tell him.

Yoongi frowns. ‘Is that why you’ve been so erratic lately?’

You’re offended. ‘I’m not erratic.’

‘Taking me to that basketball game? Buying me at the auction? Dinner at Namjoon and Nayeon’s?’ Yoongi asks.

‘Riding you in the shower yesterday,’ you add.

Seokjin covers his ears.

‘I’m being nice,’ you say.

Yoongi says, ‘I appreciate your efforts, but you don’t have to make anything up to me.’

‘She does,’ Seokjin interjects.

You toss a pancake at him. 

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

‘We’ll talk later,’ he says to you.

‘I don’t know why he’s still here,’ you say to Yoongi, like Seokjin’s not in the room.

Yoongi pushes your coffee towards you. ‘Drink. Finish your breakfast. Seokjin and I have a meeting to get to. Let’s talk later.’

‘I have a surprise for you tonight,’ you say, remembering.

Yoongi leans down to kiss your cheek.

‘I don’t like surprises.’

‘You’ll like this one,’ you promise. 

***

You once sent a troupe of strippers to put on a show at an important business meeting Yoongi had organised with a notoriously conservative client.

The deal had fallen through despite months of preparation and expense.

It was then that Yoongi had finally snapped and called you a cold hearted bitch for the first time.

You’d thought long and hard about how to make this up to him, and you don’t know enough about his company to source an equivalent deal.

You’re hoping dancing for him in the red teddy he got you will help.

You’re not a bad dancer, and you’ve been taking lessons for weeks, enough that you’re pretty confident you can pull it off.

You’ve hired a room in an underground sex club, hoping the gritty feel will add to the thrill of it.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows when you lead him through the private entrance off the street, down a flight of stairs, to a darkened corridor.

You lift the keycard out of your thigh-high stockings and unlock the door. 

You’d shared a bottle of wine at dinner, and you’re feeling good.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room, like you’d specified. The lights are off apart from a blue glow. It’s dark enough to lend a sense of intimacy, but light enough that you can see Yoongi’s gorgeous face clearly.

God, your husband looks beautiful tonight, all in black, his lips stained from the wine.

He leans back on the chair, legs spread, watching you.

The one thing you’ve always liked about Yoongi that he knows when to keep his mouth shut.

His lips part as you turn in front of him and unzip your dress. It puddles on the floor in a shimmering heap.

You hit play on the music and start dancing.

Yoongi’s gaze focuses intensely on you as you dance for him. You put your legs on his thighs, pushing them apart to make space for yourself as you shimmy between them.

Your ass brushes his crotch, deliberately, lingering longer and longer with each pass until you’re grinding against him.

Yoongi, like a seasoned strip club connoisseur, keeps his hands to himself, braced on his thighs.

You turn so you’re facing him, leaning forward to encourage him to look down the top of your silky teddy. Your nipples are stiff, pushing against the silk, and you put two fingers in his mouth.

He needs no prompting, sucking on your fingers, tongue delving between them suggestively.

You put a hand on his shoulder and run your wet fingers over your nipples. 

Yoongi grunts, eyes fixed on your tits.

You slide your hand down between your legs and lean over him to whisper in his ear.

‘I’m imagining your fingers here, Yoongi,’ you purr, gratified by how you can see his skin prickling with goosebumps.

Yoongi licks his lips. His voice, when it comes out, is so deep you’re wet just listening to him.

‘You know you really fuck me off sometimes,’ he says. 

For the first time since you started dancing for him, you falter.

You look at him uncertainly. 

His hand comes out, landing on your silk-covered hip, long fingers splaying over your ass.

‘I think it’s your face,’ he muses, almost like he’s talking to himself. ‘Your face is so fucking bratty I want to shove my dick in your mouth just to shut you up.’

He pulls you down so you’re sitting in his lap, straddling him. 

He cups your jaw, pulling your face closer to his. His thumb traces over your bottom lip, teasing at the seam of your lips until your lips part enough for him to slip his thumb in.

Automatically, you suck. 

‘There,’ Yoongi says. ‘You always look so pretty with me in your mouth.’

You can’t help yourself. You whimper around his thumb.

‘I like this even more though,’ he says. 

Eyes on you, he moves his hand down your hip, cupping you between your legs, parted on his lap.

Like this, you’re spread out on top of him.

Yoongi hisses as he feels how slick you are. He teases at your clit, one finger slipping into you.

You say his name. God, he feels good.

He curls his finger, and you whimper again.

‘Your little pussy knows it belongs to me,’ he says, almost conversational, as he strokes your clit.

He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your breast as he fingers you, tongue laving the red silk.

You slip a strap down your shoulder so your breast is exposed, nipple taut for him.

‘Do it properly, Yoongi,’ you whine.

Yoongi laughs darkly. ‘Where’s your manners, baby?’

Your mouth snaps closed, lips thinning into a straight line. Your eyes flash at him.

Yoongi’s looking at you. 

‘There you are,’ he says, but oddly, there’s affection in his voice. 

He tilts his head to slant his mouth over yours in a slow kiss at the same time his fingers start scissoring inside you.

He smells so good. He pulls away and leans his forehead against yours. 

‘I kiss you all the time, brat, how could you say we skip straight to the fucking?’

You’re hazy with pleasure, his fingers haven’t stopped moving inside you, and he always seems to go unerringly to the spot that makes you cry out his name and beg for more.

You’re begging now. 

‘Yoongi,’ you moan. 

‘Who fucks you like this, brat?’ he hisses.

‘You,’ you answer, ‘please, Yoongi.’

‘That’s right,’ he says. ‘That’s fucking right.’

You’re grinding against his hand now, each movement making you flutter around his fingers. You’re so close you can taste it, chasing your high.

Yoongi pulls his fingers out, and you cry out. 

‘Yoongi!’

‘Cum on my cock, let me feel you.’

You fumble with the zipper on his pants, and he hisses as you draw him out. 

He grabs your hips and sinks you down onto his cock.

Fuck, he’s so thick and hot you could cum even if he stayed perfectly still.

Yoongi shudders. ‘Fuck. Fuck. Feel me, baby? You get me so hard for you it hurts.’

Your eyes are squeezed shut, concentrating on the feel of him.

‘So fucking tight for me, shit.’

You’re already starting to tighten around his cock when he slaps your thigh. ‘Go on, this is what you wanted isn’t it? Fucking take it, baby.’

His voice is low, slurred, pupils blown all the way.

He’s rude as fuck, and you’re about to cum your brains out thinking about it.

Only Min Yoongi could do this to you.

He knows it. His breathing is ragged, but he somehow has the presence of mind to say, ‘fuck. Does my baby want tenderness too?’

His lips press against yours, he slides his tongue into your mouth, and he cradles the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

‘Fucking cum for me,’ he murmurs. 

You slam your hips against his again, and finally, finally, you cum.

You curl into his chest, and he’s there, mouth on your hair. 

‘You did so well,’ he tells you. ‘Waving that ass in the air for me, shit. Wearing this. You’re gonna need to do this again.’

‘I want to be good for you,’ you say.

Yoongi tilts your face so you’ll look at him.

‘Why? I’m a cold bastard most of the time.’

‘You have a nice cock,’ you offer.

Yoongi laughs. ‘You can have my cock anytime. It’s all yours.’

‘Oh are we exclusive now?’ you tease.

‘I’m wearing your ring around my finger,’ Yoongi reminds you, showing you his hand. 

You tilt your head, pretending to think about it.

‘I’ll get you another ring to put around your cock.’

Yoongi grins and slaps your ass, gently. ‘Come on, get dressed. I want to get into bed with you. It’s my favourite part of the day.’

You want to ask if he really means that, but he’s already opening the door. 

***

Yoongi looks pretty sexy when he’s concentrating, you decide. 

You’ve graduated from sleeping together to also spending time together in his study sometimes in the evenings.

You’re trying to concentrate on reading a brief your social media manager prepared for you, but really your husband who isn’t doing anything other than frowning at his work, is distracting you.

Yoongi glances at you. ‘Need help with anything?’

You hum. 

He walks around his desk to stand next to you. 

‘What are you working on?’

You show him your brief. ‘Just prepping for a meeting tomorrow.’

Yoongi looks like he’s concentrating again, reading over your shoulder.

‘I’ve got it, Yoongi,’ you tell him.

He glances at you. 

‘I didn’t say you didn’t.’

You try to ignore the flare of irritation as Yoongi walks back to his desk.

You know Yoongi has a sharp intellect and great business instincts. He’s earned every bit of his impressive reputation.

You’d be a fool to turn down his help.

Maybe you are a fool. But you don’t want him to see you as the impulsive devil-may-care hellion he married. You want to show him that you, too, have earned your right for respect in your role.

You chew on that for a bit, and finally, sighing, give up and go to bed.

You guess it’s going to take a bit longer to change Yoongi’s perception of you.

***

You got up to a lot of shenanigans on your honeymoon with Yoongi. 

You were drunk for a lot of it, so you don’t remember much, but the bits you do remember are all bad.

You’d started drinking on the plane and spent the first night throwing up in the hotel bathroom.

And the second. Possibly the third.

You’d straight up disappeared after breakfast one day and had spent a day wandering the city on your own.

You’d also refused to sleep with him, claiming you were being treated for gonorrhoea. You’d accused him of giving it to you, which was how you’d ended up getting your hands on his test results to send to his company.

At least this is an easy thing to make up to Yoongi.

You couldn’t possibly make it a worse experience.

You’ve organised a weekend away with him, in a rustic little cabin by the lakes.

It works on many levels. The cabin’s a fair drive away, which means you get to watch your husband drive sexily. You think Yoongi likes nature, and you envisage doing a bit of paddling, maybe some fishing. 

Also, the isolation of the cabin means you won’t get any noise complaints, important because you intend on fucking Yoongi constantly this weekend.

You’re still congratulating yourself on your genius when Yoongi wakes up the morning you’re due to leave.

You’ve been awake for hours.

The smile you turn on him is so bright he grimaces.

Ah. You keep forgetting he’s not a morning person. Also you have no idea what time he got in last night.

You scurry out of bed to grab him a coffee and promptly trip over his slippers.

Yoongi swears behind you. ‘Why do you keep falling over my slippers? They’re in the same place every time.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t leave them there,’ you retort, hurt. 

Then you remember you’re on your best behaviour. 

You bite your tongue and go to grab him a coffee. 

When you get back, he’s on his back, staring at the ceiling. 

‘Got you coffee,’ you say, holding out his mug.

He accepts with a gravelly ‘thanks.’

You’re brushing your teeth when he says, ‘there’s been a supply problem with the new line we’re launching. I may need to spend time this weekend on the phone.’ 

‘That’s fine,’ you say, brightly. You’re determined not to let anything mar your new honeymoon weekend.

Yoongi says, gently, ‘is there any way we could reschedule?’

You stare at him. ‘Do you not want to go?’ 

The words are out before you get a chance to think them over. You could kick yourself at the neediness in your tone.

Yoongi says, ‘of course I want to go, I just don’t want you to be disappointed.’

You’re starting to wonder if he’s trying to tell you he doesn’t want to go. 

‘I won’t be disappointed,’ you say, watching his face carefully.

Yoongi smiles at you. ‘Then let’s set off after breakfast.’

Yoongi’s quiet as he’s driving, and you notice how tired he looks. You’re just about to suggest he pulls over to let you drive when he says, ‘something on my face?’

‘You look tired,’ you say. 

‘I am tired,’ he tells you. He smiles at you, faintly. ‘This upcoming collaboration with Novatech will be the biggest, most high-stakes project I’ve started since I took over from my father. I can’t afford for it to fail.’

‘Why would it fail?’ you ask.

‘There are a lot of moving parts,’ Yoongi says, vaguely.

‘I’m sure it’ll be a roaring success,’ you say, faith firmly in your capable, successful husband.

Yoongi says, ‘just don’t try to sabotage me.’

You say, earnestly, ‘those days are behind me.’

‘It’s a shame,’ Yoongi says, ‘I’m going to miss spanking you for misbehaving.’

That reminds you. 

‘You can spank me anytime,’ you tell Yoongi. ‘Also, check out these new panties I bought.’

Yoongi glances at you and nearly swerves off the road.

‘Are you wearing crotchless panties?’ he asks, and he looks intrigued and flustered all at once.

‘It’s called an ouvert,’ you explain. ‘That’s French for open.’

Yoongi mutters something to himself you don’t quite catch.

‘What did you say?’ you ask, sweet as pie.

‘I said, your fucking pussy is going to kill me,’ Yoongi says. 

He gives you a half smile, lazy, devastating. 

‘I can’t think of a better way to go.’

***

Yoongi’s phone rings the moment you step into the cabin.

You wonder if you should have plumped for somewhere more rustic with no cell reception.

You unpack half-heartedly, watching from the window as he paces around outside the cabin.

He rubs a hand over his forehead, looking more stressed and tired than you’ve ever seen him.

Maybe he’s been stressed like this before but you haven’t been paying attention.

You come out to bring him a glass of water.

He smiles at you, still on his phone.  

You flash him your ass and glance back to see if he’s watching. 

He isn’t.

When Yoongi’s done on the phone you grab him. 

‘Want to go for a walk? I’ll protect you from the wolves.’

‘I am the wolf,’ Yoongi says, but it’s half hearted.

‘Hey, why don’t you take a break. I’ll rub your back.’

Yoongi perks up at your suggestion, and it’s the most animated you’ve seen him all day.

You get him to lay on the bed just in his briefs.

You wonder if you’ll ever get used to how beautiful his body is.

You put your hands on his shoulders and knead, and his deep groan makes you feel good in so many ways.

You can feel Yoongi’s muscles relax as you massage over his shoulders and down his back. When you get to his legs he twitches a little like he’s falling asleep.

By the time you get to his feet he’s dead asleep.

You cover him with a blanket and a kiss and head out for a walk.

When you get back he’s still asleep, so you make a space for yourself next to him and join him.

You’re awakened by Yoongi’s hand on your shoulder. 

‘Hey, I made dinner for us.’

You blink, disoriented. ‘What time is it?’

‘It’s late. Come on. We’ll sleep better when we’re full.’

Yoongi’s made ram-don. You sigh happily as you sit down in front of the steaming bowl. Instead of sitting across from you, Yoongi slides in next to you.

His thigh nudges yours. He puts his free hand on your thigh. 

You look at him curiously.

Yoongi says, ‘eat.’

The noodles are delicious, but you find you’re enjoying Yoongi’s hand on your thigh just as much. 

You put your hand on his, and smile at him as he knits your fingers together. 

It’s sweet, and silly, and something you wouldn’t expect from your normally brisk, impatient husband.

Yoongi watches you finish your noodles, enjoying the warmth of your thigh and hand. He shifts a little, because he’s quite sure he shouldn’t have a raging hard-on from doing something as innocent as holding your hand.

You’re smiling at him so happily. If Yoongi’d known that holding your hand would be enough to make you smile like that he’d have tried to hold hands with you this whole time.

You’re finished with your late dinner. Yoongi stops you when you get up to start clearing up.

‘Let me do it. Why don’t we watch a movie? You set it up and I’ll clear up here.’

By the time Yoongi finishes clearing up, you’re ensconced on the couch, so covered in blankets he can barely see you. The lights are low, the TV on playing some movie Yoongi knows he’s not going to get into. 

He’d rather watch you.

He slides in next to you and holds out his arm.

You look at him like you’ve never been invited to snuggle before.

To be fair, Yoongi doesn’t think you’ve ever done this together.

He lowers his arm like he’s changed his mind, and you’re next to him so quickly he has to bite back a smile.

You rest your head in the curve between his neck and shoulder, cheek on his chest.

Your hand flutters over his torso, finally landing on his stomach. You turn in, nose against his chest, breathing him in.

It’s adorable. You’re adorable.

Yoongi wants to fight dragons for you. 

He leans down and sniffs your hair as quietly as he can. 

Your breathing is easy, slow, and Yoongi realises you’ve fallen asleep when you go boneless in his arms. 

He wonders if you know how much he’s prepared to do for you if you ever asked.

Part 2

©hamsterclaw 2022

Love to Hate (Master List)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Fuck Buddies!AU

Status: Ongoing

Description: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you’ve done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

[ Cross-Posted to Wattpad ]

Seguir leyendo

| FUGITIVOS 14 |

SINOPSIS: Después de muchos años sin verse, Bomi se reencuentra con un antiguo vecino de su infancia y, lo que debió haber sido una reunión amistosa, terminó escalando hasta convertirse en un infierno, cuando Bomi es acusada de asesinato. PAREJA: Seokjin x female oc GÉNERO: Crimen, asesinato, misterio. N/A: Gracias por leer :)

||||

Solo unos pocos días después, Jin y Bomi se encontraban afuera de la casa de Yoongi. Específicamente, en la entrada que llevaba a su estudio. Mirando con cuidado a su alrededor, ambos inspiraron intranquilos y tras contar hasta tres, dieron por comenzado el plan.

Esperando que todo saliera como habían previsto, Bomi dijo lo que habían acordado.

- ¿Estás seguro que su código de acceso es el mismo?

- Es Yoongi, dudo que lo haya cambiado - rió Jin - Ni siquiera le importó cuando lo deduje. Además, solo nos vamos a quedar unos días, no se va a dar cuenta.

- Si tú lo dices - murmuró Bomi, mientras sus ojos continuaban escaneando a su alrededor.

- Uno, tres, siete, uno, nueve, nueve, tres - dijo Jin en voz alta, mientras introducía los números - ¡Ajá! Te lo dije.

Jin abrió la puerta y ambos entraron con lentitud. Sin mirar atrás, cerraron esta a sus espaldas y se quedaron en silencio, en la oscuridad.

-¿Crees que funcionó? - susurró Jin.

-No sé.

-Suban la escalera de una vez - dijo la voz de Yoongi desde el segundo piso - Tenemos que monitorear las cámaras.

Jin tomó la mano de Bomi y comenzó a subir la escalera con cuidado. Ambos llevaban sus pocas pertenencias, pero parte del plan era no encender las luces, en caso de que el asesino fuera más impulsivo de lo previsto.

Lentamente ambos llegaron arriba y Bomi miró a su alrededor con curiosidad. Yoongi estaba parado en un pasillo que llevaba a distintas puertas.

- Hyung conoce el lugar, pero tú no Bomi-ssi - comentó Yoongi rápidamente - Para nuestra seguridad, vamos a mantener el mínimo de luces encendidas. Nos dará una ventaja, suponiendo que esta persona no ha venido para acá antes.

- No podemos saberlo con certeza - musitó Jin, frunciendo el entrecejo.

-En cualquier caso - continuó Yoongi - Esta puerta frente a la escalera conecta con el segundo piso de mi casa. Ahí hay una sala de estar y otra escalera que termina justo frente a la puerta principal.

Bomi asintió, prestando mucha atención. Estos detalles eran los que podían salvarles la vida después.

- El resto de las puertas llevan a cabinas de control o cabinas de sonido.

-Mmm ¿para qué necesitas tantas? - preguntó Bomi sin poder contenerse.

-También arriendo el estudio en ocasiones - respondió Yoongi seriamente - Lo que me interesa que sepas es que, por este pasillo, siempre tras la primera puerta estará la mesa de sonido y la siguiente será donde están los micrófonos para grabar.

-Entiendo, ¿es en ese orden en las seis puertas?

-Correcto.

Jin caminó hasta el final del pasillo y en la penúltima puerta dejó la mochila que los había acompañado todo el tiempo. La idea era que pareciera que se estaban escondiendo allí.

- Tú y yo estaremos en la primera cabina de control, es la más grande y con más muebles para esconderse. También voy a estar monitoreando las cámaras desde el teléfono, pero solo puedo controlar los micrófonos y la transmisión en vivo desde la mesa de sonido.

- ¿Cómo vamos a saber si nos vio? - dijo Bomi, moviendo su peso de un pie a otro.

-No nos queda otra que confiar en que estaba vigilando a Yoongi-ah de una u otra manera - respondió Jin, posando uno de sus brazos sobre los hombros de ella - Con Jiminie y Hobi fuera de la ciudad, el único amigo cercano que me queda es Yoongi-ah.

- Sí, si fuera yo, eso haría - dijo Yoongi abriendo la puerta y dejando pasar a Bomi para que se familiarizara con el espacio - Vigilaría a aquellas personas cercanas en caso de que pidan ayuda.

Bomi miró a su alrededor y vio que el espacio estaba decorado de forma simple. La mesa de sonido principal al centro, la cual estaba llena de monitores, parlantes y micrófonos. En la pared del costado se veía el vidrio, que conectaba con la cabina de grabación y atrás cerca de la puerta, había un pequeño clóset a un lado y un piano eléctrico al otro.

Bomi podía esconderse tanto en el armario, como debajo del piano. La idea era mantener las luces principales cortadas, por dos motivos: les permitía a ellos moverse sin ser vistos y se evitaban cortes innecesarios de la señal de internet o de la luz, mientras estuvieran haciendo la transmisión en vivo.

Yoongi y Jin eran muy conocidos, por lo que habían vinculado sus cuentas de manera que cuando Yoongi comenzara a transmitir, todos sus fans podrían tener acceso a esto. Así, en caso de ser necesario, ellos se preocuparían por escapar y tendrían miles de testigos de lo sucedido.

Bomi rogaba que tuvieran suerte y que además esta persona confesara en cámara. Yoongi se había asegurado que si la transmisión era cortada, lo ya transmitido quedara en la nube, para así poder usarlo como evidencia en el futuro. Pero Jin confiaba en que alguno de sus fans también grabaría lo sucedido.

Ambos lamentaban tener que exponer a sus seguidores de aquella manera, pero el plan no resultaría de otra forma. Había que tratar de ponerse en todos los escenarios y con el streaming, era más difícil que se pudiera borrar la evidencia.

Bomi estaba agradecida de ambos, pero aún tenía un peso en el estómago. Algo le decía que las cosas no iban a suceder como lo planearon.

- Ya se está oscureciendo - dijo Yoongi - Voy a salir a darme una vuelta para que crea que ustedes están solos. Atentos a los teléfonos, apenas vea movimiento les avisaré y me devolveré.

- Entendido - respondió Jin, nervioso.

- No cambies el plan hyung - advirtió Yoongi, abriendo la puerta que llevaba a su casa.

Jin asintió y soltó una fuerte exhalación, en cuanto Yoongi hubo desaparecido.

- Ojalá no venga - murmuró este contra el pelo de ella - No quiero dejarte.

- Yo por el contrario, quiero que todo termine de una vez - refunfuñó Bomi - Quiero que estés a salvo y que podamos dejar de huir.

Con delicadeza, Jin tomó el rostro de ella entre sus manos y besó sus labios.

- Pese a lo terrible que ha sido todo esto, te agradezco que hayas estado conmigo.

- No sé qué hubiera hecho sin ti Seokjin oppa - Bomi sonrió débilmente - Probablemente estaría presa.

- Por supuesto que no, yo no habría dejado... - Jin abrió sus ojos de forma cómica - ¿Cómo me llamaste?

- ¿No eras tú el que me pedía que te llamara como antes? - respondió Bomi, traviesamente - Creo que ya te he molestado lo suficiente.

- Creo que ya me acostumbré a que me dijeras Jin.

- Jin oppa entonces - sonrió ella con tristeza - La verdad es que quería llamarte por tu nombre una vez más, en caso de que algo pasara.

- Nada va a suceder Bomi-ah, todo irá de acuerdo al plan.

Jin estaba a punto de besarla de nuevo, cuando su teléfono sonó en su bolsillo.

- Es Yoongi - tragó Jin nervioso - Alguien está caminando hacia la puerta del estudio.

Bomi agarró el cuello de su polera y tiró de él en su dirección, sus labios se presionaron fuertemente contra los de Jin, quien reciprocó el acto con intensidad. Ambos se separaron de forma rápida y ella lo besó de nuevo por última vez, antes de empujarlo en dirección a la casa de Yoongi.

- Escóndete, sin importar lo que oigas. Yo estaré bien - susurró ella.

Jin apretó su mano una última vez y se tragó las palabras que tenía en la punta de la lengua. Ya tendría oportunidad de decírselas cuando todo terminara.

||||

Pese a que Yoongi apenas había caminado una cuadra, sentía que sus piernas no lo llevaban lo suficientemente rápido.

Tras marcar a la policía y decirles que había visto a Bomi y Jin colarse en su estudio a través de las cámaras, le había avisado a Jin que el asesino estaba en movimiento.

Vestido entero de negro, con gorra y mascarilla; Yoongi solo podía ver que parecía ser un hombre. Pero no lograba distinguir quién era.

Más rápido de lo que pensó posible, Yoongi abrió la puerta de su casa con su huella y se aseguró que Jin estuviera abajo. Desde la cocina, este le asintió con la cabeza y Yoongi corrió escaleras arriba a encender la transmisión.

Muy tarde, se dio cuenta que debió haberle enseñado a Bomi cómo hacerlo. Solo esperaba que el asesino aún no hubiera entrado, para que así las cámaras pudieran captar su entrada.

Yoongi miró a su alrededor pero no vio nada extraño, caminó rápido a la mesa de sonido y presionó la opción de transmitir. Con facilidad, todas las imágenes y sonidos que captaban sus cámaras comenzaron a ser transmitidas en las redes sociales de él y de Jin.

El asesino aún estaba en la puerta, probablemente teniendo problemas con el código dedujo Yoongi. Buscó a su alrededor y encontró a Bomi acurrucada debajo de su piano, le dio un pulgar hacia arriba y de pronto tuvo una idea.

Sentándose en su silla, copió el enlace de la transmisión y se lo envió a los detectives a cargo del caso. Justo cuando estaba apagando la pantalla de uno de los monitores, sintió la puerta de abajo abrirse y unos pasos sigilosos subiendo por la escalera.

Tragando saliva, hizo un último contacto visual con Bomi y fingió trabajar en una pista en otra de las pantallas. Alguien tenía que ser el señuelo y Yoongi había resultado ser la opción más segura.

Aguantando la respiración, Yoongi y Bomi, escucharon como las pisadas se alejaban por el pasillo, para luego ir abriendo todas las puertas una a una.

- Está adentro - le texteó Yoongi a Jin, para que este último estuviera al tanto.

Chequeando que las cámaras estuvieran captando todo, Yoongi volvió a bloquear su teléfono a la vez que la puerta de la cabina se abría.

-¿Qué mierda-? - dijo Yoongi, verdaderamente sorprendido. No lo había escuchado caminar de vuelta hasta allí.

-Debí suponerlo - dijo el asesino, entrando con calma a la habitación y mirando a su alrededor - Min Yoongi, no has cambiado nada.

El corazón de Bomi pareció detenerse por completo, solo podía ver la espalda de la persona, pero el rostro de Yoongi lo decía todo. Pálido, se había puesto de pie y arrimado contra una esquina de la mesa de sonido.

-Hyung - murmuró temblando.

-¿Sorprendido de verme? Debí saber que Seokjin no estaba siendo descuidado con el código. Ese chico no sabe cuándo rendirse.

-¿Por qué? - preguntó Yoongi en un susurro apenas audible, pero Bomi podía ver que estaba haciendo tiempo. Algo en sus ojos le decía que ya sabía el por qué.

-Sabes por qué - se encogió de hombros, como sin darle importancia.

-No, no sé por qué - insistió Yoongi valientemente.

-Yoongi-ah - respondió el hombre de forma condescendiente - No estoy aquí por ti precisamente. Solo quiero a Seokjin... ¿Lo tienes al teléfono? Escuchar esto no cambiará nada.

-No - exclamó Yoongi, empezando a enojarse - Jin no está al teléfono ni tampoco pretendo decirte dónde está.

-Una lástima - prosiguió él, mirándose las uñas aburrido - Pretendía ignorarte, pero ya que no quieres cooperar, no me queda de otra.

En un parpadeo de Bomi, el asesino estuvo frente a Yoongi y antes de que este pudiera correrse de su camino, un cuchillo estaba profundamente enterrado en su abdomen. Ahogando un grito, Bomi vio como Yoongi agarraba el mango del arma y comenzaba a desplomarse hasta el suelo.

-Já - comentó el hombre, revisando el teléfono de Yoongi - Decías la verdad Yoongi - ah... Una pena.

El cuerpo de Bomi tiritaba sin control y con su mano intentaba controlar el sollozo que quería escapar de su boca. Los ojos de Yoongi encontraron su mirada y este hizo el intento de esbozar una sonrisa para ella, pero la poza de sangre estaba creciendo a un ritmo alarmante.

-Seokjin ha sido muy astuto escondiéndose de mí, pero esto ha llegado muy lejos - comentó el asesino inclinándose sobre el cuerpo de Yoongi para recuperar su cuchillo.

Bomi observó los ojos de Yoongi mirar la puerta antes de posarse nuevamente sobre ella. Exhalando con dificultad, se vio obligada a contener un grito, cuando vio que los ojos de él se cerraban. Sin ser capaz de determinar si Yoongi estaba respirando o no, Bomi se dio cuenta que el plan había fallado.

Tal como Jin había temido, el asesino nuevamente se había salido con la suya y ahora una nueva vida se había perdido por culpa de su impulsividad.

Esta vez Bomi no fue capaz de ocultar el sonido de su llanto y sin esperar que el hombre se diera vuelta y la matara también a ella, se arrastró como pudo y salió corriendo por la puerta abierta.

Mientras atravesaba la casa de Yoongi y corría escaleras abajo a toda velocidad, Bomi rogaba que Jin y ella tuvieran más suerte. Seguro que la policía estaba por llegar y todo se resolvería por fin.

||||

| masterlist |

I've been reading this one since chapter 2.. And I've re read it numerous times since then.

Despite some questions I still have about other characters, this couple never failed to made me feel happy and warm and in love.

I always love when gems like this make me crave this type of love and fluff and all in between.

Thank you for your words 💜

Love to Hate (Epilogue)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you’ve done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: dirty talk, mentions of cum pay + pregnancy kink (no explicit content in the chapter) 

Word Count: 4,133

Author’s Note: links to be updated at a later date!

Seguir leyendo

doom boy | knj

Description: idol!namjoon x reader

Content: pwp. 18+

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: dom!namjoon, switch!reader, bratty reader, brat tamer namjoon oof!!, oral (m. receiving), fingering, protected sex, like two little slaps on the cheek (namjoon best boy tho i promise), ass slapping, pet names & use of the word ‘slut’, lil secret relationship?? gasp

Author’s Note: namjoon is bias wrecking me i think that should be excuse enough. sexy nukim performance that nobody prepared us for?? he's just so tall and buff it’s making me sick. @angsttd this one’s for u baby 🫡 here to serve u.

★ masterlist ★

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

doom boy

When Eva’s eyes leave yours mid-sentence, your initial instinct is to follow her gaze, slightly puzzled as to what could’ve possibly caught her attention. Yes, you were in a room full of A-list celebrities, stars if you will, but it’s not like your job didn’t require you to mingle with said stars on the daily. It was hard to star-struck you at this point – not to mention Eva, who had quite literally sent out the invites to this party. She’d been responsible for the guest list, too. 

It’s then you realize she’s not star-struck, no. She’s meticulously calculating her next move. 

“I didn’t think they’d come,” she says, more to herself than to you. 

You smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Ah…”

“Does he know I know? About the two of you, I mean.”

“Yeah. I mean, you did walk in on us.”

She pleads with her eyes, apologetic though she knows there’s no malice behind your words, just teasing. “You’ll make me take that to the grave now, won’t you?”

“If I don’t, the NDA certainly will.”

“He’s walking this way…” her voice is slightly frantic and she stares down at the bar, eyes shooting daggers at the vodka soda she tightly grips to. 

“Just him?”

“No. Hobi’s with him.”

“That’s good. Less suspicious that way.”

Eva doesn’t know how it is you’re keeping your composure in times like these. She doesn’t know how you look so effortlessly unaffected by it, by him. It’s almost as if you were expecting it – the magnetic pull with which he seems to be walking towards you. 

It’s Hoseok the one that takes the lead, walking right in front of Namjoon and greeting the two of you with a smile. 

“Eva, ___!” He’s bubbly and it’s contagious and you can’t help but smile. Eva relaxes visibly, too. 

“Hobi, so glad you could make it,” Eva says, turning to Namjoon who catches up, now standing between you and Hoseok. “The both of you!”

“Our pleasure.” Namjoon’s voice makes you crack a smile that he doesn’t see, eyes focused on the way you twirl your straw around your fizzy gin & tonic. 

It’s small talk at first, mostly work related, serving as easy disguise, Eva and Hobi your accomplices as you begin to feel a shift in his body, that pull inevitably intoxicating now. It’s hard to fight it, let alone ignore it. 

He leans against the counter, eyes looking ahead at the myriad of liquor bottles adorning the wall adjacent to the bar. When he talks, it’s only for you to hear. 

“I have to rely on pure coincidence to see you nowadays.”

You smile. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh, I know.”

“So have you, let’s not point fingers.”

He likes that, the assuredness with which you speak and the way your voice rarely falters, even when he can see the effect his proximity is starting to have on you. Your instincts get the best of you, and you can’t help but be grateful they did because when you finally face him, he’s looking at you, too. That signature smile adorning his face, the one that dimples his cheeks and meets his eyes a little too dreamily; like it was written with the outmost attention to detail by someone that was just as smitten as you. Only you’re not good with words, not in a way that would do the feeling honor at least. 

“Are you staying much longer?”

“No.” It’s barely audible, just for him to hear. “You?”

“I’m performing.”

“That’s a pleasant surprise. Maybe I’ll stick around long enough to catch it.”

He smirks, innocently in the eyes of anyone that isn’t you. “I do like to grant you a pleasant time.”

You look away, eyes back on your drink before you’re bringing it over to your lips, a sip of liquid courage that you prolong for more reasons than one. 

“Right,” you smile at him, a little too boldly, it almost makes him nervous. “I’m walking away now…”

That smile is still there as you turn around, stealing one last glance at him, the one that lets him know this is not where your evening ends. The one that sees you off with a promise. He tells himself to stop staring, to focus elsewhere the moment your back faces him but he’s too weak to listen to the voices of reason inside his head. 

You’re beautiful, tempting, alluring and all of the words in the dictionary his mind scavenges for. Namjoon is good with words and he’d find them all if it meant doing you justice. 

He eventually loses you in the crowd, hair falling over your shoulders and back, a tight little dress hugging you perfectly and it’s then he’s made aware the next couple of hours could very well be torture as he stands so close, yet so far away from you. 

~

You pride yourself in two things in this life: your work ethic and your poker face. You’ve come to realize that when working the field you do, the latter comes in handy to power said work ethic. Keeping it professional, but most importantly, keeping yourself unfazed. It’s a wave that ripples until it oozes confidence, another much needed trait in this industry. 

Right now, all your assets are failing you. 

It’s not like you were expecting the lyrics girl we can keep it low while we do the ride to be accompanied by innocent stage presence but alas, you’re surprised. And yes, it’s pleasant, only unpleasantly so as you try to keep your cool as the entire room rumbles in cheers, screams and what you’re pretty sure are a couple of moans and whimpers here and there. You get it, you do. But you can’t exactly join the frenzied state of the girls and boys alike. No – you’re holding more than just attraction for him. You hold a secret. 

He's sexy, confident, head rolling to the beat of the song and God when your eyes scan his body it’s hard for you to actually comprehend his proportions. Taller than most and lean, so lean yet buff. His clothes fit him like they’re painted on and you’re glad you’re not his stylist because you’d be out of a job by now. You can’t help but praise whoever took the executive decision to put him in a turtle neck, though, convinced that not even you could’ve done the job so exquisitely. 

You lock gazes, if only for a second and when your mind stops spiralling over the little moment you held you cuss it out. Dismissing it, reminding yourself that this not the time, nor is it the place. Reminding yourself that in reality, cruel as it is, it never is the time or the place for the little dynamic you two have developed over the past three months. 

But the moment he comes off stage and his gaze finds yours yet again, this time for longer, you know you’re doomed. 

Pun intended. 

~

You don’t mind it. The sneaking around, the fact that he’s essentially taking you home but in two different cars, the extra security and having to seal whatever happens behind closed doors with a signature. None of it matters because the moment you step through the door that he shuts behind you, he’s concealing you from it all, and with every step he takes to close the distance between your bodies, he distances you from reality. At least from the one that involves this messy situation that at times feels like an arrangement.

Not now, though. No. Right now it feels like the very last memory you have of his soft lips on yours, of the way he tasted and the way your breath hitched, electrifyingly so. You crave it now more than ever, but you’re not one to beg – at least not right away. 

He takes one last step forward and there it is, the way your body gives you away, a heaved breath leaving you and when it does, your chests touch. He looks down at where your bodies connect for the first time today, eyes finding yours a second after. 

“Want you,” he says, voice raspy as his hand wraps around your wrist gently, traveling down until his fingers are intertwined with yours. “Want you since I last had you.”

“Yeah?” He knows the question is rhetorical but he nods anyways, the sigh you let out fanning across his lips. 

“Fuck, ___. Let me have you.”

“You can have me.”

The hand that once gently held yours now finds its way tangled in your tresses of hair, exploring for all but a second before he’s tightening his grip, bringing you closer until your lips are touching, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. 

“Can I? Will you be good?” 

Your lips part, eyes closing, silently begging for a kiss but all it earns you is a harsh pull, his lips now too far away for your liking. 

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be good.”

“Why should I believe you? You’re such a little brat, baby. Had to tame it out of you the last time.” He brings his lips to your neck, placing a soft kiss on your warm skin as his palm loses its grip, fingers gently massaging your scalp. 

“I promise I’ll be good, Namjoon. I’ll be good for you. Please.”

His hand wraps around the back of your neck, softly pulling you to him until he’s placing a peck on your plump lips. Your breath is erratic, pulse raising at the mere contact and you want more. You need more. 

“Please,” you plead.

“Yeah? You’re asking so nicely. You know I can’t say no to you, baby.”

You look up at him with glassy eyes, shaking your head, agreeing with him to your favour. “N-no.”

“I could never say no to you.” His voice loses that edge for a second, eyes staring into yours, telling you things your dizzy state can’t quite read but there’s no need for it. It all falls into bliss the moment his lips are on yours, with force this time. You melt into him, lips parting to let him in, his teeth nipping at your bottom one before his tongue soothes the action. You want his lips everywhere, his mark, too. He kisses you like he’s mentally mapping everything he's going to do to you and the anticipation becomes sweet torture. 

His free arm wraps around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer as your hands find his hair, fingers getting tangled in the locks. 

“Fuck, you’ve any idea how hard it was to perform with you in my direct line of vision?”

“No,” it’s an honest answer. You hadn’t even noticed that he could see you from up there. 

His palm closes around your fingers, his own getting lost in his hair for a second before he’s bringing both your hands down and in between your bodies until you’re palming his cock over the tight fabric of his slacks. He tightens your grip until you can make the shape of him perfectly with your touch. It makes you salivate.

“Did I paint you a picture?”

“Fuck. Want you in my mouth. Please.”

“On your knees, baby.”

You slide your body down the wooden door, a bit sloppily, out of character even and he lets out a chuckle, raising an eyebrow as he sees you struggle a bit to get on a comfortable position on your knees. The hardwood makes it hard. His fingers tangle on your hair again, bending over at the waist until he’s smashing your lips against his. 

“I’ll kiss them better afterwards. Promise.”

With sweet words and a kiss to your cheek, he lets you continue, eyes fixed on the way you fiddle with his belt buckle for a second before you’re freeing him from the constraint around his waist. When you undo the button of his pants, your hand pulls his shirt up until a little bit of his abdomen is exposed, soft yet firm as you place a kiss on the tanned skin. His breath hitches in anticipation, the feel of your lips against him already driving him crazy and his cock is not even out of his boxer briefs yet. 

“No teasing, ___.”

“I’m not,” you look up at him, agile fingers pulling his zipper down, palm closing around his clothed cock until he’s hissing. “Just like to take my time with you.”

“Hah-,” his words are lost the moment your teeth nibble at the band of his Calvin’s, warm breath hitting the sensitive skin of his pelvis. He feels like someone wired his every fucking nerve, so very supple to you. “We don’t learn, do we?” 

You shake your head, a smug little smirk adorning your face as you rejoice in the way he’s complying the more your mouth travels south. His pants come down to his thighs, boxers following right after until you’re met with the very object of your desire.

Namjoon has the prettiest cock you’ve ever laid eyes on. Your hand wraps so perfectly around it, his size ensuring your fingers barely touch and his length guaranteeing a long, thick stripe from your tongue – base to tip until it’s wet enough for your hand to glide comfortably. 

“Fuck,” his hand leans against the door, eyes following your every move, not wanting to miss the way your pretty lips wrap around his crown, tongue circling around the sensitive skin until you’re pulling a throaty moan out of him. 

You look up as your tongue laps at him, big eyes feigning innocence as you leave little kitten licks that tease him for long enough to catch him off guard, hand placed at his base as you force yourself down his dick until the tip is hitting the back of your throat, your gag reflex only making things harder for Namjoon who has to take a deep breath to stop himself from blowing his load right then and there. 

“You’re such a fucking minx,” he’s surprised he manages to get the sentence out in one breath, patience running low but his fun intensifying as you moan around his cock. If you didn’t have a mouthful right now, he could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile forming at your lips. Hands tightening on your hair, he pulls you away in one swift tug, smirking when drool drips down your chin as you try to catch your breath. 

“You like me there, baby? Want me deep?”

“Yes, please.”

He grabs the base of his cock, slapping the tip against your tongue when you open up for him again. 

“Hm. Should I fuck your mouth since you want to get brave?”

“Yes.” When you nod, his grip on your hair tightens. 

“Open up.”

You comply, laying your tongue flat and taking a deep breath before you start taking him inch by inch. The thrust of his hips is slow at first, a sensual pace that has you bringing your legs closer together, but soon enough he picks up pace, making you gag with every jerk of his hips. 

“Shit, that feels so good.” Your eyes begin to water, throat clenching around his crown. “You can take it, baby. Take it like my good little slut.”

You moan around his cock, the vibrations sending a dangerous signal all the way to his balls and he has to pull you off him to stop himself from coming – breathing erratic and chest flushed. Fuck, he could die this way and go happily. You look so fucked out, and all for him. 

He helps you up, getting down on his own knees the moment you’re on your feet. You giggle, rolling your eyes at his sudden change of demeanour.

“Promised I’d kiss them better.” He places gentle kisses on both your knees, his palms rubbing the red skin soothingly. “I can kiss anywhere you want me to and make it better.”

Your fingers get lost in his dark hair, eyes closing in pleasure as his hand snakes in between your thighs. You love the foreplay, his tongue and his fingers and the way they move so expertly around you but you don’t think you have the patience for it today. You have to fuck him. Now.

“Need you inside me, Joonie.”

“Wanna taste you, baby.”

“Please,” you whine. “I’m so wet.”

He bites his lip, eyes on yours as his hand travels further up, eyes widening and gaze darkening the moment he comes into contact with your naked cunt. You whimper when his fingers part your lips, digits gathering your slick before they tease your clit, not quite putting the pressure you need into it, just a feather light touch. 

“What’s this, huh?”

“M-my dress was too t-tight,” you say, shaky breaths leaving you.

“Hm, that’s right. So fucking tight, leaves pretty much nothing to the imagination.” His lips come into contact with your hips, biting over the fabric and you hiss, the burning feeling mixing with the pleasure. 

He stands up, coming face to face with you before he’s motioning over to his bedroom with a cock of his head, slapping your ass when you take the lead, knowing your way around his home rather well at this point considering he’d fucked you in most hard surfaces.

You remove your dress upon entering his room, relieved to have the tight fabric off your body. You throw yourself onto his huge bed, crawling towards the pillows to get comfortable. He’s got other plans, though. 

“Ah, not so fast. Stay there, baby.”

You simply smile at him, turning around so he can see you as you lay flat on the soft mattress, fingers lightly skimming your warm skin as you let him take you in. The dim light gives him a perfect view of you and you’re well aware that if this was any other man, you’d be too in your head to enjoy his eyes on you, but it’s Namjoon. His eyes dancing all over your naked body sends a rush of excitement pooling at your lower belly, and when his gaze finds your face and he smiles fondly, the feeling pools at your chest. 

He fully discards of his pants and boxers, shirt following not too long after and when his knee hits the mattress as he begins to make his way towards you, you take the time to take him in. He looks even more toned than the last time, if that’s even possible. Forearm flexing as he strokes his cock, thick thighs clenching as he makes himself feel good to the sight of you. 

His legs pry yours open as he stands between them, gaze dropping to your glistening cunt. 

“I love it when you get this wet,” his thumb circles your clit, traveling down to your center and then back up, easing the glide the more you gush for him. His voice is throaty when he says, “prettiest pussy.”

“Mm, ‘s yours,” your voice is airy, dreamy even as your eyes flutter closed, a moan escaping you when his ring and middle finger enter you. 

“Feel good, princess?” 

“Y-yes, fuck- can’t wait to have your cock inside of me. Please, Namjoon. Need you inside.”

“How badly?”

Before you can get words out, his fingers hook inside of you, hitting that spot immediately, making you buck your hips and let out a high-pitched moan. “So fucking badly, baby- please.”

“Ride me.”

“Shit- yes.”

You’re eager, that much he can tell. Probably thinking that control has been handed back to you as you confidently push him towards his sea of pillows and swiftly throw a leg around his body, straddling him. 

He pats the mattress around him until he finds the condom he’d thrown onto the bed before discarding his pants, bringing the shiny foil square to his lips and carefully ripping it open. You take the condom from him, rolling it down his shaft expertly, and a little impatiently, one hand leaning against his chest as the other guides his cock to your center, teasing yourself a few times before you begin to sink into him. 

You both throw your heads back, falling into the pleasure. It feels so good, so much so it doesn’t take you by surprise when you say,

“I feel so close already,” moaning as you roll your hips against his.

His big palms grip at the flesh, stalling your movements which earns him a scowl from you. 

“You cum when I say you can.”

“Joonie, please-” your voice is saccharine sweet but the attempts are unsuccessful, moan hitching on your throat as he thrusts into you with force, hand tangled in your hair once again. “F-fuck, baby.”

“God, you feel so good. Tightest pussy. Wanna fuck you forever.”

He’s merciless, fucking into you at an inhumane speed, with a force that you didn’t even think was possible from this angle, either. You can barely wrap your head around a thought, let alone articulate words as Namjoon leaves you a babbling mess on top of him. 

“You’re gonna make me c-cum- you’re gonna make me cum if you go that fast, please.”

He thinks it’s cute, the desperate little tilt to your voice, eyes struggling to stay open as they lock on his, pleading for mercy. His hand travels down your ass, groping the plump skin for a second before he’s delivering a hard slap that has your back arching, his name getting caught in your throat as you mewl in pleasure. His hips don’t stop their obliterating pace and your legs begin to shake as you start to hold back from coming. 

“Namjoon.” It’s a warning, head falling forward as your thighs close around his waist. 

“Be good, ___.”

“I-I can’t it feels too good, fuck!” you outright scream. 

“Thought you could get away- with being a brat huh, baby?” you can feel the strain in his voice, both from the physical exertion and the way his balls threaten to tip him over the edge anytime now. Your eyes flutter closed and he stops.

“What are you doing,” your question is frantic, so fucking close to your high you can feel it in your tongue. 

“Ride me, baby.”

Your hips begin to move, as slowly as you can muster but Namjoon knows your body too well, he knows you know how to get yourself off expertly with his cock and it’s soon enough that you’re crying out, a desperate little whisper.

“I’ll cum.”

“Look at me, ___.” He says, and when you don’t comply, too fucked out to hold eye contact, he grabs a hold of your jaw. “Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, fuck, I want to be a good girl for you.”

“Mm, yeah. I know you can do it, baby. Come on.” His grip tightens and you know what’s coming. Your gaze gives him the permission he needs, his big palm cupping your cheek, sweetly at first before he’s drawing it back slightly, slapping the flushed skin until you’re moaning. 

“Choke me,” you say, and he complies after another little slap to your cheek, big hands wrapping around your neck, just the right amount of force to have you feeling airy and just the good amount of lightheaded.

“You’re so sexy, princess. So fucking beautiful, too.” He tightens his grip around your neck ever so slightly as he brings your lips down to his. “Wanna cum?”

You don’t break the kiss. “Yes, please.”

“Cum, baby. Cum around this cock.”

You don’t need more encouragement than that, body relaxing as he loosens the grip on your throat, letting go fully as your orgasm hits you in the most mind-blowing waves of pleasure. You moan into his mouth, pulling at his hair as your body shakes on top of his. 

“Fuck, ___. I’m gonna cum.” You kiss him, throaty groans against your lips sending your mind into a frenzy as he shoots into the condom.

Your bodies grow weak, breathing erratic as little giggles leave the two of you, too fucked silly to even ask what it is you both find so funny – all you know is that it always seems to be the aftermath of your escapades. This inexplicable giddy feeling filling your senses, euphoric almost. 

If you weren’t too drunk in lust it’d scare you. 

“Wanna shower? Have some ramen? Fucking hate the finger food at those parties.”

“Want me to relay the message to my bosses?”

He laughs, leaning in to kiss you, deep and full of something you can’t quite decipher. 

“I’ll wait for you in the shower.” 

He pecks your lips once again and makes his way to his ensuite bathroom. 

You lay there for a while, deep in aimless thoughts that you know will land you nowhere but back in his arms, in the same dynamic, the same secret. 

Yet you don’t care. 

Doom seems to be blissful when it comes to him. 

~

stream the astronaut 👩🏼‍🚀!! and sexy nukim!! and left and right!! and JITB!! and christmas tree!! and with you!! and that that!! and bad decisions!! and proof!! lets get it besties 🫂