Yoonkook X Reader - Tumblr Posts

waiting for, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, ft. jungkook

summary: Jeon Jungkook is paying for erotic photos and he is going to jack off to them. Nothing wrong with that, right? Ah, yeah, except, well... he paid for them because he knew the one featured was none other than Min Yoongi's very own girlfriend, who he wanted to fuck very... very much. Probably too much. Shit.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship (yg/you); if it isn't obvious already, sex work involving erotic photography; wild OT7 karaoke scene lol; a whole lotta guilt; smut (fem reader, descriptions of erotic photos with BDSM themes, m-masturbation, phone sex, f-receiving oral); non-idol!AU - (secret) sex worker!reader x music producer!Yoongi ft video editor and photographer!Jungkook and far too friendly?Park Jimin (he always sneaks he way in here, idk how, oop); Jungkook's POV

--

now playing – waiting for by taemin

He was finally alone.

Only now could he breathe.

Jeon Jungkook was on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He knew what he was going to do, but it still felt wrong. It felt wrong being naked on his bed, sheets soft against his skin, illuminated by nothing but his phone screen. The harsh light reflected off his toned chest and his inked right arm as Jungkook held his phone up with his left. He was clutching his phone too hard; he could see that his knuckles were white even in the low light.

He exhaled, pushing the air out of his lungs as he relaxed his grip.

His eyes flickered to the time. Almost. Two minutes.

Part of him felt guilty, even if it wasn’t that guilty of an act. Because it wasn’t, really. It was a service being provided; he wasn’t stealing. He paid for it, just like the others. But still. Part of him felt guilty.

The other part was horny as fuck.

He saw the notification pop up. Hand delivered to his account inbox. It made Jungkook feel special, even if he wasn’t. Every other customer who paid for this tier got the same rewards. It disturbed him a little how his finger didn’t shake anymore when he pressed the ‘open me’ button.

From: _thehornedsin.

In an instant, he was breathless.

The first thing he noticed was her lips. Painted a glossy dark red, perfectly shaped. Slightly parted, with her little pink tongue sticking out. The second thing he noticed was the curve of her chin, nestled above the leather collar with a huge metal padlock. The third thing was the blindfold, black lace layered over lush maroon velvet. And the fourth thing was the horns.

That’s right, the curved, black ram’s horns draped with black lace.

It was a close up shot of her shoulders and face, with the focus on her damn lips. Her absolutely plush, perfectly fuckable lips that demanded to have a cock shoved into them.

Jungkook hated that he thought that, but he did.

She had a few different variations of ram’s horns, but he admired the black the most because they looked almost real, like they were part of her head. It was part of her signature, a striking feature in every picture, along with the blindfold.

She always wore a blindfold.

He flipped through the pictures, slowly, admiring every detail. She was laid across an extravagant red velvet couch, draped in long black lace robes. A single leg stuck out, covered in a sheer black thigh-high stocking and an elegant black pump. With each picture, the layers of lace robe lowered, down her shoulders, her arms. Shots of her bare back, no bra. The top of the garter belt, the curve of her ass.

A whole goddamn story, packed in those pictures he now had on his phone.

His right hand slid down his side, creeping down his abs. He gasped as his fingertips brushed his cock, already hard, staring at a perfect photo of her back view, knees on the couch, hands on her ass and spreading her cheeks. Still wearing the heels and the fucking sheer thigh-highs. His hand grasped his cock. Jungkook swiped again.

Holy fuck.

Front view now, tongue between her teeth, legs crossed, her perfect fingers elegantly poised, framing those flawless tits. Nails painted red with black crystals, matching the entire vibe of the photoshoot. Pointing straight to her nipples, large and hard. Jungkook let himself pump now, slow, breathing already shallow. Swipe. Legs open, nails sinking into her juicy thighs, pussy glistening with her chest jutting out. He fucking zoomed in. He zoomed in and moaned softly, seeing that beautiful wet opening. His right hand went faster, harder. Swipe. She was holding fucking wooden clothespins, back arched against the couch, one leg leaning against the back and the other lazily trailing the floor.

Swipe.

His hand was moving of his own accord now. Jungkook was getting to the end of the pictures and of himself. The clothespins were on her nipples. He whined, seeing her poor nipples pinched, her mouth open, tongue licking her lips. Fuck, it was like he was there. Fuck, it was like he had been waiting just for this. Swipe. The next, one hand between her legs, the other pushing her tits together, nipples red from being constrained. His hand was moving so fast, cock throbbing, nearing release, breathing so hard that he was winding himself.

Swipe.

Head thrown back, leather collar with the heavy padlock right between her collarbones, tits sticking straight up, clothespins in the damn air, three fingers shoved into her tight pussy, already dripping and soaked. Jungkook could even see splatters of her juices on her inner thighs, shiny and slick thanks to the lighting.

He came.

Jungkook fucking exploded, moaning and gasping, his cock jerking in his hand as white spurts of semen shot out, all over his hand, his thighs, his bedsheets. He hadn’t expected to cum that fast or that hard, but he hadn’t expected the damn picture either. He gritted his teeth, squeezing his cock tight, as if it wasn’t his hand, as if he was inside that pussy he was staring at right now. Swipe. The last one. Her smug smirk, hand up, shiny fingers spread and covered in her orgasm. Pink tongue sticking out, licking her middle fingertip.

His eyelids fluttered, rolling back into his head as he opened his hand and spread his orgasm all over the head of his cock, aggravating the sensitivity and heightening the pleasure, torturing himself.

Once again, for another month, he came to the erotic photos of _thehornedsin. The photos he paid for, along with a few hundred other patrons. The photos of someone he knew, someone he would see tomorrow in person, someone who he shouldn’t be in love with, but was. And he was guilty, guilty because he was in love with her and was too ridiculously happy when he was told that she was low-key a sex worker.

Min Yoongi’s girlfriend.

-

“Did you know Yoongi-hyung’s girl has a sexy Twitter?”

At the time, he had no idea this question would change his life.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows, already three pieces deep in barbequed beef bulgogi. His mouth was completely filled and he chewed noisily, giving his friend Park Jimin a strange look. Jimin was on his phone, swiping with the hand that was holding his chopsticks.

“Let me bring it up,” Jimin was saying.

Jungkook swallowed, throat stretching too far. He coughed, taking a long sip of his beer. “There’s no way she has a sexy Twitter,” he chuckled. “Hyung would never let that happen. You know how possessive he is.”

Jimin waved his chopsticks dismissively. “Here.” And he turned his phone around.

Twitter profile for _thehornedsin. Pictures of woman wearing fake ram’s horns and a blindfold, strangely eerie and elegant, in beautiful lingerie. All hot. All sexy as fuck. Jungkook was already getting hard and these were only racy photos.

“Pfft, how is that hyung’s girlfriend?” he snorted, mentally noting the username because if that woman was single, he was definitely going to send a DM her way.

“Because,” Jimin continued, turning the phone back to himself to scroll upwards. “There are Yoongi-hyung’s hands.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. Large male hands pressed against the woman’s soft breasts, their heads out of frame, a silver necklace draped right in her cleavage. He recognized the rings Yoongi usually wore, the silver bracelets. There was even that black beaded bracelet Jung Hoseok had made for Yoongi a while back.

“They… they can’t be…” Jungkook sputtered.

Jimin grinned. “It is. I asked already.”

“You what?” Jungkook felt his ears burn. “You pervert!”

Jimin laughed, tucking his phone away and cheerfully grabbing some meat off the grill. “It’s a public Twitter. I only confirmed my suspicions.”

Jungkook began to stuff his face distractedly, trying to not think about how hard he was getting now that he knew this information. “How did you even find it?”

“I follow a lot of sexy Twitters. And pay for their email subscriptions if they have them.”

Jungkook choked. “You do what?”

“I pay for erotic photos,” Jimin stated calmly. “You know, support the artist.”

“Artist,” Jungkook echoed hauntingly.

Jimin narrowed his eyes. “Yes, artist. Because they are real people and they work hard to take good pictures to help good human beings like me get off.”

Jungkook mouthed the words good human beings and Jimin scowled at him, popping a piece of grilled beef in his plump lips.

“How many times have you just looked up pics or videos and jacked off?” Jimin accused. “You don’t need to answer, because I already know the answer is, a lot. Tons of people don’t want to pay for porn. That’s fine. But I do, because there are people who work hard and do cool shit and I want to support that.”

“Weren’t you seeing someone?” Jungkook interrupted.

Jimin shrugged. “I was. We looked at them together when we were dating.”

“You… looked at Yoongi-hyung’s girlfriend’s sexy pics… with another woman?” Jungkook blinked, disbelieving.

“Yeah, I did. She liked them too.”

His mind was blown.

“She thought the horns were cool. Me too.”

They were kind of weird, but the more Jungkook thought about it, the more he kind of liked it too. A fun play on words with them being ram’s horns and all. They gave her a dark vibe.

“What’s with the blindfold?”

“Well, obviously so her identity isn’t that easy to figure out. And it’s hot.”

It was. Jungkook’s dick was throbbing thinking about it.

“She has a paid subscription, with nude photos.”

Jungkook’s eyes bulged. “She has what?”

Jimin gave him a pitiful look. “Nude photos. Because she is a sex worker. Jungkook, are you an adult or what?”

His jaw flapped trying to form a sentence. “W-Well, I’m not trying to look up erotic photos on Twitter usually! I follow gaming stuff.”

Jimin shook his head. “Poor Jungkookie. So innocent to the world.”

There was a short silence of Jimin chewing and sipping beer.

“Do you… pay for her subscription?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Of course.”

Jungkook gave him a very pointed, eager look.

Jimin smirked. “Pay for it yourself. Support your friends.”

-

The subscription wasn’t very expensive. Jungkook paid for it the second when he got home, gaining immediate access to a few of the most popular sets.

He never jacked off so many times in one night.

For a bit more money, he could gain access to all of her photo sets.

So, he paid for that too and, over the course of a week, nearly lost his dick with how many times he masturbated. He should have made it last longer. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t because for the two years Yoongi and his girlfriend had been dating, Jungkook had thirsted over that ass and those thighs. For two years, he had been staring at her tits, wondering what they looked like. For two years, he had been admiring the way her lips pressed into Yoongi’s, wondering what that kiss felt like.

And to find out he could get her sexy as fuck nudes for a fee?

Fuck yeah, he paid for them.

She posted a new set once a month. The lowest tier got the non-nude erotic photos, the middle tier got those and the nude ones, and the highest tier got all the photos, including teasers and a few nudes during the month. Casual, in bed ones. Some with Yoongi’s hands doing various things to her. Things Jungkook wanted to do, like playing with her nipples, fingering her, and shoving toys in her holes.

He wanted more.

But then again, he always had.

-

Seeing her snuggled up to Min Yoongi’s side at the karaoke room was torture.

Torture because he wanted to be Yoongi and torture because he wanted to be the fucking chair under her ass. She was wearing a red plaid dress with Yoongi’s hoodie over it and black thigh-high socks. They were laughing at Kim Seokjin’s drunken high notes, taking shots together. Her cheeks were pink and pressed against Yoongi’s flushed face. His hyung was always more lovey-dovey when he was tipsy. Surprisingly, she was always quite calm, as if she wasn’t drunk at all.

Yoongi nuzzled her neck and kissed it.

Jungkook fumed, eyes fixated on the dirty floor because he couldn’t bear to look.

Park Jimin planted himself next to him, holding the karaoke iPad.

“Whatchu wanna sing?” he said, grinning, pink cheeks glowing.

Jungkook struggled to sound neutral. “Er… I dunno. I don’t like singing.”

Jimin nudged him. “Yes, you do. You love singing. And she loves your voice.”

“Jimin…”

Jimin loved poking the bear. The bear being Jungkook’s infatuation with Yoongi’s girlfriend.

“They’re looking for a photographer,” he said suddenly.

Jungkook swallowed air far too fast, coughing. “What do you mean?”

Jimin tipped his chin to Yoongi and his girlfriend, who were now egging on Seokjin, adding backing vocals to all his words. It actually made Jungkook smile, because the two of them looked cute as shit. Would be a lot easier if he just straight up despised seeing them together, but, alas, life fucked him up good.

“Taehyung can’t do it anymore. He’s moving to the city in a couple weeks ‘cause of his job.”

“Taehyung is their photographer?” Jungkook whispered shrilly, making Jimin jump.

“Yeah… didn’t I tell you?” Jimin said, squinting. “No?”

Jungkook’s giant eyeballs told Jimin, no, he did not tell him. He snapped his head to Kim Taehyung, who was beside Seokjin, waving Jung Hoseok’s arms around in attempt to add backup dancing to this nonsense. Kim Namjoon was beside them, just straight up yelling, because… well there really wasn’t a reason other than being tipsy. Namjoon cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted particularly loudly, only to jerk back and look at his hands, as if he was confused why he did that.

Okay, maybe Namjoon was actually drunk.

“Taehyung has seen her naked?” Jungkook hissed.

“I mean… you have too.”

“Yeah, but not naked in real life!”

“The pictures are real life?” Jimin said, confused.

Jungkook smacked him in the arm. “You know what I mean!”

Now he was actually furious. Furious that Jimin hadn’t told him, furious that Taehyung hadn’t said anything (not that he would, because that wouldn’t make sense, but Jungkook didn’t care), furious that Yoongi and her looked so fucking cute so he didn’t even want to try and break them up because, fuck, look at them jumping up and down and hugging each other as Seokjin scored a ninety-five.

Fuck!

Jimin got up and suggested another song, tapping the iPad as Namjoon and Hoseok grabbed the mics. Oh, dear. It was going to get loud.

Normally, Jungkook would be singing like crazy too, but he was feeling too many emotions and it was taking everything in him to smile and pretend like he was fine. He exhaled and looked up, trying to enjoy Namjoon shrieking on the top of his lungs as Hoseok attempted the high notes – it was chaotic to say the least.

When he was finally feeling some sense of calm, he sensed a presence next to him.

Oh.

No.

“You aren’t going to sing?”

He turned his head mechanically to see Yoongi’s girlfriend tilting her head at him. Staring at her red lips, the lips he had seen yesterday licking her own cum off her hands. Yoongi’s arm snaked around her waist, hand splayed over her stomach. He didn’t look at Jungkook, cheering on Hoseok instead, hyping him up.

He coughed. “Ah, I don’t know. I have a sore throat.”

She smiled apologetically. “Me too.” Then she smirked. “But probably for a different reason than you.”

Jungkook’s cock woke up suddenly, fighting his jeans.

“Ahaha…”

“Oh, sorry,” she said quickly. “I forgot you don’t like dirty jokes.”

No, that’s not quite it. “Ah… It’s okay.”

He spied Yoongi’s fingers digging into the hoodie. He was listening, all right.

“Jungkook,” she continued, unaware that her saying his name so innocently was making his dick leak an embarrassing amount of pre-cum into his pants. “You still work at that music company, right? Directing and editing videos?”

Jungkook blinked slowly, trying to be calm. She wasn’t even that close. But he could still see how her thighs spread out on the chair when she was sitting down, lightly constricted by her thigh-highs.

“Yeah. I do more editing than directing though. I was only assistant director a couple times.”

“Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully. “You’re pretty good with a camera, huh?”

His heartbeat accelerated rapidly. “A-Ah… I wouldn’t say that.”

Yoongi’s hand was sliding up. Up. Up to her breasts, cupping one in his hand over the thick fabric. She turned her head, kissing Yoongi on the cheek.

“Going to the bathroom, my love,” she murmured to his skin before standing up and walking out of the loud room. Now Jimin and Taehyung were doing a soulful duet, swaying together as Namjoon pretended to wail. Hoseok and Seokjin where adding background vocals (read: heckling on the top of their lungs) in between chugs of beer.

This left Jungkook and Yoongi sitting in the corner.

Yoongi seemed to be tired from shouting. He was leaning against the chair, wrapped in his black parka and dark blue jeans. Cool and calm, round cheeks flushed.

Jungkook swallowed. He felt the tension. He didn’t know why, because Yoongi obviously knew people got off to his girlfriend’s suggestive pictures. He was part of them, after all. And his hyung must know that Jimin purchased nudes, but their friendship dynamic never changed. In fact, Jimin was quite close to Yoongi (in height too, but Jimin was still shorter), and Jungkook had never seen them act strangely around each other.

He chewed on his lip. He knew it was him. He knew he was the one making it weird. Yoongi was just sitting there, nearly asleep. Harmless.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Special mini photoset for highest tier members, arriving at 00:00. love, Sin from _thehornedsin

Jungkook made sure he was home by midnight.

And was greeted by the biggest surprise of his life.

-

“Park Jimin!”

It was the next day, and Jungkook was shouting at his phone, in a video call.

The older male rolled over in his bed and rubbed his eyes, black hair rumpled and messy. “Why are you yelling?” he mumbled sleepily, voice hoarse from singing his lungs out last night. “And why the video call?” He was definitely a little hung over. Maybe more than a little.

“So I can see your face as you try to explain to me why you were in Sin’s special mini photoset that was released last night,” Jungkook growled viciously.

The phone dropped suddenly, showing only video feed of Jimin’s white sheets.

“Erm… that couldn’t be me, haha…” Jimin muttered, hastily picking up the phone.

“I recognize your tiny pinkies anywhere.”

Jimin glared at him, turning his eyes into lines. “That’s insulting.”

Jungkook made a noise like a snarling bear.

Jimin winced. “Er, okay, yeah. It was me.” He got up from the bed, stretching. “They just wanted another pair of hands to add to the spooky factor. Yoongi can’t grow another set of hands.”

Jungkook wanted to throw his phone across the room, march to Jimin’s apartment, and strangle him.

Another pair of hands? The whole set had been those four hands all over her body, crawling over her front-tie blue silk teddy, undoing the strings, taking off her matching bra and panties, touching everything. Everything. Her neck, her breasts, her nipples, her stomach, her legs, her fucking pussy, all edited perfectly so it was only arms and hands all over her horned, blindfolded, sinful body.

And Jungkook jacked off to it, because yes, it was sexy as fuck, but he wasn’t happy about it.

“And why,” he growled, “Would you not tell me?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, yawning. “Why should I? It was strictly professional. I got paid and everything.”

He got paid to touch Yoongi’s woman?

Jimin seemed to realize that was the wrong answer and that Jungkook was slowly frothing at the mouth.

“I didn’t say anything,” he added quickly. “Because I knew you would be jealous and overact like you’re overreacting right now.”

“I’m not…” Jungkook snapped his toothbrush in half as he attempted to brush his teeth. “Overreacting.”

Jimin shook his head. “You need help. You should not be this angry. She is not your girlfriend. You do not own her. Yoongi doesn’t even own her. She is her own person and you need to understand that.”

Suddenly all the rage seemed to be sucked out of him. Jimin was right. He should not be this angry or angry at all. Jungkook suddenly felt very, very guilty and ashamed.

He ended the call without saying goodbye.

-

For two whole weeks, Jungkook didn't look at her pictures.

Every time he wanted to, he told himself he couldn't. Every time he ever so much thought about it, he scolded himself. He used to look at them at least once a day, jack off to them at least two to three times a week. But now he told himself he couldn't.

Now, the only time Jungkook allowed himself visit her was in his dreams. If she appeared, he rejoiced, and if she didn’t, he would have a restless night chasing a shadow. He was aware of how messed up this was, but at this point he was a slave to his dreams.

Jimin didn't take his outburst personally. He even called back later, asking if he was okay. Asking if he wanted to go out to eat or something. But Jungkook refused, telling him in a monotone voice that he was fine.

At the end of a week, Kim Seokjin asked to stop by. He was in the area and wanted to chat for a bit. At first, Jungkook wanted to say no, but he relented. Seokjin was the oldest, after all. Also, he never took no for an answer.

Seokjin popped up with bags of gummies and banana milk. Asked to use the bathroom. They talked about game updates and new releases. The new sci-fi RPG that was coming out in a couple days.

"What happened to your toothbrush?" Seokjin came out of the bathroom, laughing as he held up half of a toothbrush. The half with the brush head.

Jungkook's eyes shifted. "I broke it. Still works though, so I was just going to keep using it."

Seokjin's laugh became squeakier as Jungkook tried to hide his conflicted expression. "Hyung will buy you a new one."

Truth was, Jungkook kept it so he could remind himself every day that he was an asshole.

-

Not masturbating made Jungkook crabby.

He found himself with little patience and constantly annoyed, although he tried to not let it show. Every day, he felt his resolve dying a little. Every night, he dreamed, waking up with a fucking telephone pole in his pants and not letting himself finish, as if he dealing some weird self-punishment for his jealous actions.

In short, Jungkook had put himself in horny jail.

He was sitting in his gaming chair, shirtless, playing Valorant. Even if he wasn't as invested in it as Overwatch, he was still very competitive. He wanted to be good at everything. Or he wanted to distract himself from his actual problems. Probably both.

Ah, his team lost.

He ran a hand through his long hair, fluffy and curled from being unbrushed and slept on. Annoyed, he scooted his chair away from the computer, ignoring his queue requests. Picked up his phone and then remembered he couldn't. Maybe he would go work out or something. Tire himself out.

His phone rang.

Jungkook's phone was almost always on silent. He had memorized the times the important notifications came. His friends, well. They could wait on him and his lack of response. He eyed his phone, knowing it was ringing because the screen was flashing at him. The only reason he picked it up and pressed the green call button was because of the name.

Min Yoongi.

Yoongi was almost as mute as Jungkook was when it came to communication, either in the group chat or phone calls. The only reason Yoongi was active was when it was necessary to collect the other six brain cells of the group. They had a tendency to lose focus of what the point was, such as getting lost on road trips and arguing about where to eat.

Jungkook had a feeling Yoongi did not want to talk about something that involved their friend group.

His stomach churned nervously as he brought his phone to his ear.

"... Hyung?"

"Jungkook!"

Breathless, beautiful, and not Yoongi's voice at all. His heart went to his throat. Guilt made him break out in sweat. He breathed her name into the mic, forgetting the honorific, biting his lip.

In his dreams, he didn’t use the honorific, because she was already his.

"Why... are you in hyung’s phone?"

"Ah, I don't have your number," she replied. "Yoongi said to use his, since you'll answer him."

Well, yeah. Because Yoongi never called unless someone was dying or something equal to that.

"What's wrong?" He moved his phone to his left hand, wiping his sweaty palm on his sweatpants.

"Nothing." A wispy chuckle, almost like Yoongi's. "Nothing's wrong, Jungkook."

The inflection on his name made him gulp. Almost teasing. His right hand slid to his inner thigh.

"How's work?" she asked, making small talk calmly and without a lick of nervousness.

His fingers bunched in the thick gray fabric of his pants, trying to stop his palms sweating. "It's okay. Stressful sometimes. Deadlines and stuff," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry about that." Her tone became apologetic, soft. "I called to ask you a question."

"What is it?"

"Do you..." Barely the hint of a gasp at her words. "Know anything about professional photography?"

Jungkook's eyes widened. Was she asking...? His hand slid under the waistband of his sweatpants. He inhaled sharply as his fingertips touched his stiff cock, ignored for far too long, brushing against his hot, taut skin.

"I..."

"I'm asking," she interrupted, voice as smooth as thick honey. Or butter, even. "Because you've been a longtime follower, busanboy97."

His breathing hitched at his username.

Jungkook did not, however, stop touching himself

"I... I'm sorry..."

She exhaled like a push of smoke straight into his ears. Jungkook moaned. He couldn't help it. He grasped his cock and shoved his pants down, panting into his phone, praying Yoongi couldn't hear him.

"Why are you sorry?" she murmured soothingly. "I send those pictures to you, so you can see them, Jungkook."

And then he heard it. Wet skin being teased, played with. His hand was already moving up and down, lower lip caught in his teeth, moaning low in his throat, desire and want and guilt.

"Are you touching yourself?" she asked, sweet and alluring.

He whimpered an affirmation. "I'm sorry, I can't help it," he rambled, pushing his head back in his gaming chair, rocking his hips into his hand. "I'm so sorry, noona, I know you're Yoongi-hyung's, I don't want to break you guys up, I'm sorry, but I want you, I want you, I want you.” His voice thinned into a whine as his hand massaged his rock-hard cock. It felt so good. It felt so sinfully good, touching himself with her voice in his ear. “I'm so sorry..."

"Shhh..."

She shushed him. Her shallow breathing became needy. The wet sounds in his ear became louder, noisier. Something being slid in and out. Jungkook closed his eyes, imagining her body he had seen so many times before, legs spread open, fingers buried deep into her soaking core, mouth open. Wishing it could be his hands on her curves, wishing he could replace her hand with his cock, wishing he could be the reason she was moaning. He knew it was wrong, but how could it be wrong if she was right here, right here in his ear, whispering his name, nudging him to keep going. There was a sucking sound and a shuddering moan left her lips.

And then he heard a low, familiar hum.

A hum that wasn’t hers.

Jungkook swallowed tightly.

“Hyung…?”

And then he realized that the sounds he was hearing was a mouth on her clit, sucking and licking as she hissed in pleasure. For some reason, his hand wasn’t stopping. It kept going, gripping tighter, pre-cum leaking down his fingers. A loud sucking noise and she cried out in his ear. He heard wood snapping against the floor, the sharp sound of a chair scraping.

“Lower the phone,” Jungkook whispered. His voice surprised him, deep and commanding. “Put the phone next to his mouth.”

He was in no place to give orders, but he just had to, hearing the desperation in her moans as she chased her orgasm.

“Heh.”

She chuckled at him.

And then the sounds became louder, more intense. He could hear it all, Yoongi’s tongue in her folds, drinking her juices, her clit being assaulted by the deft work of an expert mouth, paired with her whimpers of lust as she climbed to her peak.

“Fuck.” He was nearing his end too, cock throbbing in his hand, the head a dark red, stroking himself even faster. “That’s so fucking hot.”

The phone was lifted back to her heavy breaths, chucking softly. “Promise you’ll come over and take pictures of me, Jungkook?”

“I promise, fuck yes.”

“Then cum with me, hm?” Her words were a spell, enchanting him closer and closer to his orgasm. “Cum all over those sexy hands of yours, onto those beautiful thighs. Drip onto the floor, be messy for noona.”

He whined, squeezing his eyes shut, seeing her pretty face above him, ram’s horns framing her head and hair, eyes on him, watching him. Her name floating off his tongue, no honorifics, dreaming she was his, growling into the mic.

“A-Ah, I wish you were here, watching…” he murmured. “Gonna cum for you.”

Her moans hiked. Sounds more uninhibited now, dirtier, yearning.

“J-Jungkook, come on… So close, so, close…”

He imagined her hand tangled in Yoongi’s hair, her hips humping his face.

“Cum for me, right now.”

“Mmm, Jungkook!”

His name punctuated by his own groan as he came with so much force that it actually shot out and hit the floor in long white streaks, soaking into his sweatpants and dribbling onto his hand. He heard her whimper, chair creaking as her hips squirmed, her orgasm being sucked out of her pussy. He heard a satisfied sigh, the soft kisses up her chest, the possessive whisper of her name.

“Yoongi…” she panted.

Jungkook’s chest was heaving, entire body racked with the aftershocks of his pent-up orgasm and shivering with fear as he heard his hyung’s rasp assault his ear.

“Don’t break your promise,” Yoongi snarled.

-

followed by: fall in deeper, m | jjk, myg

--

masterpost

the dream ends, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: What happens when a dream ends? You awake.

act one, dancing on dreams >> act two: dreaming in reality >> act three: was it a dream >> act four: lucid dreams >> act five: dreams are made of this >> act six: dream sirens >> act seven: wildest dreams >> act eight: nightmare >> the dream ends

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; depression; alcohol consumption; self-destructive behavior; mention of experiencing a panic attack; reader is pansexual; angst / fluff / feels; mentions of and alludes to smut; non-idol!AU - friends with benefits / lovers with Yoongi and JK; switches between JK, Yoongi, reader, and omnipresent POV

a–dick–ted au. It is recommended to read all other parts before this one, as it alludes to many moments in all the previous parts.

–

"Why didn't she want me?"

Day in, day out, skirting responsibilities, making excuses, his life and heart falling apart, promises broken, nothing mattering, friends trying to step in and him pushing them away, everything balancing on a thin, thin line, slowly, gradually, crumbling.

"What did I do wrong?"

Most nights, lost in a haze, playing the game of will he wake up tomorrow or not.

"Jungkook, get up."

That tired voice, raspy with strain and pain, drifting down. Hands reaching under his armpits and hoisting him up with a grunt of effort, because he was bigger, younger, and stronger than the body trying to carry him, but he couldn't bear it, couldn't believe it, couldn't stand it.

He reached out for another beer, but a pale hand covered his, gently pulling his hand away, squeezing his fingers.

"You've had enough."

The thinner body was holding up his fragile self, struggling. He clung onto it, clutching onto the leather and burying his face into the collar. Black hair. Pine, leather, whiskey.

"Hyung..."

That small, weak voice wasn't his. It wasn't. In his head, he was confident, happy, playful, holding her hand and dragging her to him, on top of his body once more, rough, wild, passionate kisses, warmth and desire, his forever dream, his never-ending moment.

"I'm here with you."

He hadn't even realized how loud the house was, bumping into people and stumbling as Min Yoongi dragged him along, holding him protectively, blurred faces and strange shadows all around, and he couldn't look at the people around them, judging and scrutinizing, shaking their heads. He chose to stare into black hair instead. The stench of alcohol was so strong. It was disgusting, but he couldn't avoid it. In his stomach, his mouth, his lungs, threatening him, drowning him from the inside out.

"I still..." he slurred, voice cracking, unable to finish.

"I know," Yoongi said gruffly, but it was consoling somehow, the way he said it. "I'm right here with you."

Yoongi did know.

When he closed his eyes, he could see it, her profile, the shape of her eyes, the tilt of her head and her cascading hair. The way she looked at his room, inspecting the music memorabilia, knowing they were all parts of him. The interest, the awe, the…

He would call her name and she would face him, those plush lips parting, looking right at him.

And he could feel it. He swore he could, and he said so that fateful day, slamming his fist to his wall, sliding down, the tears stinging his eyes, he swore that it was real, that look in her eyes.

Like she wanted him.

Like she needed him.

Jungkook swore to Yoongi he saw it in her eyes.

No.

That day didn't happen.

It wasn't real.

In his head, Jungkook was still there, in his apartment, clutching the photo behind his back, looking into her eyes and her looking back.

Like she loved him.

-

He had to close his eyes to see her, because she wasn’t there when he opened them.

She would knock on his door and he would open it and pull her in, her voice saying his name, a mixture of indignance and fondness, clutching his shirt, his hands flipping up her skirt, revealing her black panties at his front door before he closed it, pressing her body against it, deep, hungry kisses, her hands holding his face.

"Jungkook... I could have walked in on my own, you psycho."

Her chastising him, but, somehow, she didn’t seem to mean it at all.

"Sorry, noona. I don't care."

And she would click her tongue, but she would pull him closer, his smirk against her inviting lips, already pulling her into the apartment, her hastily kicking off her black boots, him pulling off her jacket, sliding his hands up her thighs, moaning into her mouth at the softness of her ass, the way she filled his hands, perfect, always perfect, lifting her so she had to hold onto him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her hands tangling in his silver hair.

"Jungkook..."

Every second, every moment, so real he could almost taste it, taste the desire in her kiss, taste the lingering artificial sweetness of the gummy bears from her tongue, taste her skin on his lips and the way it vibrated with her moan, her thighs squeezing him, making him hard with that action alone.

His name, floating down to his ears.

"J-Jungkook..."

He couldn't get enough, never.

He didn't want anyone else, never.

He would whisper her name against her skin and she would shudder at the feeling of his tongue travelling across her throat, her moan filling his ears, his head, his heart.

"No one else but you."

Jungkook would dump her on his bed where a large lump would grunt in annoyance, pulling down the blanket, small smile on that disgruntled face once he realized who it was, Jungkook pushing her up against Min Yoongi and her squeak of surprise.

"Yoongi? What are you doing here?"

His hyung pulling up her shirt, humming in response.

"Can't stand being at mine sometimes."

Unhooking her bra, tossing it aside, so Jungkook could lean down and scoop her breasts to his face, flickering his tongue over them as Yoongi tipped her head back to look into her eyes.

"More fun for you, right?" that raspy voice would taunt, deft tongue flicking between pink lips.

And he would watch, watch his hyung kiss her and feel her body strain under his teasing touch, her back arching, shoving her tits into his face, his lips closing around one of her hard nipples, so good, so delicious, Yoongi's tongue playing with her mouth, whines buried in her chest.

The world could tell him no.

The world could tell him to wake up.

The world could tell him right from wrong.

But Jungkook would never believe it. He would never believe this was wrong, her in his hands and in Yoongi's hands, her pressed up against them at the end of the night, her quiet breathing its own rhythm and song, the dreamlike melody of his days and nights and Jungkook would never want anything else like he wanted these moments.

Never.

In his world, it was just him, his hyung, and his noona.

Then, he would open his eyes and she wasn't there.

It was him, his hyung, and the alcohol.

Staring into nothing, emptiness in his soul.

"I still want you..." Jungkook mumbled, crumpled in the hallway of some random house, the world around him alive, but he saw none of it, lost in the world in his head.

"Jungkook, get up."

-

He thought he knew what the worst feeling in the world was.

He really did.

What a joke.

He had seen a lot of shit. He grew up yelling and fighting to create his music, straining relationships, severing ties. He met terrible people, got screwed out of time and money, went to bed hungry, heard of his friends’ arrests or, worse, their deaths. It tore him up, it crippled him from the inside, and it manifested as his darkness, the depths inside him that threatened to swallow him up when there were too many people, too many pressures, too many fears. All these, and he thought he had experienced the worst feeling in the world.

But he was wrong.

The worst feeling in the world was watching Jeon Jungkook throw up on the fucking grass, rubbing his back as he retched out the contents of his stomach, most of it being alcohol tainted with bile.

It was disgusting, pitiful, and it hurt him so, so very much to watch.

“H… Hyung…”

Fuck, his broken, weak voice hurt him even more.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out some paper napkins, handing them to the younger man to wipe his mouth as he looked around. He let Jungkook be for a quick moment as he rushed back into the house, pushing drunk people aside to find a cooler, snatching a water bottle from half-melted ice. The change in temperature shocked him for a moment before he gritted his teeth and strode back out, finding Jungkook walking alone, swaying and stumbling, bumping into cars, his silver hair matted and stuck to his sweaty forehead.

“Yoongi-hyung…?”

He sounded so lost.

Me too.

“Jungkook.”

He had to shake his shoulder for Jungkook to turn around. He had to unscrew the cap and bring the water to the shaking lips, tipping it slowly, letting the younger man drink. He had to tell him to swallow, otherwise it seemed like he wouldn’t.

It hurt him.

It was the worst feeling in the world, shoving Jungkook into a taxi, avoiding the disapproving look of the driver as he handed him the crumpled bills, dragging him back to the apartment building, going to the third floor and Jungkook furiously shaking his head, tears streaming down, please hyung, no, not back there, please, and him agreeing, walking past, up to the fourth floor, his chest tight as he opened his apartment, the corner unit, seeing his still-open bathroom door.

Mocking him.

The flash of memory, absolute panic and yanking the bathroom door closed, locking it, tearing at his skin, his clothes, sinking down into the tile, terror and loathing rolled into one, tormenting his mind and his soul, inner voices telling him he couldn’t do it, couldn’t perform on a stage with that many people and seeing so many eyes on him, telling him that he wasn’t good enough, that he deserved nothing good in this world.

It didn’t matter if they were lies because, in that moment, he couldn’t tell the truth from the lies anyway.

A tentative tap on the door, soft silvery voice cutting through the thoughts.

“Hyung? Are you okay?” Jungkook had asked. The doorknob rattled. “Do you need help?”

“Don’t come in here,” he had growled, animalistic and in pain.

The rattling stopped.

He heard movement, as if someone had gotten to their knees. He heard weight; palms pressed to the wood. And then, gentleness, like a small light in his darkness.

“It’s okay, hyung. I’ll help you.”

Help? No one could help him. No one. No one did this to him. It was all him. It was all in his head.

“What do you need?” Jungkook had murmured quietly. “You can ask for anything. Anything. I’ll do my best to make it happen. I promise.”

He hadn’t replied.

A thunk, like a forehead to wood.

“Yoongi-hyung. Please. Let me help you.”

Despair.

Silence.

His mouth had opened and her name had drifted out like smoke.

“Okay, hyung. Okay. I’ll get her. I promise.”

We’re not a moment, right?

Now, the heavy weight on his shoulder slid down, almost falling to the floor, but Yoongi caught him, caught Jeon Jungkook’s drunken state and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him inside, leaning him against the wall and taking off his shoes, helping Jungkook out of his, his own self broken inside, but hauling the larger, younger man down the hallway to his bedroom, settling him on the bed and adjusting his head, Jungkook losing consciousness, lost in his dreams once more.

And no matter how much Min Yoongi wanted to fall apart, no matter how much he wanted to drink all of the whiskey inside this apartment and pass out along with Jungkook, hoping and praying that he never woke up, Yoongi did none of that.

He sat and stayed with his dreamer, brushing the silver strands out of his face, not falling asleep so he could be there for him in case anything happened. Because when he was at his lowest point, there were only two people that stuck by him and one of them was gone now.

Yoongi did not want to lose the other.

He reached over and placed his hand on Jungkook’s chest, feeling the firm thud-thud of his heart.

“We’re not a moment, right?” he whispered to the air, pain slicing into his frail voice.

Only now, when Jungkook couldn’t see him, did Yoongi cry.

-

He knew he should give up.

She was just like him, running from the nameless demons in her head. Misery loved company and all that shit. Sure, whatever. He thought she would be upset when he told her he had no interest in relationships, that he didn't want to be her boyfriend, that he didn't believe in love.

That was the first sign.

The little sting when he saw her expression after saying that. She seemed relieved. He brushed it off, as he always did. Only playing around, treating it like a high-stakes gamble instead of what it was. He knew he would get tired and give up, eventually. He always did, before her.

He didn't give up.

Yoongi knew he couldn't.

The second sign was how easily he remembered her favorite things.

The kiss that made her wet, the moments of daring 'what-ifs', the way he held her in his lap and made her grind on him in public, not letting her focus on anything else. People? Yoongi didn't give a shit about people. It was only him and his girl.

The third sign.

His.

Girl.

The fourth sign.

Jeon Jungkook confronting him, admitting his dream girl he wanted to lose his virginity with. Consequences? Yoongi didn't care about consequences. He only cared about how aroused he knew this was going to make his naughty girl. He lived his life without thinking about the future. He always had.

The fifth sign.

He liked it. Liked watching Jungkook do things to her, suggesting crazy shit, liked feeling her shiver after Jungkook wrecked her and then doing the wrecking himself, her fingers clutching his shoulders, her desperate kiss, asking for more in breathless whispers. It probably wasn't right, but Yoongi didn't give a shit, because when he was with her, it was paradise. When he was with her, there were no nameless demons to run away from.

And when she wasn't there, when the demons came back, there was Jungkook.

Jungkook pulled him from his nightmares with his dreams, his plans, his ideas. Compelling him, distracting him, redirecting his energy.

The sixth sign.

Yoongi knew, this time, this time was different.

He was the one who took the first picture. He took it himself, on his phone when she wasn't looking. He stared at that photo for hours, studying that profile, that face, those eyes, and he made a choice.

He told Jungkook.

And Jungkook to his own photo, as Yoongi knew he would, because Jungkook had never hid his desire in the first place. They printed them together. Wrote on the backs of them together. Held them nervously, together, looking into each other's eyes.

Afraid.

The seventh sign.

The way she said his name.

Her eyes, his paradise, their never-ending moment and their forever dream.

And the shattering of his heart when she dropped the photos and ran. She was just like him. He would have run too. But it was different this time. This time, Yoongi was on the receiving end and he knew how much it hurt.

-

He knew the way people talked about him. That he was a bad boy, A playboy. That he didn't care about anything. That he was a puny, good-for-nothing, shitty rapper. But he sold out venues, even if they were small.

That was him, Min Yoongi.

He could have walked away. Fuck it. This whole thing was crazy anyway. Didn't make any fucking sense. It shouldn't work and he shouldn't try to make it work.

We're not a moment, right?

He could have told Jeon Jungkook to get a fucking grip and stop moping, because fuck, he wasn't moping like him, right?

Right?

Yoongi would tell himself that as he held fistfuls of sheets, soaking them with his eyes, stifling any sound he made, Jungkook snoring loudly above him. He would stop before the sun rose, getting up to wash his face and throw himself onto the bed, the stinging pain of keeping his eyes open finally too much.

Was it always going to be like this? Forever like this, this pain?

He hated it.

Therefore, Yoongi made a choice.

He chose to care.

Yoongi was not going to give up and he was not going to let Jungkook give up either.

-

“Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hey, hyung.”

It was a quiet exchange. Jeon Jungkook straightened out the collar of his black dress shirt and stood up, brushing off his slacks. He paused before unbuttoning the first three, then frowned, and rebuttoned one.

“Need you to come with me.”

“For what, hyung?” He tried to sound as bright as he could, but it was all play-pretend.

“I made a hair appointment for you,” Yoongi replied, sliding his hand under the neckline of his white t-shirt and rubbing his collarbone. He didn’t look at him directly. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t need a hair appointment,” Jungkook chuckled, running a hand through his silvery-blond locks, slightly brassy now from the lack of care, but nothing some water couldn’t fix. No one would notice if he simply pushed it back and away from his face.

“I already paid for it.”

“W… what?”

Yoongi clicked his tongue, shrugging on his black hoodie. “Come on. My friend needed the cash. You like coloring your hair.”

“I only colored it because…” The sentence trailed off and Jungkook gave Yoongi a pained look.

The older male reached over and grabbed his wrist.

“You have to break the cycle,” Yoongi said softly, staring into his eyes. “I really need you with me. Please.”

Jungkook gazed at him helplessly, all dressed up and nowhere to go, because the places he wanted to go were destinations in his dreams, with her.

“Please, Jungkook.”

The grip on his wrist tightened, Yoongi’s dark brown eyes glistening. He turned his head away, but forced himself to look back, holding Jungkook in his resolute stare.

A stare full of thinly veiled pain.

“I can’t do this alone.”

And how, Jungkook remembered. All of his dreams had Yoongi in them too.

For a moment, he had forgotten that. For many nights and many days, he had forgotten Yoongi was always there, holding him up when he was falling down, being his eyes when the world was blurry, hiding his sadness so Jungkook could wallow in his.

He lifted his other hand and placed it over the pale one.

“Okay, hyung. Okay.”

-

“How you seen someone who looks like this?”

The kid took the picture from him, big eyes looking bigger in his round, bug-eyed lenses.

“Yeah. It’s the pretty noona.”

The kid handed it back.

“But I haven’t seen her in a while. I’m sorry.”

Jeon Jungkook smiled soothingly and patted the kid on the head. “It’s okay. I haven’t seen her in a while either. That’s why I’m asking.”

He stood up, tucking his now purple hair behind his ear. The kid looked up at him, mouth slightly open, in awe of Jungkook’s height. The kid was sporting a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it and blue pants that were a little too short for him, a colorful patch on the shin. Jungkook bowed pointedly to him even though he was only a young child. The kid continued to stare. He was about to turn around before the kid spoke up again.

“She seemed really sad.”

Jungkook paused.

“I used my allowance to buy her gummy bears. Did you know? She always buys gummy bears when she comes here.” The kid sniffed, rubbing the back of his nose as Jungkook looked down at him, the words stinging his heart. “But she seemed so sad. Like she was hurting deep inside, but trying to hide it.” He lifted his head, blunt bowl cut bouncing, dashing over to Jungkook and tugging on his jeans.

“Is she okay, hyung?”

The worst part was, Jungkook didn’t know.

The kid bit his lip, shaking the leg of his jeans, his mother behind the counter chastising him, saying not to touch the customers, but Jungkook held his hand up, crouching down. The kid looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. He did not feel brave inside, but he tried to show that he was brave on the outside, smiling warmly, placing a reassuring hand on the kid’s shoulder.

“I’m going to make sure she’s okay. I promise.”

Was he promising this random kid whose mom worked at the gas station?

Or was he promising himself?

-

“Hey, young man.”

Yoongi stopped at the stairs, keys between his knuckles.

He turned around.

A guy in a dirty khaki jacket and torn jeans with a swollen purple eye and a bruised cut on his lip. He was holding an empty bottle of soju and something else. A small, plastic package.

Yoongi’s eyes widened.

“I heard, uh… I heard you were asking around for someone,” the guy mumbled, looking sheepish and out-of-sorts. “I think… I think I’ve seen her so I wanted to catch you and let you know.” He swallowed, sniffing hard and shaking his head, the flaps of his coat opening, revealing the Doraemon tattoo on his chest and many more. All cartoon characters.

The guy held out the gummy bears.

Yoongi lifted his own, speechless as the package fell into his palm.

“She was here… last night? Or the day before.” The guy scooted around, rambling on despite Yoongi not replying, standing at a random spot halfway to the stairs and the parking lot. “Just standing here. Holding the candy and this soju here.” He raised the empty bottle, pointing at the windows of the apartment complex. “Think she wanted to… But she didn’t. She handed these to me and drove away. Asked me to keep them.”

The guy scratched his head. Then he pointed at Yoongi, nodding, more to himself than to him.

“I think she’s a little like me…” the guy was saying, slightly incoherent. “Said… said her and her momma don’t talk anymore. Me neither, you know… she gave me up as a baby before I could even say ‘go ahead, bitch’… heh… hehehe… man… sucks…” He rubbed his lips and sucked in a tight breath, flinching in pain as he touched his bruised lip. “Anyway, I put some feelers out for you.”

Yoongi swallowed, clutching the gummy bears tightly, the crinkle of plastic cutting into his skin.

“W… why?”

The guy looked awkward, shifting his eyes.

“Dunno… I just… people are important, you know?” He winced, jerking his head away. “No… no one wants to look for me, heh. Only for the drugs.”

He shoved his hand into his dirty tan coat and wrenched out a handful of tiny bags, all with colorful pills in them. After a brief moment, he jammed them back into his coat, frowning.

“Don’t want her to end up like me.”

The guy with the Doraemon tattoo raised his head, looking at Yoongi. Underneath his coat, ribs poked out straining against colorful, inked skin. His teeth were crooked, a little yellow, but he smiled anyway, shrugging. A small light inside him, despite his appearance.

“Not when someone’s looking out for her, you know?”

-

You ran.

Ran through the cars, stumbling, searching for yours, chest tight, black hood falling off, black hair suddenly free, wild and tangled around you, dark waves shimmering in the moonlight and streetlight, the only lights you saw these days.

“Noona…?”

A broken voice, once silvery and mischievous.

You turned, seeing violet.

-

“Um…”

You looked up from your head hanging between your legs. The girl beside you smiled, moving the red lollipop between her teeth. You were sitting on the stone steps of the porch. The party inside was dying, everyone falling asleep or falling unconsciousness.

“I don’t want to admit this, but… thanks.”

You wiped her lipstick off your mouth with the back of your head. “What?”

“Well, uh,” she continued sheepishly, her voice flitting between raspy and silvery, a strange mix. “I broke up with my boyfriend earlier this week. Not because he did anything… but I did.” She rubbed the back of her head, white lollipop stick moving between her now pink lips, the red having been kissed off. “And I was gonna get wasted and fuck some dude, but I found you instead.”

You gave her a weird look.

She nervously laughed. “I didn’t bring protection. On purpose.”

You blinked, slowly.

She popped the lollipop out of her lips, tapping it in the air. It glistened with saliva.

“I thought maybe if I had a kid, I’d have some purpose.” She breathed out, heavy. “Stupid, right? Fuck, that’s so fucking stupid.” She scoffed, shaking her head before raising it to look at you. “But I found you and I realized how stupid I almost was. And you’re a better kisser too. You actually paid attention to me when I said it was too rough or that I wanted more. People who come to these parties, they’re not like that normally, you know? Nobody cares here. Everybody seems to forget people are still people when they’re drunk or being stupid.”

Your lips parted.

“So… thanks. You helped me realize that. I could have made a really dumb mistake.”

She scooted closer to you, laying her head on your shoulder.

“I’m gonna sit with you a little longer, okay?”

You looked down at her and she smiled back at you, gently.

-

“Hey, hyung, Jungkook.”

Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung, standing in the gas station Jimin worked at, waving the two over.

“Are you two supposed to be hanging out while working?” Min Yoongi muttered, raising an eyebrow at Jimin. Taehyung slid off the stool behind the counter and walked around it, adjusting his olive-green beanie, wispy brown locks sticking out of the bottom.

The blond man shrugged. “Eh, the manager isn’t gonna know. I’m off in an hour anyway.”

Jeon Jungkook ignored the exchange, heading straight for Taehyung, his long, tied-back purple hair giving him a fierce look. “You said you heard something,” he said impatiently.

“Mhm, I asked some old friends, and, mind you, I haven’t talked to these dudes in ages because they’re kinda shitty. But it turns out some people are already keeping an eye out for her, so I guess everyone in the scene was on the lookout. She’s been, er… hanging out on the far, far side of the city.”

Taehyung grimaced, holding up his phone. Blurry pictures, but there was no mistaking who and doing what. Right out in the open, familiar positions. Jungkook grabbed Taehyung’s phone, flipping through them, brows furrowed, intently focused on the screen.

“She has an MO. No dudes. But… yeah.”

Jungkook handed him his phone back, lips pursed.

“You said you might know where she’s going to be next. Where.”

Not a question. A statement.

Taehyung exchanged a look with Jimin. Jimin’s eyes flitted to Yoongi, who gave him an unreadable expression, but there was an intensity there, as if he too was demanding an answer.

“Are you sure, guys?” Jimin asked, his light voice laced with worry. “You might get hurt.”

“Been there, done that.” Yoongi brushed off the comment dismissively, still pointedly staring at Taehyung.

“You sure she’s worth all this?” The concern obvious in the baritone, uncomfortable.

“Yeah, I’m fucking sure,” Jungkook snapped. “Now tell me.”

Taehyung frowned. “Neither of you have ever been able to commit to people before. She’s clearly moving on. And besides… two of you and one of her… that’s just–”

Jungkook’s hands flew out, grabbing the front of Taehyung’s shirt, shaking him furiously.

“Tell me where.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to protest, but then he caught the emotion trapped in his dark chocolate eyes, the barely-there waver in his silvery voice.

At any moment, it seemed like Jungkook was going to break down.

Taehyung’s gaze flickered to Yoongi, but the older man simply ticked his chin to Jungkook. Yoongi was better at hiding it or perhaps it was because he wasn’t as close. But there was something in the older man’s stance, heavily guarding the delicate heart inside, invisible strings holding him up, so thin they seemed ready to snap, but Yoongi was holding on, obviously seeing something Taehyung couldn’t.

“Alright,” Taehyung finally said. “Alright, I’ll give you guys the address. It’s at the far side of the city.”

-

Purple hair, flushed cheeks, a lost look in chocolate eyes that were fixed on you, pink lips parted, mole underneath trembling with unease. White t-shirt, black cargo pants, and thick-soled black boots. His tattooed right arm made him stand out, along with his violet-colored hair. He took a hesitant step forward.

Fingers outstretched, trying to touch you.

Your eyes widened and you turned to run, but a firm hand closed around your wrist, yanking you to a mop of black hair and a pale face.

“We didn’t come all the way over here to have you run from us again.”

The anger in his dark brown eyes made you freeze, accusing you.

“Y… Yoongi…”

His name felt foreign to your lips, not having said it in weeks. You tried to pull away but Min Yoongi held on, gritting his teeth. Black and navy bomber jacket, white shirt, and distressed black jeans. How could you have known then – that this outfit would be the one that started it all?

“Who… how…?”

Yoongi scoffed, clicking his tongue. “A kid and a dirty guy with a Doraemon tattoo. Jimin, Taehyung. And even then, it took forever to find you.” He shifted, sighing heavily, eyes flickering to the moon, still clutching your wrist, almost painfully. And you saw it.

Pain, glistening behind the gates of his cold demeanor.

All of a sudden, a hard body collided into you, Yoongi letting go, strong hands spinning you around, grip on your upper arms so tight it felt like your flesh was bruising, your head jerking up, eyes wide, looking up to purple hair.

And tears.

Streaming down those high cheekbones, tan skin and quivering lips.

“Why?”

His silvery voice cracked as Jeon Jungkook shook you, harsh sobs racking his chest, drowning in his tears, your name on his lips, still so sweet in his pain, heavy, wheezing breaths as he struggled to speak, barely croaking out the words.

“Why didn’t you want me?”

-

Why didn’t they want me?

A question you asked all the time. To the busy, overworked adults preparing your meals and scolding you to follow their routines, dividing their attention among the unwanted. Then to the others, the same as you, the tossed aside, the other mistakes and secrets, just as lost and confused. No one could ever answer you, because there was no answer other than, they just didn’t.

And then.

Him.

Everybody said, Min Yoongi was a bad boy. Min Yoongi was a playboy. Min Yoongi didn’t care about anything. And neither did you.

There was no.

Reason to take anything seriously.

You couldn’t. And neither could he.

It took a dreamer to pull you and Yoongi out of the endless night.

-

Jungkook pitched forward, crying into your chest, smelling like laundry, the sea, and bitterness, large, hiccupping sniffles, wiping his tears and snot on your hoodie, and, as if by robotic knowledge of proper social etiquette, your arms raised, about to encircle him, but Yoongi slapped your hands down.

“Don’t you dare try to comfort him if you don’t mean it,” he snarled, glaring at you from behind Jungkook’s hunched-over form. “You hurt him enough.”

You froze at his hostile tone, his slap stinging your skin and your heart.

Yoongi clicked his tongue, jaw clenched. “Me, fuck, I don’t fucking matter. But Jungkook? Shit. He’s a fucking mess without you, drinking every night, blacking out sometimes, throwing up liquor and barely eating.” His pale hand came up and ran through his black hair tensely, anger streaked in his expression, tainting his handsome face. He sucked in a deep breath before facing you again.

“I thought you and I weren’t a moment.”

Jungkook’s tears were soaking through the fabric of the hoodie, drenching the space above your left breast.

“I told you I only felt right when I was with you or him.”

The harshness in dark brown eyes faltered, his deep, raspy voice softening, laced with hurt.

“I still feel that way.”

He closed his eyes, pale cheeks coated in moonlight and streetlights.

“Even if I shouldn’t,” Yoongi whispered, almost inaudible.

-

You scoffed.

“I don’t need anything. Or anyone.”

The girl with the lollipop chuckled, nodding lightly. “Yeah, well, maybe someone needs you.”

You said nothing, looking out to the lawn where some idiot yanked open a car door and vomited on the grass. Another guy was leaning against a lamppost, looking out onto the road, staring at his phone, seemingly waiting to be picked up.

“Hard to know, though. You can’t tell you need someone until they’re gone.”

For a long, long moment, you listened to the sounds. The party, the loud music, the lively yelling, the muddled conversations, glass shattering, vicious swearing, messy kisses. The sound of breathing at your shoulder, steady, rhythmic, beside you.

At this moment, it occurred to you.

This was wrong.

And you remembered a sunset, sitting on the roof of an apartment building, looking over the urban jungle, two heads on your shoulders, a different world.

The right ones.

You lowered your head. All the other times, you were always silent. Alone, staring at the Han River.

But not this time.

“Don’t… don’t know what to do…” you shuddered, collecting your knees in your arms, shoving your face in between your limbs, wetness sliding down your cheeks. “I’m such… a fuckup… so… stupid…”

A stranger’s hand rubbing your back soothingly, her voice a mix of raspy and silvery.

“Don’t cry...”

-

You placed your hands on Jungkook’s arms.

Pulled him towards you.

“Don’t cry,” you murmured softly. “Please don’t cry, Jungkook.”

He pressed his face into your breasts, shoulders shaking, arms wrapping around your waist, holding you so tight that it seemed like he never wanted to let go, wet sobs trapped against your chest. You placed your lips to the top of his purple hair.

“I’m sorry I ran away,” you said softly, lifting your head, seeing Yoongi standing behind Jungkook, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, I… I couldn’t believe it. I was scared. Really scared of those words. And I didn’t know what they really meant, not until…”

You can’t tell you need someone until they’re gone.

“I didn’t understand what it meant to love.”

You looked down, seeing that beautiful face stained with tears, his skin blotchy and flushed. You reached between you and Jungkook to wipe his tears, your fingertips becoming soaked with the river of despair inside him.

“I couldn’t believe that you two were okay with it, this crazy arrangement.”

“I said I wanted it,” Yoongi muttered.

“That’s not the same, Yoongi,” you chuckled wryly, raising your head to look at him, holding Jungkook’s cheek, feeling his larger hand coming up to press your palm against his skin. Your gaze faltered, not really looking at the destroyed lawn of this party house, but somewhere else, in the depths, into the past that haunted you, the only world you thought existed, the one that constantly betrayed you and didn’t want you. “Like how I thought I grew up and changed, but I didn’t change at all.”

Silence except for Jungkook’s sniffling.

“Neither did we,” Yoongi snorted. “He’s went back to being a drunkard and I went back to sulking in the corners of these shitty parties, skirting free alcohol.”

You frowned, clutching the white t-shirt. “He’s not a drunkard.”

Jungkook laughed, moist and hoarse, wiping his nose on your hoodie. You made a face at him, slightly disgusted. Maybe you deserved it. He looked up, chocolate eyes glistening. Your breath caught in your throat, confused how someone like you could make someone like him feel this way. You carefully patted his eyes dry with your sleeve, dabbing at his wet lashes. His lower lip trembled and he leaned in, stopping just above your lips.

Fear.

Him and you.

“I want to know you want it too,” Jungkook shuddered, clearing his throat.

You looked back at him, lips parting, heart thudding in your chest, uncomfortable, oppressive, but this time, this time you didn’t run away.

Because this time, you knew how much it hurt.

You closed the distance.

“I want it. All of it.”

You kissed him, long and deep, your euphoria, your forever dream, and Jungkook kissed you back, desperate, hungry, grabbing your shoulders and kissing you again and again, wet, sloppy kisses, taking your breath away. Every kiss, every touch, familiar, right. Emotion flooded your ribcage, threatening to burst, but you had something to do, someone equally as important, so you placed your hand on his chest, stopping him, exhaling one word in his mouth.

“Yoongi.”

And Jungkook backed off, still sniffing, chewing on his lip and wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, nodding in agreement, giving you the space. You faced him now, so used to running away that this felt strange, but you did it anyway, looking into his sharp, cat-like eyes.

Min Yoongi.

Stolen touches, mere moments, becoming bolder and bolder, until the ante was so high it was impossible to cross, and yet Yoongi had crossed it that fateful night when he asked you to take Jungkook’s virginity, and, without you knowing, without him knowing…

This, whatever this was between you and him, was no longer a moment.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m still pissed at you.”

You sucked in a breath. “Yeah, well, I do bad things.”

Yoongi curled his lip, narrowing his eyes. “You’re supposed to do them with me. You said you would. Or did you forget?”

You glanced down at the ground, then back up. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue and exhaled hard. He looked away from you, but then abruptly jerked his head back, stepping forward, closing the distance, his hand coming up to circle around your head, long fingers burying themselves in your hair, glaring disapprovingly. He held you in place, forcing you to look into his dark brown orbs shadowed by black hair.

“Ah, shut up.”

And then he kissed you hard, brows furrowed, whispering into your lips, I’m sorry too, and you smiled helplessly, one of your hands resting on his waist, pulling him closer, your song, your never-ending moment, pine and leather and Yoongi, him saving you and you saving him, protecting each other from the nameless demons in your respective heads, although neither of you wanted to admit it. He ran his fingers through your hair, familiarity and comfort, letting out a puff of breath. He looked embarrassed, dark eyes shifting brusquely. His other hand touched your right, wrapping his fingers around yours.

“Let’s go home.”

Another took your left, squeezing it tightly. You looked up to see Jungkook’s still-red cheeks and sheepish smile. “You want to come home with us, noona?” he tried to tease, but it sounded more endearing than playful.

You raised an eyebrow, locking your fingers with theirs.

“Is it still called going home with you if I’m the one taking you there?”

-

epilogue: awake

You awoke to soft lips on yours. Tattooed fingers stroked your cheek, long strands brushing your forehead, silvery voice murmuring your name. You opened your eyes to black hair, cat-like, dark brown orbs looking at you under lowered lashes. His lips on yours, the scent of pine, his soft exhale of your name on your skin, making you shudder. Another pair of your lips pressed against your ear, his body hovering over yours and his.

“Yoongi.”

He smiled against your lips.

The bad boy that changed everything.

Your never-ending moment.

Four, eight, six.

“I love you,” you whispered softly, shivers running through you, the words foreign and alien, but you said them anyway, because they were the most special words in the world and you wanted to give them to Min Yoongi.

He chuckled, ears flushing pink, eyes shifting before focusing back on you, repeating it just as quietly, because he, too, wanted to give them to you, not written down, but from his mouth, giving voice to his heart.

“I love you.”

Why did it feel so nice, hearing those words in that raspy, deep voice? Why did it make your heart beat so fast? Why did it hold you and trap you, and why did you want to be trapped, trapped in this melody, these lyrics, this song, this never-ending moment?

Yoongi nudged you, indicating you to look to your left. You turned your head, looking up, seeing dark brown eyes, his purple locks brushing against your cheeks, the mole underneath his lower lip quivering. You reached up and touched his cheek gently, fitting your palm along his chiseled jaw, his own hand still cupping your cheek, naked body on top of yours.

“Jungkook.”

He leaned into your hand, smiling.

The wrong guy who turned out to be the right guy to pick up all along.

Your forever dream.

Four, eight, six.

“I love you,” you breathed, looking into those chocolate orbs, reminded of how much Jeon Jungkook liked you and how he always showed it. For him, you were always his dream and everyone knows that in your dreams, you don’t have to lie or hide. All this time, letting you see him like you, adore you, love you, avoiding the words because he didn’t want to hurt Yoongi, because he wanted his hyung to decide how this was going to go.

Jungkook always knew that Yoongi loved you, maybe even before Yoongi knew it himself.

Now, you finally said the words, giving him what he so very badly wanted to say, and now he could finally, finally say them back to you.

“I love you.”

He leaned down, a delicate kiss on your lips, smelling of laundry and the sea.

For a long, long time, you had wandered, small hands that became big ones, never having another to hold, living on artificial sweetness, missing a safe place, the place to go back to. But Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook changed that.

For you, they were what love really meant in this world.

Home.

-

fin.

-

the three before the dream before bed

--

masterpost

Neon High | MYG, JJK

Title: Neon High

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (nicknamed Pepper) x Min Yoongi

Wordcount: 9k

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, non idol!AU, DJ!Jungkook, Rapper!Yoongi, jkxreader established relationship

Rating: 18+ (minors, do not read or interact)

Synopsis: Jungkook and Pepper have been dating for a while, their bond so strong that she decided to leave with him for his tour as an international dj. Finally back in Seoul, she is introduced to a person from Jungkook’s past, of whom she knows a lot about — exclusively through her boyfriend’s words. Once prejudices dissipate, the two get to know each other better. Deeper, too.

Trigger warnings: mentions of alcohol and mental health issues (mostly linked to depression), swearing. Lightly sadistic dom!Jk, switch!reader, switch!yoongi. Unprotected oral and vaginal sex (please be SMART), protected anal sex. Voyeurism and exhibitionism, breast worship, breast slapping, nipple sucking and biting. Creampie, cum eating, light impregnation kink. Oral sex, male and female receiving, male giving. Very graphic, in depth conversation on cum. Degradation and humiliation (“slut”), objectification (“fleshlight”). Plenty of piercings and tattoos. Yoongi is very vulnerable in a few moments, mostly due to past self-hate, insecurity, loneliness and fear of abandonment. Light crying.

A/N: for @ironicarmy becoming my wingwoman and being one of the funniest, most talented people I know, but most importantly for my wifey, @joheunsaram. Happy (late) birthday, sister bride. I know this is awfully late but GOOD FILTH TAKES TIME (I was drugged with hormones when I wrote this, the horny is NOT my fault)

as usual, there goes my masterlist, ENJOY 💜✨

Staying backstage during Jungkook’s sets was always nerve-wracking, especially when you would hear girls screaming for him, throwing bras — and sometimes thongs — on stage.

And now that he was performing with his friend — friend? — Min Yoongi, it seemed even worse. It was a mess. The whole dance floor was packed, you could feel the sweat and the hormones from your spot in the privé, comfortably sipping your whiskey sour and staring at your boyfriend, at his way-too-loose black silk shirt, at the tattoos as they appeared when the light hit him just right, his hair sweaty on his face as he bopped to the music, his whole body feeling the rhythm while the infamous Agust D delivered line after line of girls sitting on his face and making it rain on him, of his cum tasting like sugar and his “tongue technology”. And though you looked ice-cold on the outside, you were melting in between your legs, your inner muscles clenching at the lines, at Jungkook winking in your direction before licking his lips, throwing his head back, and literally riding the rhythm.

The moment he brought his free hand to his chest, climbing up towards his neck, squeezing it suggestively before showing you his tongue, a tiny silver ball saluting you with a glittering.

You could only stare as your black-haired god smirked and let his hand roll down, feeling himself before his eyes met Yoongi’s, the older man taking a sip from his water as the song came to an end, his set finally over. He felt sweaty, messy, desperately needing a shower, and probably ready to pour a whole bottle of water on his white shirt. Just to make the girls drip some more.

Just to tease his dear friend a bit more.

He decided not to, rather bidding everyone goodnight, ready to get out of sight. It took a minute before the guy who had substituted Jungkook as resident took his spot, letting the two men head upstairs from backstage — all the perks of being two of the hottest artists in the scene.

“That was crazy!” Jungkook exclaimed, grabbing Yoongi by the shoulder and pulling him in a hug. “You did great, hyung!”

You smiled at their camaraderie, waiting to be noticed.

“You did a good job too, kid. That set was on fire.” Yoongi patted the younger’s shoulder before noticing you waiting at a red-lit table. He hoped you would be his after-party.

“Lemme introduce you to a very important person,” Jungkook said, pulling him towards the table he’d kept for you. “This is my Pepper.”

Yoongi stared at you for a minute, at your legs appearing from your black dress, at the abundance of your chest, conveniently displayed by a slit on the front of your turtleneck dress. He licked his lips and looked at Jungkook, his friend’s eyes dashing from you to Yoongi.

You waved at your new acquaintance, no matter how much Jungkook had talked about him to you. “Hi there. Very honoured to meet you,” you spoke, slowly, loudly, your voice already sultry.

Yoongi was mesmerised. He was almost angry he hadn’t found you first.

Jungkook placed a hand on your waist, leaning down to kiss you, your lips parting straight away so he could slip his tongue inside and fuck your mouth with it. He loved doing that. And you loved feeling the wetness ooze out of you as he did so. Leaning close to your ear, he murmured, “Behave,” he warned you, getting you to roll your eyes.

“Come on. I’m not a girl.” You watched Yoongi sit in front of you before arching an eyebrow at him.

He smirked, a gesture so familiar to Jungkook that he felt vaguely afraid of leaving you in his company. Maybe the two of you would bond and… “I’ll see you in one hour, okay? We’ll go home then, yes?”

You nodded and took a sip of your drink, grabbing your phone and opening your reading app straight away. No one who knew you well enough could understand how you and Jungkook met, and then got along, and then ended up falling deeply, solidly in love with each other. How could a deejay and a bookaholic manage to meet? Easy, three AM in the only open cafe doing 24h service, his coffee accidentally splashed over your ugly shirt as he walked into you. From there he had courted you relentlessly, sending you flowers, getting you new pijamas, getting you a coffee gift card, until you had to allow him one date.

And from there it was flawless. Not a chip in the bond between the two of you, not even after he started touring and after a couple weeks convinced you to follow him until the end of it, location after location, country after country.

You thanked your job as an online language teacher, and the flexible schedule, and just followed him without thinking twice.

And now that Yoongi was back in the scene you were quite suspicious of him, vaguely untrusting.

You kept staring at your screen, scrolling until you found your bookmark and started reading again, entirely absorbed by your phone.

Yoongi immediately dismissed you. You had to be one of those self-centered girls who believed only in follower counts, contouring, expensive clothes and ice-cold attitude.

He had nothing against it, of course. He just thought Jungkook was smarter than that.

Yoongi decided to sip his drink calmly and let you be. You clearly were interested in something else, and soon he started receiving visits at the table, men and women alike sitting down beside him, asking him for autographs — or even being bold enough to ask him his number, which he of course typed in their phones, maybe accidentally mixing up the numbers a little. Sometimes going as far as giving them his manager’s number or his favourite restaurant’s.

By the time Jungkook returned, you were ready to head home, standing up as soon as he appeared in the VIP area, the man wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your temple. “You tired, babe? Out of your depth, love?”

You nodded and leaned into him, getting even more cuddles.

Yoongi really couldn’t put two and two together.

“Hyung, you coming along with us? Wanna have a drink at my place?” Jungkook asked before you blinked at him and arched an eyebrow, quite intrigued.

Jungkook subtly winked at you, making you arch both eyebrows in surprise, biting your lower lip.

“Why not. Just don’t get drunk, kid.” Yoongi accepted without putting much thought into it, mostly to get to talk to you and try to understand what it was that Jungkook saw in you. And also to check that you were worthy of his friend.

During the drive, you were quiet but active, Jungkook's hand stroking your hair while he stared at you fondly, his eyes leaving you only when he was replying to Yoongi's questions.

He was quite confused by your attitude. He had to have misjudged you somehow. By the time you reached Jungkook’s apartment, he was sure he had.

“Want me to warm up some snacks for you?” You asked, stopping Jungkook before he headed to the shower, your hand low on his hip. He smiled and nodded, kissing your forehead in gratitude.

“Yoongi, you must crave a shower too, mh? The guest room has a pretty nice bathroom if you’d like. Plus I’m sure you’d like dry, comfier clothes.” Your gaze was incredibly smart and caring when your eyes met his, suddenly taken aback by the way you worried about him. “That’s not a problem, right Kook?”

“Absolutely. I can lend him a t-shirt and some joggers.” Jungkook stared at his hyung, Yoongi looking quite confused, his mouth slightly agape.

“Uhm… Thank you?” He said, a bit doubtful.

You let go of Jungkook and headed to the kitchen while the men walked down the corridor, your boyfriend coming back once his friend was already in the guest room. “Hey.” He kissed you behind your ear. “Thank you for the food.” You smiled and continued with the preparation.

“And… I mean… I’m not sure how to say this, and I’m not sure I misinterpreted your body language before but… Are you potentially interested in… him and… and me and you?” He paused for a second before correcting his statement. “I mean, tonight we could just test the waters and see if you could consider that in the future?”

You bit your lip before heating a grilling pan for the hamburgers. “What would you think of me if I told you I find him really hot and I really want to see the two of you together?”

Jungkook’s grip around your waist tightened. “I would think you’re the smartest, sexiest, and kindest woman I’ve ever met. Which is exactly what I thought of you before you said that.” He drew a path of kisses down your shoulder. “But I don’t want to do this with him and leave you watching. I want— I’d like you to be comfortable with him too.”

You nodded and leaned your head back on his shoulder. “Let’s let it roll.”

He smirked and grazed his lips against your cheekbone. “That worked well for us.” He smiled widely at the memories. He had never been half more in love. He couldn’t even doubt it. “I love you.”

“I know,” you replied cheekily. “Go shower, babe.”

Shaking his head, he sunk his fingers into your side, making you quiver with tickles. “Okay, okay, I love you too!”

He left with a proud grin on his face, getting to his bathroom a few minutes before Yoongi appeared in the living room.

“Over here,” you called as you assembled a mini burger. “You must be hungry.”

Yoongi stared at the large plate of food. “Wow.”

“Jungkook is always starving after work. Do you have any special requests in terms of ingredients?” You checked, making sure you hadn’t put in the burger anything he didn’t like.

“Oh, no, don’t worry… I’m okay, really. I’ll just eat whatever. I’m not that hungry.” Yoongi felt guilty about the way he’d judged you straight off the bat. “So, how did you meet Jungkook?”

“Uhm… We basically crossed paths. He was finishing work, while I had just finished a four AM online lesson with one of my students.” You chuckled. “It was a funny coincidence. My lifestyle is pretty incompatible with the places he usually visits or works in.”

Yoongi blinked. “You’re a teacher?”

“Private language teacher. And I really like computers so I also give lessons on specific software usage. Mostly database and language software.” You finished assembling the last burger and started washing the kitchen tools.

“That’s pretty cool. I don’t know why I wrote you off as one of those club queens.” Yoongi felt embarrassed by his admission, but he also felt like he owed you honesty.

“That’s what happens when Kook dresses me up,” you conceded with a laugh. “I feel a bit out of my habitat when I tag along with him, but I like doing that every now and then.” You turned around and gestured for him to eat.

He felt increasingly confused. Maybe Jungkook had found in you that carer that Yoongi had always struggled to be, too caught up in building his career to pay attention to the actual great things of life.

When Jungkook reappeared, your eyes zeroed in on him immediately, smiling at his happy, thoughtless look. He looked so effortlessly handsome.

From the other end of the table, Yoongi felt old butterflies — supposedly dead ones — reawaken. The man in front of him now looked healthy, balanced, peaceful. The tattoos covering his arm and part of his chest were a story of growth and love — self-love first and foremost. A hymn to life. Yoongi felt very stupid and out of place all of a sudden. He had no right to long for that man. No right to long to be in your shoes only for twenty-four hours.

As Jungkook sat down, you stood behind him, tipping his head back by his chin, removing your hairpins, and placing them on his hair before he dug into his food. He puckered his lips for you, asking for an upside-down kiss.

You gave in with a mischievous expression.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, giving you a wink. “Are you going to get changed?”

You nodded and left the room after caressing his cheek. “Enjoy the meal,” you spoke loudly before heading to Jungkook’s room and grabbing one of his shirts and a comfy pair of silk culottes.

By the time you came back, the plate was empty, the kitchen was spotless and Jungkook and Yoongi were sipping their beers on the white leather sofas.

“Here she comes,” Jungkook murmured, eyes filled with love and wonder as he looked at you.

You smiled and tried to sit beside him before he pulled you onto his lap. “Wow. So much affection!” You teased, melting against him as his hand landed on your thigh.

Yoongi knew that pose well. That had been his spot once.

“So hyung, are you touring soon?” Jungkook asked, watching Yoongi nervously avert his gaze once the hand on your thigh started drawing erotic circles on your skin.

“Not…” Yoongi struggled a little to gather his words. “Maybe in a few months. We are…”

He could help but observe the way Jungkook’s tattooed arm reached around your middle and pulled you flush to his chest, his thumb drawing the heavy curve of your breast, outlining it so clearly. Too clearly for Yoongi not to look — watch — and shy away.

Jungkook noticed the gesture, kissing your temple and moaning lightly as your ass ground against his crotch.

“We are still making a list of the locations,” Yoongi finally managed to conclude.

“That’s very interesting,” you commented, placing your hand on top of Jungkook’s left one, still working your thigh. You led your joined hands higher up.

Yoongi did not look away this time. “Very.” If you were behaving like that in front of him, then maybe you and Jungkook wanted to be watched. And maybe, vicariously, Yoongi would manage to live the passion, the ecstasy he hadn’t felt in so long. Maybe he could look at your desire and perceive it as his own.

As Jungkook felt the fabric of your culottes reach his thumb under your control, he reckoned he could be less subtle. He moved his right hand so he could trace the curve with the side of his pinkie, kneading the flesh gently, teasingly with the rest of his fingers. “It’s gonna be hard,” Jungkook told him, his voice dark and absentminded. “Without Pepper, I would have gone mad.”

You blushed and moved your hips on him, making him exhale against your neck. “Maybe you could use some fun before you go insane, mh?”

Yoongi stared at the two of you. “I think I need an unusual show. Something to relieve the tension.”

Jungkook squeezed your breast and you hummed, throwing your head back, laying it against his shoulder. “We know exactly what you need,” he murmured deeply, intensely.

“Enjoy the show, okay? We’d love to have an audience.” You let your body relax as you started grinding more energetically against Jungkook’s hardening cock, stretching forward to grab a remote and change the led lights of the room into a deep, relaxing blue. “Would you like to watch? You don’t have to, but we’d be very happy if you did,” you explained, looking at Yoongi’s dark gaze as he fixed the crotch of his sweats — or better, Jungkook’s borrowed sweat — by now interestingly tented.

“Can I really watch? I mean, Pepper doesn’t know me that much, I don’t want to make her uncomfortable…” Yoongi looked at you as you shook your head and led Jungkook’s hand underneath your shirt, making him cup your naked breast.

“I’m very comfortable, Yoongi. I’ve heard so many great things about you. It would be an honour to have you watching. Maybe you’ll write a song about this,” you said, before a moan parted from your throat, a second after the dry, nasty slap delivered to your breast.

“Hyung, we like you. We’d like you to watch. And interact too, if you’d like to.”

He nodded. “Do your thing, I want to see what you like and how you like it. And then I’ll consider.”

You nodded. “Fair.”

Jungkook hummed and cupped your mound over your silk loose shorts, the fabric so slippery that he couldn't resist rubbing his hand against it. “I bet you're drenched, mh? Ever since I brought him upstairs at the club.” Shamelessly, he slipped his hand into your waistband, Yoongi staring as you moaned, caressing the outline of his cock very subtly, leaning forward to take a better look as Jungkook slipped the gusset of your underwear to the side, letting Yoongi see just how wet you were.

“What's making you so wet, Pepper?” Jungkook provoked you before slipping a finger inside, stretching you out while his mouth placed kisses over the side of your neck. “Hyung watching?”

At the way your inner walls clenched, Jungkook chuckled sadistically. “You like it, don't you? It turns you on?”

You nodded and closed your eyes, throwing your head back.

“Oh, no. He likes eye contact. I'm sure he'd love it if you looked into his eyes while I sink deep inside you,” Jungkook spoke darkly, sinfully. “Stand up and take off this cute excuse of panties.”

You smiled and did as you were told, turning around and looking at Yoongi over your shoulder as you swayed your hips as you pushed your culottes down your thighs, letting them fall to the floor and stepping out of them.

“She looks amazing, doesn't she, hyung? She's so sexy. And so beautiful. I can't thank the universe enough for placing her in my life.”

Yoongi did not know what was happening. One moment, he was on a stage with his ex, the next he was being dragged into a threesome with his new girlfriend, who looked so damn great that he couldn't help wanting her for himself too, if just for a minute. Yoongi was close to living the best moment of his life. He couldn't help but stare as you placed your ass over Jungkook's lap, leaning with your hands on his knees as you taunted him with your backside just barely grazing his joggers.

“Pepper, stop teasing, for fuck’s sake,” Jungkook hissed before pulling you to him, his hand between your legs. “Spread wide,” he ordered, watching Yoongi’s mouth part in wonder. “You wanna lick her up, don’t you, Yoongi?”

He nodded, so, so focused on the glistening of your labia that he didn’t even realise the motion of his head. He was almost ready to get on his knees and crawl his way to you when Jungkook lifted you slightly and took his dick out of his shorts, pressing the tip to your core. “Wanna see how well she takes me?”

Once more Yoongi nodded, mesmerised. The last time he had been intimate with Jungkook, the boy had been a shy, babbling mess, averting his gaze and hiding his face whenever pleasure overwhelmed him, saying ‘I’m okay with anything you like’ whenever Yoongi asked him what he wanted.

And now, watching a confident, talkative, flirty man turning into a full-fledged sex god with an equally confident woman was something that by far overpowered any of Yoongi’s expectations.

He no longer managed to control himself once you moaned at the feeling of Jungkook’s glans entering you, your gaze focused on the way Yoongi’s hand reached for his own throat, palming at his chest heavily before grazing down his body, touching his sex from over the fabric of the joggers, lightly caressing his thighs in an attempt to reach fuller, more overwhelming sensitivity.

“You’re so fucking tight on me, Pepper. Yoongi would love having you on his cock,” Jungkook murmured, loud enough for the other man to hear. “And I’d bet he’d love seeing your breasts bounce while you ride me,” he added right before your fingers reached for the hem of your shirt and lifted it up exposing just one breast, Yoongi growling at the sight as Jungkook intensified his thrusts, grunting and cackling. “You see his expression? He’s so fucked out. And he’s not even getting his cock sucked yet!”

Yoongi didn’t quite know how, but he was into it. Oh so into it. The way Jungkook’s words hid a sliver of humiliation and degradation. The way he was so aroused, so fucking hard and leaking just from watching.

Jungkook was just twenty the last time he’d been in his bed and now… Well, now the dynamics felt very very different. Yoongi didn’t quite know whether he missed the tightness of his ass or the eagerness of his mouth, or whether, instead, he wanted to be you, and feel just how hard and deep his friend could go inside him.

“Pepper, why don’t you cum so hyung can hear how good you sound, mh?” Jungkook’s request came with a bit of a struggle, his voice strained at the effort of moving and trying to keep himself in check.

“Cum inside,” you mewled, starting to move faster, his thumb on your clit matching the rhythm of your strokes. “I wanna feel you cum, please.”

This cannot be real, Yoongi thought as he watched Jungkook’s face scrunch up in pleasure.

“Do you know how good it feels to keep your cum deep inside me? Filling me up?” You provoked him, needing for him to give you those good thrusts, that fulfilling high that would inevitably trigger your own. “I want your cum to mark me up, to own me.”

Goodness, fuck. Yoongi already knew he was rock hard, but if you kept going like that, he would cum in his pants like a pathetic teenager. He could only imagine the cocky remarks and the sadistic laugh coming from Jungkook’s lips if he ever found out. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t like the humiliation, though.

“Come on, Pepper. I’m so close, baby. Can you handle it?” Jungkook growled before your chest started blushing up, the heat too strong, your breath caught in your throat before you shook your head yes, closer and closer to your high until Jungkook stroked perfectly and furiously against your g-spot, shooting his cum deep inside you, his relieved roar mixing with your soft, harmonious howl, calling his name in tiny gasps, your sounds even more beautiful once they mixed with your boyfriend’s.

Yoongi almost wanted to record your voices, keep them in his phone when he would feel too stuck, sad, angry to cum, when he needed a little help with completing the task. When he needed to feel a bit less lonely in his king-sized — but awfully empty — bed. The three of you would fit perfectly in it.

He didn’t allow himself to dwell on the topic, rather focusing on the way your sex-addled expression spoke about complete, overwhelming bliss, Jungkook smiling at you as your lips met his, his hand touching your cheek as he whispered the sweetest ‘thank you’. Yoongi missed those caring touches almost as much as he missed the sex, the pillowtalks, the breakfasts in bed, that messy head of dark locks in between his legs.

And as Jungkook closed his eyes and rested inside you, you opened your eyes, immediately meeting Yoongi’s questioning, insecure glance. ‘You can come closer,’ you mouthed, trying not to disturb the man currently behind you, inside you.

Shyly, doubtfully, Yoongi knelt to the ground and crawled across the space between the two sofas, blinking confusedly as you caressed his hair and the little curls framing his face.

Tentatively, you brought your middle finger to your folds, gathering some of your juices before offering him your hand.

The way he opened his mouth and licked up your digit had your eyelids rolling shut, your fluttering insides causing Jungkook to awaken just in time to see Yoongi swallow your finger, sucking it until his cheeks hollowed.

“Sweet as a peach, isn’t she?”

Yoongi nodded, his eyes closed, a short hum coming out of him.

Jungkook managed to help you remove your shirt, staring at Yoongi until his hyung’s face lit up in wonder at the sight of your naked torso.

“Can I touch them?” Yoongi asked you, looking at your face and licking his lips, desperately trying not to look too eager or absolutely in love with your breasts.

You smiled, giggling a little before taking his wrists and placing his palms over your  chest. “Come on, you can knead them, kitty cat.”

He was so grateful. Immediately, he cupped them, feeling their weight in his hands, testing how puffy they felt, how round and soft and squishable. For a second he even doubted they were real before noticing how naturally they hung, and how the skin looked a bit stretched, how even the texture looked. “Oh my god,” he breathed out, looking at your face once more, noticing your amused expression.

“You can do anything you want with them. Touch them, kiss them, bite them, fuck them,” you explained, Jungkook nodding.

“I do recommend fucking them, Hyung. Or just face-planting in between them. They’re made to keep your ears warm in winter.”

You chuckled at his statement while Yoongi drew your areolae with his thumbs. “Can I use my mouth on them?”

You touched his face, nodding with vague fondness. “Of course, Yoongi.”

He felt so warm as he placed his lips over your breastbone, lingering timidly before you gave him a firm approval, letting him roam freely once you did.

He felt ravenous.

First, he sucked one of your nipples in his mouth, pumping it, tentatively pressing his teeth into it before Jungkook hissed, feeling you clench around him.

“She likes that, hyung. I think you can go harder,” Jungkook directed his ex, Yoongi reacting immediately and sinking his teeth deeper, making you whimper and roll your hips on Jungkook, getting a hiss out of him.

“Wanna go down on her, Yoongi?” Jungkook asked, knowing just how much the man loved performing cunnilingus.

There was something so wildly arousing in watching him do so, and Yoongi, in return, found the act incredibly erotic. Maybe it was the taste of a woman — which he loved with his whole soul, so rich and salty and bitter and just… So eloquent about a woman’s state. He loved the fact that he could understand how aroused a woman was just by the texture of her wetness, or that he could vaguely find out at which part of her cycle she was, which would tell him plenty of how much was too much or not enough. Such a deep understanding of the female body had repaid him generously in terms of satisfaction for his lovers. And he felt so proud of it.

Slowly, after his hands reconnected with your now wet nipples, his mouth started heading down, his tongue toying with your belly button before he kissed just above your hip-line. “Can I go down on you, Pepper?”

Your mind screamed at the prospect, remembering all of Jungkook’s stories that confirmed those oral skills he flaunted so much in his lyrics. Plus, after the way he had treated your nipples, you were sure he wouldn’t disappoint. “Make yourself at home.”

When Yoongi looked up, he had a devilish smirk on his face, something you had seen on Jungkook so many times that now you knew exactly where it came from.

And with that smirk on his face, he stretched his tongue out and delivered a slow, long lick across your clit, watching your hole clench around Jungkook’s length, still hosted inside you, and now newly hardening.

The second lick started from Jungkook’s balls, the surface so tender under Yoongi’s tongue as it slid upwards, touching the base of your boyfriend’s cock before it disappeared inside you, your cunt substituting the smoothness and taste of his sex.

“Yoongi,” you moaned, his hands still taking care of your breasts. Between the fullness inside you and the way he started suckling at your clit, you felt your body rise quickly to a preternatural high. “Yoongi, fuck!”

“He’s good, mh?” Jungkook asked you, just as the other man started humming, shifting to relaxed licks, letting the tide recede as he decided to put the cocky fucker back in place by sucking Kook’s left testicle into his mouth, pumping it energetically and making the boy whimper, his hand immediately reaching Yoongi’s hair and gripping it hard, trying to pull him off as he hissed, “what do you think you’re doing?”

Yoongi released him with a pop. “You used to like that so much.”

Jungkook inhaled and gave a tiny thrust inside you. “Focus on Pepper. I’m keeping that load for you.”

Yoongi exhaled, his cock twitching so hard he felt desperate. “Are you gonna spill it once I’m fucking your tight ass?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and smirked. “We’ll see.”

“Yoongi?” You called, interrupting their little chat since you were quite eager to cum once more, then move everything to the bedroom where you could finally watch them try to take each other down.

“Yes, there you go,” he murmured before moving back to your clit, his serpentine licks turning into hard presses of his tongue to your clit, small strokes bringing you closer and closer to the edge before he stopped, almost making you cry out before he sucked your clit into his mouth, nibbling at it lightly.

“That’s fucking hot,” you whispered, Jungkook immediately asking what he did as he felt you squeeze him torturously. “Please, licks.”

Yoongi obeyed immediately, turning you into a fussing mess as you started once more, finally, possibly definitively approaching your climax, the hard lashes of his tongue finally pushing you headfirst into another orgasm.

“For fuck’s sake!” You muttered out, Jungkook clenching his teeth as your pleasure sent you straight to paradise and back.

You clutched Yoongi’s hair with your fingers, almost clawing at it before realising you were probably hurting him. He pinched your nipples, making you sob a few times before you asked him to let go of you.

“Are you okay, Pepper?” He asked immediately after he was done.

You nodded, speechless. “I get what the hype is all about. You’re so fucking good at it, babe.”

Yoongi felt his flushed face flush even brighter. “Thank you.”

You turned to Jungkook, his lips immediately meeting your cheek. “Did you have fun, love? Is he that much better than me?”

You frowned at his sudden inferiority complex. “You’re good at it too, Kook. And this is not a competition.” You caressed his cheek, reassuring him. “But now let’s move to the bedroom. I want Yoongi to get comfy. He must be so hard and in pain, right kitty?”

Yoongi just wiped his face with the back of his hand before blinking twice, adorably dumbfounded. You simply smiled at him in surprise and endearment. Was that the same boy who had just eaten you out like you were his first meal in years?

Slowly, you used your hands to help yourself up, letting Jungkook’s length slide out of your body, Yoongi’s eyes sparkling with interest as he studied the man’s cock, glistening with your juices and his cum.

He was breathing shallowly, wetting his lips before swallowing quickly, his mouth opening and closing on repeat, as if he were already tasting the wetness coating Jungkook’s sex before his eyes widened, a blob of cum falling from your parted labia and landing on your boyfriend’s stomach.

At that Yoongi gave up on any form of resistance, darting forward and lapping at Jungkook’s dick like a popsicle, eyes closed, purring while your face distorted in a knowing grin. “Good boy. Clean it up for me, mh?”

Jungkook threw his head back as Yoongi finally took his cock in his mouth, suctioning it so hard that he had to hiss and grip your waist in an attempt to control himself. “We should have done this ages ago, Yoongi, fuck,” he muttered, pushing his hips forward with a short jab, Yoongi’s hands gripping Kook’s muscular thighs, squeezing them in an attempt to make the man slow down. He knew his own cock was making a mess with precum in his underwear, and goodness, if he craved some friction, some pressure on his weeping sex.

Yoongi released Jungkook before grabbing your hips, holding you still and opening his mouth wide, his plush lips against your nether ones, by now plump and sensitive, their spongy tissue filled with blood pumping so hard you could feel your heartbeat rushing through them. And then his tongue arched up, the tip slipping into your hole and sucking your and Jungkook’s release out, his satisfied hum making you chuckle at how easy he was to please. You caressed his hair softly, his actions so unfiltered, his expression so grateful that you could barely see anything but innocence in his enthusiastic commitment to the task.

“Let’s move to bed, it’s time you get some attention, baby,” you told him as his eyes connected with yours.

Yoongi reluctantly let go of your cunt before he stood, frowning at the hard-on now clearly pressing against the waistband of the boxers and shorts, a bit too large on him so that the bright red tip of his cock was playing peekaboo from the hem of his shirt.

“Kook.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, helping you stand up before offering a hand to Yoongi, the man landing straight in his arms, Jungkook wrapping them around his hyung’s smaller frame, kissing his head tentatively, questioningly. “You okay with the bedroom?”

Yoongi allowed himself to close his eyes, inhaling Jungkook’s new body wash, mixed with your perfume. He liked it. It was spicier and darker than the sweet candy floss one he used to have back when they were dating, and the way your vanilla and ginger scent mingled with his scent gave it a balanced and mature allure that definitely fit him better at this point of his life. “Let’s go,” Yoongi managed to murmur.

You stared at them, waiting for Jungkook to let go of the hug — a part of you knew Yoongi would never leave Kook’s arms, just like you.

Your boyfriend stretched an arm out for you. He knew you wouldn’t feel jealous or left out, but just in case…

And you joined, because that looked like a bonding moment and it was most definitely the case for Yoongi to feel supported by the both of you. Plus, once he felt your arm around him, rubbing the rich curve of his ass, he gave the tiniest giggle.

“Glad you feel just like Kook about my ass.”

“Yoongi, it’s perfect!” You exclaimed enthusiastically, this time making him erupt in a full blown laugh before he nuzzled into your neck.

Jungkook wasn’t sure about how to feel at that, but he was glad for you grabbing their hands and tugging them to the bedroom. “Come on!” You spurred them on, dragging them. “I want to ride Yoongi.”

Jungkook’s face stopped in marvel, eyes wide. “Oh god, yes.”

You bit your lip and nodded at Yoongi, his expression frozen with his mouth wide, his brows arched up in confusion.

Once you — finally — reached the bedroom, you placed your hands around Yoongi’s waist, Jungkook taking off his shirt comfortably and throwing himself on the large bed, getting ready for the show.

“You wanna keep your clothes on?” You asked Yoongi just as Jungkook temporarily suspended his undressing process.

“No, it’s okay,” Yoongi replied, holding your wrists and pushing your hands up, inviting you to take his shirt off.

Underneath the black cotton, you were surprised by the glittering of two silver barbells hanging from his nipples, a dainty and consumed fairy wings tattooed just below his sternum.

“Those are new,” Jungkook murmured from behind you, Yoongi’s head caught inside the shirt before you finally helped him free.

“Fuck,” you whispered, dropping the shirt to the floor and letting your thumbs linger over his piercings. “Can I?”

Yoongi nodded reassuringly as you toyed with the silver accessories, your expression shifting to a dreamy-eyed one, biting your lip as you barely contained your need to scream. “They’re so fucking pretty.”

Yoongi giggled as you bent down and kissed one gingerly.

“So, so dang pretty, Kook, look at them!” You said, almost painfully, turning around only to see your boyfriend looking at you in amusement.

“I didn’t know you had a thing for those,” he commented with a gentle smile.

“I didn’t either!” You replied enthusiastically before turning back to Yoongi, cupping his cheeks and kissing him out of excitement. “You beautiful, beautiful human.”

Yoongi felt his body freeze.

He hadn’t been kissed in so long, and the fact that you had done so in such a natural, unbridled way, like he was indeed the most beautiful thing in the whole world — in the whole universe — got him petrified in panic, shortly before his eyes watered a little. “Really?”

You nodded, nothing but joy and wonder in your expression. “Really, Yoongi.” The pout on his lips made you melt completely, your quick nods causing one single tear to spill.

You dried it quickly. “Don’t cry, sweetie, you’re gonna make Kook worry.”

He bent down and placed his face against your neck, Jungkook immediately picking up on something being wrong. “Hyung?”

“He’s okay, babe,” you replied. “Come on, let’s lay down, yeah?”

Yoongi blinked and waited. “Could you please finish undressing me? It… It’s a bit… uncomfy?”

Your worried expression turned to an empathetic one. “Of course, darling, sorry.” You sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him closer, kissing his stomach as you pulled his shorts and underwear down, chuckling at how easily Jungkook’s large clothes slid off his lithe body. “There you go.”

Yoongi hadn’t felt so cared for in so long. He literally didn’t know what to do except trying to save the memories for the future.

“Come here,” Jungkook murmured, making his hyung lay in between the two of you, Jungkook’s arm naturally wrapping around Yoongi’s waist, slotting him perfectly against his chest while you snuggled closer to Yoongi’s front.

“Condom?” You asked, your hand grazing Yoongi’s side, up and down, so calmly and soothingly that he was ready to give up on arousal just to enjoy your innocent touch.

“He ate the shit out of us, it would be more of a technicality than actual protection,” Jungkook commented. “But, I mean, we can still use it in case you want to,” he conceded, rubbing his hand against Yoongi’s chest.

“Can I do without?” he asked, looking at you, his expression very down-to-earth for a second.

You kissed his nose. “Sure. But we’re all getting tested after this,” you said before looking at Jungkook. “It’s been a while since we got checked and being monogamous is not a good excuse.”

Jungkook hummed in confirmation before kissing Yoongi’s neck. “Guess we’ll have to make an exception for you.” Yoongi’s neck was so smooth, and so sensitive, the man shivering and writhing slightly, your hand spread wide over his asscheek as you pulled him closer, rubbing your tummy over his hard cock.

You lowered your gaze, staring at the thick, curved length, so red, its veins so thick and inviting. From the way he moaned against your jaw, you knew he was painfully aroused, Jungkook sliding his cock between Yoongi’s glutes getting him to whine, his hips ricocheting between your soft body and Jungkook’s hard, taut one.

He loved how he felt so at peace, caught in between the two of you, like the line dividing the ying and the yang. He loved your femininity, your softness, your calming, nurturing presence; he loved Jungkook’s loud masculinity, his hardness, and his steady, humming energy.

It was perfect. You tugged him on top of you, opening your legs so he could rub against your clitoris while you toyed with his piercings, arching up, struggling against the utter rudeness of anatomy as you desperately tried to tease the barbells with your tongue.

From the side, Jungkook looked at the two of you, staring at Yoongi’s arms, spotting new tattoos there, but keeping quiet, observing his scrunched up face as he asked. “Inside, please?”

You took the initiative and moved your hand down, taking his cock in your hand and placing the tip against your entrance. “Just push, baby.”

He groaned as he did so, kissing your collarbone as he sunk in, nipping at your skin as he tried to keep himself from moaning. “Oh fuck. I’m gonna lose it.”

“Go ahead. Ruin me, Yoongi,” you teased him, pushing his hair back. “No need to hold back.”

“I’m gonna last too little.” He pulled out. “I’m not gonna make you cum.”

You grabbed his ass, sinking your nails in and making his hips snap forward powerfully. “I don’t care. Just fuck it all out. Go wild, baby.”

Jungkook snickered. “You heard her, Yoongi. Fuck her like a horny slut,” he instructed, the degrading slur making you purr.

“Like a horny slut?” He asked. “More like a hungry little thing,” he corrected as he pulled all the way out and rammed his way in with a fast, ruthless thrust. “Can I use you like a pretty fleshlight?” He taunted you with a sneer. “You just want to make your owner happy, right?”

You opened your mouth wide in surprise before nodding like he’d just asked if you wanted ten billion wons.

“Such a messy girl,” he snarled before pounding his way in, setting a punishing rhythm that got him right on the edge before he pulled out, studying just how much of your wetness was coating him. “You sure you’re not gonna cum? Stop touching my nipples and touch your dripping, needy cunt.”

You started immediately, aiming straight for the orgasm, refusing to tease yourself when he regained his punishing pace.

“I bet you’re wet like that all the time.” He grunted before he regained his sanity and uttered one more humiliating, objectifying sentence. “Just a wet hole walking around, waiting to be used.”

Jungkook shook his head in disbelief as Yoongi caught up so quickly to your needs. “You could bend her over the breakfast table at six am and she’d be waiting to be fucked first thing in the morning.”

“Eat her out before you leave for work. Breakfast of champions,” Yoongi grunted out, finding difficulties at keeping focused as his cock started throbbing insistently. “Are you gonna cum, Pepper? I’m not letting go if you aren’t.”

You closed your eyes and held your breath, using your kegels to squeeze him, matching up the movements of your diaphragm and your inner walls. “Close, just fucking pound me.”

Jungkook snickered and watched Yoongi chuckled lightly. “That was very forward, sweetie. I bet you are a slut after all. A very shameless, nasty one at that, mh?”

Yoongi sat up and grabbed both your thighs, picking them up before he used his entire body to fuck into you, going so fast you doubted his body could go that hard.

“Just fucking cum, Pepper, don’t make me slap that pussy,” he hissed, your head shaking as your chest filled all of a sudden before an animalistic growl tore through your throat, Yoongi nodding and smiling — the last vision before your eyes closed, your head thrown back, your body shoked at how obliterating he felt inside you.

Yoongi toppled over you once he realised he could finally let go, his lips sucking at your earlobe and neck as he gave a few final thrusts and finally reached his orgasm.

He knew you had to be filled to the brim when he realised he wouldn’t stop cumming, his cock twitching and twitching, until maybe after ten spurts it finally came to a halt.

Meanwhile, Jungkook had fully enjoyed the show, tugging at his length until he realised there was one final thing he craved, stretching to the bedside table, and taking advantage of your and Yoongi’s cathatonic state to wear a condom and pour some lube over it, sitting up and kneeling behind Yoongi.

“Babe, I want inside,” Jungkook murmured, waiting for his hyung to react. “Yoongi?”

“Easy, please. I’m not stretched,” he replied, your eyes opening up in confusion.

“Take care of him, will you, Pepper?” Jungkook asked you, caressing your thigh as you grabbed the lube and passed it to him.

“Pour some on him too, Koo,” you reminded him, and he immediately followed your advice, your hands on Yoongi’s face as Jungkook nodded, grabbing his cock and positioning the tip against Yoongi’s entrance.

“Look at me, baby,” you told him, keeping him inside you focused on you, tugging at his lower lip with your teeth. “It’s okay, kitty.”

He hissed and placed his open mouth around the curve of your neck, muffling his cry.

Jungkook, meanwhile, hummed before groaning, trying to keep still and get Yoongi used to the stretch. “It’ll feel good soon, babe, I promise.”

Yoongi nodded, eyes screwed shut while you soothed him, trying to get him to relax a little. “I know it burns, sweetie,” you cooed, shushing him, his lips trembling as he stared at your eyes, then at your lips, then again at your eyes, looking for your permission.

You cupped his nape, drawing circles in the short hair there, pulling him closer and connecting your lips with his. Jungkook trusted you distracting his hyung to sink slightly deeper, knowing he had reached Yoongi’s prostate the moment he clenched the sheets in his fists, your kiss intensifying as he whimpered, his cock pulsating inside you.

“Good boy,” Jungkook rewarded him, biting his lip to hold himself back, staying for five seconds, counting them before he backed up, looking down, waiting some more and letting himself slide back in, adding one inch, Yoongi by far more grateful than before.

“Deeper,” he whispered, starting to move inside you once more. Jungkook noticed and gave a couple shallow thrusts, his breathing setting the pace for Yoongi too. You were too busy taking in the view: Yoongi, brow furrowed, eyes closed, lips agape before he bit his lower one, letting it snap free as Jungkook gave a louder grunt and pushed harder. He looked magnificent behind Yoongi, his hair slightly wet with perspiration, falling over his face, his mouth open wide as he breathed heavily, the glittering of his tongue piercing catching your attention before you noticed him wink at you, his hands grabbing Yoongi’s hips before he pushed all the way in, the man gasping as in return he was pushed deeper inside you.

“Kook. Fuck!” He snarled, feeling breathless as a new thrust made him pound into you.

“Oh, come on. You love it,” Jungkook replied, smug and absolutely right; still Yoongi refused to let him win, deciding to keep perfectly quiet from there.

As Jungkook kept ramming into Yoongi, harder and harder, you noticed there was something going on with the older of the two.

“Yoongi,” you called, cupping his face, making him look at you. “Don’t be petty, sweetheart. It doesn’t suit you.”

He shook his head with a frown.

“Come on,” you tried to convince him. “I’m sure a praise from Jungkook will fix everything, right?”

And right on cue, your boyfriend bent down to Yoongi’s ear. “Are you upset, babe? Why’s my cute thing upset?” Jungkook slowed down, deciding to smoothen out the issue before going for the final rush. “You don’t want me to be proud of making you feel good?” He kissed the crown of Yoongi’s head. “Of course I’m proud, sweetie. That’s my job.” Jungkook gave a slow, deep roll of his hips, Yoongi finally giving up with the tiniest of mewls. “Doesn’t it feel good to have Pepper on you and me inside you? Aren’t you going to reward us with your pretty sounds?”

You nodded with a sympathetic look on your face, touching his face, begging for him to open up again.

“I’m sorry, Pepper,” Yoongi muttered. “Sorry, Kook.”

“It’s all cool, babe. Do you want me to bring it home?” Jungkook asked, stroking his hyung’s back.

Yoongi nodded. “Please, I’m…”

“I’ve got you,” Jungkook reassured him, his pace increasing. “Let go, Yoongi.”

And he seemed to follow the gentle invitation right away, his weight becoming heavier on you as his arms started failing him, his once shy thrusts becoming quick and harsh, your body too spent to attempt one more orgasm right as a loud cry left Yoongi’s lips, his body arching up before he fell back down, Jungkook giving a few more enthusiastic strokes before letting go, an animalistic roar ripping from his throat before he crashed on top of Yoongi —  and you.

You grunted at the added weight before Jungkook dragged all of you on your side, finally at peace.

“I’m so fucking exhausted,” he huffed out, the effort from the gig summing up with the one from the incredible, mindblowing, feral sex.

You kissed Yoongi’s forehead tenderly, his face still peaceful in post-orgasmic bliss. “Baby,” you called, Jungkook looking at you only to notice you meant the older man. “Yoongi, darling. We need to get you cleaned up,” you reminded him.

He nodded and hummed before wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you closer. “One more minute.” His time was over. Now he would be sent home, alone, sleepy, blue, clutching to his chest the shambles of his dignity, the memories and the devastating feeling of lost understanding. He would open a bottle of whiskey and drink until the liquor would get him blurred enough for him to actually fall asleep through the fatigue.

“Let’s shower, kitty. You can nap later,” Jungkook reassured him. “I’ll change the sheets and then you can take the longest nap in history. I promise. I don’t want you to sleep on messy bedding.”

Yoongi snapped his head toward the other man. “You mean I can sleep here?”

“Of course, Yoongi.” Jungkook wrapped his arms around him, inhaling the mix of his sweat and the bodywash in the guest bathroom. Somehow he hoped Yoongi still had his old scent. “I’m sure Pepper would hate sending you home.”

“Aftercare. We’re not sending you away now that you need us the most,” you explained, practical, determined. You wouldn’t let him step out of the room unless he strictly requested it.

“You’re sure I can stay?” Yoongi asked again, incredulous.

You smiled fondly. “We’re sure, kitty.”

He didn’t know how to feel other than grateful. “Thank you, guys,” he murmured, hiding his face, a gummy grin making an appearance.

“Look at that cute smile,” you fondled him, caressing the side of his face before slowly pulling him out of you, trying not to mess the sheets but inevitably doing so after the way Yoongi had filled you up with cum. Jungkook slid out shortly after, getting rid of the condom quickly and efficiently.

“Come, let’s shower, Kook will join in a bit,” you guided your… guest? to the joined bathroom. Under the bright lights, you spotted other tattoos, mostly in white ink, which made him look even more unreal and ethereal. Jungkook joined right as the two of you were almost done, your hands expertly rinsing Yoongi’s smaller frame, massaging his tense shoulders, rubbing his back and kneading the exerted muscles of his glutes. Meanwhile, Jungkook washed off the sweat, briskly soaping himself up before taking care of you, rubbing small circles with his thumbs in your most tender spots — at the base of your nape, below your belly button, on the small of your back… And then massaging your tender bits, washing your breasts and your still oversensitive mound.

Washing up was nothing compared to the three of you brushing your teeth together, applying lotion on your faces before climbing in bed, Yoongi feeling deeply out of place just as you scooted back and Jungkook patted in the small nook between your bodies. “This is all yours,” he clarified, Yoongi crawling in shyly, once more wearing a pair of oversized black boxers.

He laid on his back for a second before turning around. “Can I?” He asked, looking at your chest.

You nodded, waiting for him to settle in, Jungkook scooting closer, sandwiching him between your bodies. “Sleep safe, kitty,” he said lovingly.

“Goodnight, babes,” you whispered as they replied, “‘night, Pepper,” perfectly in unison.

It was almost seven in the morning when the light coming in from the barely agape blinds woke Jungkook up. He immediately noticed there was one extra body in the bed; however, he relaxed once he remembered it was Yoongi’s. He exhaled and smiled. Would he manage to make it work this time?

He really hoped so as he stroked his hyung’s bare spine, noticing the design on the back of his arm, above his elbow, the story behind it so heartbreaking that Jungkook felt tears well up in his eyes.

‘It’s not like it leaves. Depression is always there, lurking. You just learn to handle it, like being haunted but making friends with the ghost.’

And right there, on Yoongi’s arm, bloomed the outline of a shy, friendly ghost, holding a flower, right beside a heart-shaped speech bubble.

Jungkook smiled and kissed Yoongi’s head before standing up and shutting the blind tight. Once he slid back under the covers, he heard your voice, whispering.

“Kook?”

“Go back to sleep, love,” he spoke quietly, finding your hand and holding it in his.

“Kook,” you called again. “Can we please keep him? I want to keep him so, so bad,” you murmured, practically begging.

“It’s only up to him, Pepper.”