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lolabangtan · 1 year

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STAY | 16

It’s time you step up and talk things out with Jungkook.

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Word count: 12k

Warnings: smut.

# hurt/comfort, themed grad party where things happen 👀, not as dramatic as you’d think, Ari Besto Friendo, lovemaking *ugly sobs*, ‘spanking’, ‘rough’ handjob, mommy kink, spitting, squirting, overstimulation, “choking”, orgasm denial, unprotected vaginal sex, soft degrading kink.

A/N: this is the end. See you in therapy. Also, I recommend you to listen to the playlist while reading, it gets you.

“What happened with Ms Min?”

Seokjin looks to the side and says, “She got caught up with work and asked me to step in for her.”

“Oh, I see…” Professor Choi murmurs. Then he nods, beckoning him to take a seat. “We were just starting with the meeting. Thank you for joining us, Mr Kim. So, as I was saying, the most voted theme for the graduation party…”

The looks of curiosity are heavy on his nape as Seokjin walks across the class. There’s only one seat left and, unfortunately, it’s right next to Jeon Jungkook.

“Hey,” he whispers.

The boy, of course, doesn’t answer.

Seokjin takes a seat anyways and waits for the professor to pick up the meeting where it left off before the interruption. As Mr Choi informs them, the graduation theme is, by almost unanimous choice, a prom with nostalgic airs. There is nothing better than reliving one’s youth, as long as it was pleasant, and since the sufferers did not dare to say that it was hell for them, that is how the vote stood.

The committee gets down to work once everything is discussed; from where the party will be held to what drinks will be served, everyone works as a team.

Jungkook, however, feels pressure in his chest.

He won’t be coming, he’s sure of that. Can’t even imagine the idea of getting drunk in public again. And he doesn’t know what’s worse, the fact that he almost slept with someone or the fact that there was no reason he shouldn’t have. If you had truly not broken up, wouldn’t you have come to him already, screaming blue murder?

As he makes a quick doodle of the table layout under a senior’s supervision, Seokjin leans into him from his side; he’s been annoyingly trying to get closer to him ever since the meeting started. Jungkook moves his arm and covers the paper.

“Oh, oppa, can you take care of him?” the girl asks. “You remember best how’s the pavilion, and I have no idea how many tables we can fit in there!”

“Sure.”

They wait until their classmate is gone. “I don’t need your stupid help.”

“Ugh, God—” The eldest crosses his arms. “How much longer are you gonna act up like this? You’re just making people uncomfortable, and you’re self-sabotaging. I’m sure you’re smarter than that.”

“Are you calling me dumb?” Jungkook blurts out.

“Is that what you think I’m trying to say?”

But Jungkook makes no answer – instead, he takes his drawing and brings it to another of the seniors who is more familiar with the layout of the pavilion. He no longer needs Kim Seokjin and his stupid help, and he’s not the only one who knows the place better than a sophomore who’s never stepped in there.

The meeting ends half an hour later. Everyone is released to go to their classes, and Jungkook hurries off to lock himself in his room and not return. He just hopes that his nemesis has unfinished business to do on the other side of campus, or even better, the other side of town.

Today, however, is not his lucky day.

“Hey, Jungkook-ssi.” Seokjin comes in seconds after and closes the door with care. “Can we talk?”

The youngest is lying face down on the bed. If he doesn’t move, it would look like he’s asleep, and his senior would leave him alone; Jungkook doesn’t want to listen to any of the silly excuses he has to make.

“I know you’re awake, you’re still wearing your outdoor clothes. Can’t even imagine all that dirt impregnating your clean sheets right now…”

Don’t fall for it.

“Oh, and it’s the first time I see your shoes on the bed too!”

Okay, that’s the last straw.

Jungkook jumps off the bed and kicks his shoes off, overwhelmed by the ick. Then he slumps into it again, and Seokjin manages to sit by him like a mother ready to try and make her teenage son come to his senses, making sure to take his shoes off first.

“What’s your fucking problem!” he finally cries out. “What? Are you— are you obsessed with making me miserable or something?”

At his outburst, Seokjin stares at him in silence, totally shocked; it wasn’t his intention to push him to his limits like that, but maybe that’s the only way there is to get him to sit down and talk things out. And it’s a very needed thing, to discuss what the hell is going on – there have been too many victims already, and Jin would like to freeze the number of casualties.

“Now I’m the one who’s got a problem?” Seokjin barks back.

Jungkook grimaces. “Yeah! You—!”

“I what?”

With his breath hitching in his throat and his face colouring in frustration, the youngest goes silent. He’s looking for the words, all those things he’s been wanting to yell at this guy for weeks, and now that he has the chance, Jungkook is beginning to realise he doesn’t even know what to say – and he probably won’t until he figures out what he feels. Right now, his mouth is babbling, and his heart is just as confused.

“You…! Y/N-noona…!” And then he bursts into tears, and Seokjin grimaces in utter pity, suddenly forgetting all the pain this boy has caused you. “She dumped me for you! It’s all your fault! I’m sorry I’m—!”

“What—?”

But Jungkook rambles on, “And now she hates me, and I just can’t forget about her! I love her and she hates me!”

“Okay, o— listen! Man, you got it all wrong!” Seokjin suddenly exclaims, and he stops. “I’m not with Y/N, okay? We’re friends, that’s it! God, isn’t she dating you? How could she be with me?”

All the heat that came to his cheeks disappears in an instant. His brain hasn’t fully processed Seokjin’s words, but there’s a pinch of hope at what they could mean.

“But— but I heard you,” he babbles.

“Heard us?”

“Yeah! You… you told her you love her and that you wanted to be with her!”

Jin frowns – he’s totally lost. “And when was this?”

“It was… the day you came to practice,” Jungkook replies, his voice weaker than ever. “We, uh, had a little quarrel with our friends—”

“The bet, I know all about it. You found out about the bet,” Jin sums up.

“Yeah, and noona said she ‘needed time’, so she left. She also wouldn’t answer my calls, and she texted me that she’d call me back, but she never did. Then I came back home because it was late, and I heard you talking in our room— and you asked her to get back together!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ…”

Rubbing his face with a tired groan, Seokjin sits back down on the bed. His body is suddenly ten years older, and his heart is ten kilos heavier. This is a much bigger deal than he thought it would be.

“Dude, you got it all wrong,” he finally says.

“You said you love her—!”

“Listen, Jungkook-ssi,” Seokjin cuts him off, “I didn’t mean it… romantically! We used to be friends, you know, but Y/N really resented me after we broke up,” he explains then. “I messed up and hurt her. So, I was, uh, apologising? I love her, that’s true. She’s a very important person to me; important enough for me to want her forgiveness and to want to be friends again.”

“No…”

Suddenly cold, Jungkook has to sit on the bed in front of him; his hands are cold, his chest is pumping and beating like crazy, and his mind is working at such a speed that he can’t even recognise the thoughts passing by anymore. The only thing in his mind is the biggest relief at the discovery that you did not, in fact, dump him, and the gruesome realisation that this is probably the time he has fucked up the most.

“B-but you’re with her all the time!” he cries out in a poor attempt at defending himself. “And she— and she wouldn’t talk to me!”

“Well, yeah? You were the one to ignore her first!”

“Fuck!”

Jungkook buries his face in his hands and lets out a mournful groan. Now that he’s letting all go, now that he’s finally allowing himself to feel betrayed and hurt and confused, it’s when he finally realises that he was wrong all along.

“Shit…” His whimpers make Seokjin cringe with pity. “I fucked up, I really fucked up— she’s never gonna forgive me.”

The eldest sighs. “I think you’re still in time.”

“Huh?”

“You still have time now that she hasn’t stopped trying to find an explanation for your shitty behaviour. Y/N is the first one who wants to work things out, I’m sure,” Jin continues.

“She said that?”

“Uh, not exactly, but I know her, and I am sure that she wants you back.”

The consequences of his own actions are beginning to weigh on his shoulders. There had always been a fear, disguised as hope, that it had all been a mistake, a misunderstanding of some kind. Of course, Jungkook had decided to keep it inside in case he had to unlearn his grudge, but it never crossed his mind that, in the process, he was hurting you back, and that you could obviously resent him for it too.

In his mind, you had been this giant fortress all these days; an ice-cold barrier without feelings or even the ability to love or be merciful. In Jungkook’s mind, of course, everything you had done had been to hurt him and to let him know that his actual place in your life wasn’t inside your heart but dragged on the floor.

And even then, he couldn’t stop loving you.

He wants to cry, kiss you all over your face, kneel before you, kiss your hands, hug your lap, beg you to take him.

“Hey, don’t look so defeated,” Seokjin says, snapping him out of his depressing self-absorption. “I’m gonna help you, okay? I’ll help you make it up to her.”

“Why?”

But the eldest only shrugs. “She’s hurting too,” he murmurs then, “and I was your age once.”

It’s not like he’s much older than him, but this is the first time in a while someone tries to make him feel better without taking the guilt off him – he’s going to learn from this, but he won’t beat himself up over it. You wouldn’t want that anyway.

“You don’t need to do this.”

“I know,” he says, “but I want to. Besides, it’s not like you’ve killed someone, you know— and Y/N knows you didn’t sleep with that girl.”

“What?” Jungkook lets out, half-relieved.

“Yeah, she heard the rumours, but she didn’t believe them since, well, in her head you were still dating, so she asked Jimin, and he told her.” Well, it’s good to know he still has good friends out there, but he’s weirdly glad. “Try to process it: she didn’t believe them to the point that she called Jimin to confirm them. Man, she’s desperately fishing for a chance to forgive you.”

Full of renewed strength and hope, Jungkook gets up and grabs his backpack, turning to the other guy with an awkward stance.

“Thank you, uh…”

“You can call me Jin-hyung,” he jokes.

But Jungkook smiles. “Thank you, hyung! See ya!”

And then he storms off, leaving his hyung half-confused, half-amused, and a bit hopeful on the bed. Then he remembers he’s got a class to attend too, and he grabs his stuff to leave.

“Who is it?”

You got up as soon as the intercom rang all across the flat; you were wearing your ugliest yet most comfortable clothes, devouring a jar of Greek yoghurt, and naturally, not expecting any visitors. So, leaving the jar on the kitchen counter, you walk up to the entrance door and push the button.

“It’s me.” Ari is standing on the other side, as you can see through the peephole “Can you open up?”

Your heart doesn’t really have the energy to talk to her, but your brain doesn’t have the energy to even make up an excuse.

You push the entrance button. “Yeah, come in.”

The minutes it takes to enter the doorway and walk up to your landing take forever. Pressing, your heart has begun to beat, heavy, in your chest, and after a while, you regret not having hung up instantly.

“Hey, nice to see you,” Ari says when she shows up at the door.

“What do you want?” You don’t want to be rude, not on purpose, but you really want to know that. “Sorry, uh… How can I, hm, help you?”

Suddenly, Ari stifles a chuckle, and although against your will – you want to be composed and cold – you follow her, feeling incredibly awkward; a friendship like yours wasn’t made to be solemn. You’ve never been silent with each other. Angry, perhaps, or upset – but never silent.

“Sit anywhere you like,” you tell her then, stepping back to let her in.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want a drink?” you ask on your way to the kitchen.

“No, thanks!” Ari exclaims from the living room, and you peek over the counter; she’s holding up two Frappuccinos. “I brought you something, though.”

You shake your head and come back. “You didn’t have to— okay, thanks. It’s my favourite, how did you know?” you joke, and surprisingly, Ari laughs. Maybe this won’t be as awkward, and maybe it’s time to cut straight to the point. “Thanks. So… I guess you came to talk, right? What do you want to talk about?”

Ari takes a deep breath.

“I know you and Jimin talked the other day,” she says, “he told me. He also told me what actually happened…” You stare at her, expectantly. “I came to apologise. What we did was awful, even if we didn’t do it with bad intentions. The… fact that the possibility didn’t even cross my mind was very uncaring, and I think it’s a reflection of how little I’ve tried to understand your feelings,” she continues, and you stay quiet, feeling heavier and heavier. “But it terrified me, to think that you would be unhappy forever.” It’s only when her voice cracks that you let out a heavy puff of breath. “I thought that I wasn’t doing enough. Like I wasn’t caring about it enough.”

You take a few seconds to think about what to say, about what you want to say; the fact that she has finally acknowledged your feelings immediately takes a heavy weight off your chest.

But you also feel so frustrated that it took so long. You’re so frustrated that you had to literally shut down for someone to even suspect that there was something wrong with you. And you’re frustrated that you really didn’t have much idea that you felt like this until now. How hurt you are, how sad, how you long for closeness and intimacy. How you miss being vulnerable, and how much it terrifies you at the same time.

“There was never anything wrong with you,” you say. “You… were there, believe it or not. I always felt you with me, I was the one pushing you all away.” With a soft smile, she makes an attempt to stroke your cheek, and you tilt down your head. “I just… hate being so weak and having no control over it,” you continue.

“What are you even talking about?” Ari asks with a frown, still stroking your cheek. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

You roll your eyes. “Stop joking—”

“It’s true. I admire you, Y/N.”

Your heart aches and cries and sobs and shrinks in your chest out of pure excitement. You feel loved, she makes you feel loved.

“I…” And then your voice cracks, and you start crying. “I just…! Fuck, I wish I could’ve been able to handle it all. All the pain, and the heartbreak, and— I wish nothing of this had affected me this much! I’m tired, I’m literally so tired!”

“Why should you have been able to? What gave you that experience – age, hard work, life, your youth?”

“I don’t know.”

Ari scoots closer to you and hugs you, resting her cheek on your shoulder. She’s looking away, her eyes fixed on some spot in the living room; her face is blank, but you feel she’s serious.

“I’m sorry about the bet. I didn’t know any better,” she murmurs. “I’ve learned from it, though, and I’ve also learned that I have to give you space. Be there for you, if you want me back. Give away my shoulder to your tears even if it falls off. I don’t know more about life than you do— but I want to learn with you.”

You find comfort in her arms, it’s a kind of closeness you have missed madly. It’s been a long time since you last felt loved by her; seen, known, acknowledged. While she walked away after half-finding out about the bet, you pushed her even further too.

“What are you going to do about Jungkook?” she asks again.

“He still doesn’t know it was all in his head,” you say, “if Jimin hasn’t told him, that is.” Ari shakes her head. “So… I guess I’ll wait to see if he comes back asking for my forgiveness.”

“What he did was unfair, but don’t you think he deserves some sympathy too?”

You shake your head as well. “Why should I be the bigger person? Am I not allowed to be hurt? When I was a cheating bitch, oh, then everyone would judge me— but know he deserves my sympathy?”

Ari shrugs. “Not forcing you, it’s up to you whether you do it or not.”

“Even giving me the choice feels unfair.”

Then she looks up at you; her eyes watch you carefully at first, as if she was eyeing an animal, but then they soften, and a smile creeps to her lips.

“Treat him as kindly as you wanted to be treated yourself. That is your only free choice in this world.”

But your pride won’t let you. You’ve been hurt and beaten and humiliated so many times, and you were so little used to it, that your pride is swollen and wounded. It hurts just to think about giving it up and forgiving him; the mourning part of you wants him to suffer as much as he made you suffer. But then— then you think of the way he cried when he thought you had left him, and you remember that he only acts like a jerk when he feels the threat of heartbreak, and you think about how scared he must have been back then.

Then you think of all the times you have cried yourself, wondering why everyone is so cold and unfeeling with each other. Trying to mimic them. All those times you hated yourself for not being strong, that relentless you who never did anything stupid, who never hurt anyone out of fear. You were never that person.

Neither is Jungkook.

Some part of you wants him to suffer, yes. It’s the same voice that whispers that you deserve it too; all the pain and despair and loneliness in the world for not knowing any better. You’re just like him, you realise.

Does he technically deserve it? Well, no. But again, it’s true that kindness is not something to be deserving of, to earn; it’s blind. Love, too, is blind. You can’t see shit right now.

“I just need some time,” you murmur.

“Well, if it helps, I think everyone is doomed to make mistakes,” Ari says again as she gets up. “It’s hard to be perfect when you’ve got feelings.”

“Where are you going?”

“Uh, I’d better go home and get ready for the party,” she says with a grimace.

You frown. “What party—? Oh, the graduation party?”

“Yeah… It starts in an hour, and I promised Jimin I would be on time to help him choose the tie.”

“I totally forgot,” you murmur, looking away. “It’s prom-themed, isn’t it? I think Seokjin told me… Do you think Professor Choi will mind if I don’t come? I’m not feeling like going to any parties right now.”

“He won’t,” Ari replies.

You nod, and she gets her purse.

“I’ll be on my way now.” She kisses your forehead and runs back to the door. “Hit me up if you end up coming!”

“Sure.”

And now, with the door slamming shut behind her, Ari’s gone. Suddenly you’re back to being alone in your empty flat, sulking and pondering. You’re such a mess, you have no idea what to think or feel – or rather, you can’t make up your mind between being mad and relieved that it was all a misunderstanding.

What are you supposed to do with the pain, then? Gulp it down and swallow it? Pretend that it never happened, that you never suffered? But, you know, pretending has become too hard lately.

Somehow, you wander around the house and end up in your bedroom.

Jungkook must have come to take the rest of his stuff since most of his things are missing; even his platform boots, which he’d keep under your bed due to their side – and because you’d trip over them all the time – are not there anymore. His skin care products have disappeared from the bathroom, and the flat no longer smells of his body lotion. It’s as if his presence had said goodbye and closed the door behind it.

There are not too many options here, though: you can either forgive him or not. You can either take him back and punish him for it or not.

Jungkook hurt you, that is true. You were in pain because of his actions. But something inside you can’t help connecting with his pain, too; you know that feeling far too well – of not being enough, of thinking yourself to be deserving of being treated badly, of having earned the pain.

So, even now, when you’re trying to picture all the reasons why you’re angry at him, you can’t help but fish for excuses. You feel stupid, and you know yourself to be in love. Not the first fool on this planet to be either.

But, at this point, perhaps you’ve become too familiar with the pain, and especially, with the possibility of it. You’re no longer afraid of being hurt. It could be because you’re numb, but also because Ari is right: you’re stronger than what you give yourself credit for. Maybe this is the worst decision of your life, or maybe not. You’ll see— for now, you want to see Jungkook.

You get up from your bed, where you had been sitting during your reflection. Your wardrobe is right in front of you. You open it and browse through what you might wear to the party you’ve supposedly helped plan.

Actually, there isn’t anything you could possibly wear to a ‘prom’ except for a minidress and a pair of heels, and that isn’t exactly prom-like.

Then you remember when you and Jungkook looked at your high school pictures, back when you were crowned prom queen. You were wearing a long pearl-white satin dress that is probably rotting in a thrift shop box somewhere, and you had borrowed a pair of heeled sandals from your mother which you ended up breaking. She was furious.

You might not have that dress with you anymore, but it’s not like you’d ever wear that again.

God, it was ugly.

So, you grab whatever feels comfortable. You’re gonna be looking hot anyways, and it’s supposed to be for the seniors. Then you text Ari asking her to pick you up, and by the time she gets here, you’re ready.

“I was honestly so sure you wouldn’t come,” she says, getting back into the car as you take a seat next to her. “What changed your mind?”

You keep your eyes straight forward. “I don’t know… I guess this whole thing started to feel a bit silly.”

“You better vote Namjoon for prom king.”

“I didn’t know we were doing that,” you reply with a chuckle, and Ari rolls her eyes. “The greatest party planner in the world, that’s what I am. Just so you know, Seokjin was supposed to keep me posted, and he didn’t.”

“Poor you.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Y/N, you look nice—”

You let out the most screeching, freaked-out, and high-pitched scream when Jimin, dressed in a burgundy suit, sits up in the back seat and suddenly enters your field of vision as the coat covering him slides down his body. Truly, it leaves you on the verge of a heart attack, and you turn towards him intending to glare at him to death.

“Jesus Christ,” you cry out. “Were you there all along?”

“Yeah… I didn’t sleep very well yesterday, so I was taking a nap in the car to get me through the evening.”

You roll your eyes. “Cool.”

Jimin scoots closer to the back of your seat and hugs it. He’s wearing an aquamarine blue tie and looks as handsome as ever. He must be up to something.

“So,” he begins, and you stifle a sigh, “can we talk about Jungkook already? Or is he still taboo?”

“Yes, we can and must talk about Jungkook,” Ari says.

“Is he coming?” She nods. “Good—”

“Yes! That’s my girl!” she shouts out then, raising her free arm in celebration. “Ugh, I can’t believe this is all coming to an end! Finally—!” You stare at her, and it makes her quiet down her enthusiasm. “Finally, the consequences of our own actions…”

Jimin snickers and shrugs. “But you have to thank us; technically, you wouldn’t have found the love of your life if we hadn’t forced him into your flat.” He’s so shameless that you can only laugh at his words, though. “What? Don’t laugh! It’s true! Our brilliant plan worked! You can’t deny it!”

“Yeah, it did, it did…”

“And Tae’s idea to pretend you overheard us? Chef’s kiss,” he says then, and you glance at him.

“Don’t brag now that she has forgiven us, idiot,” Ari groans.

“Yeah, idiot.”

It doesn’t take the three of you long to reach the sports hall, where the graduation party is being held. You see a couple of students handing out ballots to everyone who enters the building, and a handful of professors, decked out to the gills, are keeping a wary eye on the area. Ari is lucky to spot an empty parking space, so she pulls in and parks the car there.

“Okay, are you ready?” Jimin helps her step out of the car, and then he rushes to help you too. “Really, you two look really pretty.”

You look down at your outfit.

“Thanks, I wasn’t sure I’d be decent looking for tonight…”

“Nonsense, you look great,” Ari says, taking your arm and walking you to the entrance. “Stunning, beautiful, breathtaking, lovely. Drop-dead gorgeous.”

You let out a chuckle. “Jeez, a ‘you look fine’ would’ve been enough, but thank you.”

“Fine? That wouldn’t have done you justice.”

You're fidgety as you walk into the pavilion; the halls and rooms are considerably darker now, colourful lamps lighted up and hanging from the ceiling. Some glitter balls blind everyone they catch with their glare, shoving their rainbow beams in their faces.

Your body gets used to the music quickly, and suddenly you find yourself doing a little dance as you survey the spacious room.

“Do you want us to leave?”

“Yeah, you can go dancing, don’t worry about me,” you reply with a smile over the music.

Ari smiles and nods, and a second later she’s dragging a happy Jimin across the dancefloor. You, for your part, continue to weave through the tide of people bordering around the floor. Your eyes search and search, hoping to find your target, but apart from a few familiar faces from class and people you remember passing in the corridors, there is no sign of Jeon Jungkook.

Maybe he’s left already. After all, the party has been going on for a while now since your friends like to be ‘fashionably late’. So, he could be back in his room right now, or even out of town for an early weekend.

Now that you think about it, this is the last place where you’d think you’d find him.

All these bodies crammed together, this music so loud you can barely make it out from their voices, all these sweaty, half-drunk people who keep waving at you and offering you a drink. This is really the last place in the world that heartbroken Jungkook would want to be.

But he came, that much you know. Jungkook was here at some point.

And you can imagine where he is now.

You rush to put your ballot with Namjoon’s name on it into the box and look for a way out. You have to squeeze yourself past some people, but you manage to get out – and get some fresh air.

“No way I would’ve survived in there for four hours.”

In less than a couple of minutes, you cross the lawn and enter the other building. You walk past the outdoor swimming pool, which is covered by a blue tarpaulin so that no idiots can jump in. Although, of course, there will be.

The lights at the entrance of the natatorium are all off. You can barely make out the lockers or the floor thanks to the little sunlight that filters through the small windows at the top. And there’s an acrid, harsh smell that kind of throws you off. But whatever, you know the place like the back of your hand, and by straining your eyes, you make your way through the corridors to the stairs.

The natatorium is completely silent by the time you arrive. The water ripples calmly, and the amber evening light floods the four walls from the huge glass panels both above and to the sides.

You make your way to the bleachers and go down the steps.

At first, you see only a tangle of metal poles, an endless vision of silver lines crisscrossing each other. For a second, it crosses your mind that perhaps you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. But then you notice a black figure in the background, hidden and crouched, and you walk up to it out of instinct.

“Jungkook?”

The boy stands up out of surprise, hitting himself on the head with one of the bars above him. Before he can even say hi, Jungkook crouches down, whining in pain.

“Oh, dear!” You rush to his side, worried, although smiling. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

He nods slowly. “Huh, it doesn’t hurt much… How did you know I’d be here?” he asks, finally looking up at you.

You shrug.

“Call it a hunch. It really doesn’t hurt?”

“Yeah, I’m good, really,” Jungkook murmurs then, and a soft blush appears on his cheeks. He can’t help smiling at your worried tone. He was deprived of it for too long.

You sit next to him on the floor instead. Jungkook seems to shrink at your closeness and expand towards you at the same time. Like a reactive mass, unable to ignore you – both terrified of your presence and doomed to crave it like an idiot. So, you sit down with him, and he stays still.

There are so many things crossing his mind right now; why are you here, why did you come? To tell him that he’s an asshole and an idiot and you don’t want to be with him anymore? This silence is wiping his last bits of hope out, it’s annihilating his patience and his mental stability. Can you please say something already? Jesus! Did you come here only to torture him with your silence—?

“I know all about it,” you whisper. “Baby, I know. Don’t worry.”

He feels cold all over out of a sudden.

“What?”

“How could you think I’d ever do such a thing?” you ask then, taking his face in your hands so that he’ll look at you.

Your stomach twists with anticipation, and you are short of breath. There are too many emotions mixed up inside you, and you don’t know exactly how to manage them, but right now, your top priority is Jungkook.

That’s the one thing you’re sure of; to show him that you’re still here and that it’s not the end of the world.

Jungkook’s breath hatches. “You were so upset after what happened… And because— it made sense. It made sense that you’d dump me.”

“No, it did not.”

You pull him into a hug, the tightest hug you think you remember ever giving. You hunger for his warmth, which seeps through the fabric of your clothes and into your body. He still smells soft and mellow. You tighten your arms around him, and he does the same, and suddenly you’re out of breath but so, so happy that you feel you’re about to cry.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” you hear him murmur against your cheek.

Jungkook’s voice is low with shame. You only chuckle, pressing harder against him as your hands dance up and down his back at a soothing pace.

“It’s okay,” you reply, “I forgive you.”

Maybe you could’ve just shrugged it off, maybe that would have made him feel better. Maybe you could have responded with a sorry of your own, an apology for not coming up to him earlier, but you don’t think that’s what he needs to hear. It certainly is not what you want to say.

Jungkook lets out a soft sob and whimpers, “I was such a jerk, I— I even tried to—” Tears follow a second later, cutting him off. “Shit, I’m so sorry…”

“I know.”

“It was so childish of me—! I should’ve talked to you first, I’m so sorry I was such a jerk,” he insists.

“Yes, you should have.”

Suddenly Jungkook goes silent, his doe eyes fixed on yours in an attempt to look through you; won’t you tell him off? Won’t you scream at him, tell him to fuck off? He fucked up badly this time; he has totally ruined any kind of trust you had in him before.

“Why—? Please,” he pleads out of the blue, tears running down his cheeks, “hate me, yell at me, do something!” His heart is aching at the mere possibility of you breaking up with him. What else could your tender, understanding words mean? Only that you will spare him without much cruelty. “D-don’t just— don’t just keep talking nonsense! I was an asshole! Just t-tell me if you want me back!”

You smile softly and cup his cheeks. “Never said I didn’t.”

“Fuck—”

So, he almost had sex with another girl, and this is your reaction? Gentle smiles and tender caresses and loving looks? Do you really care so little about him?

“Yes, you made a mistake, one that hurt me,” you whisper then, “but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be hated or yelled at. And I never stopped wanting you.” It hurts to say those words, but you know it’s for the best – you know it’s your brain screaming in fear. “I love you, Jungkook. None of your mistakes will change the way I feel about you.”

You’ve never seen such a shocked, tender, endearing look before; the way his eyes widen in surprise as your words sink in, the way his bottom lips tremble, or how his body instinctively budges forward chasing yours.

“But I hurt you—”

“Yes” – your hands find his wet cheeks again – “and I forgive you.”

Your heart still aches, waiting to hear him say those words back, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. So, you accept the situation and pull your hand away, but Jungkook takes it between his fingers just to stare at you. There’s this look of tenacity in them—

“Are you done, noona?”

It’s started to rain. The gentle drops falling on you become stronger and stronger, seeping through your clothes. You haven’t brought a jacket, and the dress you’re wearing doesn’t exactly do a very good job of keeping you warm. A shiver runs down your spine. It’s a pity that summer is coming to an end.

“What—?”

“Are you done with all this bullshit?” he cuts you off.

The harshness makes you halt. Any intention of being sweet and understanding vanishes, and you’re left frozen in his arms. You frown, but that’s about it; Jungkook remains silent with a stern look, one of steady passion, at your quietness. He’s adamant about tearing the pain off you.

Maybe it’s the silence, you think again. Maybe that’s why your mind keeps processing thoughts, overwhelmed by the nothingness, unrelentingly trying to find some meaning to his words – since he won’t explain himself.

A puff of air comes out through your lips, followed by a whimper, and you burst out in tears.

“Don’t—” Your breath hitches amidst sobs, and you hit his chest with clenched fists but no strength at all. “Don’t ever do this to me again, okay?” Jungkook smiles as he holds you, ignoring how your tears smear down his wet cheeks. “You were so fucking unfair! It hurt so fucking much—!”

He waits until you calm down to stroke your face with a soft gaze. “Y/N?” You look at him. “I love you too.”

Your heart aches with emotion.

“You better do.”

“I love you,” Jungkook repeats, raising his voice as it echoes through the rooftop, and kisses you on the lips, holding you tight and close, “I love you! I love you, noona! And I want everyone to know!”

“You’re such an idiot,” you let out with a soft laugh.

“Oh my god—!” His sudden exclamation makes you jump, and he sits up as he takes off his suit jacket. “Put this on, noona, or you’ll get sick. I can’t believe I didn’t notice! You must be freezing.”

You shrug. “We’re both drenched, Jungkook. I think we should get going.”

“Yeah, let’s go to my room.” Jungkook gets up first and holds out his hand to help you up. “I can lend you some dry clothes there so, you’ll be comfier.”

“Thanks— wait,” you let out and grab his hand, making Jungkook stop in his tracks. “Aren’t we, uh, indoors? How come it’s raining—? Oh, it’s the fire alarm, it’s gone off,” you realise, looking at him with an amused smile. “I swear, for a moment I thought it was raining. It suited the moment so well that I didn’t even stop to think about it.”

“Yeah, you’re so silly, noona,” he giggles.

You hug his waist and let him walk you up the steps. “Don’t lie, you didn’t notice either.”

“But it makes for a pretty picture,” Jungkook jokes. “A love confession in the rain. Wherever the rain comes from, well, let’s just take it as it is.”

An angry exclamation echoes from the other side of the natatorium; the janitor is dragging some students out of the changing rooms, and one of them throws a cigarette on the floor. That must have been what you smelled on the way up. With his third ninja eye, the old man suddenly turns to where you’re hiding, but Jungkook is quick and ducks.

“Anyone still there?” he yells. “C’mon, everyone back to the party! I don’t wanna see anybody here!”

You wait until the old man is done sending off the kids to come out of your hideout.

There is no one left in the pavilion by the time you leave; the janitor has gone to his sentry box and the students, probably scared off by him, must have returned to the main building to re-join the party.

Jungkook’s hand is tightly wrapped around yours as you walk out. Unseen by either your friends or other students, you head to the dorms in comfortable silence, cringing at the feeling of damp fabric sticking to your skin. You want to tear it off immediately, but you have to wait until you get to his room.

Once you arrive, he opens the door and steps back to let you in first.

“Make yourself at home.”

With growing curiosity, you enter his room and take a look around; you can recognise most of his figurines and posters, and his swimming cap hanging from the wardrobe door.

“I didn’t know you had a roommate,” you say, turning back to him. “Is he a freshman too?”

Jungkook looks away. “Not exactly…” At his vague response, you frown, increasingly confused. “Let’s not worry about it now, noona— you’ll see him at some point. Want a drink or something? I have juice and milkshakes—”

“I’ll settle for some dry clothes for now.”

Jungkook sticks his head out of the mini fridge. “Oh—! Shit, I forgot, yeah…”

You chuckle softly as he stands up and rushes to his drawers, looking perhaps for a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie to lend you. When he finally finds something that fits you, he gives it to you and takes out something to change into. Jungkook is still squatting on the floor, so he looks up at you when you take off your top.

You didn’t put on a bra, and your clothes were cold on your skin, so he gets greeted by the view of your hardened nipples instead.

He must have been staring since he hears you chuckle.

“You make all this fuss and still think you’re gonna hit it tonight?” you joke, tragically getting turned on.

But his face turns an adorable shade of deep red, and Jungkook looks away, either embarrassed or ashamed of his own intentions. His eyes are now fixed on the basic tee in his hands, and he puts it aside to unbutton the dress shirt he was wearing and practically peel it off his skin.

His back muscles bulge and flex under the skin-tight fabric as it struggles to slide down his back. Some of his tattoos peak from under the shirt, and Jungkook uncovers them when he takes it off, neatly folding it before realising that it’s actually going directly into the laundry basket along with your clothes. As for you, your eyes are still glued to him.

Seems like you’re no better than a man.

Jungkook is about to take off his pants when you approach him. Surprised, his body instinctively turns in your direction, hungry for your closeness.

“Let me help you with that,” you practically purr.

Although still shy, he smiles and looks at you. “Don’t you think that’s mean? There’s no need to tease me either.”

Jungkook lets you get your way despite his words; the belt buckle expertly undoes itself in your hands, and you slide the leather through the loops until it’s completely tangled in your hands. A couple of ideas visibly flash through Jungkook’s eyes, but for the time being, he is silent as his bare chest rises and falls. His breath feels hot against your face, he feels hot against your body.

You knew you had missed him like crazy all these weeks, but now you realise that you were sick with want. How you’ve longed to just have him with you again. It hurt so much to be apart.

And, surprisingly, you don’t resent him.

You thought you would, honestly; you thought you’d struggle to forgive him for making his troubles and fears yours. For dragging you down his path of self-inflicted pain. Just like it took you years to forgive Seokjin or your friends.

But, instead, you’re faced with a warm feeling of sympathy – of love. Jungkook whipped himself way more than he should have, imagined you would never take him back after fucking it up so much. You don’t want him to do that, you want him to learn and be nice to himself. For the first time in, perhaps, forever, the thought of loving someone doesn’t feel like a one-way ticket to getting hurt and betrayed but rather like a chance of being loved back.

Jungkook grows fidgety under your silent gaze, melting into a heart-shaped puddle at how lovingly you’re eyeing him. He’s restless with how much he wants to show you how much he actually loves you, and he knows you well enough to know that you’ve got something in mind regarding that.

And your instinct is to kiss each other.

Sliding your hand under his head to grab his nape and push him against your lips, you run your tongue against the corner of his mouth first. A heavy puff of air leaves him, and you take the chance to move away just a little.

His chocolate eyes lock with yours as you try to calm down. Your lips are barely touching each other, and his bated breaths fan against you.

“I adore you,” you whisper.

He feels dizzy. Jungkook shivers in your arms. “Noona—”

“Jungkook, I need you.”

“F-fuck—”

With his entire body trembling with anticipation, he sits you on the bed and hovers over you, his eyes heart-shaped as he melts into you. Those words have a grip on him, the mere sound of your voice saying them was so sweet that his heart is beating like crazy now and his brain is scrambled with affection and longing.

“Oh, bunny,” you coo, and Jungkook keeps leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, “did that get you excited?”

As an answer, he just shoves his hips against yours. His half-hard cock is clearly noticeable under his pants as he humps your clothed thigh, whimpers spilling from his mouth.

You roll your tongue over his with your hands splaying across his back in an attempt to pull him closer. Like a beast being fed, your body is relentlessly oozing hormones, drawing you to each other, quenching your need for each other’s warmth, and soothing an ache after being apart.

Jungkook lets out a puff of air against your neck. “S-shit, I’m so hard—”

“Don’t worry, baby,” you whisper as you kiss from his lips down to his chest. “Let mommy take care of you, okay?”

You notice him going tense on top of you, even if his head remains hidden in the crook of your neck. His cock twitches, too, under the fabric of his pants. The way his hands move quickly to the zip to lower it is a sign that he is not displeased; on the contrary, when Jungkook takes off his pants, shimmying between your legs, his cock is pretty red and wet with precum.

“Missed this too,” you groan between kisses as your hand wraps around his length. It’s hot, and Jungkook whimpers, sinking onto you. “Huh? Hard and ready for mommy.”

He looks up at you with his lips pressed to your neck. “F-fuck, mommy—”

You take off your skirt while he finishes pulling down his trousers, and you both get rid of what’s left of your clothes.

Your hand returns to his cock, and you start pumping him, smearing the precum with your thumb. Jungkook’s hitched breath fans against your chest, leaving a trail of kisses on the valley of your breasts – his cheeks are stained with the red shape of your lips.

“Shit, so good—” he moans. His hips stutter and buck into your hand; there’s a constant wave of pleasure going down his spine. It expands from his toes up to his fingertips, and the more you touch him, the wetter his cock gets. “Oh, God, yes! Fuck, mommy, I— I missed you too, missed you so much—!”

A moan of pure want escapes your lips. “Yeah?”

“Yes, yes—”

You cut him off with another kiss, rolling your tongues over each other and hooking your legs around his waist. With another groan, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, and Jungkook moans.

“Bunny, I’m so wet,” you whisper to his ear as your hand picks up a faster pace.

Probably, Jungkook can even hear your heart beating loudly in your chest. The ache between your thighs only grows tighter, making your cunt drip and smear your arousal against his balls as he bucks his hips onto his stomach.

He suddenly whimpers. “I’m c-close.”

It’s easy to tell, judging by the sweat covering his skin and his dilated pupils. You love the way the engorged tip of his cock peeks from between your fingers.

“Mommy, m-mommy—” Jungkook chants then, fucking your hand. When he reaches the tipping point, you let out a wicked giggle and move away your hand, ruining his climax. “No! Please, please, p-please! Please, b-bunny cum, bunny— p-please!” he cries out as his body writhes on top of you in pure frustration.

You peck him on the lips. “You had this one coming, babe.”

Jungkook tries to calm down as he writhes over you, so you start running your hands up and down his back, stroking him with a gentle smile. His face is alight with a lovely blush, eyes glassy and locked with yours.

Hot and heavy against your palm, his cock gets even harder, desperate for the friction of your ministrations to return.

You let out a soft chuckle. “What are you doing—?”

He has begun to leave a trail of kisses down to your chest, where he finally rests his head. As his lips reach one of your nipples, Jungkook shuts his eyes and holds your breast, his breath fanning harshly through his nose. It’s physically impossible, but you shift on the mattress to fix your posture until your core is right beneath his cock.

That’s all the encouragement he needs before sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. The contact sends shivers down your spine, you’re getting impatient.

Greedily, Jungkook moves to your other tit without daring to neglect the other and flicks your sensitive nub between his fingers, kneading the tender flesh. You let out a low groan, and your hand slaps his butt out of instinct.

“God,” he gasps, completely out of breath, “I fucking love your tits.”

“Baby likes mommy’s tits, understandably.”

“Shit,” Jungkook moans again as his hips start rutting against your dripping folds, “y-yeah, baby likes mommy’s tits, mommy’s— mommy’s cunt, mommy’s e-everything.”

You look down at him and spank him again. “Getting worked up, aren’t we?”

He then sucks on your nipple.

“Been worked up since you took your top off.”

For some reason, you’re really liking this sudden outburst of confidence in him. It’s like you’re no longer ashamed of doing things to him, of wanting to do things to him; that shameless sparkle in his eyes, one of total, blatant desperation, as if he’d let you do anything as long as you let him touch and enjoy you. Like he’s truly enjoying himself this time without getting anxious about his performance.

“Thought so,” you groan. You can feel his teeth sinking into the side of your boob. “I’m worked up too, bunny, eat me out—”

“Fuck yes.”

In a second, he’s kneeling on the mattress between your spread legs, staring at your folds as if he’s never seen one before. His pupils are dilated, a certain sense of desperation taking over him; he needs to have your cunt against his tongue right now.

Peppering featherlight kisses along your inner thighs, Jungkook makes eye contact with you just to see how you begin to lose composure, pushing his head. He lets out an amused ‘sorry’ and sticks out his tongue, parting your folds and delving his tongue into your entrance. Your taste is as good as he remembers, your arousal taking over his poor scrambled brain. Your skin is so warm, too, thighs tightening around his head when he starts flicking his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, bunny—” you groan and throw your head back on the pillow.

With your juices smeared all over his face and saliva running down his chin, Jungkook is desperate about making you come – there’s nothing else on his mind right now.

He grips your ass to shove his face on your cunt and starts fucking you with his tongue. His nose rubs against your sensitive nub, and you can’t help but grab his hair and pull with a loud moan escaping your lips.

“Shit, shit— baby, don’t stop, d-don’t,” you manage to tell him, “Mommy’s gonna cum—”

Tongue lapping your pussy like crazy, Jungkook does as told and doesn’t stop sucking on your clit. His eyes have lost focus.

“F-fuck, good boy—”

“Good boy,” he repeats without thinking.

You spread your legs even more and push your knees against your chest, hoping to reduce any distance between your body and his to zero. Jungkook gets it immediately and grabs your hips. Now he’s lifting you and drawing his lips down to your entrance more easily just to give your pussy broad strokes with his tongue flat.

“Mommy,” he suddenly whines, “I— you’re s-so wet, shit, so, so—”

“So what, bunny?” you manage to ask.

“Fuck, I could slide right in,” Jungkook says as he kisses your clit, “so wet and hot, could slide my cock right in—”

You resist the urge to moan. “Y-yeah? Think you could fuck me with your dumb cock?”

“Fuck, yes—”

“You’d spill your pretty cum all over me in a second, bunny,” you say with feigned pity, feeling breathless and euphoric as your climax starts to build in the pit of your stomach. “Your dumb bunny cock couldn’t hold it— y-you’d fill me up in no time!”

Your back arches when the ache between your legs becomes unbearable. Jungkook isn’t even bothering to wipe your juices off his eyelashes; rather go blind than miss a second of devouring your pussy. He lets you rest a bit when he goes back to fucking you with his tongue, but as soon as you’re not oversensitive, he returns to your clit with puckered lips.

“You’re going to make me cum, Jungkook—”

He just moans at your words. “Please, please, wanna have mommy coming all— all over my face!”

“So greedy,” you mock him.

That’s when you stop talking and melt into the coiling tension in the pit of your stomach; with a moan, you feel it engorge, expand across your body, and grip your very core as you come. He goes on a frenzy, slurping your arousal to help you ride out your climax.

“Fuck, baby,” you let out, “you’re— you’re such a good boy.”

Jungkook climbs up to you and smashes his lips against yours, moving away barely a few inches before he says, “Your good boy, a-always.”

With a soft, tired smile, you rake your nails through his hair.

“Mine...”

The both of you use the next second to catch your breath. It’s crazy how much you’ve missed feeling his body and his warmth, having him lie down next to you, just the chance to spoil him rotten with kisses all over his cheeks and lips. After such an intense moment, it’s nice to allow yourself to take a break to pamper each other.

“How are you doing, bunny? Hm? All good?”

“Well...” Jungkook looks away from you, and you raise an eyebrow. “I really, really wanna come, mommy—”

“Sit up,” you say, doing the same.

He sits up on his knees and waits patiently, almost like an obedient puppy, for your next order. You can see the way his pierced cock springs up against his tummy, swollen, red, and dripping precum.

You grip his hips and beckon him to lie down on his back.

“You had your bit of fun, baby. Time for mommy to take charge. Arms up and stay still.”

Doing as told, Jungkook raises his arms with expectation. You leave kisses on his cheeks, neck, and chest, licking over his nipples and quivering under your touch. Feeling a little playful, you nibble on his ribcage and continue down his happy trail until you reach his crotch. He’s leaking already but, making eye contact, you let a trickle of saliva drip on his engorged tip. Not content, however, you get more comfortable over him and spit directly on his cock.

“That’s all you get, bunny,” you groan, voice low with arousal.

Jungkook’s pupils shiver, and his mouth is parted, unable to close it. The mere thought of you spitting anywhere on him is far more exciting than he first thought.

“Quiet now?” With your thumb pressing on the barbell, you let out a quiet chuckle. “Thought you’d be babbling and whining like a bitch.”

It finally snaps him out. “Please— please, I wanna come—”

“Shut up.”

And you finally swallow around his length. Your press your head down as you feel his cock slide into your parted lips, and Jungkook sobs, overwhelmed by the feeling of your wet heat around him. His hips jerk and buck into your mouth, but you’re quick to pin them down on the bed with a glare.

“S-sorry, mommy, ugh!” Jungkook grips the sheets around his head for balance. “Oh fuck, o-oh, shit!”

Heat pools in his lower back, too much tension pent up after suffering from your teasing and ministrations. Nobody touches him the way you do, nobody turns him on the way you do, nobody makes his heart flutter the way you do.

An entire iceberg could melt against his burning cheeks. Using hands and lips together, you play gently with his balls while dipping your tongue into his slit and flickering your tongue on the barbell.

With hollowed cheeks, you bob your head up and down Jungkook’s cock, never looking away. You couldn’t miss the tears flowing down his cheeks or the way his heart-shaped pupils stare at you with the utmost adoration. He’s trying to hold back his moans when you swirl your tongue and engulf him again, but it’s to no avail because his shaky breaths slip out anyway. He’s a trembling prey under your control, waiting to be devoured.

You slide his cock out of your mouth for a second. Your lips look red and swollen, and Jungkook pictures how you looked with his cum all over them.

When you notice he’s close to cumming again, you give his tip one last lick and a peck. He whines and begs you not to stop, but you sit on his lap without taking notice of any of his words.

“Tongue.”

It takes him a few seconds, but Jungkook obeys and sticks his tongue out, unsure but totally in.

Grabbing his chin, you smirk and force him to look up at you before you spit directly in his mouth. He doesn’t have much time to process it before you’re kissing him hard, hands tangling around his neck, but you can feel his cock twitching against your inner thigh.

As the kiss grows in passion, Jungkook melts into you, no longer aware of any part of the universe that is not you or him. You suck on his tongue while getting comfortable on his lap, and your hand wraps around his length again, resuming its movements as it pumps it up and down without mercy.

“Jungkook I wanna ride your cock,” you let out in a deep breath between kisses.

He fixes your seat on top of him when something pops up in his head:

“I-I don’t— I don’t have any condoms.”

You kiss him again with your hand on his nape. “Don’t care, I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. What do you think?”

“But mommy, I’m not gonna last then,” he cries out.

“I don’t fucking care.”

You place your hands on his chest and straddle his hips. This way, his hard cock aligns with your entrance, and all you have to do is sink down onto him.

“Oh, fuck, bunny—”

His cock stretches you out with only a slight hint of pain, the good kind, as it works you open as you adjust to his size. Jungkook squints his eyes when he sees his length disappear into your body, and the contact is so raw and wet and hot and fuck, you’re dripping, you’re actually leaking arousal down your thighs, and now he’s swallowed by your warmth. He’s never going to get over this, he thinks as you bend down to leave a trail of kisses down his neck.

“I’m— I’m going mad,” he whispers. “M-mommy’s cunt feels so fucking good, wanna fill you up— until you’re leaking— ugh!”

You’ve started rolling your hips, bouncing up and down his cock. His eyes are glued to your folds, it’s really incredible the way you’re taking him. His tip bumps into your sweet spot incessantly, sounds of smacking flesh flooding the otherwise quiet room.

Jungkook tries to pound back up into you, let his balls swing against your ass as he fucks you.

“Fuck, bunny, I love your cock, it was made for me,” you moan. The pace that your hips pick up becomes brutal almost. “My bunny, my baby— mine alone, no one else’s, r-right? Say it—”

“Yours,” he struggles to say.

You kiss him again, harshly this time. “Mine… Mine to touch, to kiss, to fuck—” you grunt; your skin heats up as your climax builds in, and Jungkook can only try to survive his approaching orgasm. “Mommy’s only, t-this cock is mommy’s only. Only— only you can fuck mommy.”

He throbs inside of you instantly, his face contorted in pure pleasure as you keep bouncing on his cock.

It slides into your dripping cunt so easily, of course, you waited a long time for this; your swollen clit rubs against his pubic bone, throwing you closer to the edge.

“Slow, please,” Jungkook cries out, “slow down. Fuck, mommy, I’m— coming, Y/N, shit, shit—!”

But his sudden panic is nothing but amusing to you, who takes this chance to start riding him faster and flick his nipples between your fingertips. Jungkook lets out a shaky breath and begs you to slow down even only a bit, begs you to let him last longer, but then his breath hitches and he is no longer able to plead for mercy.

His cock twitches again, and this time his hips can’t follow its rhythm, stuttering and bucking without any control. His breathy moans turn into whines, and with one last powerful thrust down onto his length, Jungkook’s eyes roll back, and he goes still.

Jungkook smacks his hands around your hips and fucks into you, bouncing you up and down his cock.

“F-fucking Christ! Mommy! Oh fuck!”

You feel him emptying himself inside of you, and shit, it’s way better than you imagined – his cum fills you up to the brim, warm and lovely, and leaks down your inner thighs as soon as he’s done spilling his load.

But your hips never stop rolling down onto him, clit rubbing against his pubic bone in search of friction. With his doe eyes, Jungkook looks up at you, confused and frowning at the overstimulation. You only chuckle in response and bend down to get momentum, wrapping your hand around his neck.

“Not gonna stop till you make me come, bunny.”

He blinks. “W-what?”

“I’ll keep fucking you and making you come until you use the words,” you grunt and bite his neck, making him yelp, “understood?”

“Fuck, f-fuck—”

His softened cock doesn’t take long before getting hard inside of you again, rubbing against your walls. It hurts like hell, makes him squirm and writhe on the bed under your cruel lovemaking, but Jungkook feels so utterly yours, and that alone is enough to get him hard.

You stroke his wet hair.

“Don’t worry, I’m close,” you groan then. “You’re such a good boy, baby, so good for mommy… Shit, fucking me open with your big dumb cock.” He thanks you for the praise with a thrust up into you. “I love you so much, Kookie, s-so much, let’s— let’s finish together, huh? Want you to fill me up until I’m dripping with your—”

“C-can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because… it’s wrong!” he whimpers, already teetering on the edge again.

You kiss his lips and repeat, “Why?”

“Because if I come— come inside, we’ll m-make a baby!”

Even if Jungkook, with his high-pitched voice and his trembling body, tries to warn you about something that already happened a few minutes ago, you can’t help thinking that he’s a bit too much into the idea anyway, judging by the way that his cock twitches inside of you at the mere mention.

You can’t help chuckling.

“And we don’t want that, huh? We don’t want all your cum leaking out of my cunt because you came so hard,” you grunt to his ear. “That’d be a pity, such a waste…”

His cock throbs between your walls, and you can’t help clenching around him in excitement.

“M-mommy,” Jungkook cries again, nuzzling your neck.

The ache between your legs grows again, it builds so deep you think you might cum properly tonight. You keep letting out shaking breaths as you let him help you up and down his cock, your thighs too tired to keep doing all the work. He’s practically fucking himself into you, faster and faster as the both of you chase your and each other’s climax.

“S-such a pity you don’t wanna fill mommy up, bunny. I’d love to fuck you and make you cum inside again and again.” Your nails find his bronzed chest, nails sinking into the tight, sweaty flesh. He’s so handsome. “Until you’re a babbling mess that can’t even beg me to stop.”

“I love you too—”

“Yeah?”

Jungkook has to close his eyes this time. “S-so much, I love you, fuck!”

“That’s it, g-good boy,” you praise him in a moan and roll your hips once again. “Jungkook,” you suddenly warn him, looking down at him, “j-just so you know— I’m not pissing myself, okay?”

He looks up and you as he understands. “Y-you— for real?” You nod. “Shit, yes, please, please, mommy, spill it all over me—”

“So dirty.”

The pleasure in the pit of your stomach builds and grows. You ride him faster despite the burn in your thighs, and you cover your mouth to silence any loud sounds. His cock slides into you and bumps gently against your cervix, rubbing your sweet spot again and again.

Then, your muscles tighten.

“Fuck, I’m coming, bunny, wanna do it w-with me?”

Jungkook nods eagerly, probably already on the verge too, and grips your hand before placing it on his chest, never letting go of them. Finally, with the sparkle exploding inside the both of you and a loud moan, the shockwaves of your climax grip your body, and you let yourself go, stopping the pressure and spilling all over his pubis and cock. Jungkook comes barely a few seconds later with your walls clenching around him, emptying himself inside you with his eyes glued to the clear fluids spilled on him.

He lets out a whimper. “S-stop, please, stop, that’s—”

Once you’re done milking every last drop of his seed, you slide off his cock and collapse on top of him. You feel as if a truck had run you over.

“Didn’t know you could squirt,” Jungkook murmurs, wrapping himself around your body.

“Didn’t know you were into knocking me up.”

He turns an adorable shade of red and hides his face between your breasts. First, you coo at him, but then you feel his tongue poking out and licking one of your nipples, and you tap him on the head to get his attention.

“Can’t wait for a second round?” you say. “Either that or use your hand.”

“Getting old, huh?”

Silence settles between you; as you calmly catch your breath and let your fingernails scratch his head, Jungkook gets up to grab some towels and clean you up. When he returns to the bed, he lies back down with you.

“I know the bed is small, but don’t go, please,” Jungkook whispers, gently resting his forehead against yours. As he pulls you closer, his pupils tremble, always so strong-willed. “Stay…”

However, this time, you don’t have the energy to fight him. Nor the intention – his arms feel warm around you, and his skin is ever so soothing. You don’t want him to move either; want him curled against you, talking sweetly, peppering kisses across your shoulders. But you’re tired, you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, not after such long sleepless nights and anxious days. This time, you lose the battle, and you don’t care.

There’s someone in the room when you wake up. Slowly, you regain your ability to think and spot a figure tidying a backpack with his back turned to you. It takes you a few seconds to remember that you are lying naked on Jungkook’s bed, but once you catch on to the situation, you quickly snatch the sheets to cover yourself up to your nose.

“Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?” Seokjin doesn’t turn to look at you, still focused on his backpack’s contents. “It’s okay, I’ll leave in a second.”

“Don’t worry…”

Okay, so this is Jungkook’s mysterious new roommate... Now you get why he didn't want to talk about it last night. But if they’re okay with the situation, you won't say anything.

That’s when you notice Jungkook’s heavy, overly warm body stir behind you. He’s muttering something you don’t quite make out, and soon you feel his lips kissing your shoulders as his groggy arms wrap around you.

“Good morning, noona,” he says with a smile. “Did you sleep well? You know, my ass still hurts.”

As he chuckles at his own words, you can’t help sighing. Seokjin laughs too and, finally aware of his presence, Jungkook sits up. You glance sideways at him over your shoulder smiling, amused by his soft blush. Well, at least you’re not the only mortified loser here, are you? And he’s always so cute when he gets flustered.

“I-I completely forgot you’d be here, hyung,” he mutters.

‘Hyung’? You look at Seokjin, arching an eyebrow. Since when does Jungkook call him ‘hyung’? That’s suspicious.

But Seokjin simply lets out a natural laugh. “Where else should I be? It’s nine in the morning, and some of us have things to do, you know; people to see, places to go.”

“Well, I had things to go, too, places to see,” Jungkook says then, looking at you and kissing your jaw, “people to do.” But you nudge him, making him let out a groan of pain mixed with a breathless chuckle. “I was just joking, noona, don’t get mad—”

“How come you two are such good friends now?” you ask, squinting your eyes. “I thought you’d be at each other’s throats.”

“Seokjin-hyung told me what actually happened at the flat. Sorry I wouldn’t listen.”

“You better be,” you purr in his ear, a bit louder than you should if you in fact didn’t want Seokjin to hear; “I can’t believe you’d rather listen to the evil ex-boyfriend than your poor, innocent girlfriend.”

“I might have listened to her if I had a girlfriend like that,” he teases you instead.

“You must be a very faithful man, then— begging for mercy from someone you know has none at all.”

You lean in for a kiss, cupping his cheek as Jungkook reciprocates, his eyes fluttering closed. You brush your lips against his before biting down on them, drink up his little whimper, and take the chance to swirl your tongues together. Jungkook shifts on the mattress so that he can hug your waist, his chest warming up against your skin.

“I guess that’s my clue to get out.” Shit, you completely forgot about Seokjin. “Don’t be too loud and use protection. I’ll see you at practice!” he says to Jungkook. “And Y/N, I will see you around.”

Then the door closes behind him.

“That was weird.”

But the two of you seem to have very different conversation priorities in mind.

“You know, yesterday, um, we didn’t have time to fully talk things out,” he murmurs once Seokjin is gone, lowering his eyes.

You leave a playful peck on his jaw. “Guess our mouths were too busy—”

“N-no, I mean it.” Jungkook gently pushes you away to look into your eyes. “Are we— are we going out now? Like, going out together? As in… formally dating each other?” Your chuckle makes his pupils tremble. “I mean…! I guess it’s okay if you need some time to—”

But you kiss him again instead of saying anything; you cup his cheeks with both of your hands and deepen the contact, shutting him up. The smile doesn’t disappear from your face, though, so you’re looking down at him like a love-drunk idiot when you pull away. He’s just so adorable and precious and sexy and cute and literally your everything.

“Didn’t I just say I’m your girlfriend?” you say then, still grinning. “I was kind of hoping that’d make you my boyfriend in return.”

Jungkook lets out a relieved chuckle and takes your hand when it runs down onto his chest.

“So, do you wanna stay over? We could order some food, watch a movie,” he asks quietly, still emotionally squishy because of the confession, “take a nap, anything you want.”

You smile.

“Of course I’ll stay.”

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

#stay jjk #jungkook smut #sub!jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook college au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook bts #sub!bts #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook x noona #bts enemies to lovers #bts college au #jungkook roommates au #bts roommates au

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months

Text

the green in your eyes (makes me feel warm inside) ; megumi fushiguro

synopsis; in the comfort of a familiar bookstore, you find a boy. a pretty boy, who’s always reading, who doesn’t speak unless he has to. you’d like to get to know him — and maybe you will.

word count; 4.6k

contents; megumi fushiguro/reader, gn!reader, fluffy!!, lots of pining from afar, bookstore au, no curses au, reader is an overworked student bc uni is beating my ass, gumi is kind of awkward but hes cute <3, gojo mentioned twice (stay safe), can u tell im excited for christmas … :'3

a/n; bookstore employee gumi who hates every single customer except for you is so real to me

(@riaki its here …🙇‍♂️)

he’s there again.

with a decisive step forward, you drag the door open, and the flutter of a bell resounds throughout the bookstore. a precious little jingle, alerting him of your presence.

the boy at the counter gives you a glance. his navy eyes settle on your bundled up figure, and a flicker of familiarity blooms in the scope of his iris, a kind of recognition. something that makes your heart feel like a clumped up little ball of snow.

(oh. it’s you.

you can almost hear the silent words fall past his lips.)

it only lasts for a second, barely even that, your gazes overlapping — then he’s back to reading.

today, you recognize the book in his hands. the hardcover looks just a tiny bit worn, but still well taken care of. well-loved. and it’s a pretty rendition; a butterfly just above the title, snakes crawling on either side, vines stretching out across the scope of the image. there’s a kind of mystique to it. pretty.

wuthering heights, you read off the cover.

a little odd, in hindsight. you’ve only ever seen him read nonfiction. maybe he decided to broaden his horizons?

after a brief moment’s contemplation, your feet begin to move. taking another small step forward, inching closer, while the door falls shut behind you. blocking out the snowfall and colourful lights illuminating the street.

mitten-clad hands go to brush stray snowflakes off your shoulders, as you shift from foot to foot, halfheartedly attempting to warm up your numbed toes. wallowing in the atmosphere of the cozy little bookstore; breathing in the smell of peppermint, the hint of freshly brewed coffee. from the boy, you assume — he’s got his usual mug on standby, a cute little black dog etched into the ceramic. steam rises from it, floating up into the air, and a fragrance of espresso wafts throughout the store.

low christmas music plays from the speakers, barely audible. pleasing to your sensitive ears and tired mind. it’s the usual mix of well-loved songs, for the most part, but then some you haven’t heard before. you can only assume he picked them out himself; pretty instrumentals, or low, gravelly voices, adding to that particular atmosphere simmering around you. nostalgic, a little melancholic.

the boy behind the counter looks angelic.

he always does, when he’s reading — and he usually is. gentle, in the way he turns the pages, awfully delicate, keeping them still between his thumb and forefinger. lips pursed, brows just a tiny bit furrowed. concentrated, immersed. dark eyes trailing over the tiny letters, scanning the ink of the paper, twisting the syllables inside his mind. almost tasting them on his tongue, with the way he wets his lips. they look a little chapped.

for some reason, the sight seems to render you sort of speechless. frozen. like he’s a pretty bluebird seated on your windowsill, chirping softly in the wake of morning, and you’re afraid of scaring him away.

— his eyes meet yours, and you visibly stiffen.

it’s smooth, the motion of his hands. how swiftly he flicks the book shut, placing it face down on the counter with a twitch of his lithe fingers. not before slipping a pretty bookmark in between the pages, lilac-coloured, with flowers embroidered into the silky texture. you wonder if he made it himself.

his voice spills out into the air, a little raspy. deep, but velvety, sending shivers down your spine. he clears his throat, and you watch his adam’s apple bob. ”do you need anything?”

a second passes.

it catches you off guard, the mellow sound of his voice. when you’re so unaccustomed to hearing it. excluding the brief words you’ve exchanged paying for your novels, you’ve only heard it a select few times — mostly from afar, not-so-sneakily listening in on his conversations with the pink haired boy and pretty girl who sometimes come in and never look at any of the books.

(there’s the tall guy with the not-so-seasonal sunglasses, too. but when he enters the store, all you pick up on are usually grumbles and threatening hand gestures.)

but now, that low, low voice is directed at you.

it can’t be good for your physical health. or mental, for that matter. you’re not sure you remember to properly breathe, and you’re almost certain hearts aren’t supposed to flail the way yours is right now.

when the boy behind the counter tilts his head, just by a hair, you’re finally snapped out of your little trance. stumbling for something to say, stuttering out a response, your hands grip at the insides of your pockets.

”well, um — i’m looking for a book.”

a moment passes. the song coming from the speakers changes into an instrumental, kind of jazzy. it’s nice.

”… a specific book,” you elaborate, under your breath. gnawing at your bottom lip, feeling a bit of heat on your ears. clearing your throat, as you step forward, tearing your mittens off with your teeth.

searching for a certain image, your numbed fingertips begin to tap at the cold screen of your phone. the warm air of the bookstore envelops your chilled knuckles, and a shiver runs through them.

the boy watches, silently, as you get closer.

you don’t notice him glancing at your reddened hands, and when you look up to see a glimmer of something displeased in his eyes, you only assume it’s because you’re taking too long. speeding up slightly, you hear a low click of his tongue. his back straightens.

when he gets up from his chair, you notice that he's tall. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him do anything but sit behind the counter with a book in hand, either reading his own or scanning a customer’s.

and, upon closer inspection — he’s maybe just a little bit too pretty for words. smooth, pale skin, a sharp jaw and defined cheekbones, dark eyes that hide a subtle kind of softness. pierced ears, a glimmer of silver on his earlobes, same as the rings on his bony fingers. his nails are painted black, a little chipped. and he’s wearing a big, bright green christmas sweater; one you really can’t imagine him picking out on his own, if his previous all-black turtlenecks and gray sweaters are anything to go by.

while you fumble with the phone in your grasp, the pads of his fingers go to silently tap at the edge of the counter. a rhythmic motion; forefinger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over again.

it’s a little bit distracting. when he moves his hand a certain way, his big sweater sleeve rides up just a tiny bit, showing off the blue veins of his inner wrist. you think you catch a glimpse of a mole or two on his pale skin, and you swallow down a gulp, feeling a little like a victorian man seeing a girl’s ankle.

and then finally, you locate the image in question. swiftly showing him the cover of the book you were assigned to read. he squints a little, blinking drowsily, a flutter of his pretty eyelashes that has your heart skipping a beat.

you clear your throat.

”i’m supposed to read it before christmas break, but i couldn’t find it at our library…” you tilt your head, a little sheepish. ”do you have it here?”

he stares at the screen for just a second more. then he’s angling his head to the left, finger pointing towards a corner of the store. ”it should be over there,” he hums. monotone.

a tentative smile forms on your lips. you thank him, and his eyes find yours.

all he does is shake his head, softly, brushing you off — a silent don’t worry about it. maybe a tad gruff, but you sense an acute gentleness to it. something tender, kind of. or maybe you’d just like to believe the kindness you sense in his eyes is real, more than just a delusion.

but you don’t have time to dwell on it. the boy behind the counter goes back to reading, cradling the spine with his pretty hands. when he tries to grab the handle of his mug, one of the rings on his fingers knock against the ceramic, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

you go to hunt down your own book, still thinking about his voice, how it trickled like honey from out his lips.

the bookstore is entirely empty, tonight. no loud noises drilling into your groggy brain, no people to chatter amongst themselves and disrupt the illusion of peace you gain when you spend time here. a tiny respite, from your studies, from the stress and fatigue that you’ve come to associate with winter. hunting for christmas gifts, finishing late assignments, trudging through the snow. pretending that you have it all together.

but here, none of that matters.

a sense of calm washes over you, as your eyes trail over the books by the science fiction section, and a soft sigh tumbles from your throat. gradually, your hands begin to warm up, and you look out the window.

outside, the world is blanketed by a veil of snow and frost, pure whites and murky grays as far as the eye can see. falling down to earth, smothering everything in a bitter chill. a cold, cold embrace. but when looking at it like this, from inside a cozy bookstore, with a pretty boy by the counter…

it's a breathtaking sight.

little snowflakes descending, dancing in the wind. desaturating your world. if you close your eyes and focus, you think you can almost feel the wind nip at your fingertips, almost taste the fragrance of dried tea leaves and caramel fudge from the tiny shop across the street. almost bask in the green and red of the decorative lights in the skeletal trees, illuminating the city, buzzing with artificial warmth.

(your heart feels light.)

it doesn’t take long for you to find the book you need. keeping it safe and warm between your arm and torso, you walk back to the counter, gaze still lingering on the windowpane. the little snowflakes fluttering about, the glimpses you catch of passerby and their knit scarves in the darkness of the winter evening.

the boy behind the counter is as efficient as ever. he takes the book, fingertips resting exactly where yours just were, and scans it in a matter of seconds. you pay, and he puts it in a plastic bag, handing it to you — all while his copy of wuthering heights sits on the counter, pointedly, as if beckoning you to mention it.

before you can think to stop yourself, you’ve parted your lips.

”is it good?” you ask. finger pointing at his book.

the boy blinks. eyelashes fluttering. once, then twice. he seems a little caught off guard, but still speaks within a split second. almost like he doesn’t even think about the answer. ”yeah.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. you shift a little, from foot to foot, plastic bag in hand. ”i’ve been meaning to read it,” you say, desperate to prolong the conversation, ”but i haven't had much time lately.”

a chuckle slips from your lips. it comes out sounding just a little exhausted.

(he glances at the dark bags beneath your eyes, but you don’t notice.)

”i think i might buy it in time for christmas break, though…” you lift your gaze to meet his own. showing the briefest glimpse of a smile, polite.

he doesn’t return it. lips pursed, silent, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. a navy blue, little splotches of a murky green blooming in the corners of his iris. they only appear when you’re this close. soothing, somehow. they’re pretty.

he isn’t saying anything, not a single word, and some part of your heart clogs up like a clump of wet snow. subconsciously, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, digging into the soft flesh before letting go. cowering a little under his intense gaze.

did you annoy him?

(he probably doesn’t want to talk to you. maybe he thinks you’re hitting on him, or something. are you hitting on him? that doesn’t matter. he must be stressed — it’s holiday season, after all. the last thing he needs is some annoying customer taking up his precious reading time.

gosh, what were you even thinking?)

you’re just about to excuse yourself, mentally berating yourself for forcibly striking up a conversation with an obvious introvert —

when the sound of something sliding against wooden material catches your attention.

you blink.

the boy behind the counter does a little cough. under his breath, clearing his throat. he wets his lips, in what you immediately recognize as nervosity — absentmindedly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.

”here.”

when you look down, a certain book is placed on the edge of the counter, right in front of you. wuthering heights.

another blink. you look down at the hardcover, and then back up at him, but he’s not meeting your gaze. if you look closely, you think you see a slight flush to his neck, red like a candy cane.

”you can borrow it,” he says. a pause. then he continues, clearing his throat again, a hint of hesitance in his raspy voice. ”… if you want to, i mean.”

”… ah.” is all you can answer. barely a word, more of a weak little hum. an absent tremble of your voice.

outside the comfort and warmth of the bookstore, the wind whistles, digging its claws into the city. tiny whirlwinds of snowflakes dance from street to street, fluttering about joyously. you vaguely pick up on the song from the speakers changing, into a poppy christmas-themed kpop song.

a moment passes.

your muddled mind finally reacts. on instinct, sending little instructions to your frozen limbs. to your heart, face down on the floor, completely useless.

”oh — no, there’s no need!” you blurt out, putting your hands up hastily. waving him off. ”it’s fine, i can just buy my own copy!”

but the boy only clicks his tongue, with that signature furrow of his brows. ”you’re a student,” he states, just a little gruff. but then there’s that kindness. ”you shouldn’t waste your money.”

you’re just about to protest, when he continues. ”besides,” he sighs. ”i’ve already read it. you can just bring it back whenever you’re done.”

and again, your instinctual desire is to protest. unsure of what to say, somehow exasperated by his trust. that’s what it is, isn’t it? trust. trusting a stranger, a customer he’s barely even spoken to, not to just take his book and then never return. trusting you to be a decent person. a good person.

isn’t that naive?

something sprouts like a snowdrop in a ridge between your ribs, though, and you know that it’s happiness of some kind. you’re glad, that he has something even vaguely similar to trust in you.

glad that he’s acknowledging you, in a way. your presence, the sneaky glances shared between you. the comfortable feeling that sleeps inside your veins when it's just you and him, silently passing each other by, in a quiet bookstore that feels a little like heaven on earth. a safe haven, of sorts, with no incompetent professors, tight deadlines or numb fingers.

it’s just him, and cozy christmas music, and a pitter patter rhythm of your heartbeat that sounds a little like jingle bells to your muddled mind.

a lump forms in the back of your throat. you gulp it back down, and part your lips. an unsure question spills into the open air.

”are… you really sure?”

”yeah.” he doesn’t even skip a beat. fingers tapping at the edge of the counter, over and over again. another slow moment passes. ”we can… talk. about it.” he coughs into his closed fist. ”once you've read it.”

with a soft furrow of his brows, he averts his gaze. his voice comes out sounding soft, albeit a little rough around the edges. ”if you want,” he adds.

you’re so distracted by the flutter of his long eyelashes that you barely even feel your lips stretch into a smile. your hearts skips around happily within the confines of your ribcage, and you’re worried that you might look a little too excited — but how could you ever hide your joy, when he’s acting so dangerously, uncharacteristically cute?

”yeah!” you blurt, teeth peeking out when you flash him a bright smile. and finally, he meets your gaze. pretty eyes fixed entirely on you.

at your evident enthusiasm, his shoulders seem to relax. the rapid tapping of his fingers ceases, and he opts to simply bite down on his lip — attempting to obscure his own smile. but you see it, anyway; a tiny, tiny smile. the softest little curl of his lips. you’re entirely mesmerized, all the same.

a hand goes to rub at the back of his neck, and he does that cute little cough again, and you wonder if the warmth sprouting in your chest will be enough to protect you from the snowfall on your way back home.

angelic; that’s the impression he always seems to leave you with. you wonder if he has any idea just how pretty he is. if he has the slightest clue. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to tell him, yourself.

you wonder if you’ll get to know him, someday. if you’ll ever get to know the pretty, quiet boy behind the counter of your go-to bookstore, who radiates a softness so palpable you wish you could stay there until spring blooms beyond the windows and melts the frosted glass.

with tentative hands, a little shaky — not from the cold, but the anxious and excited tingle of your bloodstream — you reach for the book on the counter. taking it into your arms, cradling it gently, like it’s so fragile the pages could scatter away if you aren’t careful. with a steady hand on its spine, you begin to flip through the pages, until three little words on the first blank page catch your attention.

without thinking, you repeat the little scribbled down sentence under your breath. hoping for something. more lulls of his voice, maybe, mumbling to yourself but hoping he’ll hear.

”happy birthday, tsumiki…”

the boy stiffens.

a silent beat. then he clears his throat. ”my sister,” he explains, and you hum.

so he has a sister. a tiny fragment of his existence, now known to you, a little piece of trivia. you want to collect them, want to put them all in your pockets and carry them around, like little precious bells.

”megumi,” he blurts out, sudden, and you look up from the book to meet his gaze. ”my name,” he elaborates. and then a pause. ”i work here.”

…

in a matter of seconds, his face reddens. ears and neck slathered over with that sweet cherry hue, blooming across his pale skin. a soft giggle slips from your lips, before you can think to bite it back, and that red hue exacerbates.

”mm,” you hum, an amused smile on your face. eyes crinkling as you look at him, book safe and secure in your arms. ”i've seen you.”

megumi looks a bit like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. squirming slightly, shifting from foot to foot, tugging a little at the sleeve of his sweater. looking into your eyes, and then back at the counter.

it’s sweet. it makes you feel closer to him, somehow. like you aren’t the only nervous one here. like you aren’t the only person in this city who’s a little bit of a mess.

(it makes the sludge piling up inside your brain feel just a little more bearable.)

”… thank you.” you smile. ”i’ll take good care of it. and i’ll bring it right back when i finish it.”

a low hum. megumi brings a hand up to fix his bangs, nimble fingers running through dark locks. absentminded — a nervous habit, maybe? ”don’t worry about it,” is all he says.

again, that sweet dichotomy; a hint of something gruff, hiding an unmistakable softness. a little like snow. cold to the touch, enough to make you want to stay away, but then it melts on the skin of your palm. turns soft and warm beneath your touch.

unable to fully hide the smile still lingering on your lips, you allow yourself one final inhale — letting that scent of peppermint and espresso invade your mind, soothing every frazzled nerve inside your brain. then you put wuthering heights in your bag, protected and snug, and get ready to leave.

it’s still snowing. if anything, it seems to have gotten worse, enough that all you see when you glance towards the frosted windows are little clumps of snowflakes. obscuring everything else.

just when you’re about to speak, say a little goodbye, a voice spills out into the air.

”… the snow’s supposed to get worse. apparently.”

his navy eyes carry a gentle hue, as they look into yours. maybe a little worried, like a protective mother wolf towards her cub. you blink, and megumi sees it as his cue to continue.

”you can stay until it gets better.”

a brief pause. his signature cough reaches your ears, and it’s enough to have you smiling, even before he adds a tiny if you feel like it. nonchalant, or at least you think that’s what he’s going for. he mostly just sounds like an awfully caring person trying awfully hard to appear uncaring.

and again, a little smile slips itself into the curl of your lips. all giddy and nervous, a little flustered. but happy. now you won’t have to walk through the relentless snowfall outside, feel the wind chew at your reddened cheekbones. now you can spend just a bit more time with him, bask in those quiet, drawn out moments of pure peace, browsing through books while he sits and reads behind the counter.

”thanks,” you breathe. adjusting your knitted scarf. ”i think i'll look at the books a little more, then.”

megumi’s eyes soften. relieved, you think. hope. it’s a subtle shift, but still enough to notice, enough to see. little splotches of a mossy green sinking into that sea of ink blue.

you think he must feel a little embarrassed, though. like he’s gotten too close to broaching the line he’s set up between the two of you. because he quickly fixes his gaze entirely on a book in his hands, a new one — was it just waiting beneath the counter?

you don't think much of it, but you note that he's back to his usual nonfiction. something on astronomy, you think.

and with one final glance at his tousled hair, you begin to stroll through the store. languidly, walking to whatever spine captures your attention. savouring the tiny words on the back of the books, wallowing in the peppermint and espresso that wafts through the air, only growing heavier while you’re busy admiring the white opaque frosting of the windows’ glass.

at some point, the low whirring of a coffee machine buzzes from afar, and when you turn to the counter megumi isn’t there.

a little later, when he comes back, he’ll be carrying two mugs — matching dogs etched into the ceramic, one black and one white. he’ll put one of them on the edge of the counter, closest to you, and then meet your eyes. give a vague nod towards it, but nothing else. you’ll notice the red tint to his ears, though.

and when you do, a warmth will blossom in your chest, enough to chase away the phantom ache of the winter chill soon to envelop you.

when the little bell of the bookstore jingles its jolly tune, and the door shuts itself as you cross the threshold to leave, megumi lets out a barely audible sigh.

he thinks his heart may be beating just a smidge faster than usual, a little out of rhythm. palms against the counter, he allows his eyes to flutter shut — trying not to acknowledge the heat he feels on his face when he finally begins to process your interaction.

he smooths a hand over his face, skin just a little sweaty. chewing at his bottom lip with two sharp teeth.

god.

really, it was no more than a stupid twist of luck. that you happened to come in just when he started reading it, that you noticed and didn’t question him on any of the contents. that you believed him when he said he’d already finished it.

and, sure, maybe he was secretly really hoping you’d come in. really hoping you’d notice it, that it’d be enough to make you strike up a conversation with him, something, anything.

he happened to see you eyeing it once, that’s all. twice, and then thrice, each on different occasions. tsumiki’s old collection came in handy, rotting on the dusty shelves of her room — although he has no memory of her ever reading it.

(he remembers some, though. remembers her reading a few of them to him, on nights he couldn’t sleep. remembers the soft lull of her voice, how the whole world seemed blanketed by a wool of safety.

he wonders if he’ll ever get to hear it again.)

megumi’s heart feels warm. despite everything.

even though he didn’t even get past the first half of wuthering heights, and has no idea what the hell he’s going to be able to talk to you about. even though he thinks heathcliff is a dick and catherine is a brat, and wishes they could save everyone else the trouble and just talk to a psychiatrist.

even with the cold baring its fangs outside, and the cup of espresso sitting right in front of him, still untouched, made with the store’s shitty coffee machine. even in the ugly sweater gojo forced him into. even though he doesn’t even really know you, not even at all, and still somehow feels certain that you’ll come back with tsumiki’s book in tow.

trust.

megumi thinks it’s a little weird, how just that single overlapping of your gazes when you first stepped in seemed to solidify such an abstract notion. he’s always had a sense of it, though — a sense of goodness. an ability to seek them out, those good people, bubbly and cheerful and so tragically hard not to love.

no matter where he goes, he ends up finding them. like tiny sunflower seeds persisting beneath the winter snow. blooming when spring comes around, in a burst of golden vermillion.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, megumi allows himself to wallow in the solitude of the bookstore. tired eyes soaking up the words on the pages he flips through, slowly, utterly at ease. drinking his shitty coffee, trying to ignore the itchy feeling of the sweater on his skin, unable to forget the memory of your stupidly pretty smile.

so pretty he thinks it might just keep him warm, all throughout winter, until you return once more. bringing with you the glimmer of snowflakes on soft skin, and a pleasant fragrance of tea leaves from the cozy shop across the street.

a single sunflower, persisting even through the cold.

megumi smiles. a tiny curl of his chapped lips, while he flips the pages of his book. content in the knowledge that this won’t be the last time he speaks to you.

(now he just needs to read up on some good papers on wuthering heights.)

#im just thinking abt ….. bookstore gumi who goes out of his way to only work the quiet lazy shifts . and all he does is drink coffee n read #so its like his selfcare time and he hates customers n gets annoyed when they come in PHDJD…. acting like he owns the store #but then u come in !! :< n ur presence is just so gentle and soothing . n the more he sees you the prettier u get in his eyes.#so he tries to silently impress u </3 reading ur fave books even if he doesnt like them <//3 cutie #just to be clear if a bookstore employee randomly offers u a cup of coffee Do Not drink it . even if hes hot. stay safe ✌️#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi x y/n #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x gender neutral reader

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