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xbunnybunz · 3 years

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always maybe never [wolf keum x reader]

Summary: A story in which you love Wolf Keum, and maybe he likes you back.

Genre: Romance, Angst, One-sided romance

Date: December 27, 2020

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“They took my glasses,” He said.

He looked pissed.

You watched him blankly, taking in his bruises, the scrapes and the blood.

“Did you lose?” It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, and boy does that get him worked up.

“No.” He snaps, louder than before. Maybe be regrets it, maybe he’s tired, but he lowers his volume immediately after. “No. I fucking didn’t.”

Silence falls over the both of you. Over you, drenched, standing over him in a moldy, stinking alley. Over him, shielded from the rain with your umbrella, lip busted and knuckles bruised.

The red and blue lights of a police car soaring through the night carry into the alley. It throws hues of neon colors upon Wolf’s face, he’s so belligerent even like this, you think you might just leave him here.

“If you’re done asking me questions, you can fuck right off now.”

He’s a nasty little thing, but the way his eyes glint like diamonds in the sliver of yellowed streetlights intrigue you.

“How long were you planning to stay here then?”

He doesn’t respond. Shifts half an inch away from you, like he kinda wants you to leave and also not really.

“It’s real cold out tonight.” You say. And he looks seriously hurt, but you don’t say this aloud. You wonder what the fight was about, if it was worth ending up next to a dumpster for.

You move closer, kneel so you’re eye-level with him despite his adamancy to not even glance in your direction. The moon bounces light off his damp hair, first silver, then purple. The city lights tend to play tricks on your eyes.

“Let’s get somewhere warm, alright?”

You present a palm to him, face up and already starting to pool with rainwater.

It hangs in the air for a long moment, long enough for you to begin to retract it. But then he reaches out and grabs it, a large, calloused hand wrapping over your own. Even in the chill of twilight, a warmth blossoms there.

“You’re fucking annoying.” Is all he says.

You roll your eyes and hoist him up to the best of your ability, which included almost dislocating your elbow as he slowly picked himself up. It’s only when the top of his head hits your umbrella do you realize how much bigger he is than you.

“Here, you should take this.” You hold out the umbrella to him. He takes it wordlessly, placing it right between the both of you. He’s shivering, despite his best efforts to hide it, you can feel the tremor of his body when it brushes against yours for that golden split second.

You look up at him, eyeballing the furrow of his brows, the slight twitch of his lip, eyes cast somewhere far into a long distance. Just what was he looking away from?

You make it to a nearby hole-in-the-wall eatery without serious injury. He flops down onto the seat like a wet fish and grills the patrons who look at him funny.

“Play nice.” You hum, moving beside him and drying him out as best you could with takeout napkins.

He grunts and exhales deep and heavy from his nostrils, hair matted to his forehead and neck. You dab at it, wondering if the purple color would bleed like cheap tye-dye. Of course, it doesn’t.

“You have such an interesting taste.” You coo. Fingers find strands of hair and pinch, rolling.

He turns his head slightly to meet your gaze, eyes cold yet burning. Like this hasn’t happened before, like he hasn’t absolutely taken you apart and pieced you back together before.

“I know.”

Just those two words are enough to send electricity down your spine. You pull away before you’re zapped by this high voltage man.

You take a seat but never break eye contact with him.

The low buzz of the yellowed restaurant lights above you hum life into your fingertips, into your ears, into your heart. It’s nauseating to see the dark red and purple bruising on his cheek and browbone.

“You should find some hobbies,” You offer, voice quieter now. “Like knitting, or something.”

Your lips begin to quirk up, but his straight face drains you of that energy.

“Maybe later.” He says, and you remind yourself to start keeping a tally of each time he says that.

“Right.” You look down at your lap and laugh, but it sounds dry. “Let’s eat, and then I’ll bring you home.”

He doesn’t argue.

The next time you see him, he’s got his glasses again. He’s still scuffed from the last fight but at least he can walk straight now.

“Are you alone?” You ask, bumping hips with him behind the slushie machine.

He takes one crinkling bag of chips off the shelf, cellophane crackling under his fingers. There’s a black motorcycle helmet wedged under his arm and he’s got his riding sneakers on.

“Yeah.”

You peek at the door and true to his word, you only spot his motorbike and pedestrians cursing how it was parked.

“That’s rare,” You tease. You’re standing close to him, so you dare to brush your pinky against his. Nearly have a heart attack when he hooks his with yours.

You look up at him but he’s not looking at you. To anyone who wasn’t watching for a sign, he’d just be pondering the selection. But you were watching, always watching for anything. A glance, a flutter, a chance that he was really there with you.

Today, he’s generous. Staring straight ahead, he graces you with a slight upward curve of his lips. Just a bit, just enough to dimple his cheek, just enough for you.

Play it coy. You pull away from him and tiptoe between the fridges with a sway in your step. You pray and pray he’s following you. When you catch sight of his figure in the reflection of a coffee pot, you feel like a million bucks.

“Ah, I wonder what I should get for tonight.”

You don’t mind that you’re in the unthawed hams section because you know he’s not paying attention anyways. He’s just relying on muscle memory while you agonize over all your movements, you’ve both been through this a hundred times.

Right on beat, he asks the question you’ve been praying for.

“Do you need a ride home?”

His shoulders look broader when he rolls them, the red school blazer stretching and falling back into place. He has no idea how mad he drives you.

“Oh, I guess that’d be nice.”

He smirks, a wicked smile.

Or maybe he does.

You love riding on his motorcycle because everything smells like him, but you guess that’s easy when your face is buried in his hair and the crook of his neck.

Every time you wrap your arms around his waist, you hold onto him like you’ll lose him. One of these days, you swear you will. Sometimes you catch him throwing a glance over his shoulder, and sometimes you wonder if today’s the day he’ll finally tell you to let go. But it never is.

The wind whips about the both of you and blisters your cheeks with the cold. He’s slowed down, and you love it because you know he rides like a demon without you.

The city lights zip by you like fireflies in the distance, the glow of commercial buildings dwindling to zero as you enter the residential area. The scrape of rubber tires on concrete pavement makes people peep out their windows, tongue in cheek, before closing the blinds.

“How are you back there?” He asks at a red light, voice muffled from under his helmet.

“Warm.” You lie. Kind of.

His chest moves in rippling motion that might’ve been a chuckle, might’ve been a cough. And he’s off again. Your eyes close and you hold him closer to you, feel his body and heartbeat against yours, breathe in the smell of his cologne, his bodywash. For the few minutes you’re on the back of his bike, there is only you and him in the universe.

It always ends a second sooner than you remember it should, and it makes you wonder if he’s riding faster or if you’re too eager. He shakes out his helmet hair and helps you off the bike like a proper gentleman, rare for someone as unruly as Wolf Keum.

“Thanks.” You say, and peer at him through your lashes, batting them slowly. You’re feeling cold and emboldened tonight, so you’re hoping he’ll take the bait.

He reaches out, long fingers brushing aside your windswept hair. He traces your jaw and it feels like home, like victory, like you’ve almost got him where you want him.

The warm lights of your house illuminate his face softly and silhouettes his more angular, predatory features. It brings out the Wolf Keum you know and you yearn to keep him like this forever, away from the bloody knuckles and broken bones that make him so sharp to hold.

“Do you want to come in?”

His eyes are calm, barely a trace of emotion save for keen interest. You pray to all the gods that he’ll come in just this once, after so many nights of being left empty handed. For a second, you think the heavens have heard you when he misses his cue to shake his head like every other time. His hesitation is dizzying, and the adrenaline that pumps through you overpowers even the motorbike ride.

He ponders for just a second too long, and his phone rings.

It snaps both of you out of the reverie. From where you stand, you can see the caller ID. Donald Na.

Wolf turns away and takes a step towards his bike to pick up the call. You can’t help the hand that goes out after him. When he looks back to you, he gestures to his phone.

“Maybe later.” He mouths.

And you smile and nod, because that’s what you always do. You watch as he pulls on his helmet and gets on the bike, idle chatter falling from his lips and into the receiver. When he drives away, the exhaust from his bike billows behind him and clouds your vision with smoke. You return home without knowing if he’d waved goodbye.

It’s a temperate day when you speak to him next.

You’re sitting in the park waiting for Wolf, shaded by trees and warmed by the sun. You’ve left the remainders of your croissant on the floor and it’s become a meal for a flurry of pigeons, cooing and flocking by our feet. An ant crawls up to your sneaker, confused with the obstruction. You’re entertained by it’s strange dancing for a few moments before a shadow crosses your vision.

“Hey.” He says.

You smile. “Hey yourself.”

He exhales through his nose in a manner that you assume is amusement.

You pat the seat next to you and he eases himself onto it, stretching out his legs and sending some pigeons head-bobbing awkwardly away from him.

Mindlessly, you note that he’s abandoned his blazer today, opting to tie it around his waist instead.

Birds chirp overhead and the grass tickles your ankles. There’s the sound of children laughing and the rushing of a fountain a ways from you.

He’s relaxed. You can tell from the way he’s kicking his feet.

You peek at where his hands are and notice that they’re close enough to feel his warmth, but don’t miss the bandages on his knuckles and forearms.

“You’ve been busy?” You ask. You pretend it’s a joke but it’s not actually.

He raises his arm and regards it as if it doesn’t break your heart to see him like this. “This? It’s nothing. Some shithead thought using a pocket-knife would hold us off.”

Something in your chest twists.

“That’s funny.”

He hums in agreement and you want to choke him for it.

You let the sounds of the park ease your mind and his. Wonder silently if there’s even a point to all of this heartache, this outlandish game of who-gives-less-fucks anymore.

Beside you, Wolf leans back and lets the sunlight wash over his face, his neck, his chest.

His eyes are closed, but you can see his eyelids fluttering slightly, like he wants to look into the sun but the brightness scares him. His messy lavender hair sweeps over his forehead and spills over his ears, just brushing the nape of his neck with soft curls. It’s nearly concealed, but you can see a faint line of a scar peeking out at you. Just past his adams apple, trailing upwards to his jaw. When he first got it, he refused to say where or how it had happened, but you’d be a fool to not know only metal and gems cut so deep.

This isn’t the only scar he adorns. You’ve memorized the marks he has lining his body like constellations; switchblade starry sky and cigarette burn borealis. In the sun, you can see the endless expanse of marks on his skin like a splatter of cursed stars. There’s far too many for you to count, so you turn away and rest your eyes.

It remains like this for a moment longer, but then he says something that surprises you.

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

Your head snaps towards him, blink and situate yourself further in your seat, wondering if you had somehow fallen asleep and wandered into a dream.

Wolf nods once and the action is slow, like he’s still churning the words in his head.

“Yeah,” he says, voice low. “Everything about this situation is... Strange.”

He picks up a hand and gazes at it, brows furrowed. He clenches a fist and unclenches it, turning it this way and that in the light of the sun.

“But say I do leave, right? Then what will I have left to do? My school life is shot, and no one dares to approach me.”

He drops his hand and looks at the clouds rolling lazily over the blue sky.

“If I leave, what will I have left?”

You almost want to laugh, almost want to cry, or maybe do both at the same time. You want to ask him if he remembers who is speaking to at all, but you cannot find the courage.

Suddenly, he looks in your direction and that peaceful yet painful moment is over. A strange look crosses his face and you can feel him tensing, back becoming just a bit straighter.

As you turn, the sound of a hundred of flapping wings taking off meets your ears. The shadows of pigeons in flight scatter across grass and the park path, crossing over the figures approaching briefly before ascending skyward.

The first foot to emerge from the shadows belongs to a tall blond hair with sharp eyes, followed by three or so other men.

You stare, but he doesn’t spare a glance in your direction.

“Keum, didn’t expect to see you in this part of Yeongduengpo.”

Wolf remains reticent. You look at him but he won’t take his eyes off of Donald.

Donald raises a hand to gesture to Wolf and you don’t miss the way his silver rings glint in the midday sun, all precious metal and shining gemstone. When he speaks, it’s almost a hiss.

“Come, I have last week’s reports to discuss with you.”

He doesn’t move from beside you, but you can hear him swallow thickly.

Donald begins to stroll again, the men beside him following suit. As he passes Wolf, he fails to even regard you and it makes you feel tiny.

A second passes as he holds his gaze with Wolf, it’s a challenge to disobey and it’s not at all unfamiliar to you. Those dreary nights Wolf has spent with you, both a man and a husk of a man, is because of Donald Na. It is within this essential and excruciating second that his behavior either becomes normal or abnormal, dictates whether he steeps deeper into that endless black sea or fights amidst the raging storm.

In this second, you hope he remembers himself, hope he remembers you. Those endless nights you’ve spent picking up pieces of his shattered self, putting him back together and brushing over the cracks with adoration. Those endless nights you’ve spent despairing for him, for yourself, for all the tears you’ve cried when trying to convince yourself this won’t get any better.

You hope that he proves you wrong this one time, hope that in his heart, he knows he’ll always have you.

But when you feel him pull his hand from yours, you already understand his answer.

You’re acquainted with this sensation in your throat, this burning in the back of your eyes. It’s made a home in your heart, barren since the day you ever laid eyes on Wolf Keum.

Still, a final flame of hope flickers within you.

You grab his hand just before he’s out of reach. When he looks back, he’s all sharp teeth and hard eyes but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

“Can we…” You want to speak, but your tongue feels leaden and dry. “Can we speak about this soon?”

Wolf’s face remains the blasé, brows set in a furrow and lips downturned into just the slightest scowl.

To a passerby who wasn’t looking for signs, he may seem apathetic, annoyed, even. But you were no passerby. For Wolf Keum, you’d always be willing. Waiting. Watching. For a glance, for a flutter, for anything that meant you hadn’t been the only one foolishly in love the entire time.

And for a second, you think he regards you with a gleam in his eye, something that resembles sorrow, or regret, or anything else that may ease the stale aching of your heart. But when he opens his mouth, it’s that same damning line again, that empty promise that keeps you stumbling in darkness for a trace of salvation.

“Maybe later.”

It will only ever be Wolf Keum that you allow yourself to be swindled by every time. You promise yourself this. Release his hand, or he pulls it away from you. You cannot tell which came first.

“I understand.” You say, heart breaking again.

You never will.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #wolf keum #seongji geum #wolf keum x reader #reader insert #fanfiction

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letterstokook · 7 years

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Tattoo (M) | 02

PT. 1 | PT. 2

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: After walking in on your boyfriend having sex with your friend, you want nothing more than to erase that stupid tattoo of his name on your body.

Word Count: 11, 343

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Mature subject matter and language

A/N: Inspired by Tattoo – ELO ft. Jay Park

The constant buzzing sound of the tattoo gun brings you back to that night with Mino when you got your first tattoo. Your drunken state that night didn’t allow you to have a say in the placement of the tattoo, the font, the size – heck, you didn’t even get to decide if you even wanted a tattoo. You guess part of the reason why you hadn’t been that fazed about the unplanned tattoo was because you were too drunk to even remember the pain. However, you’re as sober as you can be right now and as you hear the sound of the machine, you instantly regret your decision.

As if he could read your mind, or rather your tensed body, the artist turns off the tattoo gun before setting it back on the side table. Noticing the sudden quietness surrounding you, you look behind your shoulder, only to meet a pair of dark brown orbs.

“Why aren’t you starting?”

“Let’s do this another time. When you’re ready.” Your brows furrowed as you tried to decipher the reasoning on his face. “Look, I know you want to have this done but I think you should take some time –”

“No! I-I want this now.” You fail at your attempt to conceal your nervousness when you started to stutter. You knew that you couldn’t convince him with your words, because heck, you couldn’t even convince yourself. Who in the world would willing agree to being pricked by a needle a million times?! It wasn’t that you had a fear of needles, rather, it was due to your extremely low pain tolerance. Every time your best friend – ex-best friend – would playfully punch you, your body would literally collapse and you would have a bruise within a matter of minutes.

You didn’t know how painful the tattoo would be; however, you were sure that nothing could be as painful as the piercing sting in your heart. You looked straight at him, pleading to him with your eyes. Thankfully, your persuasion seemed to work when you hear him mumble a ‘Fine’ before breaking eye contact with you to retrieve the tattoo gun again.

The instant you hear the buzzing sound again, your body automatically stiffens but you immediately try to relax your muscles, afraid that he would mistake your fear of pain for the uncertainty in getting another tattoo. You had seen Mino’s name plastered on your body for a few months and you had been together with him longer than that, and to say that you don’t feel a bit hesitant in getting it erased would be a complete lie. You had grown attached to the black letters and even more so, you had grown attached to the person who had that name. However, besides your low pain tolerance, you had absolutely zero tolerance for cheating and although there was a tiny part of you that wasn’t so happy with the whole idea of erasing his name, you knew that you had to get it done in order for you to move on.

You felt a hand settle at the curve of your side, causing your body to freeze when you realize that it’s the tattoo artist’s. But, your body quickly relaxes underneath the warmth that exudes from his hand. You feel the skin beneath your breast being tugged, making the skin taut enough for him to begin tattooing. Sensing the tattoo gun being only inches from your skin, you looked over your shoulder and you see him staring at the name on your body, ready to conceal your past. Feeling your stare, he looks up at you.

“Are you sure you want me to continue?” His voice barely louder than a whisper, the softness of which compels you to nod your head. He gives you a reassuring look before pulling the skin taut once again.

“Wait!” Your sudden burst makes him jump back and he stares at you with an incredulous look on his face. “W-will it hurt?”

A small smile escapes his lips and you see the amusement in his eyes. “Is that what you were afraid of this whole time?”

You nodded, looking straight ahead, trying to mask your cheeks that were tinted with a pinkish hue.

“You don’t have a fear of needles do you?”

“No, I just have a low tolerance for pain. Can you give me a number on a scale of one to five on how painful it’s going to be?” You abort your plan on hiding the fact that you’re nervous, after all, you’re laying shirtless in front of him right now and he has already witnessed you cry like you were a teenage girl being broken up with for the first time.

“Well, considering the placement to be at a sensitive spot, I would say it’ll feel like a ten on a scale of one to five.” His serious voice matched his look; however, upon seeing your reaction, he bursts into laughter. His cackling laughter continues for a few minutes, contrasting the quiet ambience of the shop. When he finally descends from his laughing fit, he sees your face filled with reluctance and nervousness. He returns his hand to the curve of your side, giving you a light squeeze and a small smile. “Don’t worry, that’s only if you were being tattooed by some amateur. With me, it’ll barely even feel like a one. I’m not famous for having the golden touch for no reason after all.”

“The what? The Golden Touch?” You can’t help but start laughing at the ridiculous title but it only lasts for a moment before you feel your side being pinched and you see his sulky expression.

“You won’t be laughing like that when you realize it’s the truth and you’ll regret mocking me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He shakes his head and smiles when he sees and feels you relax, content with the fact that he was able to take your mind off of the inevitable pain that comes along with tattoos.

“Seriously though, you’re in good hands.” He reassures you one more time and even though you nod to signal to him to begin, he still senses your hesitance. He mutters a quick ‘Be right back’ and before you can even question him, he’s already running through the beaded curtains you saw him first walk out from. He doesn’t leave you for long, but it was long enough for you to get lost in your thoughts.

As you wait for him, you take in your surroundings and once again you’re admiring the minimalistic design of the shop. Everything in your perspective is at a ninety-degree angle with how you’re still laying on your side on the leather chair, but you can still appreciate how each and every piece of furniture and decoration was carefully chosen and placed in a specific spot. You liked how the colour theme wasn’t too overwhelming as everything was either black or a dark maroon colour, matching the walls, with little gold accents here and there. You assume the coordinated colour theme was done on purpose to allow the hanging artwork, which were either black or were bursting with vivid multi-colours, to be the main star of the shop. You’ve always had a passion for interior design and although you never obtained a formal academic degree for the field, your knack for having a good eye made you a fairly well-known freelancer. Judging from all the weirdly shaped objects that had nothing in common but their colour, you assume that whoever bought them had acquired each of them separately and you wanted to commend them for being able to link the items as if they had been manufactured by the same company. It’s not an easy task to do so and anyone outside the field of interior design wouldn’t have understand it. Because more often than not, you would receive clients who wanted an all-white with a touch of gold as a theme in their apartment and they would come back with anything and everything they could find at IKEA that was gold. Despite all of the objects being from IKEAand being gold, you would always tell them to return the items because it just wouldn’t seamlessly flow.

You mentally scold yourself when you feel a certain wetness against your cheek and you know the culprit for causing them is none other than Mino. Just by admiring the architecture of the tattoo shop has you thinking of all the times you would drag Mino, who unwillingly would wake up at 7am because of you, to antique markets or paint shops to find new materials for your projects. You knew Mino hated going art hunting with you but you needed the extra pair of hands to help carry all of your new findings for you. It wasn’t like he always got the short of the stick as the days would always end up with you being under him or in some sort of new position the both of you wanted to try out. It was ridiculous and you knew it was, to be reminiscing about all the times you were with Mino but you can’t but still feel the strong emotions for him you’ve held on to for so long. Despite the betrayal and you harboring the utmost hatred and disgust for him, you secretly wish that everything that happened tonight was just a nightmare and that you’d wake up next to him like you always did.

Your unrealistic imagination is interrupted when you hear the sound of the beads of the curtain, indicating the tattoo artist’s return. You quickly wipe away the tears that collected by your cheeks; however, your effort seems futile when you see his expression as he stands in front of you with a glass in his hands filled with an unknown yellow-ish liquid. He pulls his chair from behind you and you watch as he settles to sit in front of you. He doesn’t say anything as he motions for you to sit up and hands you the glass.

“Whiskey. It’ll calm your nerves.” He hands you the cup and you nod, before taking small sips of the alcoholic drink. You’re thankful for his thoughtfulness and you wonder if the drink would be able to make you tipsy enough to ignore the fact that you’re going to be punctured repeatedly by a needle. Or better yet, would it desensitize you from the misery and torment you’re going through right now? You look down at your hands that are grasping the cup too tightly, to the point where your fingers and knuckles are turning white. Your grip loosens when you feel his hand squeeze your knee and you look up, meeting his gaze.

“He doesn’t deserve these tears. You don’t deserve to be suffering because of him.” His hand wipes away the tears that fall, but much like how an unfocused barista overfills a cup of coffee and the hot liquid spills over the rim, your tears continue to fall over the edge of your bottom lids. He cups your cheek with one hand and tries to catch the tears flowing from the tear ducts before they can stain your cheeks. He grabs your attention with his firm hand on your cheeks and you’re forced to look at him with your watery eyes. Unlike before where he was like a deer-in-the-headlights when you were crying, his eyes now exuded comfort and a sense of understanding. His gaze from you never falters and you find yourself not being able to look anywhere else either.

“It’s not going to be easy and it might take a while, but it’ll be over soon. It may be a week from now, a few months, or even a year but however long it is, don’t beat yourself up over him because he’s the one at fault, not you. I don’t know anything about him but his name, but I can say in complete veracity that he’s one motherfucking stupid and blind idiot for cheating on such a beautiful girl. You’ll find someone else who’ll respect you, someone who’ll deserve your love and time.”

You don’t know how long you sat there for but the entire time, you never looked away once from the tattoo artist that sat across from you. You’ve only known him for a mere two hours but somehow he has this effect on you, as though he had some sort of magical power to control people’s emotions. Or maybe it was the whiskey finally kicking in. Whatever it was, the crippling pain your heart was still evident, but you felt as though some pressure had been released. He was right. Mino was the one who cheated on you, he was the one who let you go. It wasn’t your fault and you shouldn’t be the one wallowing in sorrows, it should be him.

You replayed his words in your mind and find yourself genuinely smiling for the first time that night. The boy sitting in front of you reciprocates with a small smile of his own and the both of you don’t exchange any words, only wide grins and crinkled eye smiles.

“Should we get started? Or do you need another glass?” His hand fell from your cheek and pointed at the now-empty glass that you held.

“No, I think I’m good. It’s working already, I think.”

“Good. Should we get started for real this time?” A hint of playfulness in his tone makes you roll your eyes and smile.

“Show me your ‘Golden Touch’,” he shoots you a side eye and you chuckle at his sudden change in demeanour.

“Lie down and let Midas show you what true artwork looks like.”

“Oh wow, so eloquent. I truly hope your hands are able to reflect what you’re saying.”

“Can you not attack me every chance that you get? You do remember that I’ll be poking you with a needle right? A needle that could very easily turn into a murder weapon.” He emphasizes the last few words as he shoots you a glare and he has you laughing once again. You’re too busy laughing to notice that he too is smiling as he watches your smile stretching widely across your tear-stained face.

“I’m going to need you to breathe out whenever the needle is on you and once I lift my hand, you can breathe again okay?”

You’re back in the position he originally placed you in with your left arm draped across your chest as you lay on your right side. He’s sitting behind you again, with the tattoo gun in his dominant right hand and his other hand placed near your tattoo.

“It’s not going to hurt that much right?” You felt your muscles loosen and your mind wasn’t clouded with fear of the imminent pain that you’re going to have to endure for the next few hours. Although the alcohol was well into your system and had begun to exert its effects, you still seemed anxious with the thought of having to stay extremely still despite being poked by a needle.

“Just trust me.” He heaved a sigh and you assume that it’s because he was tired of you questioning his talent and ability and you would’ve laugh but, he had warned you not to even chuckle in the slightest because any drastic movement could result in serious injury. You nodded to his reply and he instructs you to breathe out.

Your hands grasps onto the arm chair as you feel the first contact the needle makes to your skin. You breathe out as you were instructed and you feel the needle moving back and forth over a small area. The pain wasn’t as bad as you had thought but you think it’s because of the whiskey which dulled your sensitivity. When you don’t feel the needle pricking at your skin anymore, he tells you to breathe again.

“How was that?”

“It’s not too bad.”

You hear him mutter ‘Good’ before you’re looking over your shoulder to see him dipping the tattoo gun into more ink. You notice that there were five different ink wells on the side table and before you can ask him why there were so many, he turns back around and tells you to resume your previous position. Again, you exhale deeply right before he makes another stroke on your body.

“I’m tattooing the less sensitive part so that you can get used to it. But it’s going to be more painful once I get closer to your breast,” he calmly talks to you as he continues to drag the needle on your skin. His voice was somehow soothing and you wonder if this is what he meant by ‘The Golden Touch’; his voice being the touch that had the remarkable ability of calming his clients with its softness. Or maybe it’s because of his hands which were enigmatically warm which helped provide comfort and induced relaxation. You don’t say anything, afraid that any movement from you could cause him to mess up.

Knowing that you must be in need of oxygen, he lifts the tattoo gun and you automatically inhale. He dips his gun into the plastic wells, coating the tip of the needle in more ink once again. You look over your shoulder again and this time, he doesn’t rush into having you resuming your position.

“What are you giving me?”

“It’ll be a surprise. You’ll like it.”

“And how can you be so sure of that?” He doesn’t answer you but he smiles and shrugs instead, yet you somehow trust him. An excitement builds in you and you can’t wait to see the design he made. He had quickly torn up the stencil of the design that he had quickly drawn, forbidding you from seeing the piece until he has finished tattooing it on you.

He rolls his chair right up to yours and pulls the skin taut once again. “You know, I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves to each other.”

“It’s Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Oh, really? I thought it was Midas,” you sarcastically retort and he pinches your side in retaliation. He warns you once again of the tattoo gun in his hand, which he amusingly poses with as if he’s some kind of sniper, and you’re laughing again. He laughs along with you at his failed attempt of trying to seem intimidating before he’s telling you to breathe out as he’s about to begin again. “I’m (Y/N).”

He didn’t lie when he said that the pain would only get worse as he inches closer to your breast with the tattoo gun. It really was unbearable, even with the alcohol in your system, and you were on the verge of telling him that you didn’t want to do it anymore. But you knew that you weren’t just doing this because you didn’t want to his Mino’s name on you anymore, you wanted to prove to yourself that you could move on. Hopefully, the pain that you’re enduring right now, from the heartbreak and from the tattoo, will serve as reminders to you to not be a fool anymore.

Knowing that he’s tattooing a sensitive part of your body, Jungkook makes small strokes and takes multiple breaks, allowing you to adjust to the pain. With each stroke and scratch against your skin, ink is deposited beneath your skin, along the red marks made by the needle. Jungkook meticulously repeats the same maneuvers, with you inhaling whenever he pauses to load up his tattoo gun with more ink. It’s a been almost an hour and a half since he started and judging by the progress that he’s made and how much more he needs to get done, it’s going to take more than two hours, the original time limit he’s agreed to. But he doesn’t mind staying even longer than that because it gives him a chance to talk to you. Throughout the entire session, the two of you talk during the breaks he takes when he’s loading up the tattoo gun with more ink. He finds you easy to talk to and your quick wit makes you even more attractive in his eyes. He likes the sound of your laugh and he makes it a mission to hear it as much as he possibly can that night since he knows he won’t be seeing you after tonight. Through your conversation, he learns of your job as a freelance interior designer and he scolds you almost too loudly when you gasp excitedly after discovering that he was the mastermind behind the decorations in the tattoo shop. Jungkook also had an interest in interior design, albeit not to the point where he would pursue a career in it like you did, but it was enough to get him out of bed early in the morning to explore the antique markets as well. He also learns that your quirky sense of humour is accompanied by your thick sense of sarcasm, which he got a taste of a lot that night. But, Jungkook doesn’t go down without a fight either and the two of you find yourselves throwing insults at each other left and right. He not only likes the sound of your laugh but he also likes how your voice sounds in general. Its pitch, not too high nor too low, was perfect and as cliché as it might sound, it was like music to his ears. Another thing Jungkook discovers about you is how extremely talkative you are and part of the reason why it’s taking him longer than usual to complete a small tattoo is because you’re talking so damn much. He’s glad though, that you’re talking a lot because it’s your voice that keeps him distracted and prevents his mind from straying anywhere beyond the image of the tattoo and stops his eyes from trailing anywhere above the bottom wiring of your bra. With each mark Jungkook makes, the letters spelling out MINO one by one are covered with his own design. The other reason as to why he’s taking longer than usual is because he has to turn on his creativity to its fullest potential as he has to somehow transform the letters into another image, something that will not only leave no trace of MINO on your body but also something he wants you to be proud of.

With a final stroke of the needle, red ink seeps into your skin and then Jungkook’s wiping away the blood and excess ink. He doesn’t tell you that he’s finished for wants to bask in the moment and admire the masterpiece in front of him. Jungkook is a quite renowned tattoo artist, one of the youngest talents in the business, and his confidence was off the charts, rightfully so. There was no evidence of the letters MINO ever being on your body and he was happy to have erased that part of your life for you. Jungkook is even more ecstatic though at how well his new creation had turned out and how it fits you perfectly. He was damn proud of his accomplishment but he doesn’t allow himself to stare too long at the piece because even though the design was stunning, it was nothing in comparison to the immaculate canvas that was you.

“I’m done.” Jungkook pokes at your side and you lift your arm, trying to see the finished product but you can’t see anything past your breast.

“How does it look?”

“Horrible. I think it’s my worst work, like ever.” You rolled your eyes at his sarcastic remark and he responds with a cheeky grin before he’s helping you sit up from the chair. Your body was stiff and some parts fell asleep from the long hours of having to stay completely still, but Jungkook is there to help guide you towards a nearby full-length mirror. You look at Jungkook without saying anything, and it’s like he knows what you’re thinking because he just gives you a reassuring nod and reorients your body so that you’re facing the mirror. You sigh deeply, trying to mentally prepare yourself to see your body. You didn’t know what to expect to see because even though you trusted Jungkook, who was insanely talented as you learned that the majority of the artwork on the walls were by him, you were afraid that you weren’t going to like it. You were afraid that you weren’t going to like the fact that MINO would no longer be on our skin and it would just serve as another reminder of the love that you’ve lost.

But, all of your uncertainty is vanished as soon as you laid eyes on the tattoo on your side.

It was beautiful. You momentarily forget what your skin had been previously stained with when you see the watercolour rabbit tattoo that adorned the skin below your breast.

“Do you like it?” Jungkook sounded unsure, which contrasted his usual the confident self. It was the first time Jungkook had been so nervous about a client liking his tattoo but with you, he wanted to give you only the best tattoo that anyone could ever get. It seems as though his wish is granted when you turn around and he sees your eyes welling up with tears once again.

“Are you kidding me?! I love it!” You exclaim and just as you’re about to hug him out of appreciation, he grips you by the shoulder, preventing you from doing so.

“I still need to wrap your tattoo up. You can give me that hug another time,” he winks at you before he’s walking back to his station to grab the materials he needs. You’re left standing by the mirror and you’re left wondering whether your heart was beating quicker than normal because of his wink or the fact that he implied that there would be another time.

It has been a week since you witnessed the disgusting scene of Mino and Hyuna and it has been less than three hours since you last texted Mino, telling him to come over to your apartment to retrieve his belongings. During those past seven days, you had to resist the urge of wanting to destroy every last piece of item that belonged to Mino which were scattered around your apartment, always greeting you when you came home from work.

Your friends were surprised to find you returning to work so soon after they had heard about what happened when Mino called every single one of them asking if you were with them as you had been ignoring his calls and texts. You didn’t seclude yourself from the world nor did you use work as a way to torture yourself so that you couldn’t think about Mino again. Rather, you found that going by searching for the perfect shade of grey paint for a client’s house, it provided you with the perfect amount of distraction. It would be a lie to say that your mind didn’t wander every now and then when you would stumble across a certain shade of blue which reminded you of the colour of Mino’s walls, or when you would pass by the coffee shop the two of you always visited. But, those recollections were nothing more than fleeting moments and you found the heavy pressure in your heart start to diminish with each passing day.

Your finger was hovering over the screen of your phone as you looked at the last few texts you shared with Mino. It was like a freight train had hit you because the emotions came rushing in all at once, resulting in the production of tears. You had spent what felt like had to be an hour on the floor, clutching onto your phone, battling your inner voice as you struggle to not call Mino and tell him that you’ll forget everything that you saw. But, that inner voice that chided you for having such ludicrous thoughts, tells you to look in the mirror where you’re able to catch a glimpse of the tattoo that you had just gotten a week ago.

As you try to catch your breath, you approach your mirror and you’re standing in front of it, just like that night when you had a taste of betrayal and misery. However, unlike that night, you didn’t look at your body with disgust because it was no longer tainted with the loathsome black letters that spelt your ex-lover’s name. Rather, the once black letters now served as the body structure of the rabbit that was so elegantly drawn, as if the world’s best calligrapher had scrawled the image onto a canvas. The straight and rigid lines that constructed MINO were now bended into smooth curves and the lines were more dynamic, as if the image now had a life. When you had first saw the tattoo, you were not only surprised that MINO was no longer present on your body, you were also taken aback at the newfound colours that sprawled across your skin. You didn’t expect Jungkook to have given you a watercolour tattoo, after all, you just wanted MINO to be gone. The pastel colours all perfectly blended together, one colour bleeding into the next, giving life to the rabbit.

The redness was no longer there, only minimal swelling visible. It had been a few days since you had removed the wrapping and so you were still getting used to seeing the new artwork that was now permanently embedded in your skin. And it has been exactly seven days since you last saw Jungkook, the handsome tattoo artist who had removed a part of your life you didn’t want to remember or go crawling back to. After wrapping your newly tattooed skin, you and Jungkook exchanged small glances at each other, neither of you saying anything until you decide to break the silence by asking him how much the tattoo cost. He didn’t accept the cash you had given him and now thinking back, you should have secretly left it by the counter or shoved it into his hands before you left because after researching online for how much watercolour tattoos were, and you were left speechless. It was insane how much tattoos cost these days and you estimated that with his labour, the extremely detailed design, the fact that he had to cover up an old tattoo, and the use of watercolours, the total should have been well over $500.

You had left the tattoo shop that night feeling regretful as you had only gave him a simple Thank you and Goodbye, with him replying with only a nod and a smile. It wasn’t like you had expected anything more than that but the departing felt as though it lacked something and you didn’t know what it was. You think it’s because you hadn’t paid for his service and it made you feel like you were stealing something, after all, you had walked out of the shop with one of the most exquisite piece of artwork that Jungkook had ever done – but, Jungkook hadn’t disclosed that information to you.

You weren’t the only one feeling somewhat disappointed when the tattoo session was over because Jungkook was trying to think of ways to prolong your stay. After covering your tattoo with the plastic wrap, he wanted nothing more than to ask you to coffee the next morning. He knew it was too fast but somehow, within those few hours with you, he was deeply infatuated with you. He wanted to get to know you more but he knew it was way too fast, considering what you had just went through. And so, he gives up the idea of asking you to coffee.

He denies accepting any payment from you in hopes that you’ll return in the future and maybe then, he could ask you to that cup of coffee.

You continue to admire the stunning artwork portrait on your side, turning your body to get a full view of the piece at different angles. You hear a sudden knocking at your door and you remember that it was Mino, who had agreed almost instantly to come over when you had texted him. You take one last look at yourself and mentally prepare yourself to face Mino for the first time since that night. You had to admit, you were scared. You were afraid that once you see his face and smell the cologne you had gotten him for Christmas, your body would naturally welcome his and your mind would disregard the fact that he had cheated on you with your best friend. But when you opened the door, you’re reminded of his deceitful acts and words, all of which makes you recall your visit to the tattoo shop a few days ago. You remember the run-down appearance of the shop, the strikingly attractive tattoo artist, and the bunny that seemed to have come alive at that moment, and was now silently cheering you on as you faced the perpetrator who committed a sinful act against your heart.

“Hey (Y/N),” Mino greets you as soon as you open the door, but you don’t respond and walk to your room, pulling out his suitcase which was filled to the brim with his unfolded clothes that you hastily threw in. When you return to the front entrance, Mino is aligning his shoes right next to yours, a habit he’s acquired after being with you for so long because he knows how it irritates you when shoes are scattered at the front door. When he stands up to face you, he’s taken aback at you staring at him. Your eyes bore into his and you’re sure you’ve conveyed your hatred towards him because he’s trying to look elsewhere. Silence engulfed the two of you and you could tell that he was debating whether or not to be the one to speak first, afraid that if he did, he would ignite the fury within you.

You chose to break the silence, asking the question that has been on your mind since that night, “Why did you do it?”

You want to smack him in the head for being so dense when he looks at you confused; however, you see that he soon registers what you had asked him as you see the change in his facial expression. Guilt and embarrassment were plastered on his face and you were glad that he showed signs of remorse. He doesn’t answer you as you continue to stare at him, waiting for his explanation. It wasn’t that any explanation that he offers would have you welcoming him back into your arms, but you at least wanted to know why he had chosen to ruin something you had once thought was true love.

“Let me guess, you needed someone new to fuck right? You were tired of getting the same thing every day.”

“No! No, it wasn’t like that. You’re always working overtime and w-we just got very drunk one night while waiting for you to come home and – ”

“So you guys fucked once because you were drunk and then what about the times after that? Fuck you Song Mino. I trusted you and you took advantage of that fact. If you couldn’t fucking wait until I got home or you just wanted something new, why couldn’t you find some random girl at the club? Why did it have to be Hyuna, my best friend? How could you two do that behind my back? You know, I was actually stupid enough to think that what we had was special, that despite our past we could show everyone that even players can fall in love. But no, you had to prove me wrong and you ruined what we could have had. Not only that, you tarnished Hyuna’s and I’s friendship.”

“(Y/N), please just give me a second chance. I swear, it won’t ever happen again,” he pleaded, as he knelt in front of you. It took you by surprise as you observed the scene in front of you. Song Mino, the oh so prideful Song Mino, who was known for his cocky attitude and who never backed down from anything, was now kneeling in front of you. “(Y/N), I love you. Please, let me make it up to you.”

You didn’t know what was wrong with you because if it had been a week ago, prior to your visit to the tattoo shop, you probably would have succumbed under the three simple words that spewed from Mino’s mouth. You would have taken him back, in a heartbeat, because you were still in love with him. However, as Mino continues to plead you and repeatedly tells you I love you and it won’t happen again, I promise, as if they were a mantra, all you can think about is Jungkook and him telling you how he didn’t deserve your love. And he was right.

“Mino, get up,” your voice, softer than what it had been when he first walked into your apartment and you see how his face instantly lights up. He stands up almost too quickly causing you to take a step back, but he grabs your hand and pulls you into a tight embrace. Your face is buried in his chest and you smell the familiar scent you’ve grown used to over the past few months. Mino’s arms circles around you, forming a cage and it tightens, afraid that you’ll slip away at any second. You allow yourself to bask in his warmth that you’ve been missing for the past week and you know you’ll miss it in the next few days or weeks that are to come. Although you’ve made up your mind, you’re still afraid that any action of his will have you changing your mind and so with your hands that are pressed against his sturdy chest, you push him away. He’s reluctant at first, his arms not budging, but he soon releases his grip on you. His arms remain loosely settled around your shoulders but you distance yourself even further and you see the confusion on his face.

“Mino, I can’t forgive you, at least not right now. Maybe in the future I’ll be able to, but even then, I can’t be with you anymore.”

“Can’t we just try – ”

“And if we do try? It’s still going to be at the back of my mind every time we’re together and when we’re not, I’m going to be wondering whether you’re with Hyuna or some other girl. It won’t be a healthy relationship if I can’t trust every word that you say. ”

“(Y/N), please don’t do this. Just tell me what I need to do for you to take me back.”

“There’s nothing that you can do, nothing that I want you to do. I need to move on and you need to move on as well.”

It was the first time since that night that you’ve been able to sleep straight through the night without waking up trying to search for a certain warmth that was Song Mino. After you had talked some sense into him, Mino had finally agreed to stop and let you move on. He left shortly after with his belongings and you were once again left alone in your apartment. Although the apartment lost half of its contents, it didn’t feel empty to you. Rather, you felt refreshed and even though there’s still tension residing within your chest as you look at the mug on the counter that had lost its counterpart, you were relieved to have gotten rid of the baggage that was holding you down.

It has been a week since Mino came to retrieve his belongings, and it has been two weeks since you’ve last seen Jungkook. It’s funny, you think, how whenever you think of Mino, the random tattoo artist by the name of Jungkook also pops into mind. And even when you don’t think of Mino, whenever you see your tattoo, Jungkook would instantly invade your thoughts.

Today is different though because you’re thinking of Jungkook again, but this time it’s because you’re looking at a copper vintage desk lamp. You remember your conversation with Jungkook that night and how stupid you must have looked for getting so excited when you discovered that Jungkook enjoys going to vintage stores and markets to search for new treasures as well.

You examine the desk lamp for any serious damage and when you don’t find any, you don’t hesitate to buy it because you think it’ll make a great addition to the vintage architectural pieces in Jungkook’s tattoo shop. You spend the next few hours huddled at your work desk in your apartment, trying to make the lamp as new as possible while still maintaining its vintage characteristics. By the time you’re finished, it’s almost 9pm and you hurriedly rush into the shower. As you’re pulling on your t-shirt, you catch a glimpse of your tattoo and you smile at the design. Because instead of being reminded of the pain Mino instilled within you, you’re reminded of the initiative that you took in erasing his presence from your life and how you chose to move on from that. The rabbit also reminds you of a certain someone who calls himself Midas and soon you find yourself grabbing the polished vintage desk lamp from your work station before you’re heading out of your apartment.

You’re standing in front of the shop in less than ten minutes of leaving your apartment and you realized, as you stood in front of the shop, how nervous you were. You came prepared with the cash to pay him back for the tattoo and you also brought a present, which you regret not packaging it somehow because you look absolutely ridiculously standing there with a lamp in your hand. The thought of seeing him again after two weeks seemed to have only heightened the nervousness you were feeling. But why? It wasn’t like you had feelings for Jungkook because although he was insanely attractive, you knew that getting over Mino would take more than just two weeks. And having spent only a few hours with Jungkook didn’t mean that you could easily abolish the feelings you had for Mino, Jungkook merely helped you speed up that process.

You checked the time which read 10:30pm and you hope that he was working late again today. He had told you last time that he was overbooked for the next few weeks and had to work late hours. When you enter into the shop, you’re greeted with the same sweet, musky scent and the soft melodies of the speakers that welcomed you two weeks ago. And like before, there were no customers to be seen and you assume that all of today’s appointments were done. However, you weren’t alone as you spot someone standing by the register counting money.

He had grey hair, which contrasted his baby-face, and you assume he was following the granny hair trend that one of your clients was hyping over a few days ago. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt and you wonder if it was a requirement for all the employees here to wear a sleeveless shirt as you recall Jungkook wearing one that night. The man standing by the counter wasn’t as muscular as Jungkook was, in fact, his appearance was like the complete opposite of Jungkook. There were no traces of any ink job on Jungkook’s tanned arms; however, the grey-haired man had a full tattoo sleeve on his left arm, while his right arm was completely bare. He was rather fair in complexion in comparison to Jungkook as well, and slightly shorter in stature.

It wasn’t until you had cleared your throat that the grey-haired employee looked up at you, halting him from counting the money bills.

“We’re closing so if you want something done, you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow,” he didn’t greet you and merely spared a glance at you before resuming counting the bills in his hands. You wonder if his bluntness was because he had a long day of work or if it was just part of his nature to be rude.

“Oh, no… I-I’m actually looking for someone.”

“Is it Jungkook?”

“How did you know?” He simply points to the lamp in your hand and you give him a quizzical look.

“I’m guessing that’s for him? No one likes those old people stuff except for him.” Before you can say anything, you hear the sound of the beaded curtains move.

“It’s not old people stuff! They’re called antiques or vintage,” Jungkook defends himself and the grey-haired boy simply waves off Jungkook before returning to the cash register. “Ignore him, he has no taste.”

Yoongi scoffs and mumbles something under your breath, probably throwing an insult or two at Jungkook, but your mind doesn’t dwell on the possibilities for long because its attention is focused on the latter who’s walking towards you.

“Hey,” you smiled and he’s grinning back at you. Throughout the past two weeks you had thought a lot about Jungkook, but after seeing him again up close, you’re reminded of how undeniably attractive he is. Maybe it was Mino’s presence in your mind or the tears that clouded your vision that night, but you weren’t able to truly appreciate Jungkook’s impeccable features. He’s wearing the same style of clothing that he wore the last time you saw him – sleeveless shirt and tight jeans – which accentuated his clean-cut muscles.

“What brought you here?” Jungkook asked and you’re forced to avert your gaze from his toned arms to his flawless face.

“Oh, um I wanted to pay you back for the tattoo,” you said, nervously gripping onto the antique piece that was in your hands.

“With a lamp?” Yoongi snorts and you would have been embarrassed if Jungkook had not thrown a magazine at Yoongi’s direction, perfectly squaring him in the forehead.

“Again, just ignore him. He’s just bitter ‘cause he knows none of his clients would ever gift him something,” Jungkook explained and you’re about to say it’s fine but Yoongi cuts you off.

“That’s ‘cause I don’t flirt with my clients,” Yoongi defends himself and you didn’t expect to be an audience member who gets to watch a comedic act as you witness the banter between Yoongi and Jungkook.

“Well it’s not like you have any basis for flirting,” Jungkook retorts and he waves his hand across his face, seemingly suggesting that Yoongi was lacking in that department. You would have disagreed with Jungkook for Yoongi was definitely not lacking in the looks department. In fact, he was rather good-looking, with his fair complexion adding to his youthful look.

“You know what Jeon, I was going to be a nice business partner and help you close the shop but I’m out of here,” Yoongi grabs his backpack and storms out from the behind the counter. Jungkook and you fail at attempting to conceal your laughter when you both see Yoongi’s expression. As Yoongi passes by Jungkook, he smacks the latter in the back with his bag to which Jungkook grumbles Asshole as he rubs the spot on his head.

“If you’re going to have sex, don’t do it on the bed in the break room. I sleep on it too,” Yoongi’s comment before leaving the shop leaves Jungkook and you in a blushing mess, which Yoongi finds amusing as he had never witnessed the former ever being shy around the opposite sex. Yoongi leaves the shop, smiling as he mentally keeps track of his victories against Jungkook – 4:3 – before he locks the door behind him. For the past couple of weeks, Yoongi had noticed that something was off with Jungkook, as the latter’s mind was always occupied with something. It was only after confronting Jungkook and demanding for him to Spill it that Yoongi learns of the heartbroken girl who came into the shop. You.

You’re alone again with Jungkook and similar to that night, the two of you are standing in the middle of the tattoo shop, with the calmness of the music notes filling in the void between the two of you. Neither of you exchange any words, unsure of what to say to the other as Yoongi’s comment still linger in both of your minds. Jungkook would be kidding himself to say that he had not thought about you in that way, especially not after seeing you in just your bra. And it would be a lie to say that you had not thought about what Jungkook looked like underneath the sleeveless shirt either. But, it was not just simply the superficial attributes that attractive you both to each other. Maybe it was the fact that both of you love waking up in the wee hours of the morning just to find treasures that other people would consider as trash, or the snide remarks that you threw at one another, or as stupid as it sounds, the tattoo of the rabbit that somehow connected the two of you. You had offered a rather personal piece of your life to a stranger and instead of laughing at you, Jungkook had helped you. You knew that without the metaphorical erasure of Mino, you wouldn’t have been able to begin the process of moving on. Jungkook was the catalyst that got everything started – the little push you needed to get over the hurdle of your feelings for Mino.

“So, is that for – ” Jungkook points to the lamp in your hand but he’s interrupted mid-sentence by your kiss. You’re pressing your lips against his – hard – and the increasing pressure against Jungkook’s lips is what pulls him back to reality. His mind scrambles to registers what’s happening and although he doesn’t want to stop you, for this is what he’s been fantasizing since you walked out of the shop, he’s reminded of the reason why you had come to him in the first place – to forget Mino. You hadn’t mentioned how long you were with Mino but through your small talks that night, but Jungkook knew that your feelings for him ran deep as he recalls how utterly broken you were. He knew that part of the reason why you had not returned to the shop in the last couple of weeks was that you needed some time to yourself. He was surprised earlier, when he had heard your voice when he was in the back room because he hadn’t expected you to come back that soon, or at all for that matter. Like that night, you were still in a vulnerable state, a state in which Jungkook didn’t want to take advantage of.

And so, Jungkook gathers every ounce of strength he has and resists against every fibre within his body that was craving for your touch, and he pushes you away. As soon as your lips detach from his, he could feel the nerve endings on his lips calling for yours. Jungkook looks at you and he could see the embarrassment creeping its way onto your face in the form of a red tint that settles on your cheeks. Your eyes avoid his, choosing to focus on the lamp that you still held in your hands but you feel the object being pried from your hands and you see it being placed on the countertop of the receptionist desk before your eyes land on his. You didn’t know what had taken over you but when Mino’s face appeared once again in your thoughts, you knew you needed to get rid of it before it started to manifest itself and overtake your sanity. It was ridiculous but somehow Jungkook had become your remedy to forgetting Mino because every time you see your tattoo, Jungkook replaces Mino in your mind. You wanted to expunge every last bit of Song Mino from your memory and Jungkook was the last ingredient you needed to complete that process.

“(Y/N) – ”

“Kiss me Jeon,” you cast aside any dignity you had left in you, for you were doing this to free yourself from the torment you were living in.

“Listen (Y/N), I know you’re doing this because you want to get back at him but you shouldn’t have to put yourself through this. Remember what I said that night? You deserve better.”

“I’m not doing this to get back at him. I already told him that there’s no way I’m getting back with him.” Jungkook’s brows furrow as he looks at you with confusion. “Even though I was the one who was adamant about cutting all ties with him, I can’t seem to sever it completely. I was – still, am in love with him.”

There was no point in lying to Jungkook, nor to yourself for that matter. No matter how much you tried to deny or suppress it, you knew deep down that you still loved Mino. Walking into the shop and seeing Jungkook reminded you of the events that night. All of your efforts from the past few days of trying to collect and bottle up all of your feelings and tears, came spewing out like blood from a poorly-stitched wound. Jungkook should have been used to the sight of you crying now, for he had to wipe your tears away multiple times that night, but he can’t. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb catching the tears that escape through your lashes. You lean against the palm of his hands, seeking for the warmth that you missed since you last saw him. Like an expert, Jungkook manages to stop you from crying with just a simple touch but his thumb continues to graze over your cheek. He sees himself reflected in your eyes but once he looks past the film of tears still evident in your eyes, he sees the hurt he saw that night.

“Jungkook, please help me forget him. Completely.”

Jungkook looks at you with wide eyes, trying to find any traces of hesitance in you but you don’t offer any. Your cold fingers wraps around his wrist and when he feels the pressure from your fingertips, he doesn’t ponder for another second as his lips collides against yours.

Unlike a few moments ago, Jungkook makes sure to relish the moment and savor the taste of your lips. He notes how soft your lips are in comparison to his chapped ones, but you don’t seem to mind as he feels you deepening the kiss. He shivers slightly when your fingers trace the veins on his forearms before they trail upwards and your arms wrap themselves around his neck, pulling him closer to your small body frame. You’re the one to break the kiss this time but Jungkook barely gives you more than two seconds before he’s claiming your lips again, his arms hooking your legs around his waist in the process. His hands are placed beneath your thighs, supporting your entire weight with ease. You’re so immersed with the how perfectly his lips mold against yours that you don’t realize that the both of you had even moved from the middle of the shop, before you feel him settle you onto a nearby counter. Jungkook removes his hands from beneath you, only to have them wound around your waist and pulls you against him rather abruptly. He’s standing between your legs with your core pressed tightly against his growing member. You experimentally grind yourself against him causing his lips to detach from yours to let the groan escape from his lips as he tilts his head back, exposing his neck in the process. You trail small wet kisses from the side of his face, along his jawline, and down his neck before you stop at the junction between his neck and his collarbone. You suck harshly onto his skin, earning yourself a few moans from Jungkook and you feel his chest vibrate. Jungkook grabs your face and kisses you roughly as he tries to convey the desperation he had for you since the moment you walked into the shop. His tongue swipes against your lower lip asking for entrance and you don’t hesitate to let him in. As his tongue dances with yours, you feel his hands tug at your shirt before he’s lifting it, pausing to allow you to raise our hands, before he removes it completely along with your bra. The sight of your naked torso distracts him from doing anything else, his eyes are lingering at your breasts before they drop to your rib where your tattoo is. Jungkook’s hand instinctively touches the skin marked with black and different shades of pink and green ink.

“It healed well.” Jungkook mutters before he’s planting kisses along your breastbone and then finally on your breasts. Before his lips could explore any further, you’re cupping his face and bringing them back to yours, and he’s smiling into the kiss when he feels you pulling at his shirt. He quickly tosses the shirt over his head and he gathers you in his arms and starts moving towards the backroom.

Jungkook carefully lowers you onto the bed and you watch as he’s standing at the edge of the bed, removing the tight black jeans that were restricting his member. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind that you’re watching every movement of his, rather, it turns him on even further which urges him to quickly discard of the pants and join you. He crawls over you, supporting his weight with the arms that are placed on either side of your head. He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips before he begins his tour of your body, with his lips as the guide. Open-mouthed kisses are placed along your neck, down the valley of your breasts, and back up to your neck where he decides to take residence and leave his mark by sucking onto the skin at the base of your neck. The sounds that emits from your lips only encourages him to suck even harder and leave even more red marks as he trails down your body.

“Jungkook, I need you,” and as if he had been waiting for those words, Jungkook starts to move lower on your body until he’s hovering over your clothed core. You watch as he pops open the button of your jeans before pulling the material down your legs and throwing them somewhere behind him. His hands smooth over your legs before they settle onto your hips, which he doesn’t leave unmarked as he sucks onto the skin above the waistband of your underwear. Your hips buckle upwards but his firm grip prevents you from floundering about. “Jungkook.”

Upon hearing your desperate call, Jungkook presses a finger at your heat core, expertly finding the bundle of nerves that has you writhing under his touch. He starts to rub between your legs, the only thing preventing him from touching you entirely is the thin piece of fabric. He continues to tease you through your panties, enjoying hearing the sounds that you make as you squirm beneath him. Deciding that you’ve had enough of the torturing, Jungkook hooks a finger under the waistband of your panties before he’s pulling them down, revealing your glistening core. He meets your gaze and you watch from above as he inserts a finger into you, his gaze never faltering. As he pumps his finger into you, your head falls back and you release a series of moan.

“You’re so wet.” Jungkook comments before he’s adding another finger into you while he places small kisses along the inside of your thighs and your hands are threading into his hair. You’re taken aback when you feel him sucking at your clit, the added pressure has you shaking against his thrusting fingers. “Mmm, and you taste so sweet.”

“Oh my god, J-Jungkook,” you back arches off the bed as he adds in another finger while keeping his mouth on your sex. He smiles victoriously when he hears his name being repeatedly like a mantra by you and he makes it a mission to have you moaning it even louder. You bite your bottom lip, trying to suppress your desperate moans but it’s proven to be futile when Jungkook curls his fingers inside of you, hitting a particular spot that makes you tighten your grasp in his hair and shout his name shamelessly. Jungkook relentlessly continues to thrust within you with his fingers curled, making sure to hit the one spot that has you whimpering his name, while his mouth remains attached to your clit, teeth grazing and pulling at the bud before his lips create a suction around them. You feel the pressure within you build and heighten with each thrust of Jungkook’s fingers and each lick from his tongue, all of which culminates into your orgasm. Jungkook watches as the wave of pleasure spread throughout your body and he swears you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen with the way your face contorts in ecstasy. His fingers are still thrusting inside, helping you ride out your high but the oversensitivity soon becomes too much and you have to push him away. As you catch your breath, you take the time to observe what a fine specimen Jungkook truly is. Matching his toned biceps and muscular thighs were his abs that were perfectly sculpted and you watch as the ravishing man above you licks away your remnants from his fingers. The sight has you wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him down so that his chest meets yours. Jungkook smirks at your action before he hungrily attacks your lips and you let him do the majority of the work as you recuperate from your climax.

“Take this off,” you mumble against his lips, your foot trying to remove his boxers. He quickly follows your request, shedding the dark navy boxers before he’s reaching over to the table next to the bed to retrieve a condom. His nimble fingers rip open the foil, being careful not to tear the condom in the process, before he’s sheathing his length with it. He hovers over you again, keeping the majority of his weight off of you with the support of his arms. Jungkook kisses at your navel before trailing upwards towards your breasts. His mouth engulfs one of your nipple, sucking on it, while massaging the other one. He takes his time sucking your breast and kneading the other one before switching. Your hands grasp onto his biceps, smoothing over his skin as he prepares your body for another climax. When he’s satisfied with the marks he’s left on your two mounds, he places one more kiss against your lips before he’s looking into your eyes.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Just make me forget him Jungkook.”

And so he does. Jungkook takes his length and aligns himself against your entrance, the tip of his member almost pushing past your folds. He gives you one last peck at the corner of your mouth before his member seeps into your core, making you wince at the sudden stretch of your walls. He pushes himself until he’s buried deep within you, making you whimper when you feel his full length inside of you. Jungkook groans loudly when he feels himself being embraced by the warmth and tightness of your core. His forehead is against yours and the two of you share longing stares while savouring the moment. You start to shift underneath him once you have grown accustomed to his size and Jungkook takes the signal to begin his onslaught.

He pulls back all the way, leaving on his tip inside of you, before he’s pushing himself balls-deep within you once again. You urge him on with your voice, calling for him to Go faster and Harder, and he complies by thrusting into you at an alarming speed. With each thrust of his, Jungkook’s name is followed in the form of a moan which fills the room, along with his panting and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

You feel the warmth of his chest leave yours when he sits up, his hands gripping onto your waist, imprinting his fingernails into your skin. The new position allows him to pulls you to meet each of his thrust, hitting at a new angle which makes you cry out his name. When he starts hitting that same spot that tipped you over the edge earlier, you grab his arms and pull him so that he’s on top of you again. His entire weight is on top of you but you don’t mind, not when his thrusts are accompanied by his lips on your neck. You moan loudly which is followed by your core convulsing around his member and Jungkook knows that you’re close. Your nails scratch against his broad back, leaving a stinging sensation that only adds to Jungkook’s pleasure. He’s sure he’ll have red marks all over his back as if he’s been attacked by a bear but he doesn’t mind because he’s marked you plenty with his lips.

Jungkook feels you clenching around him even tighter than before and he’s slamming his hips against yours, urging you to reach your climax. When Jungkook feels your nails dig deeper in his back he reaches between your two sweaty bodies and draws circles onto your clit which sends you off into euphoria. Your second orgasm of the night hits you harder than the first and your body would have convulsed if it were not for Jungkook’s body in the way, the body which was still connected to yours and was still thrust into you. Your vaginal walls were clenching so tightly that soon Jungkook was chasing his own high. He groans loudly against your neck as he shallowly thrusts into you, helping the both of you ride out your orgasms.

Jungkook detaches himself from you and you gasp lightly, feeling somewhat empty when the warmth left with him. He rolls himself off of you and the two of you lay side by side, trying to catch your breath from the intense activity. You feel his gaze from the corner of your eyes and when you turn to face him, your eyes are met with his dark brown ones. Unsatisfied with just your shoulders touching, Jungkook turns onto his side and you do the same, before the both of you are shifting closer to each other. His hands rest naturally on your hips, as if he’s done it a million times before. No words are exchanged between the two of you but there is no need to because you find yourself lost in the softness of his brown eyes and he can’t help but mirror the wide grin that’s plastered on your face. His hand moves from your hips to your tattoo and you observe his expression as his fingers hover over the rabbit on your skin.

“So, did that help?” Jungkook breaks the silence but you’re confused at the meaning behind his words. He looks away, almost like he’s embarrassed and you find the sight adorable. “Ugh, you said you wanted me to help you forget him.”

“Forget who?” Jungkook is the one that’s confused this time but not for long, because the realization hits him when he sees your playful smirk. He grins almost too widely, eyes forming crescents in the process. His hands, which were placing feathery touches on your tattoo, were now tickling your sides and he’s elated at the sound of your lively laughter. Before pulling you against his chest, Jungkook spots the copious red crescents on your body that are already beginning to take on a darker colour — almost as deep as the black ink he used for your tattoo — and Jungkook hopes for nothing more than for the colour of the marks to be so deep that it’ll cover your scars.

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