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minyfic · 2 days ago
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blind whispers - PJM
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↣ it’s been years, four years to be exact when the male who has been appearing in your dreams finally materializes in the form of your guardian angel. Well, you think he’s your guardian angel, and you sure hope he is because you take his counsel without thinking twice.
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pairing — guardian angel?jimin x reader
genre/rating — R | smut, fluff, angst
word count — 9.5K
warnings/tags — there is a plot twist (which might be only for y/n lol since she’s so oblivious) but I know some readers don’t like reading fics about demons etc, so I will say that demons are…mentioned) strong language, college au, alcohol consumption, Y/N is kind of a scaredy cat, fainting, toxic parents, some yoongi action, masturbation, implicit drunken sex, explicit smut- voyeurism, exhibitionism, oral (f), dirty talk, scratching, unprotected sex, nipple play, multiple orgasms, restraints (he uses his powers)
a/n — ah, jimin’s bday fic, finally. I love Jimin’s cheeks.
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this is for Jimin’s Sunset Spooktober event hosted by @opaljm @jamaisjoons & @chateautae! Please give the authors love & support for cooking up such spooktacular ideas (lol)
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Angels.
Demons.
Their existence instilled in our minds until we understood the concept of good and evil, until we could decipher, for ourselves, what could be considered as right, and what would be written off as wrong. Angels embody all that is good, the image of fluffy, white wings, golden harp, effulgent halo and cherubic features come to mind upon hearing the word. Pure, white, pristine, just as their actions.
And then, like up and down, left and right, black and white, honesty and deception. Angels and devils. Demonic, frightening creatures, pointy teeth, terrifying eyes and dark horns. Black, fire, evil, mischievous, all that is wrong. It fascinated you, how easy it could be to classify the two, because it became easier to characterize the iniquities. But if you let your mind wander, just a little bit further, the thought that angels may have pointy teeth or horns, in place of their halo, comes to the forefront, but not once did you consider the deception from their opposite, the devil.
Your lack of knowledge frustrated you, and could you really trust the internet in general? How lousy it would be to use Wikipedia as your source of information.
The sound of the bell chiming above the entrance rings into your thoughts, causing your hand to slip from under your chin where it rested, an easier slide with the forgotten magazine that once padded your elbow.
“Hello,” you yawn, peering down the aisle where Mr. Lee crouches down to reach into the back, pulling out his stash that you promised to keep safely just for him, since his favorite snack is always sold out. His grumpy and forced smile was something you hated seeing on his crinkly features, so you had made a promise to him, one that you’ve kept for several weeks now.
He places the packet of kettle fried chips on the counter, rummaging through his thick, worn-out coat for his money bag.
“You need to get a wallet. Anyone could see through that flimsy bag, especially someone like you carrying around all that money,” you warn, thanking him when he hands you the change, pausing for a moment when he places his fists against the edge of the counter, moles accentuated by the fluorescent lighting, he levels your stare when you add, “they might see you as an easy target.”
“This place is an easy target,” he grumbles, “I told you to find another job. It’s not safe here for a young lady like you, or anyone at all.”
You pout, “will my replacement keep a secret stash for Mr. Lee like I do?”
He clicks his tongue, adjusting the woollen hat that shelters his silver strands before dragging the bag of chips toward him, “I can get this anywhere, I only come here to keep an eye on you.”
You roll your eyes, “you come here because it’s the closest to your house!”
He pauses for a moment, beady eyes darting from his hands to your face, “and that too.”
With a giggle, you wave him off as he makes his way back out into Autumn air, a light breeze causing his knitted scarf to whip over his shoulder, he lifts a hand in farewell, passing the display window with too much energy for a seventy-five year old.
And it’s quiet again, with Mr. Lee’s words replaying in your head. You considered applying for another job, but the hours aren’t convenient for you. With your lectures running throughout the day, you only have half an hour to spare before your shift at the gas station. It’s the only store that’s open during times which works out for you perfectly. After your night shift, you still have five hours to catch up on sleep, with your first lecture starting at 9AM.
However, with your torpid mind, lethargy settling in your bones, plus the constant fear that someone might walk in demanding all the cash in the drawer, your nights aren’t easy, especially with your dreams, sometimes nightmares, flashing vividly in your mind.
You did consider that those dreams are a result of your unstable sleep schedule, and it doesn’t help when you go to bed on an empty stomach. Not like you have much of a choice, if you eat so much as a few grains of rice before bed, the heavy ache in your chest only has you tossing and turning in bed and then you’re in a shitty mood for the rest of the day with poor concentration. You surmised that a meal before bed isn’t recommended, especially when you’re up for over eighteen hours, running on coffee and ramen.
The dreams get worse—no, not worse— evocative with each night that passes and it’s always the same character, the same man whose features you’ve memorized by now. And it all began after you started college, after you moved away to live on your own and find your way without the constant judgement from your parents. It could be your subconscious trying to tell you something, but you stopped interpreting dreams when you realized that they make no sense. None at all.
Believe it or not, you can still remember the first time you saw him, your eighteenth birthday. Raven hair brushed back, lips pursed while he stared at you from afar. You were sat on the swing your parents had set up when you turned eight, and then you fell into consciousness upon seeing him approach you.
The most recent was quite unnerving, to the point where your heart begins to race just as you can recall in the dream. You were laying on your couch, moonlight filling the lounge and your head was on someone’s lap, they were singing a beautiful tune, fingers combing down your hair and when you tilted your head up, it was him, shirtless. It unsettled you because it felt so real, and that night you had fallen asleep on your couch so with your hazy thoughts, the line between dreams and reality was blurred.
Your best friend knows all about these dreams, you laugh them off at the end. What he doesn’t know is that you’ve developed a weird attachment to the man in your dreams and sometimes, more often than not, you find yourself looking forward to them.
The bell rings again and you’re caught off guard by the familiar khaki jacket shuffling through the aisles. With a rapid heartbeat, you spin around to glance at the clock above the glowing shelves.
00:00
Every night, without fail, this mystery would pop in for a few beers and sometimes, condoms or some gum. His lack of response or cat-like eyes sparked a little, dare you say, crush on the enigmatic man, pink hair dipping over his furrowed brows.
Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you watch with trembling knees as he approaches the counter and sets down his usual purchases, smoky voice reaching your ears just as his thick cologne penetrates your senses. You ring him up and your breath catches in your throat as your fingers graze slightly, thighs sticking together when he offers a smirk and a wink. The first you’ve ever received from him.
“Thanks,” he husks out your name, pulling the hood over his head as he backs away and presses a shoulder into the glass door.
With a dreamy sigh, you watch him disappear into the night, his glossy van rolling along the gravel.
It started with his smiles, then he stared long and hard at the tag pinned to your apron and used your name in the few seconds you would speak, but you’re yet to have his name, for now he’s just pink hair dude when you’re rambling about him to Seokjin.
Damn. A measly wink and your panties are soaked, how touch starved could you be?
Cringing at your own bodily fluids, you step out of the backdoor holding the noisome garbage bags filled with moldy pies and pastries. The fresh cream has liquified fully and you fling it into the dumpster, shoulders lifted up to your ears when you lock the door behind you and turn off the lights. You make a mental note to tell your boss that he should stop buying those pastries because they all land the same fate.
And then comes the portion of the evening you dread the most, walking back home with the ominous tales of the path you’re forced to take, alien plants lining each side as the moon hangs high above your head, the only form of lighting shrouding your frightened figure.
It could be a load of lies, but the image of a woman with pallid, blue skin, matted hair covering her face haunts your mind, the highway ghost you’ve heard of.
Cursing yourself for envisioning her face, you speed around the curve, head swivelling this way and that to monitor your surroundings.
You think you hear footsteps behind you, and with the ring of keys held tightly in your fist that’s plunged into your jeans pocket, you spin around and hold it up in defence, heart lodged in your throat. Laughing at your own idiocy when nothing but the darkness greets you.
A modicum of relief washes over you when you see the road sign which indicates that you’re close to your apartment building and with a few more rushed strides, you’re sprinting down the pathway and up the stairs, fumbling with your keys until you push open the door and kick off your shoes with a hush. Another tiresome day.
The light in your kitchen switches on and you jump in fright, knocking your vase in the process.
“Shit!”
“Fuck fuck, I’m so sorry!”
Much to your dismay, your ex-boyfriend, Namjoon rushes to your aid, having already fetched the dustpan to clean up the mess he no doubt caused.
“What are you doing here this late?” You’re still panting, heart pounding in your chest because you’re still on edge after that walk and Namjoon had to add to it.
He pushes his glasses along the bridge of his nose, bristling at your tone.
“I just came over to see you,” he informs, tailing you into the kitchen to drop the shards of glass and dirt into the bin.
You reach into your cupboard for a glass, filling it up to the brim and emptying it into your stomach, a satisfied sigh lowering your shoulders when the cool liquid rushes down your throat, calming your nerves.
“Why?”
He scratches his nape, wearing that stupid scarf you got him for his birthday. Your nose scrunches up at your terrible color choice.
“Because…we haven’t seen each other in a while and I—” he trails off, gaze flickering from the floor to your face and it’s almost like you can read his mind when the corner of his mouth quirks up, an almost offended scoff breaking the silence.
“I told you this months ago, it was a bad idea for us to hookup after we…broke up.”
He takes a step toward you, gripping your elbows in what you would call desperation.
“I know that, but I also know that you have…needs and I’m the only one that can take care of that,” he winks. Him thinking that you would fall for his tricks all over again is pathetic, and you voice that thought by shrugging away from his hold, trudging down the hall into the lounge.
“Bold of you to assume I’m not seeing anyone else,” you laugh, tidying up the cushions that you abandoned earlier this morning when you were running late for your lecture.
“Oh, I know you’re not. With college and work,” he shrugs, no doubt about to throw your own words back at you, “you don’t have time for a relationship or hookups.”
“Namjoon,” you grit, holding up your tea-stained mug as you brush past him, “I told you this the last time we got together, it would never work out between us and hooking up would just complicate things.”
He follows you into the kitchen again, hovering behind you with the same needy tone that will annoy you even more than the fact that he feels he can waltz into your life after months, after you had decided that it was best if you separated, you came to an agreement like two adults who forgot about their high school romance.
“But…you know that I still love you, you were the one that pushed me away and I—”
Your bitter laugh causes his mouth to clamp shut, and if you look closely, you could almost see the lies in his hooded eyes.
“Do you think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know that you’re only here because your 2AM fuck was busy?”
“I—”
“No,” you grip his forearm, backing him out of the kitchen until his shoulders jam against your front door, seeing his eyes go wide when you reach into his jeans pocket and pull out the last connection he had to you, “get out. This isn’t your home anymore.”
“But I—”
“Leave!”
With a slump to his shoulders, he puts on his shoes and makes his way out, not before adding over his shoulder, eyes a little sorrowful, “I just wanted to make things right between us.”
You fold your arms, eyebrow cocked until he’s out of your sight and the door is locked safely behind him. In all those months after you broke up, this is the only time where you mustered up the courage to take his key away from him and tell him no. You don’t know where it came from, but you’ll bask in the feeling, until his droopy eyes come to mind later that night.
Maybe you were too harsh on him.
No. He deserves it for what he did in the past. He probably found someone else to keep his cock warm for tonight.
And you’d settle for your own hand than a delusional ex-boyfriend to satisfy you, pleasure that comes with zero guilt in the morning after reality returns and you’re forced to face the consequences of your actions.
But you do think of pink hair, pouty lips and piercing eyes. You think of how long it’s been since you pleasured yourself. The tantalizing build up as you chase your release, sweat dotting your forehead, back drenching the sheets beneath you until your feet are placed flat on the mattress, lips parted, eyes shut, back arched, toes curling into the sheets. You cum with a shuddering cry, thoughts of his pink tongue swirling over your clit just as your pruned fingers press into it, dragging out your high with the heavy blanket of fatigue draped over you.
It’s a struggle to pull yourself out of bed to shower, but the thought of the grime from the store is enough for you to scrub down each crevice.
You think you might complete the first half of your assignment before you go to bed, so you switch on your laptop. It’s due in a few weeks but if you start now, you’d have enough time to study for finals. Running a towel through your hair, you pad along the carpet to the other side of your room, bending over to fetch a pair of socks from the lowest drawer.
Perhaps your mood is still a little sour after Namjoon’s surprise visit, but your mind keeps going back to the part where he said he wanted to work things out. Was he being genuine? Would he actually want to get back together after all this time? After all that’s happened?
He has the audacity to show up and think it’s absolutely fine for him to walk in and out of your life as he pleases.
Grumbling to yourself, you let the towel drop to the floor and turn around to fit on your loose T-shirt when a very unusual figure in the reflection causes you to shriek, static blue glow fading around it. Hand clasped over your mouth, you try to regain your senses, blood draining from your face, heart thumping in your ears.
This must be a dream, that’s the only explanation, you fell off to sleep with your hands in your underwear and now you’re dreaming about the same guy. The one who’s been appearing in your dreams since you were eighteen years old, but what’s frightening is that he seems just as shocked as you, round eyes blinking from behind your sheer curtains.
It’s some goofy dream because you’re stark naked and he’s staring at you, like he always does in all your dreams. But the difference is that you have your fluffy pink carpet poking into your toes, your laptop is blinking beside you on your bed, your Hello Kitty plushies are propped up against the wall next to your dresser. Things you don’t ever see in your dreams because they’re usually fucking weird.
He takes a step toward you and you don’t cower, something you avoid doing in your dreams, but when he bends down and keeps his gaze on your face, lifting up the towel to pull over your shoulders, you gasp, an immense cool draft causing goosebumps to prickle your skin.
He stands up to his full height, burying his hands in his pocket and cocking his head to the side, the orange glow from your lamp illuminates half his face, a face you know uncharacteristically well.
Your mouth hangs open, trembling as you try to find your words.
“A-Are you my guardian angel?”
Given the chance, as you’ve discussed with Seokjin, this is what you would ask him when you can use your voice and to your excitement, you actually hear yourself say the words.
He blinks twice and you can’t be mistaken, not with his cherubic features and soft eyes, angled jaw and plump, pink lips.
“Yes,” he whispers, after a few beats of silence, like a puff of air, slight lisp to the word.
You want to jump for joy but you’re rooted to the spot, unable to break the eye-contact between you. He feels familiar, something akin to an old friend you’ve reunited with after a long time, it makes your heart soar and you know you might be out of your wits but you read a lot on angels and their symbolism ever since his appearances became frequent.
“You can see me?” He enquires, taking a step back to look down at his clothes, sporting the same black suit, gold embroidered on the collar, nothing less of an angel.
“Yeah,” you laugh, fingers straining with how hard you’re clenching the towel around your body, but you don’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed around him, even as his gleaming eyes trail up your figure.
“How?”
Your eyebrows furrow, slightly puzzled by his reaction.
“I could always see you,” you inform, noticing the way his eyes skate from one end of your room to the other then back to your face, lips parted.
“I know but not— I mean,” he runs his fingers through his hair, silver rings adorning each digit.
He cups his hand over his mouth, staring out the window before pacing from one end of the room to the other. You use the time to fully clothe yourself and lower onto your bed tentatively. He freezes. Doing a full 180 turn before sitting down next to you. The only scent that fills your nostrils is your own shower gel. Oddly comfortable around this ethereal being, you poke his cheek, soft, pillowy and rosy.
“I’m not supposed to be here,” he says to himself, before turning to you and your breath gets caught in your throat again at his beauty.
“W-What?”
He blinks at you, gaze winding from your face to his hands that are pressed to his knees, deep in thought.
“I’m not supposed to be here,” he repeats, “but I can be here.”
“Here? As in the planes of Earth? Welcome,” you laugh nervously, staring him down.
He seems to consider your words, then turns to you, and from the proximity, your heart skips a beat. This is your guardian angel. Your guardian angel? In your dreams, he would always be watching you, observing you, was that an indication that he was always present? Protecting and caring from afar? Warding off evil?
A smile begins to stretch his lips, the most disarming smile you have ever seen, and you have no choice but to return it.
He rises from your bed and you follow him, still smiling at the angel who keeps his hands in his pockets as he makes his way out of your room not before pausing at your door to say over his shoulder:
“You should go to sleep.”
“Where will you go?” You shout, panicking after he disappears down your hallway.
“I’ll sleep out here, on your couch,” he calls, silvery voice reaching your ears.
“Do angels sleep?”
He fluffs up the cushion and pulls over the throw you keep on the backrest of your couch, preparing for bed while you watch with confusion.
“Sometimes,” he smiles, eyes crinkling enough to have all your questions washing away, “get to bed, you have an early morning.”
“Okay. Goodnight,” you survey the lounge, wondering if the couch would be comfortable enough for him.
“Goodnight,” he winks, enough to make your heart stutter in your chest.
That night, you fight for sleep, the nagging thought that your guardian angel is sleeping in your lounge does not ease your mind.
What is going on? Why does your guardian angel have this effect on you? It’s preposterous! What is he even doing here? How are you so comfortable around him? He was just a man who would appear in your dreams and you don’t know his name! But he’s not just any man, he’s your guardian angel and it could make sense that you’ve cottoned to him this fast.
He emits a sense of peace, and his smile is pasted in your thoughts as you drift off to sleep.
While you rest, he approaches you with the same simper, palms curving around your shoulders as he leans in to whisper in your ear.
“My name is Jimin.”
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“Do you…eat?”
You’re pouring cereal into a bowl, jealous that he’s so bright-eyed while your eyes are burning with lack of sleep.
“Not really,” he pulls the bowl you had just topped up with milk toward him, shoving a spoonful into his mouth, “but I can.”
“Th—” You gawk at him, wondering how he can just steal your breakfast and get away with it by grinning at you.
Reaching for another bowl in your cupboard, you repeat the process and take the seat opposite him, narrowing your eyes in his direction.
“Will you…be with…come with me today? I mean to campus and work and—”
“Yeah, that’s kind of my job. But don’t worry, I’ll be invisible,” he chuckles, lifting the bowl to slurp up the milk noisily.
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or—"
His eyelashes flutter as he fixes his gaze on you, licking the milk from his bottom lip.
“I’m not joking. I’m supposed to be with you all day, every day, silly.”
And so he is, an unusual companion on your way to campus, occupying the empty space behind you in your lectures, when you’re standing in line to get your coffee, as you’re making your way to the library and with each passing minute, your questions keep piling but you only have a chance to ask him when you’re sitting across each other in the muted library, students with their noses buried in thick, monotonous textbooks, uncaring of who’s sitting next to them.
You glance at the girl sitting a few desks away from you, knowing that she won’t be able to hear or see you talk to air that is now leaning back in his chair, arm draped across the back while he busies himself with studying your face.
“Go ahead,” he smiles, leaning forward on his elbows, “I can tell you have a few questions.”
You clear your throat, slightly peeved that he knew what was running through your mind before you could say anything at all.
Voice above a whisper, you dip your chin and cover your mouth with your laptop screen, “where are your wings?”
Head thrown back with mirth, his laugh rings loud and you bristle at the sound, despite knowing that no one can hear him.
“What?”
He wipes a tear with his pinky finger, “nothing, you wanna know where my wings are.”
Your mouth quirks to the side, eyebrows pinching together, “yeah…I do.”
He takes a peek over his shoulder, “guess they disappeared.”
That doesn’t answer your question, but you move on to the next, pulling the seat of your chair to scoot closer to the table.
“How come no one else can see you?”
“Well,” he sighs, drumming his fingers on the table, “I’m your guardian angel.”
You splutter, “so that means you’re only visible to me?”
He nods, “mhm, guess so.”
“Why did you appear now? When I’ve been seeing you in my dreams for yea—”
“Ugh,” he bangs a fist on the table, startling you, “this is all so boring. Why don’t you ask me some juicy questions?”
Your eyes go wide, “juicy?”
“Yeah, like—”
So engrossed in your interrogation, you don’t notice the tall figure approaching your desk until he’s standing behind Jimin who stops talking upon noticing that your attention is drawn somewhere behind him.
“Hey,” Namjoon smiles, clutching a stack of files to his chest, “I wanted to apologize for last night.”
You roll your eyes, refocusing on your laptop screen, “it’s fine.”
“Uhm, who were you talking to just now?”
Biting your lip, your eyes dart to Jimin who waves a hand dismissively.
“Say you were studying. You know, you’re a verbal learner.”
You parrot his words to Namjoon who squints his eyes for a second then nods.
He places a hand on the back of Jimin’s chair, “can I sit here? I promise I won’t disturb you.”
“Tell him that this seat’s taken.”
“That seat is taken,” you exclaim, acknowledging your words after you see Namjoon’s baffled expression.
He rubs his forehead, mumbling out your name exasperatedly, “I said I was sorry, for everything. Why can’t we just start over? A clean slate.”
You groan, “Namjoon, please. Just g—”
“Fine,” he whispers, “I’ll go.”
Watching him walk through the shelves, you can’t help but notice the way his shoulders sag.
“I don’t like that guy,” Jimin informs, adjusting his blazer, “you shouldn’t associate with him.”
“I don’t associate with him, he’s my ex.”
You see his eyebrow jump, as if he knows something you wouldn’t want him to know.
“Why don’t you like him anyway?”
He shrugs, placing his hands behind his head, “just gives me bad vibes.”
If your guardian angel advises that you should stay away from someone, you would listen to him. And all thoughts of getting back together with Namjoon evaporate upon hearing his words.
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The lovely surprise at work is your best friend standing behind the counter wearing your apron, sorting through the loose change in the register.
“Jinnnn,” you yell, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your cheek into his back, “what are you doing here?”
“My uncle couldn’t find a replacement for Jay, so I had to cover his shift,” he yawns, wiggling out of your hold.
“And you’re here to cover my shift too?”
He makes a noise of surprise, “no.”
You click your tongue over-dramatically, pouting at him, “why not?”
“Because then, I’ll be a zombie, you know,” he holds out his arms, mumbling incoherent words while taking sluggish steps toward you.
You giggle, “okay okay, I get it.”
“So how have you been? Seen your dream guy recently?” He nudges your shoulder, wearing the most suggestive smile he can manage.
Your cheeks heat, eyes shifting to Jimin who stands on the other side of the counter, scanning the sweet jars. By his smirk, you can tell that he heard what Seokjin said.
“Ah,” you shove his shoulder, busying yourself with untying his apron to transfer it onto your body, “no.”
“Don’t lie! I know you saw him! Wait, was he fully naked this time? I swear your dreams get better and better!”
“Seokjin!” You cover his mouth with your hand, cheeks flashing impossibly hot with the way Jimin watches with lidded eyes, rubbing the side of his nose with his knuckle. You can tell that he’s fighting his smile.
“What?” He pulls away, ears going red while he fights you off, “the other night you were talking about how your dreams are better than reality and you wish that someone as handsome as him would fu—”
“Stop! I saw him! Okay?!”
He grins, “and?”
“What do you mean ‘and’? I told you that I think he’s my guardian angel or some shit.”
You peer over Seokjin’s shoulder to see Jimin with his hands clasped behind his back, sauntering through the aisles.
“And your guardian angel is sexy? I wonder what my guardian angel looks like,” he mumbles, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
“I read that they vary, yours is probably some ancient who gave up on you,” you laugh, earning a glare from Seokjin who doesn’t see the donation box near the entrance and slams his foot into the wood.
He yelps, bending down to rub his foot through his sandals while you double over with laughter.
“See!”
“You’re so fucking—”
“Bye!”
He gives you the finger as he passes the display window, while you’re still recovering from your giggles.
“You know you’re cute when you laugh like that.”
You whip your head around, blushing when you notice Jimin’s amused smile.
“Thank you…”
He winks, “you’re welcome.”
He comes around the counter, sitting up on a shelf, “guess it’s just us again.”
“Yeah, but not for long, this place gets busy around 10-11ish.”
“Not that busy.”
“Busier than usual,” you counter.
“You’re just saying that because you’re afraid of being all alone out here.”
You freeze, about to deny his statement then purse your lips because he’s right. You are deathly afraid of a gang walking in and destroying this place or kidnapping you, or worse.
He jumps off the shelf and leans in close, ring clad fingers skimming down the side of your face.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmurs, voice tender, “I’m here to protect you, remember?”
You draw in a breath, gazing into his orbs that seem to keep you under a spell until he breaks it when you nod, moving away to sit on the stool beside the window.
“B-But what will you do? If anything does happen? Do you have powers?” You enquire offhandedly, curiosity spilling from your lips.
He plucks a caramel candy from the jar, and you surge forward to take it out of his hands.
“The camera will pick it up! I don’t want to be reprimanded for floating stock!”
In a second, he takes the caramel back from you and pops it into his mouth, pointing to the camera behind you.
“That camera doesn’t work,” he speaks around the sweet. You follow his finger, squinting at the device.
“So. When Seokjin said that I shouldn’t worry, he lied!”
Jimin snorts, “the other cameras work, this one doesn’t.”
“Mr. Kim said he monitors the store from his house. You mean to tell me that he can’t see anything that happens behind this counter?”
“No. He can’t.”
“Cool,” you reach forward and take a caramel sweet for yourself, pausing when you see Jimin raise an eyebrow, “these are supposed to be free anyway.”
The rest of the evening is filled with giggles, except for when someone walks in, and you’re forced to abandon your new friend who makes your evenings less tedious. Who knew having your guardian angel around would be this much fun? Constantly judging the customers’ choices of snacks and guessing what they would most likely do after they leave the store.
“I can tell you that he won’t even get through a single chip before he’s falling off to sleep and it’s spilling all over his rugs.”
You gasp, “Mr. Lee may be old, but he has more energy than me on some days.”
“Pair him up with a heater and his favorite armchair,” Jimin sniggers, standing behind you now, watching you wipe down the refrigerators.
The sound of the bell above the door notifies that someone has entered the store and when you return to the front, you see pink hair guy, he’s wearing a black cap and parka tonight.
You ring him up and hand him his change when Jimin speaks into your ear.
“Ask him for his name.”
You jump a bit, unintentionally catching pink hair guy’s attention.
“You good?”
“Yeah,” you squeak, “uhm, what’s your name?”
He sets his beers down on the counter, “Min Yoongi.”
“Cool.”
Jimin groans, “cool? I can tell you like this guy and he’s into you too. You’re behaving like an imbecile. Ask him something.”
You want to ask him how he knows that he’s into you but Yoongi shoots you a perplexed look.
Ignoring the way Jimin’s lips graze your ear, you panic when Yoongi lifts the beers again, and you think great, you’ve weirded him out, before he’s facing you again.
“I’m having a small thing on Saturday night, you should come.”
“Oh. Where?”
He juts his head in the direction of the door and you only now notice the tattoo creeping up the side of his neck.
“Down by TM Lounge,” he replies, while your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline, unable to stop your words.
“TM Lounge? Isn’t that place like, dangerous, it’s south of here,” you laugh, smile falling when he shakes his head and chuckles, the sound taunting you a bit.
“Okay,” he rasps, boots hitting the flooring with loud thumps as he makes his way back to you, mouth raised in a smirk, “if you’re so afraid, you shouldn’t be talking to me.”
You gulp, “why?”
He laughs, making his way back out the door, “I’ll pick you up from here. 1AM.”
Immediately after his van rolls away, you punch Jimin’s shoulder, “why did you make me do that?!”
“Hey! You’re not supposed to harm your guardian angel!”
You rub his shoulder, “sorry. I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay,” he smiles, keeping his hand over yours, “I think that guy would be fun for you.”
“What? You’re my wingman now?”
“I’m your winglessman.”
“That was terrible.”
Proud of his own joke, Jimin slaps his thigh, earrings swishing around as he slips off the stool in cachinnation.
“I did nothing, you did it all by yourself.”
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It’s not like you’re going on a date or anything, it’s a casual party at a bar. You don’t go all out with your outfit or makeup and aren’t annoyed that you would be tired after your shift at work and then would have to go to this random party with a complete stranger. It’s not like you at all, but Jimin is there to encourage you and maybe it’s due to the fact that he’s around which has helped your fear die down a bit.
After a week of avoiding Namjoon and stuffing your face with caramels, the time has arrived where Yoongi has you in his car while you’re driving off to a bar you’ve never been to before, and when you give him that piece of information, he says that it’ll be fun.
Jimin sits in the backseat, providing some relief to your tension when you’re parking off outside the obstreperous bar, neon lights blinking above the face brick building.
You told Seokjin that you’d be going to a party with Yoongi, but you left out the venue, mostly because he would advise against it. Maybe you should’ve told him, just in case.
The air is thick inside the dingy building, clouds of smoke swirling around men and women who empty their glasses, a few shattering to the floor with roaring laughter punctuating the ear piercing shrills. Yoongi greets a few people before ushering you to the bar with an arm slung over your shoulder.
“Want a drink?”
“Yeah.”
You’re constantly fisting your shirt, a nervous habit which is halted by Jimin’s gentle hand, “relax.”
“Hey,” Yoongi turns to you, “you okay? You seem a bit tense.”
You nod, “yeah, I just…never been here before,” you repeat, chuckling emptily.
Yoongi places a hand on your thigh, his piercing eyes seem to soften as he dips his head to connect your gazes.
“Relax, we’ll just order a couple of drinks and be out of here. Okay? Try to have some fun.”
Try to have some fun. Loosen up. Stop being uptight. What everyone has been saying to you since you were a kid.
You tilt your head back and down your drink, wincing at the burn before ordering another round, and another, until your heels are off and you’re staggering out of the bar and Yoongi’s pressing you into the hood of his car, hands wandering up your shirt just as yours tug on his cap, kissing up his neck.
Through your fogged mind, you don’t miss the way Jimin watches how you tear his clothes off just as he does with yours, how Yoongi throws your legs over his shoulders and carries you to pleasure with his lips and tongue, how you sink your teeth into his skin while you bounce on his lap, and you watch him too, you’re louder for him too.
The next morning, you rouse with a bitter taste in your mouth and a crick in your neck, head thrumming even more after the bright light hits your eyes.
“Morning sleepyhead.”
“Morning,” you groan.
“Morning,” another voice grumbles, much closer, into your hair.
You jolt upright, body covered by a khaki jacket and only then do bits and pieces from last night enter your mind. Jimin hands you your jeans from the front seat while you put on your shirt, squinting out the window at the bar that seems harmless in the sunlight.
Yoongi sits up, hair unkempt, silver chain resting between his pecs. You would’ve been salivating at the sight, but you don’t have time because you’re too embarrassed, frantically searching for your bra.
“Last night was nice,” he smiles, not even bothering to get dressed.
“Yeah,” you laugh half-heartedly, thanking Jimin silently when he points to your bra under the seat.
“But…you kept calling me someone else. Guess you were really drunk,” he chuckles while your eyes go as large as saucers.
“W-What? Who…What did I call you?”
You sure hope it wasn’t Namj—
“Jimin. Or something.”
If you weren’t embarrassed then, you are now. You want to disappear from the face of the Earth, but he would probably haunt you there too.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. We all have that one ex.”
Except he isn’t your ex. He’s your fucking guardian angel.
You refuse to look up from your phone, busying yourself with replying to Seokjin’s texts.
“Anyway, uhm, I have to go to work so…”
“Oh, could you drop me off at my apartment?”
Yoongi nods, pulling on his jeans and white T-shirt before stepping out of the car, while you’re dealing with one of the worst situations that tops your list of embarrassing moments in your life.
“So…” Jimin bumps your shoulder while you’re forced to stare out the window.
“No.”
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There is something utterly wrong with you, that’s the only plausible explanation to your growing feelings for your guardian angel, a harmless man who is sweet by nature, which your weak heart twists into something completely different.
As the weeks pass by, your dreams become more shameful, and you find it difficult to face him each morning. It’s confusing, you can’t tell if it’s him in your dreams or your mind winds the innocent moments into sinful positions.
He would ask for a bite of your sandwich, sleeves rolled up as he leans down to cover the corner with his mouth, eyes glued to yours when he licks his lips, and your panties would stick to your core, face going hot. Even as he wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb, innocently.
You would be sitting at your desk, typing away and he’d be sprawled across your bed, innocuously, while salacious thoughts wheedle into your brain and obscure your concentration. You asked, nonchalantly, if he could read your mind. He said that he couldn’t, but he can detect the slightest changes in energy. After hearing that, you tried your best to tame any and all obscenities that would fill your mind.
Other then your putrid musings, it was pleasant to have him around, despite the fact that you needed to add more groceries to your cart when shopping. He would be there to comfort you when you’re oddly lachrymose after watching another romance movie, patting your head and cuddling you into his chest.
Even now, after he had offered to brush your hair, holding the comb daintily while the bristles sweep through the knots, eyes set on yours in the reflection.
No one, except yourself and your mother when you were unable to complete the task by yourself, had brushed your hair before, a sense of intimacy settling in your heart, comforted by his gentle gaze.
However, not even your guardian angel could shield you from the onslaught of humiliation, gifted by your parents.
“So, did you and that Namjoon boy make up?”
You sigh, thanking Jimin silently when he sets down your hairbrush, “no.”
Your mother yells your name into the speaker while you’re rushing out of your room, hoping Jimin wouldn’t hear the insults you’re about to receive.
“Typical, can’t even keep a man for herself,” she jibes, no doubt speaking to your father who spews his own remarks. “And your degree? Or certificate? I hope you aren’t wasting time there.”
“Yes,” you mumble, wanting the call to be over, “I hope to graduate by the end of this year.”
“We hope so. At least you’ll have something to your name. You know your sister, she already has a job and is getting married next March. So you don’t have to worry about giving us grandchildren for now,” she laughs, prickling at your heart.
You’re accustomed to their disparaging remarks, but why does it feel like your heart is weeping.
“We know you’re very fit to give us grandchildren, but focus on your studies for now,” your father advises, “but try to make things right with Namjoon, his family is rich.”
“I don’t need his family’s wealth,” you grit, patience wearing thin.
“You know your arrogance is why you’re living alone.”
Unwanted emotions brim your eyes, hand trembling as you hold the phone to your ear.
“No one would want to marry a selfish woman like you. Left her family because she was too proud.”
“I left because I was sick and tired of being compared to my successful cousins and sister! I couldn’t deal with the stress of having unsupportive parents and being constantly written off as a disappointment!” You sob, tears trailing down your cheeks freely.
You hear your father click his tongue, “this is why we don’t call you.”
“Then stop calling!”
You hang up, sinking to your knees, palms pressing into your eyes, “stop calling! Stop calling me!”
“Hey, hey,” Jimin grips your elbows, crouching down beside you, “what’s wrong?”
You wipe your nose with the sleeve of your hoodie, shaking your head, “I—I just…” More tears prevent you from finishing your sentence, hiccups bubbling from your lips until he gathers you in his arms, cheek pressing into yours.
“Shush, it’s okay,” he hums, palm smoothing down your head until your cries subside.
You grip the front of his shirt and pull away, head tilted back, “Jimin?”
His eyes scan every inch of your face, icy skin pressed to yours, “yes?”
Your gaze drops to his lips in answer, dizzy with emotions when you lean in and let your lips touch, eyes slipping shut until you’re enveloped by darkness.
Then.
Black.
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If it wasn’t for the breeze hitting your back, you would’ve been deep in slumber, the muffled voices waking you fully.
Regaining consciousness, you find it hard to gauge your surroundings with the ruthless wind hitting your face, hair whipping back until you feel a hand around your waist, keeping you flush against a cold surface, a body.
Finally, the wind simmers down and you manage to open your eyes, heart leaping to your throat when you find that you’re floating off the ground, except the ground is nowhere in sight.
“You did a terrible job! You can’t put that on me.”
Jimin’s voice catches your attention, and only then do you realize that he’s carrying you with your face pressed into his neck.
“This is not our fault, things like this happen. Humans can be fallible.”
“Jimin?” You mumble, lifting your head and almost slipping into unconsciousness for the second time when you take in the sight before you.
“Hey, relax, we’re just have a talk,” he soothes which proves to be ineffective because you’re amazed by his dark, colossal wings, wisping through the night air.
“We’re not having a talk, we’re here to rescue you from this devil,” a deeper voice from behind you says.
You choke on your gasp when you see two men, with even larger, white wings hovering a few feet away.
“You— You’re—”
“Yes,” one of them say with a nod, round, doe eyes closing in affirmation, “we are your guardian angels.”
“What?” You whisper, head snapping from Jimin to the two men who seem to radiate too much light, doing nothing to untangle your thoughts. “But Jimin is my guardian angel.”
The one to your left, emitting a greater sense of power, laughs, “no, he isn’t. I am Taehyung and this is Jungkook. We are your guardian angels,” he repeats.
“Then,” you tighten your hold around Jimin’s neck, blinking at him, “who is he?”
He purses his lips, then smiles, “surprise!”
“Wha…”
You narrow your eyes at the two unfamiliar faces, “how can I have three guardian angels?”
Jungkook scoffs, smacking Taehyung with the back of his hand, “she’s doubting us and still thinks that he’s her guardian angel. Terrible.”
“Hey,” Taehyung scolds, “we aren’t supposed to pass any judgement, let’s leave that to someone else.”
“What are you saying?”
You’re thoroughly confused, mostly because a) you’re floating among the clouds, b) there are two very handsome beings claiming to be your guardian angels and c) Jimin has black wings compared to the white.
Taehyung sighs, cascading with Jungkook closer to you.
“We are your guardian angels and—”
“It’s incredibly silly to think that he was! His apocryphal presence should surely hint that whatever he had said to you was false!” Jungkook yells, irritation clear on his face.
Your mouth hangs open before your attention is drawn back to Taehyung who glares at his companion.
“Like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he tugs on the lapels of his ivory suit jacket, “we are your true guardian angels, existing to protect you from evil and absorb your pain and sorrows.”
“Mhm,” Jungkook nods, pushing his hair away from his forehead, “that’s why you’ve become more sensitive these days.”
“So where were you?”
“What?” They say in unison, exchanging looks.
“If you’re my guardian angels, why weren’t you…doing what you’re supposed to do?”
Jimin sniggers.
“Things become complicated when there’s another being involved,” Taehyung informs, pointing to Jimin, “especially when it’s someone like him.”
“And we were waiting for the right moment to intervene,” Jungkook adds.
You tilt your head to look at Jimin, face a few inches away from his, “someone like him?”
“Yes. Incubi have their ways to slither right under out noses until it’s too late.”
“Incubi?”
“Wow,” Jungkook groans, “she really is clueless.”
Taehyung shoves Jungkook, “don’t mind him, he’s new to all this.”
Jimin is an incubus? You haven’t read much about them, except their definition. You feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach.
“Is that why—”
“Yes, that is why you were experiencing those dreams which are out of our bounds.”
Jimin wraps his arm around your shoulders, still wearing his dazzling smile.
“But…he didn’t hurt me or anything.”
“I will never hurt you,” he coaxes, fingers brushing your chin.
Taehyung calls your name, hands held behind his back, wearing a blank expression.
“The effects of his Charm have already sunk, so we’re here to present you with two choices which will decide your fate.”
You gulp, gazing into the twinkling lights below you then nodding.
“The first: life goes back to the way it was, your dreams are wiped away along with the effects of Jimin and his Charm. The man who visits you at your workplace remains a stranger and your life is just as it was.”
Before you have time to consider the first choice, he continues.
“The consequences: you reunite with your past lover and live a successful life away from your family who still believe you to be worth nothing more than a shadow.”
He narrates the words with no feeling, eyes void of emotion. You look at Jimin who offers a weak smile, still holding you impossibly close.
“The second choice,” Jungkook begins, “you return to Earth with this demon and allow him to be present in your life, cherished and doted upon while you ignore every other being due to his Charm.”
“You want that? Do you want me?” Jimin whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.
You suck in a deep breath before turning to Jungkook who goes on to say:
“The consequences: you lead a prosperous life yet filled with avarice, deteriorating health with the constant consumma—”
Jimin noses along your jaw with Jungkook’s voice fading into the dark, just as he bobs in the air, wings cutting through the clouds.
“I…”
Taehyung soars toward you, offering a hand, “your choice?”
You turn to Jimin who seems to already know your answer with the way he descends, Taehyung and Jungkook’s figures appearing smaller and smaller.
“We’ll be keeping an eye on you,” Jungkook calls before they spin around and blip away with a spark mimicking two shooting stars.
In a blink, you’re in your lounge, still gripping onto Jimin’s shirt, lips caressing his moist mouth, fingers pressing into your elbows.
“You want me,” he breathes, voice lowering in pitch.
He cups your cheeks, thumbs rubbing into your skin, glowing eyes that should be frightening piercing into yours.
“Yes,” you murmur, accepting his hand as he pulls you down the hall and into your room.
All you’re focused on is him, the way he pulls off your hoodie and rolls your shorts down, lips skimming your thighs until you’re parting your legs for him while he pushes you onto the mattress that feels softer than usual.
He lifts your foot up to his mouth, pecking the delicate skin around your ankle.
By now you’re putty in his hands, panties growing damp and uncomfortable when he nips at the meat of your thighs, kneading the flesh until you’re squirming under him.
“Jimin…”
His tongue darts out to lick at the dip between your pussy and thigh, wetting the skin in languid circles. Your hips raise off the bed, heat building in your core, whines spilling into the chilly wind that billows out your diaphanous curtains. The moon is nowhere to be seen, just you and him amongst the inky skies, want coursing through your veins with each slide of his hands up your stomach to rest on your perked nipples.
He massages your mounds as he rids you off your underwear with his teeth, slipping down your legs. You keen when his cool breath hits your swollen folds, back arching from just the thought of having his mouth on your throbbing cunt.
Your legs are being locked around his neck, clit covered by his stare which is slick with your juices.
“Such a pretty cunt. Glad I get to taste you now,” that’s the only warning you get before his tongue rolls up your folds, fingers digging into your thighs as he lifts your hips off the bed, your shoulders and head pressing into the sheets as he devours your leaking hole.
You reach for his hair as his nose presses against your clit. He mouths at your pulsating slit, holding you to his face, moaning into your cunt while you’re crying out his name. More and more of your slick drips into his mouth with each wiggle of his tongue against your clit until the knot builds and builds, shivering in pleasure, sweat beading on your forehead and neck.
He slurps and drinks up your juices, eyes flickering up to watch as you crumble beneath him, moaning when he sticks out his tongue and smooths along your folds at breakneck speed. The sight alone is enough to tip you over the edge, drenching his face as your cunt pulses against his tongue, heels pressing into his back.
He hums into your heat, and pulls away when you twitch, a string of his saliva and your cum snaps from his mouth and hits your thigh. You gasp at the sensation.
“You taste even better than you smell,” he growls, unmarred skin weighing on yours. You mewl with the pressure, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him fervently.
He tilts his head to deepen the kiss, hands sliding across your forearms to press them into the bed, tongue swirling around yours, earning breathy moans into his mouth.
Enslaved by his tongue, you feel an essence fill your womb just as he taps your clit with the head of dusty pink cock, smoothing around a mix of precum and your juices.
“Gonna fill you up with my cock,” he husks, kneeling on the bed as he runs the shaft of his cock through your folds, “so fucking beautiful, all laid out for me like this.”
You want to tell him that he looks even more beautiful in the dull lighting filtering through the door, but he’s sinking into your cunt. When you try to grip his shoulders, you’re unable to move your hands from where they rest on either side of your head, but the pleasure overthrows your panic, gasping as he draws his hips back.
He presses his chest to yours, hands nudging up your arms until they’re straight above your head.
“Shush,” he rolls his hips, gripping your jaw and pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, eyes blazing with lust, “surrender yourself to me.”
Your eyes scrunch shut when he grazes your sweet spot, mouth hanging open when the tug in your womb seems to amplify with each drag of his cock against your ridged walls.
“Fuck,” you whisper, able to lift your hips, meeting his thrusts as he flexes his.
“That’s it, you take my cock so well,” he grunts, sharp nails tweaking your nipple while his mouth attacks the other, tongue flicking across the bud.
You’re breathless, walls fluttering around his cock when his thrusts quicken, snapping into your cunt, nipples burning with his assault.
“Cum for me,” he grits. His nails sink into your shoulders, a shriek being thrown out of your lungs when he drags them up your arms, pressing into your palms.
Tears dot your eyes, the pressure building in your abdomen, thighs shaking around his waist and when his fingers swipe against your clit, the heat builds and builds, walls closing around him when a sharp breath escapes your lips and into his mouth, whimpering as you cum around his cock.
A satisfied ‘ah’ leaves his slick lips as he throws his head back and shoots thick ropes of cum into you, hips stilling. You regain feeling in your arms when he flops down beside you, hands smoothing up and down your back.
It isn’t like you to feel this exhausted after sex, but you find your eyes growing heavy, even more after he lifts you onto his chest and covers you with the blanket.
“Have a good sleep,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head which has a small smile lifting the corners of your mouth, “it won’t be long.”
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a/n — if you liked this, please leave a comment or an ask if you’re shy, it would mean a lot to me.
⤺Masterlist
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taglist — @ggukkieland @moonchild1 @mwitsmejk @fancycollectormoon @nglmrk @bex-92br @taeslarityy @helenazbmrskai @deliciouslydisturbed365 @sweetonkookieandtae
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jimilter · a day ago
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the prince’s cinderella syndrome (m) | p.jm. | one-shot
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🎧 moon by jin of bts willow by taylor swift
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pairing: jimin x reader (ft. a dash of jungkook x reader)
rating: m (18+)
genre: angst | smut | fluff | cursed!jimin | supernatural!au | strangers to lovers!au
summary:  He shows up at Halloween, every year, dressed the same, and leaves at midnight like some Cinderella. You would think he was a prankster if his eyes didn't look like they contained all the sadness in the world. You don't know him - no one on campus does. You don't know why he appears only once a year. You don't know why he never smiles. But you can't help falling in love with him. Even if he breaks your heart when he abandons you at midnight, again.
warnings: swearing + alcohol consumption + mention of marijuana + black magic and curses + heartbreak + misunderstanding + mention of minor character deaths + inaccuracies abt the american education system + inaccuracies abt nasa & astronomy majors + a mish-mash of american and british english + implicit sexual situations + explicit sexual situations (fingering, oral (m+f), unprotected penetrative sex, semi-public sex, some marking, some dirty talk, some roughness, slight cock warming maybe? mostly pretty missionary stuff tbh) + jk deserves better :/ +  oc is a v. v. lonely girl :( + jimin is a v. v. sad boy :(
word count: 39.4 k 
note: aaand, it’s here! the biggest fic i’ve ever written! time constraint got to me w this one, but the next time i cross 25k, i’m turning the mf into a series 😃
thank you @missgeniality and @taegularities for your notes on the whole catalogue of banners i kept presenting you two with and for the tips i randomly asked for, @knjsnoona my bestie for being there whenever i hit u up and never letting my spirits wane, @ressjeon and naia, my loves, for letting me vent abt the fic to y’all and telling me abt your own failures to make me feel better! 😩
october has been a weird month. the busiest i have been all year with a lot of personal changes happened in my life, too, a lot of them leaning to the sadder side. writing this fic was like a comfort place for me through all of it. i will always look back at this and be proud of my strength. ❤
not beta-read because are you seeing the wordcount? i didn’t want people to hate me, smh. maybe i’ll ask for someone’s help later and update this, maybe i won’t. i hope y’all like this dive into the supernatural i have prepared for you~ 🥺💜
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↣ written for the Jimin’s Sunset Spooktober collab hosted by @jamaisjoons @opaljm and @chateautae <3
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↦ CROSS-POSTED ON AO3
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— masterlist
— feedback is always appreciated!
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⇥ halloween, freshman year;
You tugged at your unnecessarily short, white tulle skirt, grumbling curses at your roommate for encouraging you to dress up as whatever this sexy-angel-cum-stripper-shit was supposed to be. It was making you uncomfortable as hell, and you were hating coming to this party all the more because of it.
Right now, you were sticking to the shadows and hoping no one would approach you with another lewd proposition. You’d already turned three guys down – one more lecherous grin tossed your way, and you would bolt out of this place, Hyejin’s safety be damned.
You really didn’t understand how the girl had made so many friends here already that she got invited to every single party on campus, when you were literally three months into Freshman year. But that was just who your roommate apparently was – friendly, outgoing, party-loving.
You, on the other hand, had made a total of two friends so far in two separate classes, who spoke even fewer words than you did. And you despised huge gatherings where no one knew no one and everyone drank as if they were trying to please Dionysus into summoning him, like this Halloween party you were currently at. 
Hyejin knew you weren’t a fan of whatever acerbic drinks they served at such parties, so she’d designated you to be on the watch for her while she mingled and drank her body’s weight in alcohol. She tended to make stupid decisions about boys when she was drunk, and you were to keep watch in case some creep tried to take her away and she didn't realise. But currently, Hyejin was hanging out with some close friends of hers and you believed she was in safe hands for the time being. Which is why you took some time to yourself, escaping the overwhelming bustle in this secluded corner of the house.
Now although you weren't a fan of spiked punches and vodka shots, good brands of Beers were always tempting to you. And you needed at least some alcohol to tolerate this shit show. 
The exact reason why you decided to scrounge through the fridge for another drink when you were done with your third beer can, barely two hours into the party. But all you could come up with was a fruit flavored thingy that was sure to be unnecessarily sugary, and a size smaller than the pints you’d been drinking.
With a resigned sigh, you decided to take whatever fate was letting you have and shut the refrigerator’s door to lean against it as you popped open the can.
And then you saw him.
He stood in a quiet, dark corner of the kitchen, near the window that overlooked the backyard of the frat house, with a ceramic mug in hand.
The breeze from the window softly blew his silver hair off his forehead, bringing your attention to his strong eyebrows that arched beautifully over his gray eyes that looked a bit forlorn if not completely dead. You briefly wondered if he was wearing contacts before your gaze travelled lower, down the slope of his nose and landed on the perfect pout of his pink lips. They looked so kissable, you had to blink to break your stare. Then you looked down at his clothes and squinted, trying to figure out who the prince-like costume he had on was supposed to represent.
His outfit was wholly black from top to bottom, with silver chains and buttons looping around the front of what seemed like a velvet coat. His already broad looking shoulders were accentuated further by silver shoulder pads that tied up his prince ensemble really well. 
He looked really pristine, handsome and, to be really honest, beautiful. Almost unreachable. 
And yet, the shadows of gloom on his face seemed to tug you closer to him somehow – making you want to know what hid beneath them. You had barely taken a step when a shout of your name had you stiffening.
"Hyejin's about to do a keg stand, you don't wanna miss it!" Taehyung, one of Hyejin's equally outgoing and loud friends, called out to you.
Well, contrary to his belief, you very much did want to miss it because you'd seen it multiple times and had to escape being pushed towards the keg next, every single time.
Choosing not to reply, you skirted away from the fridge to squeeze yourself in a darker corner of the kitchen where you wouldn't immediately be spotted if someone decided to physically look for you. You briefly wondered if you could convince the sad but handsome prince-guy to makeout with you for pretence to save you from Taehyung's huge, demonic hands’ clutches.
Fate had other plans for you though, because in all your sneaking around, you misjudged the distance and bumped sideways into something, the open can of the sticky, fruity drink in your hand sloshing all over the place.
You groaned at the blob that landed on your skirt, extending your arms outwards to keep the liquid drenching your hands away from your body. As you moved to gingerly place the can on a nearby countertop, a throat was cleared next to you. 
Right next to you – like, three inches from your ear.
You jumped, turning to look at the, apparently, person you'd bumped into. Your horrified eyes widened further and your mouth opened in an incredulous gasp.
The sad but handsome prince-guy was staring at you with pursed lips, eyebrows slanted over his gorgeous, narrow eyes.
"I—" you began but then floundered, running your gaze down his form, grimacing when you could locate streams of liquid that ruined his clothes, even in the dark. "I'm so so sorry," you groaned.
The guy exhaled loudly, running a hand down the velvet of his coat, bringing your attention to the detailing on his outfit. You didn't wanna sound ridiculous, but his clothing looked expensive. Really expensive. The velvet had some shimmery undertone woven into it that you hadn't managed to catch from a distance, and the silver chains and buttons looked as if they were made of the actual metal.
Where the hell did this guy get his costume from? A castle?
Your wide eyes travelled up his body, shutting in mortification, briefly, when you found him staring back at you with a sneer on his lips. So the sad but handsome prince-guy was also hostile. You tried to tell yourself that you would be, too, if someone spilt fruity alcohol over your expensive looking clothes.
"That—that looks expensive. I'm sorry," you stammered, wincing at your lack of tact. Did you mean you wouldn't be sorry if it didn't look expensive? "I mean, I'm – I'm just really sorry. This drink is sweet, it's gonna…" Wait, so now you were apologizing because the drink was sweet?
What was wrong with you? Why couldn't you just say sorry for your existence and then dive into the garbage shredder in the sink next to you?
"It's fine," came the sad but handsome prince-guy's soft but gruff words.
You blinked. "No, it's not. Let me pay you for drycleaning, please?"
You didn't have your wallet on you and transferring the money online would feel extremely weird when you had to ask him for his account details, but you didn't wanna act like a total self-absorbed drunk party girl. Because you weren't.
The sad but handsome prince-guy rolled his eyes, his plump lips pulling into a faint, tiny smirk. "I don't need money."
His stare when he said the words had your insides melting into goo, because did he just insinuate he needed a different means of payment?
Like. You were down if he was.
You subtly checked him out from head to toe again and yep, you were so down if he was.
He suddenly scoffed, though, and you realised you may not have been that subtle with your perusal. 
"I don't need that, either."
Aw? Bummer!
“Then…how about a drink?” You grinned at him.
But why were you acting like you were gonna buy him a drink? You weren’t paying for anything at this party! What if he misinterpreted this as you asking him out for drinks? 
Your eyes widened. See, this was why you didn’t have friends. Your communication skills sucked yucky chimpanzee ass.
“I mean, like, from the fridge!” You pointed a thumb over your shoulder. “They’ve got some UFO pineapples in there. I kinda don’t have anyone to hang out with. And you seem pretty lonely, too, so…?”
His eyes observed you for a while, absolute calm on his expressionless face. You were half scared he was about to stab you and run away, when he shook his head. “Craft beers are abhorrent.”
You nodded, large and full, wholeheartedly agreeing. “The worst. But that’s all they have, so….”
He squinted at the can in your hand and clicked his tongue. Wordlessly, he twisted in place and reached up into one of the overhead cabinets and extracted a gorgeous, dark tan bottle of—
“Budweiser! Where the hell was this hiding?” You gaped at the beer bottle in awe, until it hit you. “Wait. It’s lukewarm, isn’t it?”
The sad but handsome prince-guy shrugged. “You have to choose a compromise. I pick flavour over temperature.”
Just having nearly retched at the pineapple flavored drink, you reckoned he was right. In what world could Budweiser ever taste less than good, anyway? You eagerly accepted one of the two bottles from the guy.
Grinning from ear to ear, you brought the bottle to the side of your mouth and popped the tin lid off with your molars. The sad but handsome pri—what the hell, why hadn’t you asked him his name already?
The most expressions you’d seen on the still nameless guy’s face were what he had on, right now – a unique cross between horror and disgust. You gave him a guilty smile.
“A terrible, terrible habit, but it makes me feel cool.”
He simply blinked at your words, making a show of plucking off the bottle opener attached to the handle of the cabinet he’d taken the bottles out from to open his own beer.
Oh.
Well, he – he didn’t tell you it was there, so. Redundant.
“Do you wanna come out?”
Wait. You…phrased that wrong, didn’t you?
He raised his eyebrows at your abrupt proposition, pausing with his lips wrapped around the bottle. Your gaze immediately dropped to their plushness, brain involuntarily pulling up images of teeth biting into them – your teeth biting into them. 
“Pardon, what?”
Oh, God, he had a drop stuck to his lower lip and—
Fuck, he licked it!
He – licked at his wet lip.
And now it was wetter. And you’d also seen his tongue. 
You really really really wanted to go home with this guy. Or take him home. Or push him against the nearest wall. Or vice fucking versa. Just somehow arrange a situation to have him put those plump lips of his on your body.
You kinda understood why Hyejin and Taehyung were pushing you to get laid, now. If your college had even five percent of its boy-population looking like this, you were missing out on a hell lot.
“I, uh,” you breathlessly tried to repeat what you’d said. “Out—outside. It’s stuffy, here, um.” God, these sentences were not coming out good. “Do – do you wanna sit on me—ah!” You bit your tongue, because what the fuck did you just say, you horny demented bitch?! “Sit on – sit on the porch? With me?”
Success, at last.
He looked more confused than you but gave you slow, tentative nods. You turned towards the back entrance of the house, marching ahead without checking if he was following you. At this point, you were okay if he wasn’t. This was enough humiliation to last you a month.
But when you stepped out onto the rickety flooring of the back porch of the house, another pair of footsteps followed you to the cane chairs. You exhaled. So the guy didn't think you were a complete idiot, or he wouldn’t have come with you.
Soon enough, you two were settled into two lounge chairs at a distance of two feet. 
Quietly sipping at your respective beers. 
Very quietly. 
Too quietly.
Oh God, it had to have been at least ten minutes of pin drop silence – why the hell wasn't this guy saying something? You were bad at communication, you could be forgiven, what the hell was up with him?
You awkwardly cleared your throat. "I, uh. I'm a Freshman."
Wow, was it really that important to divulge that piece of information? You didn't even tell him your name!
"Jimin."
You blinked. Did he…?
"Oh! Hi, Jimin!" You flashed him a jovial smile, leaning your head this way and that to catch his eye when you noticed he wasn't looking your way. 
It was only when you cleared your throat that he looked your way with a nodded greeting, not even giving you enough time to smile again before he was looking down at the bottle in his hand again. You scowled.
"So… Jimin from…?" You tried digging for more information.
He had to have been at least a Junior with his impossibly handsome looks and the confidence with which he carried himself. 
A deep sigh echoed around you. "The House of Parks."
Your eyebrows slowly climbed up. The house of what, now? Parks? What the hell was this? Some fraternity on your campus you weren't aware of? Well, you weren't aware of any fraternities on campus, only dependent on the information Hyejin provided you with. You would have to ask Hyejin about this 'House of Parks' sometime.
"Jimin from the Parks House, then—"
"Park Jimin would do."
His responses were clipped, and honestly? Really starting to irritate you. You accidentally poured your drink over him, and what? You offered to pay for dry-cleaning. And you didn't force him to sit out here with you – you offered and he accepted. Where the hell was this hostility coming from?
Belatedly, you realised the name he'd given you sounded like a traditional Korean name.
Wait… the House of Parks wasn't his house, was it?
You were too intimidated to enquire further, so you shifted the conversation in a different direction, avoiding talks of personal life altogether. You channeled your inner hoe, recalling every conversation you'd unwillingly heard between Hyejin and her flavour of the night, and tried to imitate the best you could.
"Did you go to Sehun's party last week? I heard this one girl did body-shots off his abs. Dude's got some really yummy ones, so, like… I'm envious of the lucky bitch."
You pulled the best dreamy face you could muster, sticking your bottom lip out for added effect.
Jimin didn't stir, calmly sipping on his beer and looking out into the dark backyard of the frat house.
What the heck? Weren't guys supposed to get jealous over these kinds of things? Hyejin's guys always did! 
You cleared your throat and tried again. "And – and when she took the lime from his mouth, they made out for, like, a whole minute. Gah! You had to be there to understand how gross and porn-like it was!"
Still nothing. You aggressively brought your own bottle up to your mouth and took a huge swig. Swallowing the comforting liquid roughly, you pursed your lips.
"I take it you weren't—"
"I don't go to parties."
He spoke so quickly and in such a low pitch that you had to blink to really believe he'd spoken at all. 
A nervous chuckle came from you. "You—you're kinda at one, right now."
He smiled in response, but only his lips moved. No other muscle on his face so much as twitched. His eyes looked just as dead as they did when you first saw him. His smile was more scary than his straight face.
What was with this guy?
"This is the only one."
You nodded at his confusing response because what else could you even do? He was quiet and handsome and intimidating in a way you'd never seen someone be. You didn't know how to handle this. 
You also didn't think you were going home with him tonight.
You released a deep, sad sigh at the thought. That face would've made for a great seat. And it would've been delightful to uncover what his velvet clothing hid, because his shoulders were broad and waist was slim, and his thighs looked like they were sculpt—
Okay, you were very disrespectfully checking him out again.
You blinked down at your beer bottle, saddened to find it nearly empty. Checking his, your lips turned down into an actual frown to find him finishing off the last few sips.
His throat moved mesmerizingly with his gulps, your gaze would not stray from his Adam's apple no matter how hard you tried. You eventually chose to stop trying and resigned yourself to drinking your fill with your eyes.
This guy was handsome as hell, but also weird as hell. Nothing you would expect a college student at a party to be like.
But this also made him enchanting as hell, and man were you caught in his spell.
His sharp eyes cut across the lawn to land on yours. Your spine straightened. His irises were a gorgeous steel grey, not too different from his hair, with a certain iciness to them that made him seem unapproachable. And yet you had approached him like the idiot that you were.
“I will be leaving now.”
Why did he use such formal-ish language with you? You checked your phone to find midnight closing in. 
“Already?” you asked him, this time the pout on your lips coming naturally. 
Jimin stood up without responding. You followed him with your gaze, mind coming up blank with things to say.
“Yes.” His eyes met yours once more, briefly, before he turned on his heels. 
You leapt out of your seat to grip onto his sleeve to stop him. He did, slowly turning his head to look at you over with an incredulous expression on his face.
Your face twisted up in a grimace. “I, uh, sorry.”
He stayed still and wordless, plain eyes giving away no sign of expectation, intrigue or interest. You licked your lips, second guessing yourself.
You were gonna make a fool of yourself by asking him to stay when he looked this disinterested. What the hell were you doing?
"I…" You deviated. "Aren't you at least gonna give me your number?"
You smiled widely at him, relishing the way surprise washed over his face.
"I'd really like to get to know you better. You… you're intriguing."
You patted yourself on the back. You could've done better, of course, but this wasn’t too bad. Right?
But your joy was very short lived, because the next moment had him scoffing, his arm torn out of your grip with a rough shrug. 
“I cannot tell if you are joking or not.”
You swallowed, suddenly very nervous. Jimin’s eyes were the coldest you’d seen them be, all night, and the harsh line of his lips told you he was gearing up to destroy you. And absolutely not in the ways you’d been hoping he would.
Having dug your own grave, you were gonna have to climb out of it on your own, too. So you exhaled.
“Why – why would I be joking? I kinda like you and—”
Jimin gave a sharp, humorless snort of laugh, shutting you up. 
"I have already wasted so many precious minutes listening to you jabber consistently. What on earth makes you think I would give you means to torment me with more of that?"
What?
Your jaw dropped to the floor, heart clenching with immense hurt. His eyes looked menacing, unkind and devoid of any human emotion. 
"I thought we were…" you trailed off, completely clueless about where to go with that.
He hadn’t actually been engaging in conversation with you, so what did you actually expect? What were the two of you supposed to be? What would you call him? A friend? Someone you still wanted to sleep with?
You didn’t think he would appreciate the latter, and to be honest? You weren’t so sure if you wanted that anymore.
This guy had a sweet face, a mysterious persona, but a mean, mean soul.
“Nothing.” You exhaled, lips and brows falling into a frown. “I’ll see you around, I guess?”
His face, ever so expressionless as it was, somehow managed to close off further. “No, you won’t.”
Ouch? 
That was so supremely unnecessary? Your heart unreasonably ached in your chest at his crassness.
You sat in your seat, gobsmacked and frozen, while he sauntered back into the bustling hall of partying college students, disappearing from your sight as if he was never there at all.
You eyed his empty beer bottle with disdain, and – unwittingly – still some intrigue.
He probably wasn’t a bad guy, you tried to reason. Just a very confusing, rude and unsociable guy – one that had you feeling a lot of good feelings right before he turned it all to shit. You’d never claimed to be a great judge of character in any way, but you figured he couldn’t be all bad if he had you feeling good feelings at one point of time, right?
Oh, who were you kidding? He was an arrogant ass whom you obviously misread, and made a mistake by asking him to drink with you. 
Sigh, another win for you and your luck in making friends. Good thing you didn’t tell him your name. 
Wait. Did you really—?
Your eyes widened.
Shit.
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“So, do you wanna fuck him or beat him up?”
You rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time, fingers furiously typing up another Tweet. “I’ll know when I see him again, Hyejin.”
“It’s been two months and still no trace. Are you sure you didn’t make him up, babe?”
You shot a venomous glare at your roommate, and not because of how ridiculous her theory was but because you were slowly starting to wonder if she was actually right. This wasn’t the first time she’d made this assumption – just as this wasn’t the first time you were making a post on social media about a party you were going to in hopes of getting Jimin from the ‘House of Parks’ to take notice of the post somehow and… well. You didn't exactly know what after that, but you really wanted to at least catch hold of the guy once. Reassure yourself you hadn’t dreamt up that night, tell him your name, and maybe try to understand why he’d looked so dead, back then?
You weren’t looking to heal his broken soul or something poetic like that, you were simply curious. You’d never even seen a lonely Freshman look that out of it at a party so lively, and Jimin definitely had to have been one of the Upperclassmen.
“Why don’t you bring one of your nerdy friends along?”
Hyejin interrupted your thoughts, smacking her lips in front of the mirror. 
“What about the dude that lives in the library?” 
You groaned at her description of your friend, but Hyejin paid you no mind.
“He could help get your mind off this prince-guy?”
“Namjoon would rather die than go to a party, least of all help me take my mind off anything.” You rolled your eyes, immediately squinting them at her lips later. “Is that… my lipgloss? The one that rolled under my bed?” 
“Finders keepers, bitch.”
She flashed you a toothy grin and skipped out of your shared apartment.
You sagged against the couch cushion behind you in defeat. Your tweet had garnered three-hundred likes and seventy-three retweets in under three minutes, just as your Instagram post had collected over two-thousand likes in the past hour—just some perks of sharing living spaces with the Hyejin Ahn, party animal extraordinaire. 
You got up to switch your oversized t-shirt for something more appropriate for the New Year’s party you were going to.
If this Park Jimin guy was to find you and show up, he would.
Your spirits were stumped out like a cigarette’s butt, though, when he didn’t. And you spent the entire night holding Hyejin’s hair back while she threw up into every single shrub she could find.
Needless to say, you had both your hands full the entire time and a certain silver haired, prince-like guy with lifeless eyes was the farthest thing from your mind.
And it somehow, shockingly, stayed that way for the better part of a year. 
You got busy with your studies, this part-time job you scored at a coffee shop on campus, being reluctant company to Hyejin in parties she went to on a weekly basis, and facing the fact that you’d have to succumb to socialising in some capacity if you were to survive college life. You made some friends, consequently, and found an excuse to escape your weekly babysitting duties with your roommate. 
Avoiding parties on campus was always a hard business, though, so you did find yourself ending up at different frat houses every other month, a particular pair of narrow, grey eyes with a world of sadness in them never entering your alcohol addled brain. You didn't think of their depths when you made out with a guy too cheerful for your taste, on Valentine's. You were too busy thrift shopping for summer vacation by the beach to really remember the classy details of a certain Prince's Halloween costume. When you sipped at shitty craft beers, a smooth and sophisticated voice agreeing with your opinion of them never echoed in your head.
And least of all, as the passing months bled into seasons and you turned from an enthusiastic Freshman into a stressed Sophomore, you never thought about the possibility of a gorgeous but mysterious boy graduating and disappearing from your life, forever, without a single trace.
You hadn't, that was, until you arrived at a Halloween party at the same frat house you had been at on this same day, last year. 
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⇥ halloween, sophomore year;
You were hiding in a far off corner of the living room to try your damnedest to escape your roommate and her scary ass friends—who had also grudgingly become your friends—and very specifically from Taehyung, before he forced you into a keg stand like he tried to, at every party.
“I’m going out for some air, Tae! Maybe later!” you lied with a wince, rushing into the kitchen to disappear from his sight, altogether.
Your group of friends was the rowdiest bunch – no surprises there when Hyejin and Taehyung were your self-proclaimed leaders – and you were forced to lie and hide your way out of making a fool of yourself at almost every party you all went to. And though all of your friends were honest to God menaces at parties, the two ‘leaders’ always took the cake. Taehyung had this weird obsession with encouraging people to do keg-stands and Hyejin was his perfect companion because she loved doing those. You’d been dragged into a lot of them over the course of a year, too, when you hadn’t been quick and sneaky enough to escape. Snorting alcohol through your nose was never a fun experience, but it would certainly be worse with people staring straight at your underwear if Taehyung and Hyejin failed to hold up your m&m’s t-shirt dress. Which, given their drunken states, they were more than likely to do. So escaping today was a must.
Just as your back met the refrigerator’s wall, your lungs eased out a huge sigh of relief. 
Why did you keep getting roped into your friends’ stupid-ass escapades all the time? You had to stop letting Taehyung sweet-talk you. The guy turned into a mischievous demon after alcohol and Hyejin gave him her full support when he attacked you. Maybe it was time to finally drag Namjoon to one of these things. You knew he would have your back.
You were still cursing everyone to hell in your mind, when your gaze wandered up to the window next to the fridge.
You blinked at the familiarity, tilting your head with a squint when—
Everything stopped.
This was the window where you first saw him… 
A dam of memories broke open, freezing you in place, as pictures and voices suddenly flooded your brain.
Plump lips, a tiny smirk. I don't need money.
A scoff, silver earrings. I don’t need that, either.
A prince’s outfit. Park Jimin would do.
Beautiful silver hair, sharp but sad eyes. I have already wasted so many precious minutes listening to you jabber consistently. What on earth makes you think I would give you means to torment me with more of that?
The sad but handsome prince-guy.
Your sad but handsome prince-guy – who turned you down so brutally, you should've damned his name to hell.
The guy you, instead, spent nearly three months looking for like crazy, until workload and extra credits during winter break distracted you and you had to let go of him.
The guy you’d nearly forgotten about, nearly convinced that he didn’t exist and you’d imagined him.
You were jolted out of your thoughts when someone thrust a solo cup in your hand. You frowned, a curse ready at the tip of your tongue, until you looked up – and gasped so hard, you almost spilt the blue, shady looking concoction in your hand.
Same silver eyes and hair, plump lips. Same, and this was a bit weird but, the exact same outfit from last year.
The same guy, looking so much similar to his previous year’s self, it almost felt like he’d never even left this kitchen. 
“Jimin,” you breathed.
His lips slanted to a side in what you assumed to be his attempt at a smile. And your breath halted at how much more gorgeous he looked like this.
“Hello. You remember.”
What? Your lashes fluttered in confusion. Why wouldn’t you?
But you were too astounded at the foreign expressions on his face to really word your confusion, at the moment. A lot different from what you’d seen last year. His permanently straightened lips were attempting to smile and his eyes were filled with more apprehension than gloom and irritation. And, yeah, maybe not the best emotion, but a definite upgrade from the previous ones.
In an inexplicable way, it made you want to smile, too.
But then you recalled his rough dismissal of you and the way he dropped off the face of the earth after that, and a sad sigh made its way past your lips.
"You do exist then." You raised a taunting brow up. “Was starting to wonder if I’d dreamt that evening up.”
Something flashed on his face, gone before you could really catch it, and he was immediately shrugging his shoulders and raising an eyebrow of his own.
"I'm here, aren't I?"
“Yep, that you are.” You looked at the glass in your hand. "What the heck is this?"
Jimin flicked his tongue over his lower lip, looking fidgety. "It is what you would call… a peace offering?"
You squinted at him, prompting him to go on.
He gave a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping and gaze falling to his feet. "I want to apologise. For the things I said to you right as I was leaving, last year. They were mean and uncalled for. I was flustered and put in the spot, and reacted badly."
Wait, flustered? Put in the spot? Whatever for? Did girls not usually ask him for his number, or what? Going by the way he looked, you couldn't believe that could be the case.
Had you, perhaps, misjudged and he'd actually been a Freshman like you? Inexperienced and nervous? That could explain it better.
You didn't ask, though, choosing to hum in consideration.
"I agree with everything you said. And I would accept the apology – if!" you quickly added just as he was beginning to roll his shoulders back, and he froze, eyes slightly widened at you. "If you'd tell me why it took you a whole year to come to terms with that."
Jimin opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying but failing to come up with a response. You snorted. 
"I tried to look for you, you know. Posted so much on social media, it was all I did for three whole months." 
Garnered over three thousand lecherous fuckboys worth of followers because of all the flirty selfies you put up in hopes of catching Jimin's attention, but he didn't need to know that. 
Jimin looked guilty when looked at you through troubled eyes, and you felt satisfied. "I wanted to come back and apologize the very next minute, after I left," he confessed, taking you aback. "But circumstances didn't allow me to return. Until now."
"Until a whole year? What, are you some slave to some evil queen, or what?" you joked, and his lips tilted in that peculiar way again.
His smile wasn't full, so it wasn't as pretty as you knew it could be, but just the knowledge that he was trying to smile – that something you said was making him amused enough for him to want to smile – filled you up with a satisfaction that scared you. You barely knew the guy. He already had way too much control over you.
"What's with the ’fit?" You tilted your chin towards his costume. "Didn't have time to shop this year?"
"Ah. Something like that." He nodded, brows furrowed over confused eyes that perused his own clothes, as if he hadn't paid them much attention before you pointed them out. "It's a good outfit, though, right?"
His gaze suddenly darted up to look at you from under his brows, and you lost your shit at how unbelievably sexy he looked right then.
You tried to formulate a response but your mouth had gone so dry, you couldn't speak. So you raised the glass of the most certainly spiked punch in your hand to take a sip – profusely spitting the liquid back, next second.
"What the heck have they put in this thing?" You lamented, holding the cup at an arm's length from you until you just poured it into the sink. "Worse than craft beers, I swear," you grumbled, tossing the empty solo cup into the trash, glaring at it even as it joined other glasses that probably hadn't been emptied the way this one was. "Did you taste it before giving it to me?"
You looked up when you didn't receive a response, only to find a soft smile on Jimin's face. 
All your thoughts came to a screeching stop, words failing you at how beautiful it looked. How good he looked wearing it – soft around the edges, approachable, alive. Even his eyes were a softened, warmer gunmetal instead of the sharp steely grey.
You could feel your cheeks warming up with every passing second. Embarrassed at your school-girl-like reaction, you broke eye-contact with him and cleared your throat. You heard him do the same, peripheral vision catching him running a hand through his hair.
“I see you made some friends.”
Surprised at his remark, your head snapped up to meet his gaze. “What?”
He gestured towards the huge ruckus in the middle of the party with his chin. You followed his eyes to a very drunk Hyejin and Taehyung holding hands and jumping on the living room couches. You winced, shifting to the side to conceal yourself more properly.
“I guess, yeah,” you mumbled, awash with secondhand embarrassment at the dumb antics of your group unfolding right before your eyes. “Not too proud of the choice, though. I would introduce you, but…”
His eyebrows jumped when you looked at him with a grimace. “Oh? Oh, no, it’s fine. I don’t, um… I don’t socialise much.”
All these gloomy shadows that kept crossing his already pretty but sad face confused the hell out of you. What had he endured so early on in his life to be the way he was? Heartbreak was the only thing that came to your head, but you couldn’t really be certain. It could be about his family or something, too, you had no way of knowing. You really wanted to ask him about it. But you very strongly doubted he’d tell you, especially acting the way he had, last year – his apology had mellowed the bruise, but it’d take more of better behaviour from him to make you trust him more. 
You also figured he was obviously a very private guy. He had seemed pretty lonely at the party last and you didn’t see anybody around him today, either.
“I’d much rather we talked among ourselves.” Jimin looked at you with questioning eyes, lips pulling up in another soft smile after the brief period of sadness. “What do you say?”
What would you say? As if it was even a question.
You beamed at him the biggest smile you could muster, boldly looping your arm through his and dragging him through the crowded living room to the upper floor. His amazing looks caught you some jealous, envious and even a couple lustful stares as you passed drunk college students by. Skipping by rooms and bathrooms, the two of you happened upon a terraced balcony through a room – the very balcony that you’d sat under, on this very day, a whole year ago.
Letting go of Jimin’s arm, you walked out under the open sky, looking down at the same scenery from last year that had witnessed one of the most humiliating and hurtful experiences of your life.
But as you looked at the backyard today, admiring the moonlight brightening the otherwise eerie and scant looking space, you didn’t feel any amount of trepidation or nerves that you had, last year. Jimin had shown you a significantly more humane side of him today. Maybe there was more to him than being just a confusing, rude and unsociable guy. Maybe it was worth giving this interaction another chance.
“So,” you announced, turning around and leaning your back against the balustrade. 
Jimin walked up to you on slow steps, taking in the view you just had with a certain calm on his face. And you watched him, held captive by the full moon reflected in his eyes, the rest of your words slipping your mind at the ethereal sight he made. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a fairy tale and your brain really couldn’t fathom how a human being could look this beautiful.
“What a lovely view,” he suddenly mused, still observing the scenic vista that the moonlit night sky and the abandoned backyard made.
And you, like a whole cliche sap, nodded with a smile, not moving your gaze from him. “Sure is.”
If Jimin caught your not too subtle heart eyes, he did not react to them. Walking up to stand next to you with his hands resting on the parapet, he still kept looking off into the distance even as he hummed questioningly. “So?”
A giggle burst through you. “This is so juvenile!”
He tilted his head to look at you with confused eyes. “What is?”
It was astonishing how his gaze could tie your tongue into knots and leave your braincells floundering for a coherent thought. You blinked rapidly, clearing your throat in lieu of clearing your head enough to formulate a response.
God, this crush was spiralling out of your control too darn fast.
“Nothing.” Deflection. The best tool. “You suggested we talk, so…” You gestured between the two of you with your hands. “What do you wanna talk about?”
Jimin’s lips pulled up in a thoughtful pout which you couldn’t stop staring at. His plump as heck lips that already looked so darn kissable were now beckoning you closer by their pucker. You had to employ all the self-control measures that you knew to not grab him by the collar of his expensive ass velvet coat and attack his mouth with yours.
His shrug brought you out of your wildly inappropriate thoughts, and your gaze flickered away from his lips to go back to eyes that were already looking at you. You cursed yourself mentally, hoping that the lack of illumination on your face had somehow prevented your exposure as the pervert that you tended to turn into around him.
“We could talk about you. Your name, for starters.”
With a grin, you told him. He repeated it, slow and low, as if tasting the syllables, and heat ran through your body at how intimate and delicious it sounded. “I like it,” he added later, smiling a little.
You looked away from his piercing stare, clearing your throat. “Uh, thanks. I like yours, too.”
“It means extremely intelligent,” he told you, chuckling a bit with an amused look on his face. “Well, technically, someone whose wisdom is higher than the heavens. But you get the point.”
You nodded, intrigued. “It’s a good name.”
The name conversation went on for longer than expected, but now that it had finally come to an end, you couldn’t understand what to talk about next.
Jimin made the move for you by asking his next question. “So, you are a Sophomore this year, aren’t you? What are you majoring in?”
To say his question caught you off guard would have been an understatement. He knew what year you were in? Had he asked around for you? Was it low-key creepy? It should have been, right? Then why did you get this weird sense of gratification at the thought?
You had been silently gaping at him for more than a few seconds when he innocently raised his eyebrows at you. You snapped yourself out of it to answer his question.
“I–I’m majoring in astronomy,” you managed to stutter.
“Astronomy? Quite the peculiar choice. Any specific reasons?” he asked, looking thoroughly invested in what you had to say. 
“I don’t know how to express it.” This time you were the one to give a shrug. “I just love the realisation of how we are tiny, little dots – or not even that – in the vast, vast reality of things.” You smiled. “I wanna discover more worlds out there. Go to NASA if I can make it.”
“Wow.” His lips had fallen open a fraction, eyes looking lost. “More worlds?”
You gave an enthusiastic nod, stepping away from the balustrade to fully face him. “Yes! See if there’s another floating rock out there in the universe than humans can inhabit.”
“The universe?” He looked thoughtful. Almost as if his mind was elsewhere, in fact, as he gazed into nothing. “Do you perhaps ever think about what is beyond? Places that humans could inhabit… beyond the universe?”
“Beyond?” You tilted your head to one side, confused. “I mean the universe is all there is. Literally. It contains all the galaxies and stars and black holes. Well, technically the galaxies contain the stars and the black holes so—”
You stopped speaking when you saw him laugh. You froze, devoid of voice and thoughts as you took in the foreign sight before you. 
If you thought he was ethereal before, Jimin while laughing was a piece of art that belonged in a museum. His eyes crinkled up into tiny slits, making you wonder if he could even see past them, and his lips parted to give way to pearlescent white, shapely teeth. The sound of his giggles was seeping into you and filling you up with so many feelings that you could not find words in a dictionary to express. 
“No,” he said with depleting chuckles, and you immediately wanted to do something to make him laugh like that again. “I did not mean for you to teach me science, I was actually talking about something beyond the explanations of science.”
You noticed how his face grew serious as he said the last of his words, and so different from how it was while laughing at your misunderstanding of it. You knew people that were believers of the Supernatural – ghosts, magic, witchcraft, those sorts of things and had some idea about how attached to their beliefs they could be. You did not want to offend Jimin in any capacity if he was one of them, and so you simply shook your head. 
“I do not believe in things that I cannot see. So no, I don't actually think about a universe beyond ours.”
His smile fell, and for some reason it felt like it wasn't just his belief you had dismissed. 
Desperate to cheer him up again, you gave him a little grin, knocking your shoulder into his. “But I could be convinced, if I ever actually experienced something,” you said, knowing how excited believers of the Supernatural became when asked to share their stories.
Your effort was brought to fruition when he snorted a laugh, his shoulders jumping slightly with his low chuckles, but it was still less than the reaction you had expected. This guy really was different, and there really was a long way for you to go before you had figured him out. If he allowed you to, that was.
“I am sure something, someday will convince you,” he told you with a mysterious smile on his face and you almost wanted to ask him if he was trying to tell you that he was a ghost, given how you hadn't been able to find him. 
But then – you hadn’t even tried for more than three months, had you? Maybe you would’ve found him in the fourth month, who knew? Also, you reckoned calling someone a ghost was also sort of insulting, so you refrained. 
You looked back at his face, noticing how some brightness had entered his eyes that had looked so dull earlier. A feeling of contentment lifted your chest and you grinned at him with a wiggle of your brows. 
“Enough about me,” you announced, “your turn! Tell me about your major and future plans!”
And suddenly, the light you had just been rejoicing in his eyes, went out. The steel grey that was as cold as it was attractive, came back to color his irises and you felt as if a whole block of concrete had fallen between the two of you to shield him. All you could do was wince as if pained physically, lowering your head to peer up into his gaze when he bowed his head to look down at his fidgeting fingers. 
“Did I say something wrong?” you immediately asked, relieved to find him attempting to smile at you.
“No, you did nothing wrong. It is me. I do not like to talk about myself.”
You hummed in response, resting your elbow on the parapet and your chin in your palm. “Well, maybe you should,” you told him, taking a bold step, smiling when his surprised eyes met yours. “I find you really interesting, very charismatic, and would love to get to know you better.”
Jimin rolled his eyes, even as his lips tilted in mirth. “There are other ways to get to know someone better than just inquiring about their major and future plans, did you know?”
You gasped out loud, not believing your ears. Did he just say that? And you thought you were taking a bold step!
Given the way his eyes widened at your reaction, though, you had reason to believe he certainly hadn't meant to imply what he did. You broke out into peals of laughter, doubling over yourself as Jimin fumbled with words to explain to you that he wasn't trying to come at you. 
It eventually got to the point where you were running away from him and he was chasing you around the terrace, both of you giggling like teenagers. Your stomach ached from laughing hard at his helpless and flustered state as he followed you with a red face and reluctant laughter – until he had you pinned against the wall of the room the balcony was attached to, holding both your wrists against the chipping paint to lock you in place with his body. Your laughter slowly dissolved into harsh breathing as you took notice of your proximity. Jimin probably came to the same conclusion soon too, because his eyes gradually took on a darker shade.
Your eyes fell to his parted, enticing lips that glistened under the moonlight. You wanted to kiss him so bad, you felt like you’d combust if he didn’t let you. Thankfully, when you met his eyes again, you found them lowered to your own mouth with a delicate sort of craving reflected on his face. 
That was all the invitation you needed to lean forward and press your lips to his. 
The plumpness your eyes had observed was more pillowy than expected when your lips explored it. His hands instantly dropped from the wall to get lost in your hair, cradling your head to pull you closer to him. You moaned at his aggressive action – Jimin using the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, tasting you thoroughly. Goosebumps broke out across your skin, your toes curling at the heady taste of his. You tried to match the motions of his tongue with your own, meeting him in the middle. 
Your hands gripped the back of his neck, thumbs massaging at the soft skin behind his ears as you went on your toes to gain better access to the depths of his addictive mouth – desperate for more. Breathing became secondary to both of you with the battle between your mouths going on for long, getting more intense until your lungs burned and head swam – indicating to you how close you were to passing out if you didn’t breathe.
You pulled away with a groan, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he let go of you. And then he was backing you into the very conveniently vacant room behind you, intense gaze never breaking away from yours. 
The back of your knees knocked against the edge of a bed, forcing you to sit. Jimin gazed away from you before walking off towards the door of the room that connected it with the rest of the house, giving you a heart-attack for a second, until you realised he was locking the door. Your heart reacted a lot differently to that – thudding like crazy in your chest, threatening to break through your ribcage and jump out of your body. 
Jimin returned to you, looking as regal, handsome and beautiful as he had when you first saw him – now with fuckable added to that list with his mouth red with your bites and glistening with your spit. He didn’t say a word and simply caught your lips in another searing kiss. You were thrown back on the mattress, crowded by his body over yours as he plundered your mouth, hands gripping onto whatever body part of you he could get to.
This time, it was him that pulled away first, making you blink your lids quickly to focus on him in your lust addled drowsiness.
He was so stunning like this – lips bitten, hair tousled, irises thinned by his dilated pupils – hovering above you with all the grace of royalty that he was dressed to match. He looked at you with shy eyes. “Hey.”
You gave a breathy laugh. “Hi.”
“I…” His gaze grew anxious. “I do not usually…do this.”
“Me neither.”
You bit your lip, bringing a hand up to run your fingers through his soft, silken hair and tilting your face up to brush your lips against his.
“But I really desperately wanna do it with you, Jimin,” you breathed into the minimal space between your mouths, gaze flicking between his eyes and lips.
Awe ran through his gaze for a miniscule second, and then his body pressed down harder against you. “I would hope so. Because I have got something for you to take care of,” he rasped against your mouth, slipping his tongue past the seam to lick a wet line on the inside of your lips, just as his hips rolled into yours, his hard length digging into your thigh. “You feel that, princess?”
Flames licked up your body, shivers running through you at the overwhelming presence of this man on top of you. His faint scent combining something woodsy with a faint trace of tuberose filled up every pore on your skin, the feel of his warm mouth devouring yours, the planes of his built body pinning you down – everything made you lose your whole mind, leaving you to claw at his velvet jacket, your fidgeting legs tangling up with his until he pinned them down, too.
“You’ve caused this,” he husked into your mouth. “So I’m going to have to use you to fix it, too. It’s only fair.”
Any remaining sanity you had, left you then.
You moaned, muffled and desperate against his lips, and opened your mouth to lick into his. He allowed you the pleasure for meagre seconds and then took control back from you, sucking on your tongue with his grip on your shoulders tightening with every passing moment, until he took one hand off to push it through your hair, gripping a handful and tugging.
“Jimin!” you yelled, lips separated from him with a loud smack and head arched back to expose your throat to his awaiting mouth.
He wasted no time in latching onto your pulsepoint, tracing your skin with his teeth and pushing his tongue against it as if to memorise your texture. Barely breathing, you fisted one hand in his hair and scratched at his jacket with the other.
“J–Jimin,” left you in a broken whimper, earning you a grunt in response as the man went lower, placing kisses down your throat. “Clothes…”
Without separating himself from your flesh, he slid both his hands down your body to grip at the edge of your t-shirt dress. You had meant his clothes, but you were not gonna delay feeling his hands on your naked skin. With a breathless moan, you pulled away to nod your approval to his questioning eyes. He got up, then, kneeling over your panting, incoherent form and whipped the dress up and off your body in a smooth motion. 
You gasped loud and heavy, unable to catch your breath before he was back on you, kissing you deep and strong, while his hands made quick work of both pieces of your underwear until you were lying bare beneath him. With him fully clothed still.
His mouth latched onto a nipple, one hand palming your other tit while the other made a detour for your center, sliding down your wet folds to seek your entrance. Whining low in your throat when two of his fingers slid through your slick channel, you struggled to open your eyes. The carnal sight of him lapping at your nipple with his eyes shut and moans escaping him like a starved man was erotic enough for you to explode into an orgasm in itself – added to that the sparks of fire that said act sent towards your core where his fingers were already working themselves against all your sensitive spots to drive you insane, and you were hanging with a thin darn thread.
He didn’t let you for long, though, choosing to switch sides and engulf your other nipple into his mouth. His thumb came into play, at the same time, swirling over your tender clit, and you sobbed. 
“Jimin, fuck—please! Please, baby, I need—ah! Need to—” 
His teeth digging into your nipple had you breaking off into a guttural moan. “Come on then, princess. Let go. I’ve got you, come on.” 
His soothing voice was fifty octaves too deep and your toes curled at its huskiness, your body climbing up the high until you were right at the edge, teetering and ready to fall. Your mouth gaped and eyes shut tighter, you bruised your fingers digging your nails into the back of his jacket to use it as an anchor when the edges started to blur.
“I’m gonna—gonna, oh God—Jimin! I’m coming, I’m—”
The two fingers moving in you picked up pace, curling against your sensitive spot in a frenzy, and your balance tipped off its axis – a scream building up your chest and tumbling out in the form of Jimin’s name against the force of his pounding digits. Your orgasm crashed into you like a freight train, making your entire body quiver like a leaf as your walls spasmed, nearly knocking you out.
Or maybe it did knock you out, because you hardly even felt Jimin get off you, until you were jolted back into the world of living when you felt a warmth on your oversensitive pussy. You opened your eyes to find him kneeling between your legs, his tongue cleaning up the mess you’d leaked.
And he was shirtless. 
Your gaze drank up his toned torso in all its glory when he sat up, swiping the back of his hand over his lips. You swooned so hard at the sexy sight of him climbing up your body, going breathless and senseless, you would’ve dropped to the ground if you were standing.
But thanks to him, you were already a heap of dead limbs and comatose brain under him.
His dark eyes gazed into yours with purpose when he came up to brace his hands next to your head, making you thickly swallow. “I’m going to fuck you now.”
Your pussy clenched at his direct words, mouth going dry as you waited for him to continue.
“Last chance to back out of this if you’re not certain that you—”
“Take off your pants, Jimin,” you spoke over him, voice cracked and breathy, but intent sharp.
He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, giving you a slow nod. He sat back on his haunches between your legs, and you used that opportunity to collect all your strength to fold your legs up and slide up the bed to sit back. 
You only let him tug his pants down to his thighs, and attacked – running first your palms and then your nails down the muscled expanse of his body, scratching just a bit harder at his v-line to make him hiss, and finally wrapping a fist around his impressive length.
He audibly breathed out through his nose, lips pressing into a thin line. Your hand gripped him harder, using the ample amount of precum on him as lube to move your palm up and down in smooth, long strokes. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, neck arching and you moved up to plant kisses on the inviting flesh, scraping your teeth over the mole above his collarbone.
Gasps met your ears in response to your ministrations, making you more courageous – you smacked wet kisses over his firm chest before licking a path down his chiseled abdomen. Your fist never ceased its motions over his cock, thumb brushing over the slit to earn you louder gasps, until you were kissing your way down to it. 
Your eyes met his barely open ones for a few heated seconds – and then you lowered your mouth to his tip. 
Wrapping your mouth around his remarkable girth, you licked at it with the flat of your tongue, relishing the drawn out groan of your name you pulled from Jimin. He brought one of his hands to support the back of your head while you worked his cock further into your mouth, bobbing your head attentively till he met the back of your throat. 
Twin, matching moans escaped the two of you at the feeling, with Jimin’s morphing into a muted curse. “Shit, princess, your mouth is heaven… you’re so perfect.”
You wanted to tell him he was perfect, too – so fucking perfect with his sharp eyes, soft smiles, cold exterior, warm laughs. And his hands with their sturdy, purposeful grip on you. And his lips with their gorgeous cupid’s bow and deft kisses on your skin. And his thick length that you couldn't wait to feel inside of your aching pussy. And his sounds that made wetness drip down your thighs, even when he had just given you a fantastic orgasm.
He was perfect and you were growing fond of him at an alarmingly fast rate.
Jimin showed great constraint by not moving his hips at all even when he had a hold on your head. He could use your throat however he liked, but he chose to let you pleasure him at your pace. And for some reason, that was even sexier than it would have been to see him go feral on you.
Your mouth worked on him fast and deep, your throat converging around his tip every time you pushed him in far down enough for your lips to brush the base of his cock. He rewarded you with melodious renditions of your name in a low murmur, and you brought both your palms up to brace against his fleshy meaty, thick thighs for added support. But your fun was short-lived when his other hand suddenly came up to cup the back of your head, too, and pull you off his length.
You looked up at him with delirious eyes and he looked back with his own saturated with desire. "Enough of that," he whispered in a rough voice, making your insides catch fire. "I need to be inside of you now. Right now."
Without leaving you with a moment to react, he put both his hands on your shoulders, pressing you flat against the mattress. Your legs were unfolded from their place on the bed by his bruising grip on your calves, and tugged towards his waist until he wrapped them around his torso.
His angry tip prodded your entrance, and you held your breath in anticipation, wondering how bad the stretch would burn when you could barely wrap your mouth around his fat cock. Recognising your trepidation, Jimin gave you a tiny, soft smile when you looked away from where he was about to enter you, up to his face. He bent over your body, using one hand to comb your hair away from your face, and pressed his lips to your forehead in a comforting kiss. Your lids fell shut at the affection he laved you in, your chest filling up with unexpected fondness when he pulled back to look into your eyes again.
"You okay, princess?" His voice was so gentle and soothing, the softest you had ever heard it be.
The pet name was a whole different story. It made you feel a different kind of giddy, a kind that you probably shouldn't have been, given how you had only technically known this guy for less than two days. But what was your weak heart to do when he called you that in such a loving voice while dressed up as a total prince, himself?
You smiled at him, fluttering your lashes to clear the sheen of moisture that had formed over your irises without your knowledge. What was he doing to you?
"Yes," you said, licking your lower lip. "And I will be even better when you fill me up the way I have been wanting you to since I first saw you."
Jimin's eyebrows rose at your flirtatious confession, but then he was pushing past your entrance, letting go of your face to brace both his hands on the bed next to it.
Your body arched up into him, nipples meshing against the solid planes of his chest as your walls opened up to take him in, the large amount of arousal coating your entrance making the fit easier. You moaned, immediately squeezing your eyes shut in shame at your loudness. He gave a throaty chuckle above you, humming as more of his cock made its way in you.
"Is this what you've been wanting, baby?
His breathy question washed over your face, but you were in no position or state of mind to respond. Your hands held firmly onto his shoulders, nails marking a path down his shoulder blades, to the small of his back.
You held on tightly as he bottomed out, filling you up more fully than you could have imagined. You felt him everywhere – his breathless panting in your ears, delicious weight on your breasts, his woodsy-flowery scent that you were getting addicted to filling up your lungs, and of course, every single inch of your cunt stuffed full with his cock that you could feel every vein and ridge and contour of.
It didn't burn because of how aroused you were, but the massive stretch of your pussy took you some time to adjust. But Jimin was nothing if not a patient and comforting lover as you had come to know tonight. And so, he waited for you to adjust, staying in the same position without moving a single millimetre. It was only when your breathing had calmed down significantly that you opened your eyes to look into his concerned ones and your heart filled up with a foreign feeling that both excited and scared you. A lot.
"Is this okay?" he softly asked, moving his hips half an inch back and then forward again. 
A tiny gasp escaped you at the amazing friction his cock created inside your core, and that gave him the answer he needed even before you nodded your approval. You held onto him more firmly, sliding one hand up his back to wrap behind his neck and pressed your legs into his hips firmer. 
"Yes, please," you said. "This is more than okay."
With more than enough signals from you to proceed, he left all inhibitions behind. No sooner had you spoken, than he was sitting up with his hands now moving to grip on your waist, determined eyes staring right into yours as he pulled himself almost fully out of you and then snapped his hips back.
“Jimin!” you shrieked, body bouncing up the bed with the force of his strong thrust.
His stare did not move from your face even when his hands journeyed up and down your torso – playing with your nipples, groping your thighs, squeezing your waist, until finally settling on your forearms as they slid up to press your wrists into the mattress next to your head, all the while fucking into you you like a madman. You had no means of escaping his intense gaze, because the second you tried to close your eyes or look away, his fists would tighten their grip almost painfully on your wrists and you would have to snap them back open. And continue staring into the twin pools of his blown out, black irises.
"Am I fucking you good, princess?" Jimin panted into your ear. "Is it up to the mark with how you imagined it?”
Oh God, this man. Tears dribbled down the side of your eyes with the overwhelming pleasure his cock was pushing you towards with every stroke of his.
“Yes!” you sobbed with your lips quivering, nails leaving crescent welts in the flesh of his hands that held your palms now, and the walls of your pussy trembling around his pistoning length. "Yes, Jimin—fuck, so so good! Better—ah! Better than I – I imagined!"
“Good,” Jimin managed to give you a satisfied hum between his frantic breaths of exertion, pressing a sloppy kiss to your throat. “My beautiful princess, doing so well for me.”
His praise sent tingles down your spine, combining with the pleasure that was creeping up, and you were dragged closer to your peak – which Jimin probably discerned from your face, because his pelvis started to grind down into you with his next stroke, pressing into your clit just right to send you off the edge.
You came with a shout of his name – pussy clamping up around him as earth-shattering pleasure flooded your veins, your entire body twitching with the intensity of your release. You sobbed into Jimin’s shoulder, digging your teeth down into his flesh in an attempt to control the sounds escaping you.
Your action triggered his own climax, body stiffening and hissed curses pulled from him. His hands let yours go in favor of gripping the bedsheet beneath you. You willed your jelly legs to stay locked around him longer and wrapped your cramping arms around his shoulders, looking through your blurred vision at him biting down on his lower lip.
“C–come inside me, Jimin,” you brokenly urged him. “I’m on the pill. Fill me up, baby. Let go."
And he did, going still above you for a second with his brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut and jaw dropped open – before he gave a low whine, hips jerking as he released warm spurts into you.
His body collapsed on top of you, spent and sweaty and heavy, and you welcomed his warmth and weight by holding him tighter. His face slotted into the crook of your neck, parted lips brushing your earlobe. When he moved to pull out of you, you clenched around him to hold him in place.
"Can we stay like this for a bit?" you mumbled, feeling somewhat embarrassed to ask him something like this, but also wanting to prolong the intimacy you felt in the moment.
It took him a second to respond, but he nodded against your neck in affirmation. "Of course."
You grinned. "Thank you."
He huffed out a laugh when you pulled him closer, his breath tickling your ear.
“Your bones will crumple if you hug me any tighter, princess,” he murmured to you and you giggled.
Nah, they wouldn't. Because you didn't feel like you were crushed under him at all. You felt light – like you were floating above a cloud, awash with blissful euphoria. 
What you felt with Jimin – what you felt for him, maybe? – was something you couldn't explain; something you’d never felt before, with or without a person. He captivated you whole, fascinating you with his deeply mysterious eyes and turning you to depravity with his seductive lips, at the same time. You'd never felt such a fierce attraction – and even a bit of affection, if you were being honest – for someone ever before in your life, let alone in as few meetings as you had had with Jimin. 
Jimin made you curious like astronomy made you curious. And it confused you, but it also thrilled you.
You just hoped he wouldn't pull another disappearing act on you and actually be interested in exploring whatever it was that was brewing between the two of you, this time.
It was with that thought in your mind that you drifted off to sleep, pressed into the bed under Jimin's body with his softened cock still resting snugly in you.
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In hindsight, waking up to an empty bed shouldn't have shocked you as much as it did. 
But it was only after you'd turned the entire room inside out in hopes of discovering any note Jimin could've left behind that it actually registered with you – you had been ridiculously stupid.
What the hell had you been thinking, letting so many emotions fill up your mind and heart, and actually start to hope for something further with him? He was a college guy you met at a college party at a frat house. You guys had a one-night stand. Now, admittedly, you didn't really indulge in a lot of those, as you'd told Jimin last night, but it was still a very familiar concept to you. 
Why had you, then, started to expect so darn much in your orgasmic bliss? And why did your heart feel so freaking heavy to find Jimin gone without a trace, again?
It was a one-night stand – it would have been weirder if he stayed and cuddled.
You really compared your infatuation with him with your devotion to astronomy? What the hell was wrong with you?
You dressed up and left the stupid, half empty building in a rage – at yourself, of couse, and absolutely not at the silver haired guy from last night who'd basically done the right thing by leaving – so wound up in your anger that you totally missed how the door to the room was still locked from the inside despite your lover having left earlier than you.
You proceeded to spend the entirety of your weekend at your apartment, burying yourself in reading materials for your course. Neither Hyejin nor Taehyung could drag you away for anything. And honestly, that made you feel kinda powerful. More in control.
The only person who was actually able to make you leave the building turned out to be Namjoon, when he texted you to join him in the library, Sunday morning, where he was ready with flashcards on constellations for your finals that weren’t due for another month. You reckoned you could still use a study buddy and a distraction, so you went to the library.
The first thing out of your mouth when you saw him slumping in his oversized, pale blue cashmere sweater was, "I might have fucked up."
Namjoon raised his eyebrows at you, looking at your plaid shirt over a tank, sweatpants and slippers clad self, and let his sassy tongue lash out at you with, "by stepping out of your room looking like that? Uh, yes, you might have."
You rolled your eyes, falling into a chair next to him. "One, you're not funny. Two, you're actually kinda mean for bringing a friend down when she's already feeling so bummed out."
That made Namjoon grow serious and he straightened from his slouch to frown at you. "I'm sorry. What happened?"
"I, um… at the Halloween party on Thursday? I had a one-night stand."
Eyes wide and cheeks pink, Namjoon awkwardly cleared his throat. "That's—that's unexpected But, uh… nice? I guess?"
You nodded. "It was, yeah, until…" You paused, unsure how to express your dilemma properly, but your delay caused your companion to lose his shit.
"What? Until what?" He stared at you with horrified eyes. "You're not pregnant are you? Why the heck are you telling me? I know next to nothing about women or parentage or family planning, I—where’s your roommate? Ahn would definitely have plans B, C, D and E for you if you—"
"Joon!" you gasped, trying to keep your voice low as you whisper-yelled at him. "I'm not pregnant! What the fuck? I’m already on plan A, so there's no way. Also, you can't know if you're pregnant so soon after sex. It's just been three days, goddammit, Joon!"
"Well pardon me for not being a medic!"
"It's basic common sense!"
"What! No? Doesn't the foetus form super quick?"
You groaned. "It does but you can't know that it has until you skip a period. Like, not you, but a person with a uterus. You—"
Namjoon cut you off with a call of your name, looking as uncomfortable as you felt. You stopped speaking.
"Yeah?"
"Why are we having this conversation?"
Why indeed. You shook your head. "Yeah, I don't know. I'm sorry, ugh. It's just… I think I caught feelings for that guy, Joon. Or a gigantic crush, at the very least."
Namjoon's eyebrows jumped at that. "You what?"
"It's so embarrassing!" You covered your face with both your palms. "I've been trying to avoid it for days, but the fact remains."
"Wait, why is it embarrassing? I never took you to the type to hide away from your feelings."
You sighed. “It’s embarrassing because he took off before I could, like, even get his number or anything.”
“Well, that must definitely suck.” Namjoon blew a raspberry. “Hey, remember that guy you told me about last year? The one that said rude stuff to you at that party and then left? Wow, this just reminded me of that asshole.”
Oh man. Did you remember that guy, indeed. You tried to morph your expressions into a confused frown, but Namjoon saw right through you.
“Wait.” Taking his glasses off very slowly, he rested his chin on the back of his hand to gape at you with wide open eyes. “No freaking way.”
“I mean—”
“Don’t even try.”
You thumped your head against the table. “What the hell do I do, Joon?”
“Why do you like—how did you even end up sleeping with him?” Namjoon shook his head, looking stunned. “I thought you wanted to beat him up when you saw him next?”
“It was between that or fucking him,” you reminded him of your words from last year. “I obviously made the dumber choice.”
“Man. This is, like. I don’t even know what to say. How are you gonna find him?”
“I have no idea,” you whined, pouting as you turned to rest your ear on the table to look up at your friend. “I’ve worked at this coffee shop for close to a year now. Not gonna lie, I wondered if he would someday show up. But he hasn’t.”
“You don't even know what year he's in, dude,” Namjoon was kind enough to point out. “Where the heck will you even look?”
You sighed, shaking your head at how hopeless this whole situation was. It would be so much better if humans could just choose whether to feel or not to feel certain feelings, wouldn’t it? But no. The entire race was stuck being a slave to their hearts.
“Around,” you told Namjoon, wondering how you were even gonna begin.
But you did your best.
You did not just begin, but work pretty hard at it too. By Christmas, you had skipped one class per day to look for Jimin like a crazy, obsessed idiot, skipping parties and sticking to college corridors, this time. You knew him better now, and reckoned you’d have a better chance finding him in classes. 
You also strained your brain a lot to try and figure his courses out. He hadn’t seemed like a science guy, jumping to questions of things beyond science pretty quickly when you told him about your astronomy major. You looked for him through the entire Arts building for a whole month after winter break, even going as far as to peek at the final exams’ results displayed on the department’s display board to look for his name. No Park Jimin to be found, though.
But by the end of March, you were still empty handed and carrying a dull throb in your chest around with yourself. Crushes sucked.
Hyejin and Taehyung’s taunts began to roll in thicker and more irritated as time passed. You regretted telling them about sleeping with Jimin and how he bailed out on you.
“I'm starting to wonder how bomb the dick was for her to get this desperate," Hyejin remarked one Friday night as she was getting ready to head out for a pool party, Taehyung on a video call with her. “It’s been, what? Six months? She’s still looking, Tae.”
“Bet I could make her forget all about it if she’d let me hit it, though,” came Taehyung’s very eloquent remark.
You were grateful you hadn’t confessed to having a crush on your one-night stand to these crass headasses. They’d spit-roast you over a campfire.
“She is sitting right here, you jerks,” you moodily grumbled, walking around your apartment in the baggiest sweatshirt you owned. “And I’m still looking, because I can’t find the guy anywhere. I’ve exhausted all resources. Screw our university for not letting students access the online portal with all the admissions lists.”
“What’s that?” Taehyung called out. “You need a hacker, babe? I got a friend I could hook you up with.”
Hyejin turned to look at you with raised eyebrows, as if confirming if you wanted Taehyung to go ahead with it. You smacked a palm against your forehead.
“No, Tae, I don’t wanna suck your friend’s dick so that he’d help me hack into the university’s website and get me expelled,” you deadpanned, which your roommate and her best friend apparently found very hilarious and laughed their butts off about.
And it went on like that for longer, until one day when Namjoon talked to you about stopping. He brought up the possibility of the guy being a visiting student, a friend of a university student, someone from a nearby town that just came in for Halloween parties, or even someone that wasn’t student at all, and just liked to skip from college to college, sleeping around with girls the way he had with you. The last possibility sounded off if you matched your first meeting with him, but your brain still caught up with the impossibility of your predicament.
There were so many details attached to someone’s existence – knowing their name and what they looked like literally amounted to nothing in the long run.
So you basically had nothing. It felt like shit, but it was a good wake-up call.
You took up an internship at a local planetarium for the Summer break to take your mind off all this, for a while. The owner liked your enthusiasm about planets and the way with which you told stories to the kids a lot and offered you a permanent part-time post. Needless to say, you were more than happy to drop your coffee connoisseur designation to embrace this job. What was better than spending your weekends making powerpoint presentations on the universe?
But then July brought Hyejin’s nineteenth birthday and the self proclaimed ‘biggest party of the decade’ she threw at one of her friend’s sorority. You were, obviously, forcibly dragged to attend. Getting there, you came to see that the girl had actually invited the entire college’s population. Your brain unwittingly reminded you that there was a very very real possibility of Jimin being here. 
And so you spent the entirety of the stuffy, overheated late July night looking for him around the large house, housing what looked like the biggest party of the decade.
Taehyung found you sometime in the early hours of the morning, halting your frantic mission by asking you if you were “still chasing the bomb dick” in his drunken stupor.
And that was what dunked a bucket of ice cold water on you in the form of the realisation of how unbelievably pathetic you had been. 
Jimin fucked you and disappeared from your life. It had been nearly eight months. What the hell were you still doing trying to find him? You hadn’t even turned twenty yet, still technically a teenager. Why weren’t you enjoying your reckless college years like the rest of your friends? You didn’t even know him well enough to have actual feelings for him, why were you losing your mind over a damn crush?
You decided to take a break. If you somehow found Jimin again, you’d be sure to take his number and maybe confess that you liked him. If you still did at that point, that is, because that was a real thing for people your age. There was no need for you to turn this whole thing into an epic love story.
You drank your weight in alcohol that night and passed out on the stairs. When you spent the next morning with your head down a toilet bowl, it felt oddly liberating.
Life became pretty normal after your awakening, surprisingly. 
Hyejin and Taehyung started dating at some point, only for Taehyung to kiss another girl and an almighty fight to crack them apart and have them block each other. That entire drama dragged on for long, occupying a lot of your time that you spent trying to stop Hyejin from drowning in alcohol. 
After the finals, you took your depressed roommate out to a bar. Only for Taehyung to show up there with a friend.
The two of them fought in the washroom and then fucked in the washroom, leaving you to awkwardly communicate with Taehyung’s friend. You vowed to yourself to never interfere in their matters, ever again. 
When they reappeared, all dopey grins, flushed faces and mussed hair, Taehyung introduced you to the guy you had been making small talk with. “Remember my hacker friend I told you about?”
You blinked, immediately recalling the incident when Taehyung was ready to support you hack into your college’s website. You gave a nod, apprehensive eyes taking in his friend better this time.
“Jungkook is a CS major.” 
The Jungkook guy forwarded a hand for you to shake, a shy smile taking over his face. “Hey. I use my computer programming skills for all the wrong reasons for your friend’s boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you.”
You couldn’t stop the snort of laughter that left you at how legitimately on-brand that sounded. You shook hands with Jungkook and told him your name.
“Good, now that you’re not actually technically alone among strangers here – it ain’t a stranger if you know their name! – we’re gonna take off,” Hyejin said in a rush, hugging you and running out of the place with Taehyung before you could even react.
“Did she really…” You gawked in her wake. 
Jungkook laughed. “They’re both the same person. I don’t know how it took them so long to date.”
“They just broke up and got back together, did you know?”
Jungkook shook his head, looking amazed. “Is that what the washroom was…”
“Yep.”
“Wow.”
“Yep.”
Jungkook forcibly bought you a drink, before he went about flirting with every girl that sat next to him on the bar. You wondered if this was, perhaps, what he and Taehyung bonded over. It was entertaining to watch the exchanges, and kinda nice and relaxing because he didn't try anything with you. 
He did ask you to dance, though, and after the fun you'd had with him at the bar, you were happy to comply.
You soon found out that Jungkook was a great dancer, too, along with being an overall fun guy. Jumping on the dance floor in a crowd of unknown bodies, Jungkook was extremely respectful with you, never touching anything other than your hands. 
You had a fun time, doubling over in laughter when he bust out the Macarena while walking off the dance floor and back to the bar.
This time, you bought him a beer over his protests.
"So," he began, wiping sweat off his forehead beneath the fringe of dark hair that had come to hang over it. "Me and a couple of friends are organising a Halloween get-together. It’ll be a small and personal event, nothing grand, just some of our people gathering for drinks and dancing. Wanna join us?”
Your brain drew a blank. It was Halloween already? Wait, no. Last you checked, it was still September.
Which was a month away from October. 
It had been nearly a year since you last saw Jimin. And despite how the time had seemed to drag by when you went around the campus and came empty handed while looking for him, or someone that knew him, the fact surprised you. It didn’t really feel like it had been a year.
“Sooo, is that a no?”
You blinked, erasing traces of your one-night stand from your brain—that you had vowed you didn’t think of anymore, but your subconscious mind apparently didn’t get the memo—and held up a hand to pacify Jungkook’s embarrassed smile.
“Wait, no! I’m sorry, I was thinking about something else. Of course! I’d love to join you guys!”
Jungkook grinned. “That’s great, then! Tae and Hyejin are invited, too, y’all can come together.”
You forced a smile on your face and sipped your drink, willing yourself to not think of a certain guy with a fine jaw, full cheeks and sharp eyes sharing Budweisers with you. It was a failing attempt, obviously, as you struggled to focus on Jungkook's words, feeling progressively more miserable the more your attention slipped.
Was it weird to miss someone you’d known for less than a day?
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⇥ halloween, junior year;
“If we end up getting kidnapped by ghosts or some shit, I will kill you.”
You rolled your eyes at your roommate’s antics, ignoring her and walking ahead with intent. Street lights took turns to bathe the three of you in the color yellow, becoming your only source of light on the otherwise dark street. 
“I really do not understand how this is gonna help," Taehyung mumbled from next to her.
"I never understand anything she does, Tae, I'm—"
“You don’t have to understand your best friends to support them, Hyejie,” you teased, shoving your hands into your denim dress’ pockets. 
“I’m regretting giving you that title, just so you know.”
You did. Pursing your lips to hide your mirth, you kept walking. 
After the stunt Hyejin and Taehyung had pulled on you two months back, leaving you alone at the bar with Jungkook, the guy had given an earful to Taehyung about it. And so, the apologetic duo had declared that they both owed you a favor, and Hyejin had gone one step ahead to bestow you with the title of her best friend.
Tonight, you had cashed in your favour to drag them out with you for a detour after you all left for Jungkook's party. You wanted to drop by the one frathouse you had visited on this very day for the past two years. Yes, it was Halloween and you were on your way to the place where you had met Jimin. 
"They're not even throwing a party tonight, why the heck would your guy be there?" Hyejin lamented to you. 
"I never said he would be. I just wanna check, in case he is. Just keep walking and we'll know."
You breathed out, looking around the familiar and yet unfamiliar place. Tall townhouses lined the road with huge trees separating the good amount of distance between them, most of them taken up by students for fraternity and sorority housing purposes. The ongoing construction works in them, though, had forced the residing students in this area to vacate and move to different locations for this semester. And in the dark night, this lack of human presence here made for a really sinister atmosphere. 
"If we miss JK's thing because of this, I’m not gonna suck his dick to cheer him up."
You and Hyejin snorted at Taehyung’s words, with you looking at the guy over your shoulder with a deadpan. “I’m pretty sure he’s already getting it sucked as we speak, Tae.”
“I second that.”
“Hey!” Taehyung pouted at his girlfriend. “You’re not supposed to support her!”
“Didn’t you hear what she said? You don’t have to understand your best friends to support them,” Hyejin restated your words from earlier, and you laughed at the long face Taehyung pulled in response.
“Don’t make that face, you used to be like that, too, before I tamed you.”
You groaned at Hyejin’s words, already anticipating a fight. 
Taehyung proved you right by immediately scoffing with a, “you haven’t tamed me, I’ve just decided to calm down with my casanova days for a while.”
Your eyes widened. Did he just say ‘for a while’? Oh, no… 
“Taehyung Kim, are you fucking kidding me?”
And there they went. 
You grudgingly slowed down to match the quarrelling couple’s pace, now really starting to regret bringing them along with you. You’d just felt wary because of the abandoned state of this place. But now that you thought about it, a pepper spray would’ve been a better companion.
You eyed the way you still had to go, noticing the familiar frat house a short distance ahead.
Hyejin and Taehyung had stopped walking, choosing to shout in each other’s faces as they stood nose to nose. With a sigh, you turned on your heels and decided to make your way down to the building by yourself.
It was becoming more apparent how this whole excursion had been a dumb idea as more time passed. But now, standing so close to the building that very obviously looked empty with no soul in sight anywhere in or outside of it, your lips turned down in acknowledgment of how foolish you had been.
You walked right up to the looming, triple storied house painted a beautiful olive green with white accents. Your eyes traced the balcony, similar to the one the building had in its back – the one you’d been on, last year, with Jimin.
Even with a whole year gone by, you still shivered when you recalled the night you spent with him. The brushes of his fingers and lips still burned your skin. The feel of his sturdy body moving on you – in you, sent pleasurable chills up and down your spine. But more than that, the memory of his fleeting smiles, the momentary warmth flashing in his eyes, the gentle words of encouragement he whispered to you when he had you in his arduous embrace – everything made you wonder what else he hid under his aloof exterior. You’d had a glimpse, and you wanted more. You had no idea if you would ever get to, though. 
“Oh, Jimin,” you morosely breathed, missing him so much that your chest felt tight.
A whisper of your name sounded from not far away, making you look around in alarm.
And there he was – sitting on the sidewalk, under the streetlight opposite the frat house, with his head lowered and eyes full of gloom. He hadn’t seen you yet, and your heart thundered in your ears at the realisation and he’d been saying your name to himself just as you had been his.
You kept staring at him, feet slowly coming to a stop. You'd looked for almost an entire year, came here to see if you could find him. But now you had no idea what to do. You wanted to make your presence known and approach him, but you felt weirdly shy and awkward, thinking of the crush you had on him and the way it had made you act these past few months. The way you had missed him with a passion when you had no business doing so.
Then suddenly, as if having sensed your presence, his head shot up, alert eyes looking in your exact direction. You stood frozen to your spot like a deer caught in headlights.
Until, that was, he yelled your name across the empty road, face split into a huge grin. You immediately jogged your way to his side, meeting his grin with a bashful smile of your own as he stood up to welcome you.
"Hey," he whispered, eyes running over your face like he had missed it.
Just like you had missed his. You did your own scanning of his features that seemed to elude joy and excitement instead of the heavy misery you’d noticed just moments before. He looked like he had when he chased you around on that terrace, a year ago, only better. Happiness did look very beautiful on him.
You ducked your head with a timid wave. "Hey, yourself."
"What are you doing here?" He gestured around the empty street, tossing a glance past you. "It's past eight in the evening and this doesn’t look like a very proper or safe place."
“I came with friends, but… they got occupied with some stuff, half a mile back,” you explained, clearing your throat. "And I, uh, was actually hoping to find you here? Which I did. What are you doing here? The frat house is being renovated, so they moved the party this year.”
Jimin reached out with a hand to take yours, nibbling on his lower lip. “Would you believe me if I said I was hoping to see you?”
Well. Given how he had seemed to light up on discovering your presence, you kinda would believe him. 
Just as you had opened your mouth to respond, your eyes caught his dress-up. The same damn prince outfit you’d been seeing for the past two years. You frowned in confusion. Even if you ignored the repetition, you were left wondering why he’d be dressed up in a costume when a party wasn’t even happening. Until you recalled Namjoon’s theories.
And then it felt like you were beginning to understand what was up; Jimin didn’t even just live off campus, he didn’t even study at your university. He just came here for this one party. Which is why he didn’t know about the renovations. He probably didn’t belong to a very well off family, which was why he wore the same outfit every year. 
You stepped closer to him, squeezing his hand. “I do.”
Jimin’s smile grew, pushing his eyes into the adorable, tiny slits you’d seen them be only once before. Your heart warmed at the sight.
“Good. But do not go roaming such dark streets with friends that are irresponsible enough to leave you alone so carelessly.”
His concern made you bite your lip to hide your giddy smile. “Yeah, well. They’re kind of moronic, but they’re all I got, so…”
You looked over your shoulder, squinting in the dark in hopes of spotting their silhouettes.
“Uh, I think they actually left. Or they made up and are fucking in some alley,” you mumbled, bitter and irritated the duo’s neverending drama.
Jimin laughed, pulling your grumpy self into his form, his arm curling around your back to hold you to him, and started to walk you both down the street. You smiled at the feeling of it.
"So, would you like to go to the party we were going to?"
He turned to you with surprised eyes. “A party?”
You gestured to his clothes, raising your eyebrows. “Since you are all dressed up, and stuff?”
He looked down upon himself and then at you. A small smile appeared on his face. “But I see that you are not.”
You hummed, recalling how you had been in such a rush that you hadn’t actually given much thought or time to your outfit. How you weren’t even all that interested in going to Jungkook’s, to be honest. How you were more eager to visit the one location on the entire University campus – probably even the entire city – that wasn't having a party tonight, in search of him. 
You couldn't gather enough courage to say any of that to him, though, so you just shrugged your shoulders, feigning nonchalance as you lied through your teeth. “Forgot to book anything in advance, couldn't find anything in my closet, Hyejin’s clothes are too small on me, so I decided to forgo a costume.”
He looked you up and down with such a brimmingly adoring gaze, it made you want to keep staring into his eyes forever. “You look really cute in this dress.”
The guileless way he said that to you had your cheeks feeling like they were on fire. You scratched at the back of an ear, looking down at your Converse clad feet. “Thank you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” he responded with a light squeeze to your shoulders and then exhaled. “And no, I do not want to go to a party, if that is okay with you?”
Your head turned to look at him with big eyes. “No? What else would you like to do, then?”
Gazing into space, he brought his free hand up to stroke at his chin like an old man as he hummed in thought. You giggled at the sight, inciting a laugh out of him, too. 
“Can we just walk around for a bit?” he then asked you.
You didn't even have to think for a second to immediately nod. “Of course! I really like the smell of October air, anyways,” you admitted, inhaling deeply to prove your point.
Jimin looked lost in thought, the light in his eyes dimming with his slow nods. “Yes, I do too.”
The two of you journeyed around the empty streets on the campus on foot, circling back to your starting point as you went in loops, with you chatting about every little thing you could think of and Jimin dropping in appropriate responses. You now knew he didn’t like to talk about himself so you didn’t ask him to. At some point, the conversation turned towards friends and family and you ended up telling Jimin how you had lost your parents in a car accident when you were just six.
“I lived with an aunt of mine for the rest of my schooling years. She wasn't exactly bad at parenting, but… like, she couldn't exactly dedicate her entire life to a child that wasn't even hers. Especially given the fact that she didn't marry or ever want to start a family of her own. So.” You shrugged your shoulders trying to hide the dejection that weighed your heart down when you thought of your pre-teen years. “I had a pretty lonely childhood growing up. Never made many friends, and the ones that I did fell out of contact with me after I moved to uni here.
Jimin hadn't said a word throughout as you spoke. The only indication that he was listening had been a couple of subconscious squeezes of his fingers on your upper arm.
"Hyejin is technically my first real friend." You laughed. "And yeah, she may look like a whole idiot with no care for anyone in the world, but she is actually just too brutally honest and free-spirited."
"Too free-spirited, I would say," Jimin grumbled next to you. Your chuckle at his sudden bout of anger fading when he quietly asked, "is she your only friend?"
"There is also Namjoon, my friend from astronomy class. And Rose, from quantum physics. But I don't usually share much other than notes with those two. I mostly hangout with Hyejin and Tae and their group of friends a lot, but honestly? I don't think half of them even know my full name."
You frowned, feeling lonelier than usual at just having recounted the lack of people in your life. 
"Sometimes I feel like no one would even realise something is wrong if I suddenly disappear from their lives," you mused out loud. "And if they somehow did end up noticing, they would forget about it before the week was up."
Jimin's hand fell off your shoulder as he stopped walking, promoting you to stumble to a halt too. You turned around to find him looking at you with a horrified expression on his face.
"Jimin?"
"Do not say that." He shook his head, eyes looking stricken. "Do not say that they would not notice. People always, always notice when you are gone. They will know – they will miss you."
The pain on his face made you want to apologize, but you were confused by how earnest he seemed. Yes, dissuading someone from such negative thoughts came with a certain conviction to assure them, you were aware of that. But for some reason, it felt as if Jimin was taking it more personally than normal.
Still, you stepped towards him and apologized. 
"I just got lost in my head. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, Jimin."
"I'm not upset. Just…" he sighed, linking the fingers of both his hands with yours to pull you closer. "You affect more people in your life than you know. Do not ever think you won't be missed if you're suddenly gone."
He looked so vulnerable and worried in the moment, that you instinctively moved forward to wrap your arms around his waist in a tight hug. His breath washed down your neck in a long whoosh, arms wrapping around your back to hold you tighter.
"You would miss me, right?" you mumbled into the ornamental velvet of his coat.
Jimin's head moved in a nod. "I already miss you. Always. During every waking minute."
You chuckled at his dramatic claim, but hummed contently, anyways. "Good. Because I do too."
He suddenly pulled back from your hug. "You do?" 
Why did he sound so incredulous? Why would you even be here if you didn't miss him? This fool.
You looped an arm with him, pulling him into a stroll again. "Of course I do, Jimin. Why the hell are you so surprised?"
"I'm…" He shook his head, staring into space as he frowned, looking conflicted. "Nothing."
You stared at him. Why did this guy keep hiding his true feelings behind layers? You chose to change the topic of conversation.
"Hey, you can take off this coat if you're too warm." You tugged at the garment's thick sleeve. "It looks too hot."
He cleared his throat, making a show of raising one teasing eyebrow at you. "Too hot, huh?"
Your eyes widened. "Wait, no. I mean yes, it does, but I—"
Jimin broke out into a loud laughter at your flustered state. "I know what you mean, princess."
Ugh, the damn nickname. Your mind automatically flashed back to when you were a breathless, sweaty mess under him and he was luring you closer to your orgasm by using this very name in that honey sweet voice of his.
Jimin unbuttoned his coat, standing right there in the middle of the street with a slight smirk on his face, and you briefly speculated if he was thinking about your shared night from last year, too, until your attention was captured by the light glinting off his buttons. Damn, they really looked like they were made of actual silver.
Soon enough, Jimin was left wearing a gorgeous white, silk shirt – form fitted and perfect. With the light from the street lamp painting him in a beautiful golden glow, he actually looked like a real life prince, glittering in the dark. His flawless skin, silken hair, perfect body, and that delicate look in his eyes as he smiled at you, and you couldn't stop your feet from walking up to him.
Transfixed, you reached out with a hand to cup his cheek, your other palm coming up to rest on his chest. Looking up into his smiling eyes that seemed to belong to a completely different person from the one you had encountered brooding alone in that kitchen, you tilted your face and reached up to press your mouth against his in a light kiss. 
His coat fell to the ground next to you in a dull thump, and arms wrapped around you to pull you to him. He reciprocated your kiss just as tenderly, not making any attempts to take it anywhere – his mouth remained closed, just his lips massaging yours in an almost loving manner.
When you two stepped apart after a while, Jimin was looking at you with something akin to fascination in his eyes. It made you wrap your arms around yourself, self consciously. 
Biting down on your bottom lip, you gave him a nervous chuckle. "What?"
"Nothing," he mumbled even as he reached ahead to swipe a few stray strands of your hair behind your ear with a hand.
You placed your palm over his that was still lingering around your face. "I want to see you more often than this, Jimin," you finally took the leap, swallowing your nerves. "Don’t you?”
You realised you had nothing to worry about, now that he let you see the warmth and adoration he held for you. But you were still somewhat reeling from the trauma of how brutally he had rejected your first attempt.
Which you promptly revisited as you watched his face fall at your words. Perplexed and hurt, you stepped away from him with the force of the mortification that slammed into you at his reaction.
“It isn’t that I do not want to,” he said looking torn. “I’m… I can not.”
It didn't make any sense to you. Why would he not be able to? And why wouldn’t he tell you why? It didn’t escape your notice how he still chose to not give you all the facts. Did he seek some sort of amusement in you? An escape from his monotonous life?
Too afraid to ask in fear of being given an excuse that would make you want to be swallowed up by the ground, you just nodded, forging understanding you didn’t feel. “It's fine,” you choked out. “I–I–I cannot force you to talk to me or anything. I am sorry. I obviously misread everything.”
You turned on your heels, briskly walking away from him. The guy was a master at giving you mixed signals. But that did not mean you should've let yourself forget that neither of you had really promised the other in any capacity about sharing anything even remotely beyond physical, that too once. Maybe you should have let a hook-up remain just that instead of obsessively trying to turn it into something else. 
You'd walked barely ten feet when you heard him run after you, calling out your name in a voice so desperate it made your shoulders stiffen. Which was extremely ridiculous because you had nothing to be sorry about. He was the one confusing you – putting you up by giving you sweet smiles and acting all affectionate, responding to your kiss as if you were the most precious entity in his life, and then knocking you down by evidently proving that he did not want anything to do with you beyond seeing you at Halloween parties to entertain himself, apparently.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he called out, grabbing you by your elbow to turn you around to face him. He looked haggard, all his previous softness and happiness exchanged for a deep disparity and regret. 
“Please stop doing this, Jimin,” you begged him, teary eyed. “You don't have to spare my feelings. Tell me you don't want anything to do with me if that is how it is. Don't wait for me in an empty kitchen or an abandoned street and then act all loving with those smiles of yours, only to remind me that you're just doing this because you're bored.”
Jimin’s face turned stormy, his eyes taking on an icy cold tone and jaw setting in what looked like fury. “Bored? You do not know anything about my life. How can you—”
“Yes, I don't!” you snapped back at him, eyes narrowing in your own anger even as a tear trailed down your face. "Because you haven't told me anything! I know nothing beyond your name and face. Do you realise how stupid that makes me feel?"
Some of your words must have gotten to him because the creases on his face slowly melted away until he was just looking at you through really regretful eyes. "I hope to be able to tell you about it someday. But for now, may I just make a promise that I will see you again? I can’t promise when, but I definitely will."
"Jimin, don't you own a phone?" you asked him in frustration, taken vastly aback when he shook his head in negation. "What the heck? You do not own a phone in the twenty-first century?"
"I will explain that someday, too." He kept up with the mystery, pursing his lips apologetically.
"So then what?" You folded your arms against your chest. "Am I just supposed to sit here and wait for you? At least tell me where you live? What you study? If you're a student at all? Anything about you other than Jimin from the House of Parks."
"There's not much to know about me." His face grew cloudy, eyes looking like they were hiding a whole world of stories in them – in direct contradiction with what he was saying. Before you could comment on it, though, he gave a deep sigh, looking downtrodden and disappointed. "We don't have much time today, but I will tell you when we meet again. So please, wait for me. If – if you can, that is. If you want to?"
The problem was that you did want to. And for the life of you, you couldn't figure out how dumb of you it was. You’d have to talk to Namjoon about it sometime. 
But for now you raised your eyebrow at Jimin. "Not much time? Do you need to leave soon?"
"Yes, I do. And it is unavoidable."
You clicked your tongue at his evasive answer. "So I would have to wait till I see you again. How long? When will you come back?"
He gave you a brittle smile. "Soon. Will you wait for me?"
You felt your shoulders sag. "Maybe."
He shook his head with a resolute frown. "No, do not be uncertain. If you really think you would wait, promise me that you will, and be sure about it."
The urgency he displayed seemed to indicate, on one hand, as if he was asking you to do more than just wait for him to show up again. Almost as if he was asking you to... save yourself for him, or something? Not fall in love until he was back, maybe? But then, on the other hand, he looked like he was simply begging you to not forget about him. As if he wanted you to just remember him until he showed up again to remind you of himself.
That one was easy. But you felt like you would do the former too, if he asked you to.
You gave him a slow, tentative but resolute nod. "Okay. Okay yeah, I'll wait."
“Do you—” His voice broke and he cleared his throat multiple times, licking his lips. He avoided your eyes when he spoke again. “Do you promise?”
You took a second to ponder it, before realising that yes, you absolutely would wait for him. In either sense of his request that you had deduced.
You nodded again. “I promise, yeah.”
"Promises mean a lot to me," he returned with a stern look in his eyes that pierced through your soul. "If you make a promise to me, I will hold you to it. When you promise me you will wait for me, you have to keep it. If you think it is too much to ask of you, tell me now.”
His insistence on you only making a promise you could keep and the heartbreak that burnt in his eyes when he said those words painted you a clear picture of what he must have experienced in the past.
Part of you wanted to just ask him what would happen if you broke the promise. But another, more rational part of you knew that it just couldn't and wouldn't happen. You had been waiting for him since the day he snapped at you about being irritating and walked out on you. Yes, you had gotten to meet him again, but you didn't actually get to him.
But you wanted to. Really wanted to.
So you raised your chin up in a determined stance. "Yes, Jimin, I’m sure. I will wait for you. It is a promise.”
Jimin's eyes were rimmed with red in what looked suspiciously like held back tears. Before you could ask him about it, he grabbed you by your waist and pulled you in a deep, intense kiss.
This one was different from both the others you’d shared with him tonight, heated and hungry from the get go. You didn’t realise he was moving you until your back met stone when he pressed your body against the very frat house that had begun everything between the two of you.
He kissed down your neck, palms trailing your sides to slide up your legs and reach behind you to cup your ass.
“Is this okay?” he spoke into your neck, and you nodded back hurriedly, eyes shut and lips pulled in between your teeth when his wet mouth painted streaks across your neck in time with his fingers massaging the firm globes of your ass.
Your hands pushed through his hair, switching between scraping your nails against his scalp and tugging at his luscious, silken locks. Both your moans reverberated around the empty street, thoughts of public indecency exiting your mind just as soon as they had entered when you recalled the abandoned state of the place and the late hour of the night.
A long breath emptied your chest with Jimin suddenly dropping to his knees in front of you. Thoughts of public indecency raced back in.
"What are you doing?" you squealed when he tucked the front of your dress up to your waist and moved forward to press open mouthed kisses from your thighs to to your cloth center.
Lust ridden, droopy eyes looked up at you from under thick brows. "What does it look like I am doing?" 
And as if that was not enough for you to lose your mind, he decided to maintain eye contact as he went back in to plant another kiss over the wet spot on your panties.
"You can tell me to stop if this makes you uncomfortable," he taunted you, knowing full well the tremble in your legs was absolutely not because you were uncomfortable.
“What if somebody sees?”
“Who?” he scoffed, raising one sexy eyebrow at you. “Some poor ghosts, maybe, that have come out to have a good time on Halloween. I say we give them a good show.”
You gaped at the guy and his uncharacteristically mischievous words. But then you were mumbling a plea for him to go on as you frantically looked around for any non-ghostly, human presence lurking by. Coming up empty, you tilted your head back on the wall behind you and focussed on the feel of his skilled mouth as he tugged your underwear down your thighs and began to press warm kisses directly against your heated core.
A wail left you when his teeth wrapped around your clit, wetness flooding out of you with his sucking. He slid a finger into you, curling it against your sensitive spot and after your moan of approval, added in another one to stretch your walls wider. He used his empty hand to hook behind your knee and loop it over his shoulder, your heel immediately digging into his back at a sudden, harsh suckle of his mouth on your cunt.
His tongue lashing at your clit formed a rhythm with his fingers, and you saw stars behind your closed eyelids sooner than you had expected to, given how you hadn't even been aroused before he kissed you. It would be humiliating how Jimin could bring you from being bone dry to an orgasm within a total of ten minutes, if it wasn't so goddamn sexy.
You came with a shout of his name, completely taken aback by how quickly you’d reached your high, clenching around his fingers and squirting juices all over his mouth. He lapped them up, licking his lips as he planted your wobbly leg back to the ground and stood back up with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.
Your breathing hadn't even calmed down fully when his body was on you again, this time his bare length sliding back and forth between your pussy lips. You looked into his eyes with a whimper, hips subtly grinding down to maximize the friction between your sensitive clit and his cock. Jimin leant in closer to you, gripping at one of your thighs to fasten it over his waist.
"Jump," he gritted, winding your other leg around his waist when you did.
And then he was pushing into you, catching your groan of pleasure in his mouth when his tip knocked against the deepest spot in your cunt in one smooth stroke.
"Okay?" he huffed into your mouth, teeth pulling at your lower lip.
"Yeah," you breathed back, locking your arms behind his neck.
His eye contact was just as strong as it had been last time, not breaking away for a moment as he fucked you – even though yours was all over the place, eyes immediately screwing shut when he hit you hard and deep within just the first few strokes. You pursed your lips to check your sounds, subconsciously wary of your surroundings, which earned you a spank on your ass.
Your eyes shot open to look into Jimin's gleaming with hunger. "Do not keep those sweet sounds in," he hissed into your face, nipping at your top lip in punishment.
You tried not to, but every other deep thrust of his had you shrieking too loud, and then trying to quieten yourself. 
He wasn't having any of it though. His palms supporting your ass served more than their purpose, delivering spanks to your buttcheeks every time you bit your lip or shut your teeth. His deep, thorough thrusts pushed you against the wall, your back getting chafed like hell in the process, but the way your core pulsed around him left you little else to think about.
“Oh God, Jimin, so good,” you whined into the side of his neck, arousal dripping out of you at the strength of this man to be holding you up with such ease and then fucking you so furiously.
“Yeah? You like that, princess?”
“Yes!” you sobbed, opening your mouth against the collar of his shirt as you nodded. 
“My precious little princess,” he grunted, his own face stuffed into your neck. “God, baby, you take me so well, shit…”
Jimin removed a hand from your ass to brace on the wall behind you, making you instinctively tighten your legs around him which pushed you deeper down on him, and the both of you released loud groans. The new position gave him better leverage to move, and he drove into you with a savage severity, fucking you into the stonewall.
"Jimin, I – I am close," you mumbled after a particularly harsh thrust which seemed to have struck what felt like your cervix.
He nodded, huffing out shorts breaths into your hair, “so am I.”
Wet lips moved against your throat, his tongue tracing your skin before his teeth latched onto your tender skin, sucking hard just as his hips moved in a frenzied rush, hurtling you along with himself to an explosive completion. He moaned your name into your skin, all breathless and hoarse, and your walls fluttered around him with your climax raising your body fifty feet off the ground – only to dunk you back into flaming fires of pleasure. Warmth filled your fluttering cunt as Jimin fucked you through his own orgasm.
The two of you stayed tangled up, panting and sweaty, gradually coming down from your respective highs. Your eyelids parted slowly to look at the man who was pulling out of you, making his dilated pupils flicker up to catch your gaze. He gave you a shy grin that you mirrored, licking his lips as he let your legs land back on the ground slowly. You retracted your hands from his neck to run your fingers through your messy and knotted hair, glancing up at him to admire the way his own mussed, silver strands made him look so young and boyish.
You stayed plastered to the wall, waiting for feeling to return to your legs while Jimin quickly tucked himself in and buttoned up his pants before pulling up your own underwear and straightening your dress. The mixture of your juices trailed down the side of your thigh, the feeling surprisingly not as gross as you would have assumed it to be. 
“So,” you mumbled mostly to release the anxiety that the prolonged silence and meek glances between you two were stirring up in your stomach. “Think any ghosts witnessed the show?”
Jimin froze in surprise for a millisecond before he threw his head back and let out a loud guffaw. You drank in the sight of his infectious but rare – and all the more precious for this reason – happiness eagerly, your own lips cracking a grin. You wished he could stay like this forever. Sated and blushing and so filled with joy. You wished you could make him stay like this. You wished you could make him stay with you. 
The thought made your smile recede, chest tightening a bit.
He was still shaking his head, shoulders jumping with silent laughter when he responded, “I have no way to know for certain. But if some did, I am willing to bet they enjoyed every bit of it.”
Punching his shoulder with an embarrassed whine, you lent half your weight on him, allowing him to guide you through this maze of empty streets and out to some areas with population.
It looked so uncanny, the way you walked into traffic immediately as you had exited the street. Jimin was probably having the same thoughts because he snorted at the sight. “Are humans especially too scared on Halloween? Because I expected there to be a lot of students sneaking around such a vacant location on the campus.”
Agreeing, you laughed with him. “I guess it's Halloween’s doing, then.”
You had just reached a busy sidewalk when Jimin stiffened next to you. “Oh no, is that the time?”
You followed his line of sight to a large clock that displayed that it was five minutes to midnight. Your shoulders slumped. “Let me guess… you have to leave at midnight?”
“By midnight,” he corrected you with a saddened smile, his fingers slipping off through yours.
With your heart heavy, you nodded, recalling the promise you had made to him. “I will try to understand, I guess. Just stick to the promise you made.”
“As long as you stick to yours, you will never have to worry about mine,” Jimin said to you with such certainty that you couldn't resist surging up to plant a quick kiss on his lips.
He looked surprised but still eluding adoration from his gaze when you pulled back. 
“I will see you…” you began, trailing off when you realised you didn't even know when.
“Soon,” Jimin finished for you, planting another kiss on your lips.
Then he stepped away, walking backwards a few steps with a wave of his hand. You waved back, wondering if the gleam in his eyes were tears or a trick of lights. Or perhaps a reflection of your own. You watched as he shut them and turned around, walking off into a different direction from yours.
Respecting his privacy, you turned away from his retreating figure, putting your hands in your pockets.
He would come see you. He had promised. He would keep his promise.
Reassurances and self pep-talks only went so far. You thought of distracting yourself, pondering if you should try to look for your two missing friends, attend the party another was throwing, or just head home and go to bed with thoughts of Jimin behind your eyelids.
And despite your decision to look for a distraction, the need to bask in Jimin’s scent on your clothes and the bites he left on your body clutched you harder.
It wasn't a genius's guess what you opted for.
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Taehyung and Hyejin had apparently made up then made out, and ended up having sex on the porch of an empty townhouse, that night. Pretty accurate to what you had assumed. 
You stopped chewing your salad, grimacing at Taehyung. “Why did you have to bring that up when I am trying to eat?”
Hyejin gave you a wicked look, making your spine straighten in alarm as you tried to reassure yourself that no one had seen you and Jimin. "You're one to talk. Where the heck did you go after we left you alone?"
You rolled your eyes. "I didn't go to Jungkook's party or fuck him, if that's what you're wondering."
Namjoon broke into a coughing fit next to you. "Dude?"
You gave him an apologetic smile, shrugging one shoulder. “I actually found Jimin,” you continued. “Was with him for most of the night and then I just came back home.”
Taehyung waggled his eyebrows. “Came home? More like came in your home, huh?"
All three of you groaned at the gross innuendo, and you shook your head.
“Alone,” you clarified, pouting at your lunch. “He had to leave at midnight.”
“Again?" Hyejin frowned.
You frowned back. "Again what?"
"Hasn't he always left before midnight, every time you guys have met?"
You thought back to the previous two years and were speechless to realise that Hyejin was right.
"Never took you to be the observant type, but you're spot on, babe," you mumbled, stunned at the recollection.
"Why would he do that?" Namjoon wondered out loud, frowning behind his glasses.
"Dude’s Cinderella, no other explanation," Taehyung butted in with his two cents. "Very suspicious, if you ask me."
"One, no one asked you." Hyejin turned to him with narrowed eyes. "And two, what's suspicious is how you even know Cinderella."
Oh God, another spat brewing up.
With a sigh, you checked the time, delighted to find it minutes till your next class began, one you shared with Namjoon. You elbowed the guy. "Time for class, Joon."
As if he'd been waiting for that one cue, Namjoon packed up his remaining fried rice in record time to rush out of the cafeteria behind you, leaving a quarrelling Taehyung and Hyejin lost in their own world.
"Dude, how the hell do you tolerate them?"
You laughed. "I won't say it's not hard. But now you know why I don't invite you to eat lunch with us."
"Yeah, and please don't do it ever again, either, okay?"
As you and Namjoon walked down the corridor, he asked you about what exactly happened between you and Jimin on Halloween night. And you told him, trying to spare the fact that you had sex, before releasing that it'd leave you with a whole blob of time that you won't be able to explain otherwise. So you told him everything, sulking a bit when you recalled Jimin's parting "soon" again.
When you were done speaking, Namjoon gave you an unimpressed look.
“So you’re telling me he didn't have enough time to tell you about the mysteries surrounding his presence in your life, but he found enough time to fuck you against an empty frat house, out in the open?"
"I shared this with you because I thought you would skim over the sex part and tell me if I was really overthinking the whole waiting and promise monologue he dumped on me. If I wanted crappy, judgmental comments about fucking against the wall, I would go to my roommate or her boyfriend. Or both of ’em," you hissed at him, thoroughly unimpressed.
Namjoon was becoming sassier the friendlier you two were getting. You were not appreciative.
He would have said something in response, but you two reached the class and the conversation had to be saved for later.
And the later didn't come until late November, when Jungkook invited you – and anyone you'd like to bring along – for another get-together he was holding for people that weren't going home for Thanksgiving, which was most of your year along with the Seniors. This time, the invitation had come through Taehyung, which made you wonder if Jungkook was just being formal and didn't actually wanna see you.
You totally understood. You felt awful about facing him, too. Which was why you planned to go to the event and apologise for not showing up last time.
Your tan cardigan brushed over your denim shorts as you shifted around in the cab. You looked down at your fur boots, wondering if you were overdressed.
"He was so sweet and generous and gentlemanly, and I didn't turn up to his party because I wanted to daydream about this one dude who won't even tell me when I'm gonna see him next!"
Namjoon and Rose stared at you in shock, the latter wholly out of the loop from the happenings in your personal life. This was the first time you'd asked her to hang out outside of educational settings, in fact, and were rather surprised when she'd said yes.
"Well, you two had just had sex, so I think it would have been worse if you did go Jungkook's party and completely forget about Jimin," Namjoon reasoned, making your worries lessen when you saw that he was right.
Rose looked at you with really wide eyes as she followed you out of the cab. 
"Uh, how many boyfriends does she have?" she whispered to Namjoon. "Other than you, I mean?"
"She—what?" Namjoon bleated in horror before you could've corrected her, and you left them at that to wander through the quaint looking duplex that Jungkook had hosted a not too large gathering at.
You had just acquired an apple flavored punch which was, surprisingly, not spiked, when the host of the night found you. He wore a yellow cardigan over a black t-shirt and black jeans, fitting into the theme of autumn perfectly.
Jungkook had a grin on his face that spoke of no malice when he joined you on the living room couch where you sat with two other girls that didn't know you or each other. Apparently, Jungkook was friends with people from vastly different spheres of life.
"You made it. Finally," he said as means of greeting, making you feel worse about the Halloween party.
"Jungkook, hey! Listen, about the—"
"Uh uh!" He stopped you with a finger raised in front of your face. "I only accept apologies in the form of letting me get you a drink. An alcoholic one," he added when you gestured to the glass in your hand.
With a laugh, you nodded your consent and got up to follow him to the breakfast table where he quickly got to work on fixing you a vodka cranberry.
Your eyes caught sight of something metallic shining near one of his eyebrows, and you tilted your head to get a better look.
"Woah, is that a piercing?"
He looked up at you with a smile, nodding confidently. "I've always been fascinated with tattoos and piercings. This is just the first of many. I'm planning to get one on my lip, another on my tongue, and one more…" He paused, dropping his eyebrows to smirk at you with staged salaciousness, "at a place I cannot tell everybody about."
You broke into giggles at his playful non-flirting. "Gosh, Jungkook, you are a character, aren't you?"
"My friends call me JK," he told you, grinning handsomely with his shapely teeth, and you caught your breath.
Jungkook's number got saved under 'JK' in your phone, which Taehyung discovered not soon after, making a mountain out of a molehill. As was his expertise, so you really should’ve seen it coming.
"But he's the funniest and the handsomest guy I know! He also has the best grades!" Taehyung whined, trying as he had been to convince you of all the good reasons why you should date his hacker friend.
Because you addressing the guy by his nickname apparently had to mean you liked him. 
“Why don't you date him then?” You scowled, pushing his head from your lap to Hyejin’s. 
And it went on like that as finals and then Christmas came and went. Then New Year arrived with Jungkook throwing another party. This time, you actually did not want to go, knowing full well Taehyung would try to set you up with the guy again. But you were rendered helpless when Namjoon revealed that he was invited too, and was going there with Rose as his date. You had no idea that something was brewing between your two scholarly friends and desperately needed to see them at that party to know for sure. 
That – and the fact that you had nothing to do on the last night of the year and it made you feel very lonely and depressed.
The party was once again a limited affair, held at the very duplex Jungkook apparently lived in with some of his friends. You chose to dress up away from Hyejin so that you could wear a non-flashy, weather friendly, sensible outfit comprising jeans, a turtleneck and one of Taehyung’s lettermans he’d left at your apartment.
But now you had been at the party for over an hour with no signs of Namjoon or Rose, kind of feeling like you had been conned. You did spot your roommate and the guy whose jacket you had borrowed, though, making out in at least five different corners of the not so large duplex.
You had been grimacing at the drink in your hand when Jungkook slid on to the kitchen stool next to you with a laugh. He was dressed in a high neck sweater, too, with jeans and boots, all in black. 
“It might taste better if you share it with someone,” he told you in a tone which was not necessarily very flirtatious, but the undertone was there. But then he cemented it with a wink. “Nice to see you again.”
“Likewise,” you said with a contained smile, forwarding your solo cup to him with a laugh when he pointed at it, and he poured you and himself a scoop from the punch bowl. “We are Juniors now, you know. Why do you still keep punch at your parties?”
He bit his lip, looking bashful. “I got friends that don't like the taste of alcohol.”
He sometimes shocked you with his thoughtfulness, which was probably a bit mean of you, because how much did you even know him for you to judge him like this? You gave him an appreciative nod, anyways, before asking him if you, a friend of his that did like the taste of alcohol, could get some. He proceeded to get both you and him a serving of one of his friend’s tequila.
“If he gets to know I drank this in solo cups, I will be tossed out of this house. Never mind the fact that it is my house.”
As you two went down the bottle, shots after shots, you found yourself relaxing in Jungkook’s company. He was a lot different from your roommate’s boyfriend, contrary to your early impressions of him. He did drink and party and fool around with girls from what you had seen when you first met him, but wasn't that what a normal college student was supposed to do? At least he used more braincells than Taehyung and actually had a filter between his head and mouth.
You realised you probably should have not been thinking so much about Jungkook, because when he grinned at you with those cute teeth of his again, you were grabbing his glass and downing his shot along with yours, in a broken flirting attempt by your drunken state
His drunken state acknowledged it, though, pouring a mixture of punch and tequila into a cup and placing it between you and him to share from the same glass. You felt silly but happy, giggling like a schoolgirl when he spilled some drink on himself due to his uncontrollable laughter. You stared at him, feeling high off the happiness he eluded.
You and Jungkook had gone from sharing a drink to sharing spit in a record time of thirty minutes. His broad, buff torso pressed you against the fridge, arms around your waist and a meaty thigh slotted between your legs.
But when his hand slid past your shirt to touch your bare waist and your eyes opened to his dark ones glinting with desire – a pair of silver orbs flashed in front of you, and you gasped in surprise, pushing at Jungkook’s chest.
When the heck did you get here?
When you promise me you will wait for me, you have to keep it.
Yes, Jimin, I’m sure. I will wait for you. It is a promise.
Bile rose up your throat when you realised what you just did and where you were headed with Jungkook. 
You ran to the kitchen sink, dry heaving as images after images of Jimin and the moments you shared with him flashed through your head.
You couldn’t even exactly understand why. Jimin never asked you for your commitment, and you never assured it to him. So why did it feel like you had done something wrong by kissing Jungkook?
Maybe because you were in deeper with Jimin than you liked to admit. 
When you had given your heart to one guy, why were you trying to break another’s by leading him on? 
Said another guy, ever the sweetest, held your hair back from your face when you tried to empty the contents of your stomach. But nothing came out, leaving you feeling dizzy and repugnant with alcohol swimming in your body up to your head. 
“Need me to call you a cab?” Jungkook’s soft voice whispered to you as he handed you a glass of cold water, and you wanted to cry.
Getting to know him, or even being with him, could have been something. If only your heart wasn’t elsewhere. 
You shook your head after you were done with the water, calling a cab yourself.
Your apologetic, forlorn eyes kept straying to Jungkook’s face while he sat next to you on the sidewalk, waiting for your ride. All he responded with were sweet and sincere smiles, and you wondered if apologising for kissing him was less hurtful or asking him to forget about it. You were too much of a coward to do either, though, and just timidly mumbled your gratitude when you got up to hail your cab.
Just as you were stepping into the car, he waved goodbye to you with a knowing smile, calling out your name.
“Whoever he is, I hope he knows he is one lucky bastard.”
You didn’t say anything in response to that, and the amount of guilt that weighed you down made you wonder if you would ever talk to the guy again. When you got home, you realised you couldn’t even get yourself to respond to his texts querying your well-being, let alone see him in person again. 
So you swore off parties for the rest of the year. 
You went home to your aunt during winter break, helping her restock the pantry and fridge before the weather really froze. She smiled at you when you left, making it count up to be the third time she’d smiled at you in all fourteen years you’d spent living with her.
The next semester brought on a lot of stress as your professors started to remind you all that you are going to be Seniors after this and that you should make up your mind about what you wanted to do after this degree so that you could focus on that next year. 
You were gonna have to start preparing for your Master’s in astronomy if you were to realise your NASA dreams.
You talked to the owner of the planetarium where you worked part time. He showed a lot of faith in your knowledge, boosting your confidence a good amount, as did a few exchanged texts with Rose. 
Proposals for scholarships were to come early next year but preparations were to go in this semester so that you were prepared by the summer break. You began curating your profile pretty early on, with good references written in by your boss and your professors. It got you a, ‘the scholarship is yours and so is the master’s program’ from Namjoon when you mailed it to him. 
But even as you went through with plans of building the future you had planned when you picked these subjects, something in you felt bleak. 
You knew it came from the little moment of self-reflection you had had when you talked to Jimin about your personal life. The realisation that you really didn't matter much in anyone's life had hit you harder than you thought it could. You’d always lived your life for you. Never had a family or a boyfriend or even friends that ever cheered you on through your achievements or consoled you through your failures. It had never mattered to you much, but now – now you desperately wished for Jimin to be here with you, hold your hand and tell you you were going to be okay. You didn’t know if he would want to. You just wished he would. Hoped.  
You lived with a permanent gaping hole of anguish in your chest, waking up every day in hope of seeing Jimin, and going back to bed every night, despaired when you didn’t. Had his ‘soon’ really meant a year later? Why hadn’t he said so?
Your finals went flying by, and before you knew it, the last summer break of your college life was here.
Your full-time shift at the planetarium over the summer was your last time working because you were going to fully focus on your grades for your final college year, spending your extra time at the library instead of a job. Your boss along with the rest of the staff gifted you an expensive as hell Newtonian telescope as a farewell and good luck gift, turning you into a puddle of tears.
“We’re rooting for NASA. Don’t forget us tiny humans when you’re busy researching Jupiter’s moons!” were your boss’s heartfelt parting words when you left, stepping into your last semester before you became a Senior.
You didn't have much distractions to take your mind off Jimin or your impending future, this year, when Taehyung took away Hyejin for a beach getaway on her birthday, leaving you alone in the apartment for two whole weeks. Namjoon and Rose never started dating like you had hoped they would, both of them turning red and changing the topic whenever you brought up the New Years party at Jungkook with any of them. Jungkook himself was another part of the equation. Your last chat conversation consisted of his concerned queries about your well-being from January, and then a formal invitation he sent in early August for his birthday party next month. 
You felt like the biggest mean girl doing it, but you skipped his party, sending him a text with birthday wishes and apologies on the first day of September. He responded with a rolling eyes emoji and the words 'you know what what i accept as payment for a sorry, so apology not accepted'. You could vividly recall how you had ended up making out with him after this exact line of conversation, so you chose to respond with, ‘i can't do it, i am sorry.’
Jungkook called you up immediately after that.
"I'm only trying to be a friend, okay? I acknowledge that you like someone else and I've made peace with that."
"But I never—"
"You didn't have to tell me. You looked so guilty after our kiss, it was obvious." You could hear his wistfulness through the phone, regretting letting that kiss happen for the hundredth time. "I would never try to be anything less than respectful, okay?"
You were grateful, because that would be good for his own pure heart that didn't deserve the kind of attitude you had shown him. You still refused to share a drink with him just yet, deciding you would wait until he was seeing someone else, just to be safer.
With the start of your final year of college, you busied yourself in sending out applications for internships and scholarships everywhere they were being accepted. The amount of stress you felt was shared equally by Rose, who suggested moving in together in an apartment if you both got selected into the masters courses in your university. You were hoping you would, not ready to let go of the institution yet.
You finally got around to hearing Namjoon's opinion on the 'promise' you had made to Jimin, and he surprised you by taking a soft stance by encouraging you to follow your heart if you liked the guy that much.
"Since when are you a philosophical romantic, Joon?" 
You tried, for the millionth time, to fish for whatever happened between him and Rose, all those months ago, only to choke on air when he suddenly gave it to you:
"I like Rose, but she likes girls. I'm not fully over it yet, but I’ll get there. Don't tell her I told you. Anything else?"
“No. I’m sorry, Joon, I had no idea. And I won’t tell her, don’t worry.”
You didn't, only limiting your conversations with the girl to academic discussions. Which she had a lot of to indulge in.
You were a bundle of impatient nerves by the time October rolled around, the approaching end of the month filling your stomach with nervous butterflies at the prospect of finally seeing Jimin again. Yes, you were hanging onto the hope that he would show up at Halloween again, because you had no idea what you’d do with yourself if he didn’t.
This year has been confusing, and at times, horrid to you. You couldn't wait to run into his arms and beg him to stay with you.
You were not sure where exactly he would show up, though. You were invited to multiple parties this Halloween, Jungkook's being the one you were being peer pressured into attending. And you were still in the process of thinking up a good enough excuse to get out of that one. But you definitely would, because there was no way you were going to go. 
Your primary concern was discerning where Jimin would be. You thought of going back to the frat house where you had initially met, because that was where he had been last time.
But then it struck you – you could also wait for him to come to you, this time. Your promise was to wait, his was to come back to you. You were not gonna go looking for him. He could ask around for your whereabouts or classes or even your apartment, because unlike him, you were not a ghost on the University campus that nobody knew of.
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⇥ halloween, final year;
You invited Rose to study at your apartment, efficiently forcing your roommate to leave for her boyfriend's place. When your study buddy discovered you hadn't eaten anything, she force fed you a toast that you kept nearly regurgitating by the time she left at past six in the evening.
Trying to calm your panic when you were left with nothing to do, you decided to head to the rooftop of your apartment and set up your telescope. When Jimin finally materialized, maybe you could call him here and make him look at the stars? A smile made its way up your lips at the prospect of looking at the stars with him. You still vividly remembered the way he had not been much interested in them when you two talked. Maybe the ethereal visuals would change his mind.
You had just placed the stand in one corner of your terrace, yet to go back downstairs and get the actual telescope equipment, when a throat clearing at a close distance made goosebumps break out on the back of your neck. 
You held your breath as you turned around, immediately losing all the air in your lungs in a loud gasp when you saw Jimin sauntering up to you with a smirk on his face.
"Missed me?"
He looked like an angel, dressed in a white shirt and black slacks, smiling at you brightly, his eyes sparkling with elation. His soft hair was ruffled by the light breeze on the rooftop, making him look all the more dreamy.
“Jimin!” you wailed his name and sprinted down the space between the two of you, colliding into his waiting, spread arms when you got to him.
“Oof, you did miss me,” he laughed, gathering you in his warm embrace.
“You have no fucking idea,” you mumbled into his chest, caught in a rare moment of cursing, as you held onto him fiercely, never wanting to let him go.
He pulled away, though, smiling at you with his eyes crinkled. "I missed you a lot, too."
You breathed out. "Why didn't you come sooner?"
"I couldn't." Face saddened, he ran his palms down your arms to your hands in his. "I would have if I could. I would never have left if I had the choice. Believe me."
You did, without question. "Well, at least now you're here."
You didn't have the heart to ask him if he would stay any longer this time, or pull a Cinderella on you again at midnight. Something told you he would, and you really didn't want to hear him confirm it. Not yet, when he just got here.
Speaking of. “Hey, who buzzed you into the building?”
He blinked at your question as if not comprehending it. But then pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Careless college students will surprise you, princess.”
“Oh, no,” you groaned. “It was that stoner from first floor, wasn’t it? I should report her to the landlord.”
“You should.” Jimin gave a solemn nod. "So,” he continued when you didn;t respond. “How has the year been? You're a Senior in college now, aren't you?"
Slightly taken aback, you nodded. "I am, yeah, you remembered?"
Jimin gave you an incredulous look. "What is that supposed to mean? This is the year you prepare for NASA, is it not?”
You bit your lip to stop it from quivering, emotions overflowing in your heart. “Yeah,” you agreed through a constricted throat. “Well, master’s first, but yeah.”
He pulled you close with that tender, affectionate gaze of his, and brushed his lips against your forehead in a soft kiss. You clenched your eyes tight to let a few tears escape. 
“Jimin,” you murmured, resting your head against the collar of his dress shirt, “this year wasn’t a good one. I needed you. I missed you so much.”
He cupped your face in his palms, bringing it up to peer into your eyes with a frown. “Are you okay, princess?”
Your heart skipped a beat at the pet name as you nodded. “You’re here now, I’ll be okay.”
He didn’t look satisfied with your answer, but didn’t say anything, holding you close instead. And that was exactly what you needed – closing your eyes, you inhaled his woodsy, tuberose scent and let your mind relax.
You stayed like that for a while, Jimin’s fingers tracing soothing lines through your hair as he swayed the two of you back and forth. You chuckled when you felt drowsiness cloud your head.
“I’ll fall asleep this way, Jimin,” you told him, stepping out of his arms. “And I didn’t wait a whole year to see you again just to fall asleep five minutes into meeting you.”
Jimin suddenly stopped all movement, face freezing in the middle of the beginnings of a laugh. His eyes slowly expanded. 
“You waited…” left him in a soft breath. 
You watched – confused and a little worried – him bring up a hand to place on his chest. He pressed it down, gaze getting bleary and face dark. 
You immediately placed a palm over his hand on his sternum, threading the fingers of your free hand through his other hand. “Yes, Jimin, I’ve been waiting for you,” you tried to reassure him. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
“You really waited,” he repeated, wide eyes looking wonder-struck.
There was something greater than just your words at play here, but you couldn’t figure out what. Maybe this was what Jimin had promised to tell you about.
You tried to smile through the questions running through your head. “We made a promise to each other, didn’t we? You kept yours and I kept mine.”
Tears sprung up in Jimin's eyes, his face crumpling with a sob. "Oh God. Oh God, princess, I…" he could barely speak over the tears he kept swallowing repeatedly. “You don’t know what that means to me.”
Yes, you certainly didn’t. You wondered if he had actually meant the ‘not falling in love with someone’ interpretation of ‘waiting.’ Well despite the drunken making out mishap with Jungkook, you had stayed true to that promise, too. 
You stepped ahead to softly kiss Jimin, heart exploding with butterflies at the actual realisation of the extent of your feelings for him. You had never been in love before, and you didn’t know for sure if you could even fall for someone you hadn’t spent more than a couple of hours with at a stretch – but you were willing to take a chance.
When the wind started to pick up and the sun started to sink low, you brought him down to your apartment and to your room. He saw the telescope sitting in a corner, prompting you to excitedly tell him about your farewell from the planetarium. You also told him about the applications you had sent out, and he kissed the back of your hands, stating with certainty that you would make it to all of them.
You opened a bottle of wine and cuddled with him in your bed, too afraid to sit in the living room in fear of a half dressed Hyejin and Taehyung bursting into the apartment, putting on an unwanted, live porn show for you.
Halfway into watching Scream, your hands sneaked up under his shirt and his lips found yours, making the rest of the movie and half of its sequel run in vain as the two of you got busy exploring each other.
Spent, sated and happy, when you returned to Jimin’s side after cleaning up post two rounds of soft, loving sex, he welcomed you bare-chested, with his hair a mess and cheeks glowing red, and it was all you could do to not blurt your feelings out to him, right there.
The clock reminded you it was nearing eleven o’clock of the night. If Jimin was to leave at midnight again, you had barely an hour more in your hands until he was gone for another year. If that.
You had to ask him what his story was before you told him how much he meant to you.
“Jimin,” you whispered into the tranquil silence, smiling when he hummed sweetly in response, tracing your knuckles with his fingertips. “What is going on with you?”
He went still in your embrace, but you didn’t let that deter you from asking him everything that you had on your mind.
“Where are you from? Why do you only show up on Halloween? Why do you even come here, of all places? Who are you, Jimin from the House of Parks?”
A dry chuckle met your neck. “You still remember that? I panicked when you asked me about myself. While that isn’t technically a lie, it hadn’t been what I had wanted to tell you.”
You craned your neck up to meet his eyes. “And now? Are you panicking now?”
“I’m a bit nervous, yes, but not panicking at all.” His lips spread into a mellow smile. “All these years,” he ruminated out loud, his eyes looking the most alive they ever had – no trace of the man with a dead stare you’d first met three years back to be found anywhere in his radiant smile, “no one even looked my way. And then you came to the college and got on my case in just one meeting. Who are you?”
A warm blush crept up your face at the fondness spilling off his words. Until something else registered. “Wait… came to the college?” you asked him with a lost frown. “Do you mean you’ve been coming here longer?”
You belatedly realised that he had never talked about his age, you just assumed he was a college student. He sure looked like he was but you could have been wrong.
And wrong you were.
Jimin closed his eyes, face shrouding with nervousness, which made your own heart leap to your throat.
“What I’m about to tell you might sound completely nonsensical,” he began, frying your already frayed nerves further, “but you have to try to believe me, okay? You have to trust me.”
You took notice of how he didn’t will you to believe him – only asked you to try to do it. The statement only knotted your stomach up further. You gave him a nod when his troubled eyes met yours.
“The reason why I can’t be anywhere other than for a few hours on Halloween is because…” He swallowed, shutting his eyes again, and you squeezed his hand to encourage him to go further. “Because I was locked in a curse, back in 1897. I made the wrong sort of deal with the worst kind of being. And he used my heartbreak and rage against me to manipulate me into having a Witch lock me into this curse.”
Uh… what?
You blinked at the fantasy tale he’d just spewed out, waiting for him to explain why he just said all of that. Or laugh. When nothing more came and he simply opened his eyes to look into yours in anticipation, you released a loud burst of laughter.
“Was – was that supposed to be a horror story for Halloween, Jimin?” you asked between giggles. “Because it kinda sucked. It’s not scary and not even remotely funny.”
Your laughter died pretty quickly, though, when you registered the devastation on Jimin’s face that quickly morphed into anger.
“It is not,” he harshly gritted out, leaning closer to your face, “a fucking horror story. It’s the reality of my life.”
You pulled away from him, fear creeping up your spine at the deranged look on his face. “Jimin, what…?”
“I said it was hard to believe! I told you you would have to trust me!”
You slid off the bed, landing on the ground in a heap of tangled sheets, scared and enraged. “What—are you hearing yourself, Jimin? You—” 
You stopped, heart caving in when it actually hit you what had happened.
You had opened yourself up to a complete stranger that you knew nothing about other than his name. Which, in fact, was a name he gave you and you had no way of confirming if it was even real. You slept with him, told him about your entire life, let him into your house, let all your walls down and were ready to confess you loved him – while all this time, he had been playing a freaking game with you.
Your initial doubts had been correct. You really were just a means of entertainment to him. 
Ignoring the looks of concern he tossed at you, which you were now realising were probably put forth by amazing acting skills, you stood up, holding the sheets wrapped around you with a hand.
 “What kind of a sick game was this, Jimin? If that is even your actual name,” you mumbled, walking away from him and towards the door of your bedroom. “You could've simply said you weren't interested in me anymore if I was getting too close for comfort. You didn't have to go to such lengths to keep up with me, only to send me away with a sick joke. Why did you make me talk about myself so much? Why peel away all my layers and make me bare my soul? Why did you act so vulnerable and ask me to wait?” you roared, cupping a hand over your mouth and shutting your eyes when you felt tears forming. “And why do all this today? You could’ve simply deflected me and then left.”
Your back met the wall and you slid down, your body wracking as you wept, loud cries escaping past your hand and echoing around your room.
“You really went away for a whole year to make that story up? God, Jimin, I can't force you to have feelings for me. But at least have some respect.” You looked up at him through the curtain of tears. “Why did you give me so much hope when you were gonna break my heart?”
It took a while for your vision to clear enough for you to see him dressing up. You wiped at your face with the bedsheets when you didn’t receive a response, feeling even more pathetic about yourself at his dismissal.
But then he turned around to look at you, and you stopped breathing.
The light in his eyes that you had been priding yourself over having ignited – had gone out completely. His steely silver orbs had assumed the lifeless state they had been before ever smiled at you.
Your already cracked heart got minced into tiny pieces at the sight. His desolate and broken expressions almost made you want to believe him and rush to console him.
But you weren’t insane.
You stayed frozen to your spot as he walked out of your room without any more words from either of you. You got up to lock the door to your apartment after him when you heard it click, and were surprised to find him standing past the threshold with his head hanging low.
“Yoongi,” he murmured when you neared the doorway. “He lives in one of the abandoned factories by the lake, downtown.” Jimin looked up to meet your eyes with his own filled with tears. “He is the Warlock who put the spell on me. Visit him and you will see. None of what I ever said or did to you was dishonest,” he mumbled. 
Yoongi? Warlock? What?
“Can I hug you one last time? I promise you will never see me again.”
Tears ran down your face. You wouldn’t? Never? Could you even live like that? You would have to, wouldn’t you?
You nodded, letting him wrap his arms around your cocooned form. You inhaled deeply, letting his scent fill you up one last time before you let go of this train wreck and built yourself back up again.
He stepped away way too quickly for your liking, never meeting your eyes even though yours never strayed from the flat, grey disks of his. He simply stepped away and kept standing in the hallway in front of your apartment, making no move to leave.
And even as your hand stayed wrapped over the doorknob, you felt you could not get yourself to shut the door in his face. He might have been a liar who played with your body and feelings like a very talented actor only to leave you, but everything had been so, so real from your end. 
Jimin knew things about you that no one else did. You had shared intimacy with him besides sex that you had never done with anybody else. You had given all that to him willingly – and you were ready to give him more. All of you, in whatever shape or form he would accept it. In every shape or form if he would accept it.
But apparently, he didn’t want anything from you at all. Other than a little bit of entertainment to brighten his life, maybe, but that was obviously done with.
You rolled your shoulders back at the reminder of the mockery he had made of you, blinking to keep your tears at bay as you moved to close the door.
But then he looked up to meet your eyes, and you froze.
Devastation, heartbreak, sadness and despair – so much hopeless despair that it flowed out of him like rays – gazed at you through his dead eyes.
“None of what I ever said or did to you was dishonest, princess,” he mumbled with a tear escaping his eye. “I hope you come to believe that.”
You opened your mouth to respond, when something so unreal happened that you took three staggering steps back into your living room.
Jimin started to – disintegrate.
Parts of his body started to vanish – his hand then arms then legs then waist, all disappearing into thin air as if he was a smoked mirage that was now clearing up.
“What the hell…”
You certainly didn’t need a Yoongi to believe Jimin now.
As the last of his face blended into thin air right before your eyes, your head spun and you fell to the floor, unconscious.
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“HA! Remember when you didn’t believe me about aliens? Eat shit, nerd!”
Namjoon was naturally very mature with his reaction to you regaling the entire incident to him. Nevermind the fact that you were so out of sorts and shaken to your bones that it took you two whole weeks to step out of the apartment again.
“Can’t believe you didn’t record it for—”
“Fuck’s sake, Namjoon, stop joking!”
Namjoon immediately sobered, finally reading your distress and nervousness. “Sorry. That was kinda dumb. Uhm, so, are you sure it was not a trick?”
You shook your head. “No. I watched it with my own two eyes and… Joon, I’m a science girl. I was actively looking for something to explain what I was seeing, so trust me when I tell you I saw nothing.”
He gave a grave nod, eyes contemplative behind his glasses. “And then you, what? Passed out? Just like that?”
“Yes, Joon, just like that.” You scowled at him. “You would too if you saw a man disappear into thin air four inches from your face.”
He grimaced. “And? Did Hyejin find you?”
You slumped in the library seat. “No, nothing like that. I woke up some time later and locked the apartment. The entire thing felt like a dream when I came back. I would’ve brushed the whole night off as a wine induced vision, except I had hickies on my body and my sheets smelt like him.”
Namjoon made a face, but then sighed. “So what, now? Are you going to look for this Warlock guy?”
“I cannot wait another year for Jimin, Joon,” you desperately explained. “And after everything that happened and the accusations I threw at him…” A ball of tears lodged into your throat at the memory of the life in his eyes sinking to nothingness right in front you – because of you. “I don’t even know if he’ll come back to see me. Yoongi is the only guy who knows Jimin in 2021, so I have to take my chances.”
“Weighing in the absurdity of this entire situation, that actually sounds like the most rational thing to do at the moment. Where will you find this Yoongi, though?”
“Jimin gave me a very vague ‘abandoned factories by the lake, downtown’ description.” You bit your lip. “Do we even have a lake downtown?”
Namjoon rolled his eyes. “You are asking the wrong guy. This isn't my hometown and I have never been one to travel much.” 
“Well, from what I know – Rose is not from around here, either. Hyejin is not gonna help me until I tell her the whole story, and I’m definitely not doing that. Taehyung – I ain’t even gonna ask. So.” You shrugged. “I’m out of options.” 
“Oh? What about Jungkook?”
You stiffened.
Namjoon looked at you from above his glasses. “You haven't talked to him properly, yet, have you?”
You groaned. Why did you tell this guy about every damn trouble in your life? You’d panic texted him about your kiss with Jungkook, and he had been trying to get you to talk things out with the guy ever since. You regretted sending that text almost as much as you regretted that kiss. But Namjoon just had a way of being so brotherly and sage and trustworthy that he literally pulled from you anything that bothered you.
If he was so sage and smart, maybe he was onto something with this one, too. You pondered.
“I was embarrassed and guilty,” you reminded him. And yourself.
“But now you are not.” He gave you a meaningful look and you ducked your head.
“Yeah,” you breathed out, agreeing and making up your mind, “now I am not.”
You knew it would take you a while to draw up enough courage to contact the guy, and you had been right. But Jungkook reacted really well, inviting you out for drinks whenever you could make time for him. It made you feel even worse about your attitude so far. He really didn’t deserve any of the shit you’d put him through.
He was, surprisingly unsurprisingly, cool about both your guilt and embarrassment, laughing everything off with a glass of vodka cranberry to commemorate the first time he had made you share a drink with him. He was also cool about telling you how to get to the abandoned factories that did indeed, apparently, exist near a lake downtown. 
You were starting to wonder why he wasn't questioning you about your peculiar query when he gave you a wink. 
“Whoever you are going there with, make sure they’re not afraid of some dark magic,” he joked. “That area is said to be some Witches' ceremonial ground.”
You were so taken aback by the witch-comment, surprised that there was even a local folklore running about something that was apparently very real, going by what your eyes had seen three weeks ago, that you almost missed the implication of his wink. 
But when it registered, you shook your head, groaning. “That is not why I am going there.”
He kept smirking, though, obviously not believing you. “Don’t worry, I don’t judge. Good luck.”
The area around the abandoned factories was actually creepy as hell for the lack of a better word. 
Your bus driver and daily co-passengers were starting to look suspicious when you got off at the same deserted road, everyday, and you wondered if maybe bringing someone here would actually have been better. But you didn’t want to drag anybody else in this, because it felt oddly personal. Whatever was up with Jimin was his story to tell and he could decide whether he wanted anyone to know or not. Namjoon was your personal diary at this point, so he, of course, didn’t count.
And yes, ‘everyday’ because it was taking you multiple visits to scan the entire place for this incognito, Yoongi-Warlock guy you were looking for. 
You’d started in mid November and your search went on till finals, forcing you to divide your time between studying and going sightseeing to this freaking horror town. Rose and Hyejin put up a couple of questions here and there, and one time Hyejin made you whip up a lie about hooking up with some guy when you came home close to midnight, a day before an exam.
It was in the middle of December, a day after your last exam, when you finally made a breakthrough.
One of the abandoned factories had a lot of cats roaming around its entrance and from what you’d read about superstitions and beliefs, you figured that they could be harbingers of some sort of magic. Because how the hell were cats even surviving among these half decaying blocks of concrete and steel ?
You stepped into the mostly roofless, reduced from ten to four storied building with nervous jitters shaking your body. You hadn’t been sure if you’d find something in there, because despite its deteriorating and gross state, the factory had looked pretty normal from the outside, other than the cats infestation problem.
But the same couldn’t be said about its insides, which in your case, was a sign of good news.
Barely five steps in, and it became apparent that you were in a witch’s lair. Candles paved your way and torches illuminated the sides of the hallways, almost but not completely drawing your attention away from the fact that the entire place was painted black. Not to mention the ceiling full of scriptures in an unknown language above your head which obviously wasn’t built by human methods.
Gulping, you wiped your damp hand down the side of your jeans. Sweat droplets had beaded on your forehead despite the cold weather, and not because of all these torches.
Your heart beat deafeningly loud in your ears with every step you took. The narrow, winding hallway didn’t take long to open up into a room with a fireplace, a plush looking armchair and a sofa. You blinked at the strangely cosy living-room-esque area before your gaze caught a man standing by the fireplace.
But… was he even a man?
Thin, snake-like sharp eyes gazed at you from beneath dark hair – his entire body covered in black clothing from top to bottom, making his head appear as if it were floating. You flinched at the thought, squinting to see if it was actually floating. But then he unfolded his arms from against his chest and his hands flashed in the light. You breathed slightly easier.
Unnerved with the prolonged staring contest, you cleared your throat. “He–hello there. Are you… Yoongi?” you tried.
The eyes blinked and pursed lips gave way to a snarl. “I do not talk to plebeians,” hissed a raspy, coarse voice.
Your mouth opened, dumbfounded. What the hell? Plebeians? Who the heck did he think he was? Wait. He’d actually confirmed he was Yoongi with that response, though, right?
You narrowed your eyes at him. “I know you’re a witch.”
His nostrils flared. “Warlock.”
“Do you know Park Jimin?”
Yoongi’s slitted eyes widened to saucers. “How do you know him?” he demanded, sounding frantic all of a sudden, walking out of the shadows, and you had to control your reaction at the dramatic cape that trailed from his overcoat. “Where did you see him? When?”
“Uh… four times? At different—”
“No, no, no – fuck, this is bad,” he muttered to himself, not even listening to you as he went about raging, running hands through his hair as he paced in front of you. “The spell couldn’t have broken, motherfucker drained half my life force, fuck!”
A witch that swore like a sailor. You were sure living an exciting life.
“Um,” you began, attracting his attention, “it hasn’t.” At his terrorised gaze, you held both your hands up in a surrendering stance. “I saw him on Halloween. This year, last year, the year before and the one before that.”
Yoongi’s eyes went wider than before, then went squintier than before. He scrutinised you for a long period of time, making you begin to wonder if he was casting some wordless spell. You tried to remind yourself that legilimency only existed in the Harry Potter world.
But his next statement had you doubting yourself, immediately.
“You two fucked, didn’t you?”
“What?” Your cheeks went red and eyes boggled, but Yoongi had already moved on, muttering something to himself again, this time, furiously rubbing at his eyes. “Hey, why would you thi—”
“Did you or didn’t you?”
Well, how were you supposed to lie to a witch? For all you knew, he could be a mind reader. You swallowed in horror at the thought.
“Well, yeah,” you admitted, cheeks and ears on fire. “But how did you…?”
Yoongi gave a sigh that sounded melancholic. A wry smile twisted his lips. “He finally fell in love again. After two fucking hundred years. What a dumb sap.”
You blinked, heart lurching at Yoongi’s casually tossed words that were life-altering to you. You registered the hidden connotations of his words a second later. Finally? Again? Curiosity bubbled in your brain like froth, but all you could articulate in your shocked state was a faint: “what?”
“The only reason why he would tell you about the curse and, well, me,” Yoongi clarified to you. And then he frowned. “Why are you here, though? What do you want?”
You took a calming breath and tilted your chin up, confidently. “I want him back.”
Yoongi didn’t say a word, didn’t blink, didn’t move a single muscle. He kept staring at you as if he was looking through you.
“Uh – say something?”
“Oh, were you being serious? I was waiting for the punchline.”
“Wha—”
“No can do, Miss.” He walked up to the armchair in the room and fell into it with a groan. “He made a deal with the Devil. You can’t get out of those.”
“I’m sorry, he what?”
Yoongi gave you an unreadable look. “He didn’t tell you everything?”
You felt your heart ache when you recalled the way you hadn’t let him, thinking his truth to be his way of making a mockery of your feelings for him.
“Let me guess… he told you about me to make you believe his reality?”
You gave a morose nod, looking down at your feet.
Yoongi breathed out. “Well, have a seat, I guess. It’s a long story.”
You walked up to the couch and settled with your hands nervously fiddling in your lap. 
“Jimin was the Crown Prince of the House of Parks,” Yoongi began making you immediately recall Jimin’s introduction to you, four years ago.
And then his words from his last night with you flashed through your mind:
While that isn’t technically a lie, it hadn’t been what I had wanted to tell you.
He really did never lie to you, huh? Your eyes burned from the sting of tears. 
“He was to be crowned in early autumn and then wed the girl he loved. But she fell ill before that. Fatally ill.” Yoongi’s eyes turned glassy and lips turned down. “So Jimin refused to assume the throne until she was healed back to health. King Park was old and wise, but helpless. He needed Jimin to take the reins of the kingdom from him soon, but he could also see that the girl could not be treated for her ailments. The only way he could meet Jimin’s demands was through magic. The dark kind.”
Yoongi paused to look down at his hands, frowning at his rings as if they were something offensive.
“Black Magic is a parasite. It paints you an illusion of giving you something, but instead takes everything away from you and then some,” he bitterly muttered before holding his hand up, the back facing you. He pointed to a black and silver, ornamental ring. “This is my family heirloom. A curse, really, because this binds me to the practice of Black Magic.”
He shut his eyes and exhaled, and you took the time to try and pull yourself out of the ocean of guilt you were drowning in with every word out of Yoongi’s mouth. You needed to listen to everything attentively.
“I was sought out by King Park to summon spirits powerful enough to give someone’s life back to them. I knew of them, of course, but also knew their price that the old King refused to acknowledge.”
Your throat moved in a dry swallow. “A life for a life?”
“You learn fast.” Yoongi gave you a surprised look. “Yeah, that’s what it was. But the King was persistent, and well, the King, so I couldn’t refuse his orders. I summoned the Spirits.” He swiped both his hands down his face. “When Jimin got to know what was happening, he immediately offered himself up as leverage. And so, he was erased from existence on Halloween. By a spell I cast,” he added in a dark voice, dark eyes staring into the fireplace. “He was to stay away for a year, it was quite simple. But the girl – when she returned to her healthy self, she was a changed person… ”
You could see where this was headed, and your heart wept at the thought.
“When Jimin came back after a year of... well. Not existing. She had already gotten married.”
You gasped. “Married?”
Yoongi nodded. “She used to be almost afraid of the Parks. Getting all nervous when someone even mentioned Jimin’s name. It wasn’t even her fault, it’s just what Black Magic does to people. Soon she found another man and got married to escape Jimin when he came back. No one could figure out what was wrong with her.” He shook his head with a crease between his brows. “When Jimin came back… he was shattered to see her.”
Tears ran down your face. Jimin literally went to Hell and back for her and she left him behind as fast as she could. Even if it wasn’t wholly under her control, you could imagine the pain he must’ve felt.
“And so in the broken state that he was in, he asked the Spirits to take him back because he didn’t want to be in this world anymore.”
You balked. “He asked them?”
“Yes. She had promised that she would wait for him while he was away, and she broke it in the worst ways possible. He’d just wanted her to live, never even imagining she could actually do what she did. No one imagined that.”
She had promised him.
She had promised him that she would wait.
Your head hurt at the onslaught of memories and realisations. Jimin’s voice echoed in your head.
Promises mean a lot to me… If you make a promise to me, I will hold you to it… When you promise me you will wait for me, you have to keep it… If you think it is too much to ask of you, tell me now…
You really waited… You don’t know what that means to me… 
Goddammit, it all made sense now. You shut your eyes with a deep sigh, infinitely relieved you hadn’t broken your promise. Even if you ended up breaking his heart, anyway. 
“He made me promise I’d wait for him,” you told Yoongi. “And I kept it.”
“Thank you. It would have killed him if you didn’t. Well, kill him more than he’s already dead.”
You looked at Yoongi, who sat pensively with the flames from the hearth painting different shadows on his face.
“Is there a way to break the curse?” you asked in a small voice.
Yoong didn’t lift his stare from the fire as he moved his head from side to side. “Weren’t you listening? The Spirits he asked to basically lock him in the curse are dark. Evil.”
“But how does he get out every Halloween?”
“They give him something that you’d call a… um. A room? For him to decide if he wants to finally leave. But that is only in theory because they have manipulated him and darkened his mind enough for him to never want to leave.”
Your shoulders slumped. “I just want to be with him, Yoongi,” you said through a stifled throat. “Hug him, kiss him, apologize to him for treating him the way I did when he tried to tell me his truth.”
Yoongi finally met your teary gaze with a flat one. “Do you wanna join him?”
Your eyes widened, heart thumping loud. “I can?”
Could you? No one would miss you here, anyway, with how often your aunt forgot you, your roommate ignored you, your friends got too busy until you contacted them. Maybe Jungkook would miss you for a while? But he’d get over it soon enough, you were certain. 
You’d already realised how lonely you were in this world, this past here. If you could actually leave this life and be with Jimin, you absolutely wanted to.
“Please send me to him if you can, Yoongi,” you desperately begged the witch. “Is there a way?
His jaw dropped with a stunned expression. “Wow, you’re just like him. Dumb romantic fucks,” he grumbled before standing up and exhaling. “And no. I just told you, he got locked because he asked to be. You have to really believe that you deserve it for your heart to want it as fiercely as his did, back then.”
Something clicked in your mind at the words. “Wait, so… does this mean that if he stops feeling like he deserves to be frozen, he'll actually break free?”
Yoongi turned to you in a sharp move, attentive eyes on you as he blinked in succession. “In theory – yes, that does sound legitimate. But. It’ll need a counter spell. And I have only ever cast this spell once. And haven't reversed it. Obviously.”
The possibility that there even could be a way out for Jimin made things start to feel lighter to you. A beam of hope at the end of the tunnel of despair, and whatnot. You didn’t have time for metaphors, too busy thinking of ways to make this happen.
“I don’t want to wait another year to try this,” you announced to Yoongi and received a contemplative nod in return.
“I know of something that could work, but…”
You jumped up to rush to stand in front of him, staring at his conflicted face, wide-eyed. “But what?”
“But it’s dark magic,” Yoongi sighed. “I will have to use you as a carrier because you can undo the feeling of betrayal he lives in. You waited for him, right? That was his reason to come back that she had snatched away. Maybe you can give it back to him?”
You didn’t understand much of what Yoongi meant by a ‘carrier’ or ‘giving back’ the reason to Jimin, but you were ready to do whatever was required of you. “What do I have to do?”
Yoongi stormed up to a shelf in one of the walls and pulled out a leather bound book. “Well, we’ll have to begin by summoning him into our plane, first.”
“Our what?”
Yoongi blinked at you. “Or world. Our plane of existence. Earth.”
You sucked in a sharp breath, another memory hitting you. 
Do you perhaps ever think about what is beyond? Places that humans could inhabit… beyond the universe?
I am sure something, someday will convince you… 
You were convinced, alright. You couldn’t believe how Jimin had been dropping hints for such a long time and you brushed them all aside because your beliefs ended at NASA. 
“Here!” Yoongi announced, pointing at some figure in the aged book in his hands. You tried to peek, but couldn’t understand a thing. “We have to lure him.”
“Lure,” you repeated. “What does that even mean?”
Yoongi nodded to himself. “Think of a place where you’ve made some good memories with him. You said you’ve met him four times, right?”
All your meetings other than the first one consisted of some good memories. You immediately thought of your room – the cuddling and the sweet, sweet love-making you both indulged in. Or the conversations about your future on the frat house’s terrace before you indulged in passionate fucking. Or the vacant street outside of it where he basically asked you to make an – apparently very important – promise that you kept, before he ate you out by the side of the street like the tempter he was.
“Purely good memories, though – nothing bittersweet because we don’t want to take any chances,” Yoongi added.
You sighed. The whole showdown you had in your room struck that off the list. You’d thrown a mini tantrum when you woke up alone in that frat house bedroom, so maybe not that either. 
That left the street outside of it.
Having chosen your location, you nodded at Yoongi. “Alright, I’ve got it. What else?”
"I'll initiate the spell, which will use you and the memories you two have made in that place to pull Jimin there," Yoongi explained, eyes trailing the pages in his book. "The only thing you need to do is get there and think of Jimin while I work on putting him there. And then you signal me when he comes, so that I can begin working on reversing the curse."
You calculated in your head. "Might take me around thirty minutes to get there. So maybe forty minutes to—"
"Wait, what?" Yoongi interrupted, squinting at you. "That's a lot of approximations there. We don't wanna take that kind of a risk. How about you just text me when he arrives?"
"Oh! You have a phone?"
Yoongi blinked. "The heck's that supposed to mean? It's the twenty-first century, who doesn't have a fucking phone?"
You wanted to say Jimin, but now that you'd understood why he didn't, you chose not to say it.
"Right, okay, I'll text you. What then?"
Yoongi closed the book and looked at you with uncertainty. "Then you'll be tasked to make him want to stay while I finish off the ritual. The spell will activate the moment he thinks that he wants to stay here with you, and his tether with the underworld will break." He paused to exhale. "At least in theory."
You could work with theory. 
"Hey, listen," Yoongi called out to you, seeing you lost in thought. "It's a lot of risk. I have never done this spell before so there is a whole list of things that could go wrong. In the best worst case scenario, we simply fail in cutting the tether and things go on normally. The worst worst case scenario – we fail and the window he gets on Halloween closes up, too. You could lose him forever. You could lose yourself if you get stuck in a different curse like his.”
Nausea rose up your spine at the thought of losing Jimin forever. No. You would have to do this – and do this right. 
“And in the best case scenario?”
Yoongi’s eyebrows disappeared under the fringe of hair on his forehead. “It’s good to know that’s where your head is at.”
You mustered a smile. “I’ll come to see you if anything goes wrong. If…” You sucked a breath. “If I can, that is.”
“Channel your feelings for him well, and we’ll be good.” Yoongi flashed a hint of a smirk at you. “And also remember, he won’t know what is going on. He has no way of knowing what time it is when he suddenly reappears. You have to engage him in whatever you plan to do to make him want to stay, as soon as you can, before he starts asking you questions.”
Filing the points off in your head, you nodded. “Will do.”
Then you gave him your phone for him to put his number in, snorting at the contact name he saved it under. 
“Yoongi the Warlock? I don’t know another Yoongi or a Warlock.”
He shrugged. “You might, someday.”
You squinted. “Which one?”
Yoongi squinted back. “Why don’t you go on ahead onwards to the location?”
Jolting, you nodded rapidly and turned on your heels. “Wish me luck. I wanna bring Jimin with me to thank you, tomorrow.”
“Luck?” Yoongi snorted. “Magic works on skills not lu—wait. Did you say you’ll bring Jimin here?”
Yoongi’s voice turned squeaky and you smirked at his flustered state, not pausing.
“Hey! Don’t bring him here! He’ll kill me for doing this!” he screamed. “Hey, wait! You fucking brat!”
You heard him grumble something that sounded like ‘move my lair the fuck away,’ and then you were out in the open again, booking a cab on your phone.
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You sat on the foot of the stairs of one of the buildings in front of the one fraternity house that had been so pivotal in your story with Jimin, with your phone in hand, looking at said building with a wistful smile.
Knowing what you now did about Jimin and his life, you wondered how he would adjust to living in this world that he’d seen develop in sharp flashes by glimpsing in for one day, a year. Not to mention all the backstory and educational qualifications and stuff he’d need in order to settle into a legal, normal life. Some illegal forging would definitely have to be employed.
You wondered if Jimin would even like being here with you.
But then you reminded yourself that you were getting massively ahead of yourself. The spell had to work and the connection had to be severed properly first, in order for you to plan Jimin’s life. Because there was a very real possibility that this could fail. Or stop Jimin from returning here. Or lock you away, too, somewhere without Jimin.
You immediately focussed your attention on the longing that throbbed in you like a heartbeat, pumping pain into your bloodstream through your upset heart.
And as if right on cue, you heard the one sound you had feared you’d never get to hear again – Jimin calling out your name in that angelic voice of his.
You stood up to look around for him, and found him walking up to you from down the street. He was dressed up in the same white shirt and slacks from Halloween, that you now recognised were actually just part of his Prince outfit minus the coat. His hair was rumpled from its usual pristine state, and sorrowful eyes looked at you in slight confusion from beneath the strands that covered his forehead. You recalled how Yoongi had told you that Jimin wouldn’t know what was going on. The confusion evident on his face, right now, confirmed that the Witch had been right.
You hurriedly sent off a text to Yoongi, informing him that the first part of your plan had worked. It filled you with some confidence. 
Now you just needed to apologise to Jimin, tell him how you felt and hope that it would be enough to make him want to stay here with you. That it made him realise that he deserved to stay here and share a life with you. If he felt the same, that is, of course.
You looked up at the beautiful man, biting your lip when you saw that he’d come to a stop in the middle of the road, still looking at you with the same expressions.
“Jimin,” you breathed, walking then running and finally launching yourself onto him when he was within arm’s reach, wrapping both arms fiercely around his torso as you stuffed your face in his chest.
Wood and tuberose. Home. Oh, God, what the hell would you have done if he never came back?
Jimin received your hug with a muffled ‘oomph,’ arms flailing around when he lost his balance. You barely gave him time to find his footing before you were leaning back to cup his face between your palms and pulling his baffled face down to kiss him. His lips, that were already parted in surprise, accepted yours almost subconsciously, slotting them perfectly over yours even as his hands took a while to connect to your body. But then one of his palms gripped onto the back of your head and the other arm wrapped around your waist to hold you to him. 
You cried against his mouth, tears flowing down your face at the feel, smell and taste of him – real and corporeal, for here to stay if things went your way. You sagged in his arms, unable to keep up with the kiss you initiated when your sobs overwhelmed you, and Jimin immediately took command. He pushed your mouth open with his, forcing you to follow his lead. Your eyes squeezed shut with his teeth digging into your bottom lip, a moan escaping you when his tongue slid into your mouth, proceeding to ravage it whole. The hand on your head moved you in whatever way Jimin wanted, in whatever way he could best access the depths and crevices with his tongue, turning you into a pliant ragdoll in his arms. 
When the need to breathe got to you, you patted his back where your hands were clutching onto his shirt like a lifeline. Jimin conceded to your unspoken request by trailing his lips down your chin, digging his teeth into the soft underside of your jaw.
“Jimin,” you groaned, and he hummed back, licking down to your collarbones, following with a scrape of his teeth. “Jimin, listen—ah, listen to me… I need to tell you something…” 
He let go of you with a parting kiss sponged to your chest above the neckline of your t-shirt. When you opened your eyes to meet his, he didn’t look as glum as before, blinking down at you with curiosity with his arms behind his back. He didn’t say a word and didn’t look like he was going to either, so you took a deep breath to prepare for what you had to say to him.
But then suddenly, his eyebrows scrunched up in a deep frown and a hand shot forward to cradle your elbow. “Wait… what is this?”
Eyebrows arched, you looked down on yourself, at his grip, and then back into his eyes, clueless. “What?”
His jaw worked, setting in a sharp line when he ground his teeth. “You went to see Yoongi,” he made his observation with absolute surety, not a single trace of inquiry in his tone. “What the hell did he do to you?”
Your eyes went wide at the aggression and distress his question carried. You rushed to shake your head. “N–nothing, I—”
“Do not bullshit me, you reek of dark magic!”
You flinched, both from his tone and the fact that Jimin could recognise the magic just by looking at you. “Jimin, will you listen to me?”
The harsh lines on his face softened a smidge as he huffed out a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a moment. “What is it?”
“I’m sorry.”
His eyes snapped open. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Jimin.” You looked away from him. “For not believing you, saying all those things to you, and—” Your voice cracked, and you quickly cleared your throat to continue speaking, “And for, just… reacting so horribly when I said I would try to believe you.”
You looked up to see Jimin’s anger fall off his face. His eyes grew dewy, lips pursing as if in an attempt to check his emotions. He gave a jerky nod, bringing both arms to circle your waist. “And? Now you believe me?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. I’m so sorry, Jimin—”
“Hey,” he interrupted you, leaning close to nudge your nose with his. “It’s alright. I do not blame you for reacting the way you did. It was only natural.” His lips shifted into a tiny smile. “You believe in planets, not the stars.”
You giggled at his metaphor. “But I believe in you.”
Jimin’s face grew serious. “What do you think of me, then? Now that you know what I am?”
“What do you mean what you are,” you admonished. “You’re a gorgeous prince with a heart of gold who has suffered a lot by the hands of his cruel fate,” you whispered, tracing your fingers down the side of his face. 
He caught your hand and pressed his cheek against it, eyes closed and face peaceful. You couldn’t breathe past the pressure on your chest. You needed him to stay in your life so bad. 
“Jimin,” you murmured, his lids giving way to half open, gunmetal orbs. “I’m in love with you.”
His eyes sprang wide open. “What?” Both his hands came back to your waist, clutching at the fabric of your jacket. 
“I’m in love with you, Jimin,” you repeated, this time with more conviction. “And I don’t wanna live a day without you.”
Jimin went so rigidly still in your arms, you weren’t sure if he was even breathing.
Concerned, you tilted your head to peer into his wide, frozen eyes. “Jimin? You ok—mmph!”
He slammed his lips into yours, dragging his teeth over your unsuspecting tongue before pulling back just as abruptly. “Do you mean that?” he hoarsely confirmed, wild eyes scanning your face.
“Yes,” you whispered back. “I mean it, I promise. I love you. Please stay here with me.”
Twin tears trailed down his face from both his eyes, squeezing your heart in your chest. You pressed your lips against his, your own tears mingling with his. 
“Please, Jimin,” you sobbed. “Please stay with me?”
A frustrated whine left him, absorbed by your lips that were still attached to his. “Baby, I’m so sorry that I have to leave,” he brokenly whimpered into your mouth. “I would – I would never leave if it was in my hands. But, I’m helple—ah, ouch!”
You straightened at his sudden yelp, giving him room to break apart when he pulled his arms to himself to scan one of his hands with a pained expression on his face. You worriedly looked between his ringed hand and his wincing face. 
“Jimin? What is it, what happened?”
“My ring,” he nearly wailed, gritting his teeth. “It – it burns, shit!”
Gasping, you quickly grabbed his hand to check, and sure enough, a reddish scar was forming over the skin that was in contact with one of his rings. And just as you held his hand in yours, the ring started to light up, too – blinding white rays emanating from it that neither one of you could escape.
Then everything went dark.
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 “...handsome? I’d say pretty. Elegant. Lithe, maybe”
“He has a full eight pack of abs, Tae.”
“Fine, he’s lean then—”
“He’s fucking muscly, stop being a jealous bitch!”
You slipped back into the world of living with two very familiar voices squabbling very close to you.
“I’ll stop being a jealous bitch when you stop gawking at his Adonis’ belt! It's creepy and an invasion of privacy. And you have a boyfriend.”
"Hey, this is my apartment! His shirt is literally riding up, everything’s on show. And my boyfriend should know that I'm only looking and won't touch."
"Your apartment that you share with someone. And this isn't your bedroom."
"Why are you being so weird?"
"Weird? God, Hyejin, it's almost like you don't want me to behave like a decent human being."
"Why would I—"
"Guys," you mumbled, barely able to open your heavy eyes due to the thunderous pounding in your head. "Please shut up?"
All sounds immediately ceased.
And then Hyejin was screeching. "She's awake!"
You screeched back in pain. "Hyejin Ahn!"
"Wh—oh fuck, sorry, babe," she lowered her volume, rushing to your side to splay the back of her hand against your forehead. "You're not feverish," she informed you in a soft voice. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got hit by a train," you mumbled, shielding your eyes with a hand as you slowly opened them. 
You were in your bedroom, stiflingly warm and cosy despite the December chill. Hyejin was kneeling next to your bed while Taehyung stood at the foot of it, nibbling on his thumbnail as he looked at you with apprehensive eyes.
“Guys…” You squinted against the blinding light streaming through the curtains in your room, looking at Taehyung because he stood directly in front of you. “What the heck happened?”
He looked confused. “Uh, we were hoping you guys would tell us.”
You? Wait.
You guys? 
Who else—
And then it all suddenly came back – Yoongi, Jimin, the plan, the spell, the kiss, the confession, and then his ring that had become too hot before getting too bright and knocking you out. You had passed out late in the evening. And given the amount of sunlight that was flooding your room now, it was well past morning. How long were you out for? And where was Jimin? The whole series of events made it seem like Yoongi’s spell had worked, but you couldn’t really be sure until you saw Jimin again.
Just then, you heard a muffled snore resound from somewhere close to your head. 
You very slowly turned your head to the other side of your bed, the warmth and heaviness signalling what you wanted to see but you were too scared to hope and then be devastated. You had to clench your fists to keep your fingers from shaking too much.
Jimin’s pouty lips and closed lids were what greeted you, though, and your eyes welled up with a lump forming in your throat.
“Oh, God, he’s here,” you whispered, sounding strangulated and snotty, but your heart was floating up to the sky with relief. 
Your following cries woke him up, silver orbs meeting yours through heavy lidded eyes. Your teeth pushed into your lower lip, a grin breaking out on your face when his eyebrows furrowed. “Wha… princess?” he rasped, blinking rapidly as if to clear his vision.
“Hey, there,” you breathed back. “Good morning.”
“Good—what?” Jimin bleated, sitting up in bed. And then he immediately grasped his head with both hands, eyes clenching shut. “Ow – ow, what the—my head, shit—”
You slowly sat up next to him, wondrous eyes gazing at his form. Very softly, you placed a hand on his shoulder.
He still jumped at the contact, immediately groaning when the movement hit his head. "Why am I so… dizzy? Did we – have we had alcohol?"
You pursed your lips to hide your smile, endeared by his confusion. "Jimin?" you tried to make him look at you.
He opened a single eye beneath canted eyebrows. 
"Do you know what time it is?"
Jimin moved to open his mouth before pausing. His other eye opened, too, and he tentatively moved his head around to look at all the light past your windows. His eyes widened to a horrified state in no time.
"What the—why is it so bright outside? What has happened? Did we—" He cut himself off, staring at you, and breathed your name, slowly, followed by a faint, “what time is it?”
“It’s noon,” Hyejin announced from your other side.
Jimin flinched a foot back, peering past you to frown at your roommate. You did the same, glaring at the girl with your lips pursed. “Why the heck are you two even here?”
“No, that’s not nice!” Taehyung scolded you. “You know what a better question would be? How you two got here.”
You rolled your eyes, ready to give him a piece of your mind, but then you stopped. Wait. Did you… oh, shit. You had no idea how you got here. 
The shock from the realisation must have shown on your face, because Jimin leant close to you as he faced your roommate’s boyfriend. “How did we get here?” he asked on your behalf.
“A guy from the Cypher frat house called Tae,” Hyejin informed you, rolling her eyes at your confused stare. “That’s the frathouse you were standing in front of, you dumb bitch.”
Your lips parted. Typical of you to not know the name of the fraternity. “And, uh, you two brought us here?”
“Yep.”
“Right. That’s… that was really nice of you,” you mumbled, nodding. “Thank you, guys.”
“Uh,” Taehyung dramatically raised his hand. He and Hyejin now stood next to each other with both their arms crossed, looking between you and Jimin, suspiciously. “Aren’t you gonna, like, introduce us?”
You shook your head. “Nope. Your duty here is done, you can leave."
"Hey, now." Hyejin pouted at you. "We've heard so much about the guy, at least let us say hi properly!"
Heat crept up your cheeks at being ousted like that, more so when you saw Jimin looking at you with an amused smirk. You shot a venomous scowl at your roommate, proceeding to point at her with an angry finger.
"Hyejin Ahn, my roommate," you flatly told Jimin. "And that," you added, turning your finger in Taehyung's direction, "is Taehyung Kim, her boyfriend."
"Hey! We're your friends, too, I think you forgot to mention that!"
You ignored the high pitched yell, turning to smile at Jimin's amused face. "And this," you breathed, "is Park Jimin."
"Nice to meet you Miss Ahn, Mister Kim," Jimin addressed your dumbass friends, making you giggle at his formality.
“Well, I — hello, Jimin.” Hyejin looked flustered, nudging a gaping Taehyung.
“Wha—oh! Hi, uh, Jimin,” Taehyung confusedly waved with an awkwardly forced smile. “I – I hope you didn’t dislocate your shoulder when we lifted you into the cab?”
“Why would he dislocate his shoulder?” You looked between your two friends.
“He’s brawny,” Hyejin told you, scanning Jimin’s shirt clad body a bit too intensely for your liking. “And we’re not.”
“Makes sense.” You gave a sigh. “Now that you’ve filled in all the gaps, please kindly leave us.”
“Wait, no,” Jimin interfered, looking dazed when you met his silver gaze. “Nothing makes any sense to me at all. What is going on? Why is it daytime? How?”
You smiled at the guy, bringing both your hands to hold his palms in yours. “This is why I went to see Yoongi, Jimin,” you said, the bare minimum explanation you could offer him in presence of your two friends that you weren’t yet sure if you wanted to share the truth of your Supernatural experiences with. “We found a way out.”
Jimin’s eyes were glittering with unbridled delight. “You… did?”
You nodded, biting your lip to stop your grin from turning manic and scary. Jimin gave a watery chuckle, knocking his forehead against yours as he shut his eyes and let a few tears escape. Yours did too, floored by the sight of such happiness on his face, heart brimming with fondness and affection and love for this man.
He looked at you, suddenly pulling back with a curious stare. “Is this permanent?”
You nodded, chasing him to peck his nose softly. “You’re stuck with me, now.”
He caught your lips with his, giggling against you when you squeaked in surprise. He was warm and loving and so, so perfect, you openly moaned into his mouth when he deepened the kiss with his grip tight on your hands.
Hyejin cleared her throat, but Jimin held you tighter when you moved to break the kiss, nipping at the tip of your tongue with his teeth, and you just pushed harder against his mouth with another moan.
“Uh, is it just me or are these two—”
“Absolutely unhinged? Nah, it's not you babe. What the fuck was he talking about? And why the fuck was she—
“Responding like it made any sense? I know!” 
“Let's just… leave…”
“Stop looking at her cleavage, Tae!”
“You stop looking at his bulge!”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, get out, you pervs!”
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“Hey,” Jimin whispered next to your ear, wet hair ghosting your neck making you shiver, and gestured to the phone in your hand. “Are you playing a game on your phone, you dork?”
“I was texting Yoongi, actually,” you told him, not missing the way his jaw tightened in irritation. “Was spamming the guy with thank-you’s, but he isn’t responding. I think he might have… blocked me?”
Jimin snorted. “I won’t be surprised if he moved away from the city and changed his name.”
You gaped. 
“What? It would be good for him if he does. He knows I will behead him if I ever see him again.”
“Woah, woah, no – we don’t behead people in the twenty-first century, Jimin,” you laughed, calming the guy down with your hands raised up.
The action moved the sheets covering you down to your waist, exposing your naked torso to his instantly darkening gaze. You tugged them back up, concealing your breasts from his roving eyes, an act that got you a playful glare from the man. Giggling, you put your phone away. 
“You took too long in the bathroom, I got bored,” you complained, pouting at him.
He pecked your lips. “Well, technically, I haven’t had a bath in over two hundred years. So I had to be thorough.”
“Thorough, huh?” Your gaze grew sultry. “I could’ve helped.”
Jimin took off the bathrobe you’d loaned him, naked and dewy body making your mouth water as he got back into the bed with you. “I was trying to get cleaned, not dirty, baby.”
Letting his rock hard chest press into your soft, sensitive breasts that he had been feasting on for hours now, you hooked a leg over his waist and nuzzled your face into his neck. Kissing the soft, warm skin that smelt like your body wash, you hugged him close. Jimin’s arms wrapped around your body to lock you against him. 
“Princess,” he mumbled, then, and you hummed back with your eyes closed in contented bliss. “What you said to me in the street…”
Your breathing deepened, sudden nervousness rearing its head. “Wha–what part?”
“You know what part,” Jimin spoke with purpose, allowing you the liberty to not look at him as you kept threading your fingers through his damp hair. “About your feelings. Did you, uh… it wasn’t just for the purpose of the spell, right?”
Your heart stopped beating at the vulnerability in his voice. 
When you reiterated the details of your entire plan and methodology to Jimin in the past couple of hours, utilising the breaks you two took between fucking like the reunited lovers you two were – he hadn’t really reacted much. It pained you to know it had stuck to his mind and bothered him enough for him to want to bring it up with you with such a fragile disposition.
You pulled away from him to look into his eyes that were swimming with doubt. Wordlessly planting a kiss to his rosy lips, you shook your head.
“No, Jimin. I meant it,” you throatily reassured your man, running your hand down his neck to bring it to his face and cup his cheek. 
His liquid eyes stared at you with tenderness. “Are you sure?”
You gave a disbelieving chuckle. “I was ready to leave my life behind to live once a year with you, Jimin. I love you. No doubt in my head.”
Creases eased off his face, a smile stretched his lips up prettily. “Good. Because I love you, too.”
While you had known the fact and had had Yoongi confirm it for you, hearing Jimin say it to you with so much of the sentiment spilling from his eyes had yours watering.
“You do?” you asked in a tiny voice, sidling closer to him to breathe him in when he responded.
“Yes,” he whispered into your mouth, and you inhaled his delicious scent and taste. “I love you so much. Thank you for finding me that night. Thank you for making your way into my heart. Thank you for pulling me out of… that hell. Thank you for risking so much for me.”
Your lips clasped his, peppering kisses on his swollen buds soothingly as tears wetted both of your faces. “Thank you for letting me in, Jimin. I was so lonely… and now I have everything in the form of you.”
Jimin gave a tearful laugh. “Cheesy.”
“Do you hate it?” You cheekily wiggled your eyebrows.
He nipped at the tip of your nose. “I love it.”
“I love you,” you reminded him, earning a gaze so full of warmth and passion, it filled your stomach with butterflies the way even being naked under the covers with him didn’t.
“And I love you,” he told you, just as his fingers slid across your soaked center and through your slippery entrance, to scissor their way through your cunt.
He drank up your moan, curling his digits to rub against your sensitive spot, his other arm holding you close to himself. His mouth traversed down the slope of your tits to massage one of the tips with his warm tongue, and your back arched against him, broken whines tumbling out of you.
His length hardened against your thigh, just the littlest of movement on your part brushing his head against your clit due to the open position he held you in. Gauging your reaction, Jimin pulled you down on his cock, letting your sensitive nub rub over it with the rhythmic movement of his fingers in you. His mouth was still sucking on your nipple, teeth grazing the areola in what you knew would later be converted to purple marks.
The thought made you leak more arousal, and you pushed your chest out and into his greedy mouth with renewed force. Groaning lightly, Jimin pulled his fingers from you to replace them with his cock that had gathered all your juices on it.
“Fuck, Jimin, baby…” 
Your nails dug into the muscles of his back, teeth tearing at the skin of your lower lip when he began to rock into you at this angle that pushed his head directly against the spot you needed him at. 
“So, so tight – I’ve been fucking you all day, baby, how are you still this tight?” he groaned against your chest, sliding up to plant kisses on your throat, until he captured your lips.
This was, so far, the most intimate position he was fucking you in – bodies facing each other, gripping tightly onto one another, lips tangled. 
Your climax built up so fast, you cried into his mouth, and Jimin nodded, pulling back to press his lips to your forehead. “I’m close, too,” he breathed into your skin, holding you tighter as his thrusts grew aggressive.
You ground your hips down on his in response, dragging him over the edge with you as you both came at the same time, his lips going back to yours to swallow your moans and feed you his. Your hips stuttered in tandem, before both of you went slack in each other’s grip.
Jimin pulled away from your mouth to give you a lethargic, satiated smile with his flushed, pink lips. Yours would have mirrored his, eyes too heavy to stay open for long.
He probably faced a similar predicament, because he held you by your shoulders to turn you around and then pulled your back to his chest, resting your head on his bicep and tucking it under his chin. You entwined your fingers with his, bending his arm to hold it to your chest. 
“’M’so tired,” you spoke into his forearm, and he hummed, pulling you closer.
“Sleep, baby,” he murmured to you, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of your head as he wrapped his free arm around your torso to cup one of your boobs and hooked his leg around your thighs to slot his calf between yours. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Jiminie…”
You had never felt so content and at peace in your life, ever.
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⇥ christmas, senior year;
You and Jimin took some time to settle him into his new reality – with less fucking, and more introducing him to things in today's world he didn't know about – and discussed how and whom you were going to tell the truth about him. When you informed him how a friend of yours already knew, Jimin showed relief in the knowledge and proposed to tell all your friends so that you could have people on your side to help figure out how he was going to be seamlessly blended into the society.
You didn’t have a huge circle, but you planned a get-together for Christmas at your apartment, gathering your roommate, her boyfriend, your two friends from classes, and Jungkook. You still hadn’t told Jimin about the kiss you’d shared with Jungkook because it didn’t mean anything to you, but having the guy under the same roof was making you nervous about keeping it a secret. You had been looking to casually mention it in a conversation but it just never came to that. You were pretty sure it would come out in some way, tonight, and were already thinking up tricks in bed to make it up to Jimin, later.
You also had a big announcement to make tonight, something you'd only told Jimin about.
But the bigger matter at hand, Jimin’s existence, had taken precedence in your conversation as you, Jimin and Namjoon told the rest of the people the entire story. Your lot was apparently a greater believer than you were because it didn’t take them long to be fully convinced. Rose even went as far as to fill in the gaps about your daily excursions during the finals. Jungkook was quick to connect the dots to the time you asked for his help finding Yoongi’s location. And Taehyung confirmed that a few people had seen Jimin hang around the Halloween parties in the same outfit, every year.
You couldn’t believe how easy it had been. Until Namjoon brought up the difficult questions.
"So we have three major issues: his ID, his source of income, his housing."
"I still don't know why you won't let him stay with you," Taehyung commented, confused because he practically lived at your apartment with Hyejin.
You shook your head. "I’ll come to that later. For now, let’s just look for a plan.”
“Well, I can definitely forge an ID for him,” Jungkook offered, looking at all of you with raised eyebrows. “I have some contacts that I'm not…proud of. It'll be risky, but unless he gets caught doing a crime, he'll be good. Give me a list of all the IDs you need, okay? Passport, driver's license, everything."
You nodded, questions popping up in your head about Jungkook's so-called 'contacts,' but you kept them to yourself for the moment. 
"And he can stay with me, too, if he’d like to," Jungkook surprised you by continuing. "My dad’s bought me an apartment off campus. No one's gonna question him there.”
Jimin looked at you for approval, at which you shrugged. “I mean, why not?”
“What about his educational qualifications? Getting a job?” Rose butted in.
“I used to work my father’s finances,” Jimin confessed. “But my degree from 1895 definitely won’t hold.”
“You could be a politician, bro,” Taehyung jibed, face serious and eyes big. “No one asks for their degrees.”
At Jimin’s confused look, you and Rose kicked Taehyung from either side of his sprawling form on the ground.
“Forging a degree can be risky.” Namjoon finally spoke after a long silence. “But I can pull a few favours with a friend and get you an interning position at a finance company.”
“You can?” You gasped.
Namjoon smiled. “One of my close friend’s older brother recently started up this firm. He’s been asking me to get him recruits.”
You beamed at Jimin. “How does that sound?”
Jimin laughed. “Honestly? Unreal.”
In the days leading up to Christmas, you and Jimin had shopped online for clothing. He made faces at most of the current fashion trends, but liked the idea of turtlenecks, even confessing to you that he had wanted to try those ever since the Polo players of his time started to wear them. You had no idea what that meant, but you bought him a couple of turtlenecks along with some loungewear for indoors and winter wear for outdoors. 
Currently, he wore a beautiful, baby blue sweatshirt, hair covering his forehead and dropping into his eyes adorably. You leant in to peck his cheek, heart bursting with how cute he looked. Your gaze could barely stray from him when he wore such homey clothes, and you had to focus hard to listen to Rose’s complaining words.
"Can we open up some alcohol, now, please?" she whined. "My goal for this Christmas was to drown my miseries in whiskey. It's past three pm and I haven't touched a drop."
Everyone mumbled something in response, but your eyes strayed to Hyejin. Your roommate hadn’t spoken much tonight, and currently, she looked at you with a disappointed frown.
You cleared your throat. "Uh, Hyejie? You've been awfully quiet."
Taehyung turned his head to look up at his girlfriend that sat on the chair he was leaning against the legs of. "Yeah, babe, what's up? Do you not believe Jimin?"
Hyejin shook her head. "I kinda suspected something was up when she couldn't find the guy for two years. The most unbelievable bit to me is that you really thought nobody cared about your existence."
All movements stopped as five other pairs of eyes fell on you. You gulped, fidgeting with your Christmas sweater. "I, uh… I didn't—"
"You said you told Yoongi you were ready to leave because nobody cared if you stayed," Hyejin repeated your words to you in an almost accusatory tone, her eyes growing stony. 
You hung your head in acceptance. "I just…"
"Oh, God, you're such a fucking dumbass," your roommate grumbled, rolling her eyes. "You're literally wearing a sweater your aunt knit you, using a moisturizer I bought you because you complained nothing suited your skin, sitting on a couch Tae got us because you hated the one I brought from my house. JK literally held your hair back when you were unwell. Poor Namjoon heard all your fantastical sounding stories and believed in them because it was important to you."
Hyejin shook her head in disbelief.
"How dare you think you're alone? Just because you don't see us spamming your phone with kiss emoticons doesn't mean we don't care about you, you idiot. All six of us, here, would've lost our minds if you went missing." 
You were at a loss, Hyejin's words hitting you smack dab center of your chest. Had you really been so oblivious? 
These people were your real friends, weren't they? 
Oh, God, you were dumb 
Hyejin suddenly squinted at Rose. "Well, maybe not her," she said with a finger pointed at your quantum physics batchmate, "she's weird and doesn't know you well." 
Rose gave an offended gasp, looking unnaturally flustered. "Hey, that's – that's not true!"
"Unless," Hyejin relentlessly continued, eyes narrowed to thin slits as she weighed Rose up, and you watched your roommate with a frown. "Unless…she has a crush on you?" 
Rose's cheeks turned tomato red, no words escaping her open mouth. 
Hyejin squealed a loud laugh. "Oh, God, she does!" 
"What the hell?" 
Namjoon groaned when you met his eyes. "Yeah, this is why I didn't wanna tell you the whole thing."
Taehyung and Hyejin looked close to peeing their pants, they were laughing so hard, and Jimin was watching the entire show with a dropped jaw.
Jungkook suddenly chuckled, moving up to tackle an embarrassed looking Rose in a friendly chokehold from behind. "Welcome to the club, Rosie." 
Jimin gave a loud gasp, turning his horrified eyes to you. "You have a club of people with a crush on you?" 
You shook your head, frantically. "Not by choice, I swear!"
"Not by—hey, stop crushing on her, she's taken!" he cutely announced to the duo that were awkwardly back-hugging due to Jungkook's arm still around Rose's neck.
"When – how long have you had a crush on me, Rose?" you lamented.
Namjoon covered his face with a hand at your question, moaning in pain.
"Hey, why are you only surprised about her crush?"
Jimin's suspicious eyes made you put your foot in your mouth in panic. "I… she never told me?"
He gasped. "He did?"
"I mean, yes? Kinda? See, he—"
"I kissed her," Jungkook proudly finished for you, raising his free hand with a grin.
"You what?" Jimin gaped at you. "He what?"
"Hey, she was drunk, and—"
"You kissed her without her consent?"
"What? No, man, what the fuck? She was just—"
"Do we need to report him, princess?" Jimin held onto your forearms, imploring eyes looking into yours. "Kissing a lady without her consent used to warrant to beheading in father's rein, so—"
"What?" Jungkook's eyes boggled.
"Jimin, no!" you yelped. "What did I tell you about beheading in the twenty-first century?"
"That they should bring it back?" Hyejin unhelpfully piped up with a shit eating grin, and you just groaned, falling back into the couch, defeated.
What a mess. 
But at least they were laughing.
A slow, surprised smile crept up your face when you looked around again. The spat between Jimin and Jungkook had somehow escalated to the point where they both got into a rock-paper-scissors battle to figure out who'd do the dishes today. Hyejin fell off her chair and onto Taehyung in her laughing frenzy, making the guy groan in pain before he was laughing too. Namjoon gave a reluctant smile to Rose when she pinched an earlobe with her forefinger and thumb, mouthing a, 'sorry again.'
You laughed. 
"Guys," you declared, making everyone pause in their respective places. "You all are my family."
"Duh?" Hyejin snorted. "We've always been your family, you've just never been ours."
Shaking your head, you bit your lip as you stood up. "Well then, starting today – I am your family, too."
Five arms high-fived you from different locations, and you tried to receive them all. Jimin hugged you from the side.
"Your news, babe," he reminded you, pecking your cheek.
"Alright, guys, so I have an announcement to make," you began, giddy with excitement.
Namjoon's gasp made you pause. He looked from you to Jimin and then down at your tummy and you shook your head to dissuade him, but he was already speaking.
"Are you pregnant this time?"
"What?"
"This time? You've had a scare before?"
"Have you been pregnant before?"
"Wait a second, why does this guy know about it and not me?"
You groaned at the barrage of questions. "Guys, I'm not pregnant! I've never been before, never even had a scare, Joon is just way too good at jumping to conclusions!"
"Then wha—"
"My scholarship and application got approved!" you cut Namjoon off before he could say something else to confuse everyone. "I… am getting into masters. Here."
Hollers of congratulations rained on you from all sides, Rose reaching ahead to grip at your hand excitedly.
"But I'll have to live at the college dorms for the course. Which is why Jimin can't live with me," you finished with a look tossed at Jungkook, at which he nodded in understanding. "So, yeah, that was it. We can drink now."
"And finally we get to drink. So much drama in one single day, ugh," Hyejin complained. "Jimin got fixed a fake life, Rose confessed her crush and got rejected, Jungkook told everybody you two kissed, and you got a step closer to NASA. Wow, we're a dramatic bunch."
"Yeah, and all that without a single drop of booze in our systems," Taehyung added as he got up. "Imagine the drama we'd be capable of when we're drunk, fellas."
"No one is looking forward to that, buddy," Namjoon protested with a wince, only to be quieted by Rose's shush.
"Some of us are, Joon, don't ruin our fun. Lead the way, Tae."
With that, Rose held his proffered elbow and followed him to the kitchen in search of drinks. Namjoon excused himself to attend a phone call from his parents, while Jimin went to the kitchen, too, to bring back some snacks he'd ordered online because he was excited to try them. 
Hyejin wiggled her eyebrows at you. "Want me to introduce your guy to the wonders of a blunt?"
You gasped. "You have weed in the house?"
She gave you a disgusted look. "You're a scarily oblivious human being if you don't know that I and Tae smoke up and fuck every weekend. I fear for your safety, bub."
You dumbly tried to formulate a response but came up blank. Jungkook, who was watching the exchange, chuckled. "I don't think she's interested in smoking up and fucking Jimin, yet, Ahn."
Hyejin made a face and got up to walk towards her bedroom.
You turned to smile at a still laughing Jungkook. "Thanks for offering to do all this for him, JK. You said you had some…"
"Less than legal contacts? Yeah. But if the government doesn't know about Yoongi, I don't think they're gonna find out about this, either."
He had a valid point, which made you snort. "Very true. And, uh, JK? I'm also…sorry for how things went between us. I hope you know that."
"Hey, I still get to have you as a friend, so it's all good." He simply smiled back. "Remember I told you I hoped your guy knew how lucky he is?" He gestured towards the kitchen. "Jimin does. And that is good to know. I'll find someone to feed vodka cranberries again, don't worry about me."
Jimin walked back right that instant, a faint smile on his face, and you wondered if he'd heard the conversation. He tossed a pack of chips towards Jungkook before settling next to you with a bigger pack in his hands.
"Hey, who won the rock-paper-scissors between you two?" you asked as you opened the packet.
Jungkook shook his head. "We saved that for later when we'll be living together. We're tricking Tae into doing the dishes tonight."
Laughing, you opened your mouth when Jimin brought up a potato chip to feed you. "Merry Christmas, my princess. I love you."
You bit into the morsel, brushing your closed lips against his. "I love you, too, my prince. Merry Christmas."
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taglist: @shrimpmsg @codeinebelle @afangirllikeme-blog @veronawrites @bex-92br @writtenwhalien​ (took the liberty to tag u bec ily queen <3)
© jimilter | 2021
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venusiangguk · 2 months ago
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the art of doubting | jjk (m)
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>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc
>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, a lil bit of fluff, angst
>>word count: 17k -.-
>>warnings: dom jk, sub oc, age gap, dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank you, sexual tension, gross domestic flirting 🙄, push up kisses, orgasms, oc getting overwhelmed bc jock is too gewd <3, oral (m), rimming !!, mirror sex, one (1) spank, jreampie <3, tummy bulging (kinda? he presses on her tum to feel it?), praise, dirty talk, encouragement, showering together, kisses 😚, ex wife has arrived, mentions of divorce, a lil bit of sad talk about nari :(, nari is two now!!, misunderstandings, arguments, jk lowkey got some issues he needs to work thru lol, he thinks in extremes, oc is in love </3, a very drastic 180 occurs
>>notes: ex wife arrives and literally makes everything explode lmao
this is part of my dilf jk series that can be found on my masterlist
>>summary: seeds of doubt are planted and unfortunately they grow faster than love. things with jk fall apart.
Soft grunting groans filter through the air as you slowly make your way down the stairs to the lower floor. Not really a basement, more of an indoor workout cave.
Jeongguk’s shirtless on the bench, pulling weighted arms down on the machine, the muscles in his back rippling and straining with every pull down. He sees you in the mirror as soon as you walk in, his eyes lighting up and a small winded laugh puffs from his chest.
“Hey— hang on… almost— done…”
You shift on your feet a little, watching him through the reflection. The sight you see is a little too obscene to just be a work out, you feel like. He’s not sweaty yet, probably just started, but his face is a little red from the excretion, and his lats are on display as he does the repetitive workout over and over with clenched teeth and breathy grunts until his body gives out. He catches his breath for a moment, shakes his arms out.
“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” you say, tiptoeing over to him and stepping over the plastic baby weight on the mat. “Also why do you do so many at once… looks miserable.”
Jeongguk laughs softly, looks up at you with his doe-eyes when you’re close enough to rest a hand on his shoulder. He’s warm to the touch.
“I usually don’t but I’m the only one here, and I knew it was you coming. Also my phone is charging upstairs so if you texted when you got here like normally, I would not have known.” he explains. “I tend to focus more on longer sets with lighter weights, than shorter sets with heavier weights because it helps keep muscles lean… I’m not trying to bulk up right now.”
You tell him that that makes sense even though you really have no clue. Just know that whatever he does to stay fit works. “Nari at her mom’s?” you ask.
He nods, standing up to go over to the pull up bar on the side of the machine. Wiping his hands on the tiny workout shorts he’s wearing, he jumps a little, and then wiggles his fingers on the bar to get a good grip. “All yours till Friday,” he says, cutely.
Rolling your eyes playfully, you correct him. “Till tomorrow afternoon. I have work… might get a raise soon.”
You wander around a little as Jeongguk goes on about how you should already be getting paid more considering you have a college degree, but you tune him out, knowing he’s trying to be on your side and make you feel better. A marketing degree won't get you far in a grocery aisle, and you both know that, but it’s sweet of him to try.
Instead, you opt to take in your surroundings. You’ve been all around his house of course, but you’ve not spent much time in the workout dungeon.
It’s fully equipped, and fully mirrored, with the flooring being that of wrestling mats to cushion dropped weights or baby stumbles.
On one side of the room there’s an elliptical, a treadmill, a rowing machine, a bench press, basically one of everything that you would normally see in a gym. But on the other side, blocked off by a baby safety gate, is a mini little workout zone filled with mini weights, those foam blocks that you normally find in a child’s gymnastics zone, and a little dance bar along the mirrored wall.
You smile, thinking about Nari holding onto the bar and doing that funny little squatting move of hers. “Are you going to put her in dance?”
He looks at you through the mirror, no longer doing pull ups, but just watching it seems. Seated on one of the benches with a water bottle in his hand, resting between his spread legs. “Ballet I think,” he says, “Me and her mom were talking about it. She thinks it’ll be good for Nari’s coordination…” He gives you a humorously exasperated look, “I just think she’ll look cute in a tutu. Though I suppose coordination would be helpful… she’s a bit clumsy.”
“She is only 2,” you point out, walking over to his side of the room again. “Was the party fun?”
It was on Saturday, just a few days ago. Jeongguk said it was fairy themed much like most of the baby’s things. You saw the pictures that he sent you, Nari adorned in a pair of tiny pink wings, her cake in the shape of a mushroom. The kids all got tiny bottles of ‘pixie dust’ to play with, shimmery bubbles floating through the air.
There was a woman in one of the pictures, blowing a bubble into Nari’s delighted face, her own smile matching that of the baby. She obviously wasn’t the focus of the photo, and you doubt that Jeongguk even realized when he sent it. But you already knew who the woman was anyway. The pictures around Jeongguk’s house were enough to tell you, even if he never explicitly stated it. And you know it makes sense and that it’s normal for her to be there, with Jeongguk at their daughter's birthday, but something settled into the pit of your belly when you looked at that picture. You haven’t been able to shake it yet.
Jeongguk’s voice brings you back. “Yeah it was fun, you got the pictures right?” He seems excited. You laugh a little, reminding that yes, you did see. You responded to them after all. He grins sheepishly as he goes to another machine, “Don’t be sassy, or I’ll eat the piece of cake we saved you.”
His sentence warms your heart. The fact that he was thinking about you, keeping you in mind. Reminds you of the bittersweet message you received from him on Saturday while he was at the party.
Wish you could have come
It took some effort, and you’ve done your best to not think about the fact that you could have, if he had asked you to. Saturday was your day off.
“What flavor is it?”
“Funfetti, obviously.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, grunts quietly as he does another rep.
“Obviously,” you mime, with a small chuckle.
Conversation flows smoothly, just like always, everything seamless between you both. While most people wouldn’t probably get annoyed at someone hovering, Jeongguk seems happy to be near you, glad for the company. You sit beside him as he gets to the ground for some push ups.
He gets about three in before you’re laying flat on your back, boredom making a thought pop into your head.
“Do them over me.”
Jeongguk falters mid-way up, glancing at you with a suspicious look. “Why?”
“I wanna help,” you reason.
“Not sure being on top of you will be helpful,” he murmurs, but appeases you nonetheless, side walking on his hands and the balls of his feet until he’s over you.
You both give each other closed lip smiles as you try not to laugh. Jeongguk lowers himself, and you sneakily place a sweet kiss on his cheek.
“I knew you didn’t want to be helpful,” he says, his voice laced with faux annoyance. He does another one and receives another kiss. “You want to be distracting.”
“I’m not being distracting, I’m providing incentive.”
“I can’t even go all the way down, your tits are in the way.”
“You are so ungrateful.”
He smiles with his eyes as he goes down again, his nose brushing yours as he nuzzles into your cheek briefly. “And how are you providing incentive?”
You hum at the feel of his warm breath on your ear. “The longer you hold your plank, the longer you get to kiss me.”
“Who says I wanna kiss you?” he teases, voice soft as a feather as he does another push up.
“You always want to kiss me,” you tell him, just as quiet, tension radiating off of you as you readjust yourself, your legs opening so that the next time he drops down, he’s not just over you, but between your thighs as well. “And you haven’t yet…” you remind him as you drag your acrylics over his bare back, smiling at the way he shudders and at the way his arms buckle.
He grins, looking at you like you’re unbelievable, yet everything he wants right now. “Between you and Nari, I can never get anything done.”
You hum, “I just think you need to reevaluate your priorities, maybe.”
“And what do you think my priorities should be, __?” he whispers, eyes searching your face, lingering on your lips, a fond look coloring his features.
“Well, right now,” you start, looping your arms around his neck, “I think you should really focus on that plank, and on that kiss you’re dying to give me.”
Your teeth click before your lips lock because of how much you both are smiling.
But once lips lock, it doesn’t take much for Jeongguk to collapse onto you. Doesn’t even try to hold the plank, instead just melding his body to yours, the inside of your legs clamping around his waist. He goes from having his hands flat on the mat to bracing himself on his forearms, his knees hitting the mat between your legs. You use some of your weight to bring him closer, the slowly swelling front of his work out shorts pressing into the crotch of your leggings.
You work your hips, rolling them slowly up into him, in time with the slow, molten kisses he licks into your mouth.
Jeongguk’s always easy for you, but today he seems to be fighting himself, playfully fighting how bad he wants you. It’s the principle of the thing. To prove a point. The point being that you’re distracting, his weakness. His hips rolling into yours, only to pull back. He lips pressing hard against yours, only to pull back. Just for him to do it over again, just for him to give in like you both know he wants to and will. It's after a particularly hard rut against you that he peels his lips from yours, panting softly, how worked up he is so apparent in the way he can’t stop his hips.
“You’re going to kill me,” he whispers, his nose brushing against your cheek before he sinks his teeth into the apple of it like he just can’t help it, can’t get enough of you.
Your manicured hands cup his cheeks, as you nod and guide him back into a wet kiss. “Want you in my mouth,” you moan against his lips.
Jeongguk pulls back with a light blush on his cheeks. “Are you sure? I was just working out–”
A kiss cuts him off as you slowly start to sit up, him going with you. “Barely broke a sweat, and I don’t care,” you tell him, hands gripping at the elastic of his waistband, “just want you.”
Jeongguk laughs softly, grabs your eager hands, maneuvering to his feet and pulling you with him. It’s then that he strips you of your shirt, your bra. His hands come to cup your bare tits, rolling them in his palms as he brings his lips back to you, all while he toes off his shoes, as well as his socks with a little difficulty and stumbling, but not without sweet laughter filtering in through the kisses.
He makes his way down as he pushes your pants down, his lips latching to a nipple, making you mewl under the light flicks and the soft sucks, hands coming to his hair to keep your balance as you rid yourself from the stretchy material. His hair gets pulled when you’re free, and he’s biting his lip at the tugging when he blinks his eyes open to look at you again.
“Sit on the bench,” you tell him, hand slipping from his locks, and down to his flushed chest. You press lightly, backing him up to the benchpress machine that’s not too far behind him.
The bench is propped up, a reclined sitting position under the secured bar above, resembling more of a chair than the typical flat board of most bench presses.
He gingerly sits down, keeps his eyes on you the whole time, watching as you lower yourself to your knees, settling between his open ones. His cock is hard and pink, up and laying flat on his lower tummy. It pulses when you place your hand on his thighs, long nails running down.
You both smile a little because its funny in a stupid way, but your pussy pulses too, getting slick between you legs at the way Jeongguk responds to you. How eager he is for you, how the mere feel of your hands on his thighs is enough to make him throb in anticipation of what else is going to come, of how good you’re going to make him feel.
“Wanna make you feel good,” you say quietly. Your gaze flicking between his face and the flushed, shiny head of his cock in your hand.
He bites his lip when you slowly start to work your hand on him, his foreskin sliding over the wet tip of his cock, and when you rub the pad of your thumb on the under part of the head, you watch as his head tilts back, his eyes slipping shut, and his mouth exhaling a soft sigh. You squeeze your thighs together at the sight. Jeongguk is so responsive, pliant as he settles into the bench, hot and heavy in your hand.
“Put your mouth on it,” Jeongguk requests, eyes lazily shut.
When you oblige, Jeongguk sucks in a sharp breath, his back arching a little off of the bench behind him, his hips pulling back like the feel of your lips suckling on him is too much, too good.
You pull off with a little pop, holding his cock close smiling against his length. “Why are you trying to get away from me?”
Jeongguk gives you a crooked grin, looking down his nose at you with hazy eyes. “Keep going,” he says softly.
Humming against his length you begin to place heavy, wet kisses down his cock all the way to his balls. The kind where your tongue licks him before your lips suction softly. Then you lick all the way back up with the flat of your tongue, your lips wrapping around him, your head bobbing a few shallow times. Jeongguk keeps breathing those sweet, soft moans. So relaxed and relishing in the way you suck him off. He’s not pulling away anymore, instead trying to keep from bucking into your mouth, you can tell by the way his lower belly tenses.
When you go down a little farther, sucking his balls into your mouth, you moan at the way he whines, at the way his legs subconsciously open wider as you alternate between lapping at him, and teasing him with light circles from the tip of your tongue. He breathes praise, telling you how good it feels. It makes you want to make him feel even better.
His legs spreading wide for you gives you the idea to trail a little farther down, stray off the path of your usual blowjobs. You start with your fingers, something he’s used to and loves. Massaging that spot behind his balls with deliberate little pets, you moan softly when he pulls his legs back just slightly, barely lifting his feet off the ground so you can touch him better.
His brows are pinched, and his mouth is open in a silent moan, his expression one of pleasure and arousal as he brings his hand down to his cock. He slowly tugs at himself, watching as you bring your mouth back to his balls. He’s nodding, eager and encouraging, his hand speeding up.
“You’re–,” he moans, his head rolling back along with his eyes, “My baby.”
Laughing a little you pull back, focusing on just massaging him. He seems extra responsive today, his praise and sentences jumbled and hardly coherent.
“Keep licking,” he moans.
You hum, going to appease him but right before you suck his balls into your mouth you pause. He notices, brings his eyes to you with a questioning, needy gaze, his hand still working over his cock.
You place a chaste kiss to his balls and then one a little lower. Jeongguk jolts, and questions you with a gaze, but he doesn't stop you.
In all honesty, you don't know what you’re doing, have no clue why you even want to, but the desire to make Jeongguk feel good and curiosity spurs you on. He likes your fingers, maybe he’ll like your mouth there too.
Your eyes hold a question in them as you gently, wordlessly push his legs back some more, more of him on display than you’ve ever seen before. Jeongguk grows a little red, but his hand hasn’t stopped, and he just pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, watching you as you kiss on the backs of his thighs.
He’s tense, like he’s just waiting for you to do it. With your breath hot on his taint, you look at him once more, and he gives the slightest nod, permission to continue. His eyes are heavy and he licks over his red bitten lips, and when you press another one of your chaste kisses against him, his brows furrow and his mouth parts and he cranes forward, like he wants it so bad, is so eager that he can't contain it.
The first lick over him makes him gasp, and he breathes the most salacious, “Yeah–” as his legs get pulled back even more.
You smile at him with your tongue out, giving tentative licks to that spot he loves. Your hands are on his cheeks and you pull back some, looking at him with a grin.
Jeongguk groans, a laugh coloring it as his head falls back to the bench kind of like he’s a little bashful about being so worked up. His free hand pushes through his hair before rubbing over his face, eyes finally meeting yours again. “You’re so hot down there,” he tells you.
You purr, pressing your thumbs into his cheeks opening him up a little more. A quick wet lick is placed over his hole and he breathes out a harsh sigh, craning his neck so he can look at you, his tummy tensed.
“Is this what you want?” you murmur against him, getting a little more confident, the tip of your tongue flicking over the cinched muscle.
“Yeah, fuck…” he whispers.
The hand he has on his cock squeezes at the base for a second before he makes a ring with his thumb and index finger focusing on the tip of his cock with quick little strokes. The hand he doesn’t have busy pulls his thigh back a bit more.
As your tongue works over him, he chants over and over again, tells you how hot you look, how good your mouth feels, how wants you to keep going. It’s when you point your tongue a little, just barely pressing into his rim that his hand goes to the back of your head.
He holds your face to his ass, pushes you into him as he melts into the chair, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths that lilt up at the end.
“Good girl,” Jeongguk moans, his eyes blinking open hazily as he looks down at you again.
Your eyes smiles at him as you continue to work your tongue, little wet noises willing the air as you eat him out. When he removes his hand, you lick from his hole to his balls, repeating the action a few times, making Jeongguk almost tremble.
“Your dirty girl?” you ask him quietly in response to the praise he just gave you, giving him tiny little kitten licks over his hole.
He gives you a lustdrunk smile, licking over his lips. “Yeah, all mine.”
“What do you want?” you kiss into his taint, eyes big as you look up at him.
“Just a little more,” he whispers, his thumb spreading the precum leaking from his tip.
You get a hold of the hand on his pulled back thighs, guide it back to the back of your head once again. “Take it then,” you tell him, “take more from me.”
Jeongguk lets out a shaky breath, biting his lip as he pushes your mouth back to his hole. “Look so hot licking my ass,” he breathes, barely audible over the wet licks you’re giving him. He kinda shakes your head, his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched as he sucks a breath through his teeth. “Oh my god–”
When you point your tongue and press past the little resistance, Jeongguk’s mouth drops open and his brows arch upwards, and his eyes roll a little before he squeezes them shut, pushing and pulling on your head just barely, making your tongue fuck him.
It's kind of abrupt when he pulls you back by the hair, his legs coming down again. It’s abrupt when he kisses you. Deep, his tongue licking into your mouth like he doesn't care that you were just licking into him, making him pant, making his cock leak. It’s abrupt when he breaks the kiss. He’s still close, breathing you in, giving you one last soft little peck before he leans back again, his demeanor expectant.
Both of his hands are on your head, and he’s guiding you down, taking what he wants from you just like you told him to. His cock is so hard, flushed and angry looking as it stands, just waiting for your mouth.
It's a swift and quick motion when he pushes your head down, the tip hitting the back of your throat almost immediately. He whines softly, and rocks his hips up while pulling you down onto him, glucking noises filling the air as he fills your mouth.
His length and girth are a lot to take, your eyes prickling with tears as he holds your head down, but when you hear him whisper, so desperately, “Love when you choke on my cock,” it’s so worth it.
He sounds so unabashedly fucked out, like your mouth is the best thing he’s ever felt, like it's the only thing he ever wants to feel for the rest of his life. He’s being a little rougher with you, a little more crude with his words like he’s losing himself in you, losing his control. It makes you moan around him, wanton and needy.
His hips start to fuck up into you mouth again, his hands holding your head in place, keeping you from pulling away. He knows you wouldn’t have, always so well behaved, almost obedient in the way that you please him. But, even so, he just likes having his hands on you, likes feeling the way you struggle to take him.
“That’s a good girl…” he groans, soft and focused, his hips snapping up again. “You’re such a good girl…”
He holds you down once more, shakes your head by the hair so that his tip rubs against your throat, and then he’s pulling you up, kissing you filthily again, not even giving you time to properly catch your breath.
“Get against the mirror,” he says against your lips.
The heat from your hands makes the glass under your hands fog up, and the heat from Jeongguk behind you makes you flush, the heaviness of his cock rutting against the swell of your ass as he wastes no time getting into position.
At the first feel of his tip rubbing between your folds, grazing over your clit, you gasp and your arms buckle. Your legs spread naturally, but Jeongguk makes a tutting noise, and rests one palm on the outside of your hips, the other between your shoulder blades applying light pressure.
“Keep them together, but bend a little– yeah, perfect,” he breathes.
He takes a step back, looks at your ass pushed out for him, your puffy pussy peeking out from between your legs with your clit tucked inside. You’re drippy, shiny and smooth, your slick leaking out, making it sound lewd and wet when he pushes inside.
Your head hangs at the first thrust, Jeongguk pushing in slow but with a steady motion, and you exhale a soft puff.
He keeps his hips against your ass, his cock sheathed by your pussy. His hands grabbing and squeezing, roaming over your body while he waits just a bit for you to get used to him inside of you. Then he’s pulling out, just the tip of his cock still tucked inside, before he fucks into you hard and fast. It knocks the breath out of you, makes your hands on the mirror slip a little.
“F-fuck,” you whisper, your head still hanging, eyes squeezed shut as he fills you up.
Jeongguk’s eyes go from watching his cock slide into you, to the mirror. He moans, the contrast of his tattooed arm on your bare back as he rocks his hips into you is so pretty, just like the way that your shoulder blades push out, how your tiny waist feathers out to the swell of your hips. The fatty part of your hips ripples and pillows against him everytime he thrusts, dull slaps echoing with the whiny moans he punches out of you with his cock.
“Look baby,” he tells you.
It takes a little bit of effort, but when you lift your head, you’re met with a disheveled, messy version of yourself. There’s tears in your eyes, the feel of Jeongguk’s fat cock pushing and pulling in and out of you is overwhelmingly good, his girth rubbing against the sensitive walls of your cunt. Your makeup is messy, your under eyes dark with smudged mascara, the coverage around your mouth and on your nose completely gone, your lips kissed swollen and red.
Eyes moving to Jeongguk behind you through the mirror, you see the way he’s watching you watch him. Watching as your expression changes, how your eyes flutter when he hits that spot inside of you that makes your knees lock, makes your breath stutter and your brows furrow in pleasure.
“There,” you breathe, “God, you make me feel so good, baby.” Your hands slip down the mirror again, the force of his thrusts and the pleasure that’s curling in your belly already making it hard to hold yourself up. You squeeze your eyes shut to keep the tears from spilling over.
Jeongguk picks up the pace of his hips, his hands gripping yours, his thumbs digging into the little dimples at the bottom of your back, a perfect match, like they were placed there just for him. It’s almost like your body was meant for him, crafted with him in mind, fitting together so flawlessly that it’s hard for him to remember there were people before you, people that made him feel good before you did. Because when he’s inside of you, when he’s with you, it’s like that’s all there is. Just an endless loop of you and him, you and him, no beginning or end, no past or future, like the world is only as big as the room you’re in.
“Faster– getting close...”
Your voice echoes in his ears, and he realizes that his thrusts slowed while he got lost in thought. He clears his throat, gets back to work, back to fucking you like he means it, it’s the last time he ever will.
“You always cum so fast when I fuck you like this,” Jeongguk muses, biting his lip when he sees the way your tits jiggle in the mirror.
He expects you to be snarky, make a comment about how he’s smug, too cocky, but instead you nod your head, hands forming fists against the mirror. It’s airy and sexy when you say, “Yeah, you fuck me the best, love your cock… wanna cum for you…”
And it reminds him of the first time he fucked you. How you said more or less the same thing.
“Yeah, wanna fuck you all the time. Love your fat cock…”
That was 6 months ago. It’s not that long but it is at the same time. It feels like only a few seconds and a lifetime in the same breath. Jeongguk feels something stir in his belly, something mix with the steady build up.
“Yeah?” he asks, his voice soft and dreamy– almost fond, juxtaposing the way he’s fucking you. “What do you say?”
You wait a few moments for your body to get there, your head falling again like it's getting hard to support yourself. You’re chanting softly; pornographic ‘yeah’s’ and lewd mewls spilling from your lips nonstop.
“Fuck…” you start, “can I… can I cum?”
It sounds like it's hard for you to form words, so it's a little mean of Jeongguk to spring something new on you. But he can’t help himself.
“Who are you asking?”
A confused sound that turns to a moan at the tailend colors the air.
“I…”
“Who am I, baby? What should you call me when I’m fucking you like this?” Jeongguk asks, patient and gentle.
You say the first thing that pops into your head.
“Daddy?”
A sharp slap echoes in the room, and you’re sure there’s a red palm print on your ass. You cry out, whiny as Jeongguk leans over you, his voice in your ear.
“You know better than that,” he says, a little out of breath, but still stern. “Try again. Be polite.”
At this point you’re so close that you’re crying softly, your knees turning inward as you squeeze your legs together as if that will keep your orgasm at bay until he says you can cum. You try to listen to his words, connect the dots and finally it comes to you.
“Sir–” you gasp, “Sir, can I cum?”
Jeongguk groans a little, feels his cock jerk inside of you, the title making that hot feeling burn within him.
“Yes,” he moans, “Look at yourself while you do, want you to see how pretty you look when you cum just from my cock.”
Hardly able to keep yourself up at all, even with the help of the mirror, you tell him in a whiny voice that you can’t, that it’s too hard.
You hear him coo before your world spins a little bit, Jeongguk wrapping an arm around your tummy, pulling you to his chest. His body is burning behind you, and his breath is hot in your ear as he pants, his hips punching into you from behind. The arm that he doesn't have wrapped around your torso comes up, forearm resting between your tits, fingers getting a hold of your jaw making you look straight ahead.
The sight looking back at you is indecent. So filthy that you and Jeongguk both falter, a soft moan echoing in unison.
“Look at you,” Jeongguk purrs.
“Please,” you cry, simply because you don't know what else to say, overtaken with pleasure.
“I already said you could cum, baby,” he reminds you.
And it's like it's all too much and not enough at the same time. Like the push and pull of his cock into your cunt is too good yet exactly what you need, like his hands on you are overstimulating but without them you wouldn’t feel that safety, that feeling of being adored and taken care of. Like his voice in your ear encouraging you is too nice but if he stopped talking to you you wouldn’t know wouldn’t know what to do, that it’s okay.
“Jeongguk,” you cry. Like actually cry. No longer able to hold in the tiny, overwhelmed sobs.
He presses into the side of your head, kisses you as well as he can when he’s jackhammering his hips into your cunt. He shushes you, and his hold on your jaw softens, his other hand petting over your front soothingly. “I know, baby, I know,” he coos.
And it just makes you cry harder. “I can’t– It’s– it’s too much–”
“Yes you can,” he whispers hotly, his eyes on you in the mirror. “You can do it, be good, cum for me…”
He uses the hand he has on your front to press you back into him, closer if that were even possible, but with the slight pressure on your lower belly he feels something.
The moan that falls from his lips is so shameless and lewd. It’s not loud, but more of a soft, wondrous keen.
His cock thrusting into you can be felt with the light push into your belly, and it unlocks something in him. He grabs one of your hands that’s clutching at his forearm and brings it down, his own hand on top of yours pushing so you can feel his cock inside of you too.
“Feel that?” he asks, nipping at your ear lightly, “So hard for you, so deep that you can feel me through your belly... Let go for me, baby, wanna feel you cum on my cock while I can feel myself inside you from the outside.”
Maybe it’s feeling him from the outside, or maybe it's the way he always manages to keep that soft, gentle way with you no matter what. Even if he gets worked up, losing himself a bit– he never leaves you, never becomes too harsh or rough. He’s always the perfect mix of both, and that’s what makes the pleasure that’s been ebbing in you wash over your body.
You tremble in his arms and soft, desperate whimpers get exhaled as you cum. No warning, but Jeongguk knows, feels the way you contract around him as he slows his hips a little, giving you longer, unhurried thrusts. He lets you bathe in it, the dreamy, dizzying high that makes you delirious as you thank him with teary words.
“That’s my girl, so good for me all the time… knew you could do it,” he says, his hips gradually starting to pick up again, his thrusts sloppy.
Vision is a little blurry when you blink your eyes, but the sight of Jeongguk wrapped around you, his face in your neck biting and moaning into your skin–
“Please cum inside of me,” you beg.
“Yeah, gonna–” he tells you, his teeth sinking into that spot between your shoulder and neck. You gasp when he sucks, knowing that there will be a mark, and you bring your hand up to his hair, keeping him close.
Jeongguk switches from those harsh sucks and bites to sweet kisses up your neck to your jaw. His fingers on your face urge you to look over your shoulder, and the distance between your lips and his is too small, too tempting for him to not take it.
He kisses you, desperate just like his thrusts are becoming until he's right at the crest.
“Gonna cum,” he pants against your lips, his hand on your tummy still pushing to feel himself.
You nod, still looking at him behind you, placing soft kisses on his lips at first and then wherever you can reach until he succumbs to the pleasure, his eyes closing and his head lulling back a little before he’s pressing into your sweaty hair, like he wants to hide yet stay close to you. He cums with a gasp, cock buried deep, throbbing with every shot of white that paints you from the inside.
As soon as he catches his breath, he kisses you.
He kisses you again and again and again.
~~~
There’s something so intimate… so vulnerable about letting someone wash you.
When there’s no ulterior motives laced with sex or lust. Just gentle touches, pure in the way they take their time with lathering up even the simple, boring parts of your body. Paying special mind to your hands, your calves. Behind your ears, your shoulders.
Jeongguk’s touching you like you’re sunshine.
Like he’s savoring the warmth of your body under his fingertips even though it's too hot in the shower.
He’s touching you like you’re the perfect day, one so perfect that he’s scared it will pass by before he can enjoy it.
He’s touching you with so much care and attention and it feels so good that it’s blissful. It feels so– it feels like when you’re a little kid and you return to the comfort of your home after a long day, to the familiarness of your bed, to everything that makes you feel safe.
It feels like your favorite memory. The one you keep adding onto because the details have gotten fuzzy, but you clutch onto it because it's too precious to let go of.
It feels like a–
It feels like–
Jeongguk takes his time with you.
It feels so good that it’s almost overwhelming in a way that you’ve never experienced before. It feels so good that tears sting behind your eyelids, so different from the tears you shed earlier.
He delicately untangles your hair, gets out all the knots he put in it. He cups your face, gently rubbing the pads of his thumbs under your eyes, getting the makeup off as best he can. He’s careful when he’s suds up your body, mindful of the light blossoms that he planted into your skin. The violet on your neck pulses under the care, a bloom that’s pretty, a bloom that aches, a bloom that feels good.
He’s adoring, he’s soft, he’s bliss.
When his lips kiss your cheek, it's almost platonic, simply because it lacks desire. It sounds bad, embarrassing maybe, that he’s not desiring your naked body in front of him, but it’s not– it’s something new and it's so incredibly wholesome. His kisses are so sweet, so pure, so innocent and just an expression of caring rather than wanting that it makes you want him in a way that scares you.
After the final rinse, you kiss his cheek. Hope and yearn that he can feel half of what he made you feel. You hope he knows what you mean when you say quietly, “Thank you.”
~~~
“Wear this one, you look good in white.”
Jeongguk has a fluffy grey towel tied around his hips, lingering water droplets disappearing when they trek far enough down his torso. And you’re scrunching your hair in a matching towel, warm from the heated towel rack. The atmosphere in his bedroom is warm too, soft and comfortable, sweet like a cup of hot tea.
He’s got one of his white shirts scrunched in his hands, ready to dress you. Quiet laughter putters from your lips as you reach your hands up and into the arm holes as he pulls the neck hole over your head. When you pop out Jeongguk is close enough for you to kiss him, so you do.
“We’ve kissed so much today,” he says thoughtfully, turning and digging in his drawers. Instead of taking care of himself, he finds a pair of your lounge shorts that you left here.
“I know, how gross,” you say with playful disgust in your tone, as you take that and step into the shorts. Panties are unnecessary apparently, since he doesn’t hand you one of the stray pairs you know are in his dresser.
He hums walking into the bathroom. “It’s nice, I like kissing you.”
You roll your eyes following him. Hopping onto the counter you watch as he does his skincare. “We already had sex, no need to butter me up, sir.”
The corners of his mouth turn up just barely as he tries not to smile, hardly glancing at you as he dabs his moisturizer in.
“I like it when you’re around,” he says simply.
Heat rushes to your face, and your heart beats loud in your ears and something feels so different.  
So of course you just change the subject.
“I’m so glad we ordered food before the shower.” You place a hand on your belly, “I’m so hungry.”
“Hopefully you clicked the right stuff, since you were, you know, a little distracted… seeing as we were kissing… so much… because I like to kiss you...”
“Do you want a kiss right now? Is that why you’re being annoying?”
He makes an offended expression before immediately going back to his normal face, tinted with faux nonchalance. He shrugs his tattooed shoulder, tapping the cream in. “I wouldn’t object to a kiss or two…”
And so he gets a kiss or two or three, soft, giddy little pecks.
He pulls away, and just looks at you for a few seconds, doe-eyes dancing across your features before falling and lingering on the lovebite he left that’s peeking out. The neck of his shirt is too big, hanging loose. His hand comes up and he fingers at the material like he’s thinking of straightening the shirt out for you.
He doesn’t, instead bringing the hand to your jaw, making you tilt your head, looking up at him.
“You’re so pretty,” he says, his thumb gliding on the apple of your cheek.
Your eyes fall shut, content. A lazy smile laces your words when you say, “Thanks.”
Cute kissy noises ring in your ears until they don’t, the doorbell taking their place.
You pull away so fast that Jeongguk is almost insulted. Jumping from the counter you squeal about the food, tapping his toweled butt on the way out of the bathroom, telling him to hurry up and get dressed as you rummage through your purse for your wallet.
“Wait I’ll pay,” he says, finally dropping his towel and snagging a pair of briefs.
“It’s okay!” you call over your shoulder, speed walking to his front door.
The walk from Jeongguk’s bedroom isn’t too long, but your thoughts are fast, running a mile a minute. The thought of how good today has been, how easy it is to be with him. How whenever you’re with him you find that your cheeks hurt when you go home, laughter constant, and smiles ever present. You think about how warm his home is, how warm he is, how being with him is a comfort that you’ve come to crave.
The smile that is on your face is unconscious, the remnants of the soft emotions swirling in your chest, feeling like you’ve finally pinpointed what's so different about today.
When you open the door, that lingering smile falls and that hazy feeling evaporates.
In front of you is not a delivery guy.
It’s the woman from the pictures. The framed one in the hallway, the one on top of Nari’s dresser, the one in the photo albums Jeongguk let you browse through when you wanted to see his daughter as a newborn. It’s the same woman that was in the picture he sent you.
And your heart drops when you take her in. You knew she was pretty, but the pictures don’t even scratch the surface. Even when her features are pulled in perturbed confusion, she’s beautiful. She’s put together, long dark hair styled and sleek, make up done minimally but elegantly, her parted lips a sheer coral. Her straight, dark brows are furrowed causing a slight wrinkle between them. It looks out of place, an imperfection that doesn’t belong.
Her sharp eyes scan you, both of you just kind of standing there in the doorway, taking the other in. They go from your wet hair, to your face, down to where Jeongguk’s shirt hangs loosely off your shoulder. Her gaze hardens as she lingers there for just a moment, before directing dark eyes back at you.
It feels like it’s been hours, that you both have been there, but in reality it's not even a minute. She looks like she’s going to say something, but the impatient baby in the woman’s arms makes herself known.
At the high pitched squeal that Nari lets out, you snap out of it, plastering a smile on your face. The little one is smiling, clearly excited to see you, her doe-eyes curling and getting mini puffs under them. When she leans away from her mom, arms reaching out towards you, it’s instinct when you go to take her from her mom.
“Hi! Sorry Gguk’s in–” You falter, arms raised halfway, when Nari gets pulled out of reach.
The woman doesn’t go as far as taking a step away from you, but she turns at the waist kind of putting herself and some distance between you and her baby. As you let your hands fall in timid, jerky movements, you look between the two in front of you, and Nari’s doing the same, a cute confused expression on her face like she doesn’t know why she wasn’t allowed to play with you.
And it’s not like you blame Nari’s mom. It’s very apparent that she has no clue who you are. If anything you think it’s good that her mom is protective enough to not just hand Nari over to someone she doesn’t know. It makes sense, but it stings.
“Ba?” Nari babbles, to her mom.
The woman’s cold gaze breaks at the sound of her daughter's voice, and morphs into one of quiet love as she directs her eyes to the baby, giving her a soft smile. She bounces Nari a little on her hip, and Nari giggles. When they are looking at each other, their profile resemblance is striking. Of course Nari’s features are still baby soft, but it's obvious that they have the same nose. Small, slightly upturned. The same lips too; plump with the upper lip almost rounded.
“Who is this, Riri?” she asks her baby playfully, her eyes finding you again at the tailend of her sentence.
She’s smiling, but her eyes are stony, guarded, as she looks at you expectantly.
“I’m __– I’m a uh… a friend of Jeongguk’s?”
Her eyes narrow for a fraction of a second when you say ‘friend’ and the coolness she’s emitting is enough for you to call for Jeongguk for your shoulder, needing the comfort of him. The woman in front of you is intimidating in a way you don’t think you could ever achieve. It’s something about the way she carries herself, so collected and aloof, like she’s mastered the art of keeping it together.
And you’re not scared of her, not really. But what are you supposed to do in this situation other than call for Jeongguk?
At the thought of him, you hear his voice come from behind you and when you turn, you see him walking out of his room, bottom half clothed in dark joggers, his top half bare as he clumsily pulls a shirt over his head.
“Do you need cash for the ti–” When his wet head of hair pops out of the neck hole, and he sees not one girl in front of him, but three, his voice cuts out, and he slows as he takes in the scene before him. You see how his chest expands as he takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing himself before quickening his pace.
Nari starts to kick in her mom’s hold when she sees her dad approaching, excited little gasps puffing out of her.
“Hi, little flower,” Jeongguk coos, smiling wide as he brings his hand up, tickling Nari’s neck, making the baby squirm and curl in on herself as she bubbles out a giggle. “Dasom,” he says as a greeting to his ex-wife, as takes his place next to you, his hand settling on your lower back for just a moment, like he’s letting you know he’s there.
Dasom lets the corners of her lips turn up slightly as she says, “Jeongguk.”
“What are you doing here?” he asks. You can tell he’s trying to keep his voice neutral.
“Something came up at work. I have to go to the headquarters a few cities over for a few days,” Nari grabs at the dainty necklace she’s wearing, and Dasom gently untangles her little fingers, offering her her wrist instead. A heavier, more sturdy piece of jewelry keeps Nari busy. “I texted you hours ago letting you know I was on my way.”
“I was busy. I didn’t have my phone on me,” he explains.
Dasom looks between you both. The freshly washed hair on both your heads, the mark on your neck. The too-big, white shirt you have on that’s clearly not yours. “I can see that,” she replies coolly.
And suddenly you feel so out of place, so uncomfortable. Standing between two people who used to share the home you’re surrounded by. Two people who share the sweet baby girl that’s content babbling to herself. Two people who were married, who were in love, who have so much history together. You know it’s mildly absurd, because they’re divorced, but you feel like you’re intruding, like you’re doing something wrong.
You’re just about to excuse yourself when Jeongguk sighs, runs a frustrated hand through his hair, reaching out and taking Nari from her mom. “__, can you take Nari and wait for me in the playroom?”
“Daaa,” she peeps happily in her dad’s big arms, as he hands her off to you.
“Kook–” Dasom says, uneasiness lacing her tone.
“She’s fine Dasom, she’s been with __ many times,” Jeongguk says with a finality to his tone.
Dasom says her goodbyes to Nari, a tense silence falling over the house as you walk away with the baby. It’s not till Dasom thinks you’re far enough away that she speaks up.
“Who is that, Jeongguk?”
Jeongguk shuts his eyes roughly when he hears a hint of confused hurt in her voice. He can tell she’s trying to mask it, but he’s known her for a long time. Remembers clearly what it sounds like, memories of all the painful talks preceding the divorce edging on his conscience.
“She’s a friend,” he sighs.
“How old are your friends these days?” Dasom questions, confusion turning to judgement– obvious in her tone and her stance, her arms crossing over her torso.
Jeongguk hangs his head and scrubs his hands over his face. “How was Nari?” he asks, trying to change the subject.
His ex has different plans. “How old is she?”
He looks up at her sharp tone, a surprised color to his features. He looks over his shoulder towards the playroom before he turns back to her, a soft incredulous scoff leaving his lips. “She’s old enough, and I’m not doing this with you. So if you don’t have any updates–” His hand is on the door in the process of inching it closed when Dasom interrupts him.
“You know,” she starts, “I never thought I’d have to worry about this with you. Thought you’d be able to keep your personal and parenting lives separate.”
And she knows exactly which buttons of his to push; of course she does. She was married to him for years, knew him better than anyone else at one point in time. She knows that insinuating that he is a lacking parent, that he doesn’t always put their daughter first, will irk him enough to pull a reaction out of him.
It’s purposefully done– vindictiveness an ugly side of his ex that doesn’t come out of her often, only when she’s hurt and wants to hurt back. Or at least it didn’t happen often. It’s been over a year, and people change.
“Are you sure you want to debate which of us has trouble separating and balancing things when you’re the one dropping our daughter off in the middle of your week with her, to go to work?” he asks, his tone icy. He knows her well too. Knows it’s the same insinuations that hurt him, that cut her as well.
Anger colors Dasom’s features as she takes a step closer to Jeongguk, her head tilted a little as she looks up at him. “I do it for her. To provide for her. You know that,” she spits, “And I keep my lovers away from her while I’m at it.”
Jeongguk laughs, like he can’t believe he’s having this conversation. “I’m sure you do, Dasom,” he pauses, debating on whether to add what he’s thinking. “And for the record, I don’t have ‘lovers’. I’m only seeing one person.”
“And are you planning on committing to her? Making it long term?”
Caught off guard doesn’t even really begin to cover the whiplash-like feeling that Jeongguk experiences when he hears the question.
He hesitates, flounders a little. He cares about you, likes you so, so much. And he’s not stupid– he knows that he feels something for you that’s vastly different from what he’s felt for the others before you but– you’re young. So young, with your whole life ahead of you. Meanwhile, he has his life already booked for the next 16 years, at least. He’s never really let himself think about things long term, because it just doesn’t seem realistic. Asking you to commit to not only him, but a two year old as well? It seems selfish to ask that of you, like an unintentional trap that steals your freedom. He can’t ask for that. He won’t.
“I…”
Dasom looks disillusioned, like she really did expect better from Jeongguk. “I didn’t think so. You’re not even dating her... She’s your ‘friend’?” she asks.
Jeongguk just looks at her with pursed lips and pinched brows.
“And when you’re not ‘friends’ anymore, Kook?” she asks again, “Are you just going to bring another ‘friend’into Nari’s life for her to get attached to just for them to leave again? And what about when she’s older? Do you want her thinking that’s what women do? Come and go?”
Dasom’s words are exaggerated and extreme– she doesn't know the circumstances between you and him, doesn’t know that it was Nari that introduced you to one another, so waiting to introduce you and his daughter wasn’t an option. And it’s not like Jeongguk is ever going to have a legion of women filtering through his home.
But the point is made all the same.
“No, of course I don’t want that,” he says defeated, as he tilts his head back for a moment, letting his eyes shut.
“Yeah, me either,” she says. Her voice lacks the judgment it held at the beginning of the conversion, being replaced by blasé melancholy. “So I hope she gets it out of your system. Please drop Nari off next Friday, just like always.”
Turning on her heel, Dasom makes to leave before she stops abruptly. She takes a deep breath with her head tilted back, before she’s looking down, like she’s tired. Like the fight with Jeongguk took a lot of her. She pulls a folder from her bag, turning back around and presenting it to Jeongguk.
“For Ri’s speech…” she says softly, “I took her to another speech pathologist yesterday. This one said try doing signs during meals. ‘All done’. ‘More’...” Dasom does the signs haphazardly waving her hands about. “Doctor said it...” She takes a deep breath, and laughs halfheartedly, and Jeongguk can see how she’s tearing up. “Well, like all the other doctor’s we’ve taken her to, they said it may help.”
Her eyes are glassy when she looks at him, and Jeongguk’s heart aches because he knows exactly how she feels.
The anxiety and constant worry you feel over your child’s well-being is one of the hardest things to navigate because you have to keep it together and not let yourself get defeated. You have to come to terms with the fact that sometimes there’s things that, as a parent, you can’t fix, and that sometimes you can do everything right and still have things go wrong– things that may never be able to go right.
He knows that there is an unexplainable guilt, that there’s always that little voice in the back of your head that tells you that maybe if you had done this, then that wouldn’t have happened. It’s a horribly helpless feeling, wanting nothing more than to make things better for your child, and not being able to.
“She’s fine you know,” he says softly, “she’s just taking her time.”
Dasom tries to nod, but she breaks. Her hands come up to cover her quivering chin and quiet her soft cries. She buries her face in her palms as her shoulders tremble.
“Hey, hey,” Jeongguk whispers, reaching out and pulling her to his chest. Her hands are still covering her face, so his arms circle around her as a whole and he rests his chin on her head and lets her cry, his own eyes stinging.
It’s only a minute or two that Dasom weeps against his chest. She’s then pulling away with a deep breath, blowing it out in that soothing way trying to calm herself, trying to regulate her breathing. She laughs, airy like she’s embarrassed, as she taps under her eyes, trying to save her makeup as best she can.
“Ah… sorry about that,” she says, “Haven’t cried in a while so that was bound to happen sometime soon.”
Jeongguk laughs quietly before he muses, “She can say juice now.”
Dasom rolls her eyes playfully. “Yeah… Joofs.”
They both laugh together, for a moment, a few moments, until it tapers off naturally. Leaving soft wistful smiles on their faces.
“Drive safe, Som-ie.”
~~~
“Yeah… Joofs.”
The laughter that echoes from Jeongguk’s foyer feels like a punch in the gut after everything that you’ve heard. All the things you felt earlier seem stupid and childish in hindsight.  
And yeah, you don’t blame Jeongguk for staying quiet when Dasom asked if he wanted to commit to you because that’s not something you guys have even touched on, but when he stayed silent as she went on about you just being his ‘friend’? Alluding to you just being a lay for him, just something he needs to ‘get out of his system’? Something disposable and unimportant?
You had at least expected him to defend you.
To tell her that while you may not be his girlfriend, you are important to him. More than a quick lay, more than just a young girl he needs to fuck out of his system. Because you know that’s exactly what she thinks you are. And what she thinks doesn't matter, not really, but if that’s what Jeongguk thinks?
Part of you knows that there’s no way that Jeongguk thinks that. That if he did, this thing between you both would have fizzled out by now or at least been harder to deal with. But that’s never been the case. It’s always been good with him, easy.
If he thought that way, he wouldn’t have been so worried in the beginning and would have instead jumped at the chance to get into your pants. You weren’t exactly subtle back then– there were plenty of opportunities for him to come onto you. But it literally took you throwing yourself at him for him to give in.
So like you know. You know, you know, you know in your heart that it’s not true, that he doesn’t think that little of you.
But his silence was enough to plant a seed of doubt, enough to break a little bit of trust. More than enough to hurt you.
“Naaa.”
You look down at Nari, and she reaches her hands up wanting to be held. A soft, pitiful laugh falls from your lips and you bend to pick her up.
“Sorry, wasn’t playing with you was I?”
Nari looks at you, studies you with those big eyes of hers. She pats at your cheek, a little roughly, but you can tell she’s trying to be gentle. Her little hand goes from patting to petting, almost like she’s trying to soothe you, like she can tell you’re upset.
“Buu?” she asks.
In reality you have no idea what she’s saying. But it feels like she’s asking if you’re okay, and just like if an adult were to ask you that when you’re close to losing it, close to breaking– it makes you cry.
Not the embarrassing type of cry, but just a tiny cry in front of the sweetest, tiny human. Your eyes just tear up, and your chin trembles a little bit as you try to muster up a small smile, but when you blink a couple tears spill over.
Nari gasps. “Nuuu!” she tells you, before she’s wrapping her tiny bread arms around your neck, clutching onto you like she’s trying to squeeze out all of the sad.
It makes you let out a watery laugh, and you squeeze back, enough so that she croaks a little like a frog. When you pull back she’s giggling in that pure baby way that probably has healing powers or something.
“You are so smart,” you tell her, sniffing a little, trying to get yourself together. You’re not sure if Dasom left yet, or how much longer it will be before Jeongguk comes back, and you don’t want him to know you were crying, or eavesdropping.
She tilts her head at you, then leans in with her lips pulled between her teeth making them pop out when they are against your cheek, a tiny ‘maa’ sounding with her smooch.
“That’s a new type of kiss,” you tell her.
“Sol-mi, Yoongi and Jimin’s daughter, taught her at the party.”
Whipping around at the sound of his voice, you turn and see Jeongguk leaning against the doorway with two glasses of wine in his hands and a sippy cup tucked into his arm. He gives you a soft smile, and you smile back because that’s the only thing you know how to do when you’re with him. Instinctive.
“Hi,” you say.
“Hi,” he says back.
“DAAADAAA!” Nari screeches.
You pull back, wincing for your ear drum, as you let Nari down with an endeared laugh. She toddles over to her dad, tugging on his joggers.
“Hi my babygirl,” he says. Then laughs when she tugs particularly hard, “Hey– you’re gonna pull Daddy’s pants down, quit it.”
“Joofs,” she says, grabby hands reaching for the sippy cup she spotted.
“I see how it is,” he says, handing you your glass and then grabbing the juice, “Didn’t even miss me?”
He manages to sit down without his hands and without squishing his daughter, and you follow suit, watching the daddy-daughter moment unfold, quietly sipping on your wine. Trying your best to push everything else out of your mind, trying to get that almost... safe, warm feeling back. The one that you always get when you’re with Jeongguk. It’s been missing since he came into the room.
“Give Daddy a kiss and then you can have your juice,” he angles his cheek to her and then adds on, “Also say please.” like it’s an afterthought.
You shake your head, smiling, and Jeongguk flicks his eyes to you, mirroring your expression.
“Peeb,” she spouts before she gives him a very quick, rather half-assed kiss. She doesn’t even do the ‘maa’. Her hands open out in front of her, expectant and ready for her drink.
Jeongguk tuts at her, but hands the juice over. “You’re rotten, missy.”
Nari says nothing, just waddles so she's standing in front of him with her back to his face. She plops herself right in his lap, his criss-crossed legs making a perfect Nari-shaped seat. Sipping away with her drink in one hand, her other comes down to Jeongguk’s tattooed arm that he wrapped around her belly. Tracing them with her pudgy little fingers, she tries her best to look down while simultaneously keeping her drink in the proper position.
It’s quiet for a bit, just Nari’s soft drinking noises. You take the moment to get up and grab something from your stuff in Jeongguk’s room, before returning. As you’re walking past Jeongguk back to your spot across from him, you feel his hand tug at the one you have dangling by your side.
You look at him, a small questioning noise sounding.
He pulls, making you bend at the waist getting closer to his level, and when he tilts his head back to look up at you, his eyes flicker to your lips and then he licks his and then he’s craning his neck and then he’s kissing you softly.
It’s fleeting but it's sweet. It makes the warm feeling settle in your heart again, just for a moment before it hides away, somewhere within you. Your eyes dart to Nari. Kisses usually being reserved for alone time.
He shakes his head. “It’s alright… Sorry that happened while you were here… Me and Dasom usually communicate better than that.”
You take a seat next to him and Nari, careful of his wine glass. “It’s okay…”
Gazes meet for a few seconds looking over the other like you’re both trying to figure something out. Things different from the ‘different’ you felt earlier. This different feels like something is off; the first one felt like a dream. Maybe it was.
“Okay,” he replies lightly, but he sounds unsure, like he doesn't know if it actually is ‘okay’. His eyes drop to the small bag that you brought into the room. “Whatcha got?”
You tell him you got Nari something for her birthday, nothing big but just something that reminded you of her. You ask him if it’s okay to give it to her.
He says of course, why wouldn’t it be?
For some reason the tiny exchange hurts.
Lacking an answer, you pinch at the little fat roll on Nari’s thigh, her tiny jean shorts putting all the chub on display. She looks up at you, and you raise the bag and shake it a little. Her smile grows as she realizes it's for her. Jeongguk is abandoned, your lap now occupied.
“She has no loyalty at all,” Jeongguk says.
“She’s just making as many allies as she can, and I think that is very smart of her,” you defend, watching as Nari plucks tissue paper after tissue paper out of the bag (with only one small hand, the other still holding her juice), until she’s squealing. Your face lights up at her enthusiasm, and hers lights up at the toy, and you don’t see it, but Jeongguk’s lights up at you both.
You’ve been good with her since that day you found her at your work, and Jeongguk notices when you go out of your way to ask about her, to be kind to her, patient with her... to take care of her. Never once have you treated her like she was a burden, or an inconvenience.
He sees the way that Nari is with you, too.
Sees how happy she gets when you walk in his front door, how she always shares her things with you in that sweet way that babies do when they like someone. She even asks about you when you don't come around for a few days. A babbled version of your name peeping from her little lips.
It’s no secret that his baby has grown attached to you, come to love you. Dasom’s words ring in his ears. The thing she said about Nari getting used to someone he brings into her life, just for them to not be permanent.  
A medium sized, pink, stuffed Narwhal is pulled from the bag by the horn, and Nari swings it to the side to show her dad, just for a moment, before she’s squeezing it to her chest. She’s cooing, kinda nuzzling into it.
“Ba buuu,” she says softly, eyes still on the gift like it's something wondrous, rather than just a small plush. Jeongguk grows soft and your heart squeezes in your chest. The warmth comes back, flickers before going out again.
“What is it?” Jeongguk asks around a sip of his wine.
“A narwhal. You know, Nar-i, Nar-whal.”
His mouth twitches, fighting a smile, but he just nods. Until he can’t hold his laughter in anymore, making you laugh too by consequence. Easy.
The little crows feet at the corners of his eyes make an appearance and he scrunches his nose at you as he quiets. His hair is still just a little bit damp. “It’s cute,” he amends. “You didn’t have to get her anything, but thank you for thinking about her.”
The smile on his lips is tiny, but you can tell it’s genuine. Without laughter lightning up his face, you realize how tired he looks, warn out.
“Are you okay?” you say, arms raising so Nari is able to get up, making her way to her other toys, the narwhal tucked into her side. She grabs a babydoll, holds it to the narwhal and makes them move around like she’s introducing her toys.
Jeongguk sighs, and leans back on his hands. “Just wasn’t expecting that, is all… I get stressed when things don’t go as planned.”
“That’s why you broke out the wine in the middle of the day?” you ask with a teasing tone.
He rolls his eyes playfully. “One glass won’t hurt…”
The doorbell cuts off your reply. The food’s here.
~~~
The headboard behind Jeongguk’s back is hard, just like he is under you.
But his touches are soft, just like his kisses.
You’re straddling him, your hips just barely rocking over him as you lick into his mouth. Mewl against his lips. Hands in his hair, not pulling, but just twining your fingers in his locks, keeping him close.
It’s slow, unhurried and gentle. When he brings his palms to your chest over his shirt, he feels how your nipples pebble through the material as he squeezes, rolls them in his hands. So responsive to his touch, you pull away for just a moment to breathe out a pleased sigh before giving him a few cute pecks. Pushing into your lips, he deepens the kisses, his tongue teasing the seam of your lips until you open up for him.
He feels young again, like he’s making out with his crush, heavy petting because they are too scared to go all the way, but too into each other to not give in just a little. He hasn’t felt this way in so long. You gasp into his mouth when he pinches your nipple between his fingertips. His cock pulses, but his heart clenches.
It’s like reality is finally catching up to him. Reminding him that you and him were never supposed to get in so deep, were never supposed to get so entangled in each other’s lives. Fun and casual. That’s what it’s supposed to be. But it’s so much more than that now. At least for him it is.
His heart clenches because he’s not young anymore, but you still are.
The baby monitor that goes off with hiccuping cries just confirms his feelings.
“Sorry,” he says against your lips, his hands moving to your hips, squeezing before he helps maneuver you off of him.
“Bring her back in here,” you suggest.
Jeongguk pauses, twisting to crack his back. “You sure?”
You hum, “Yeah, wanna hang out with you both.”
And again his heart pulls, but he nods with a soft smile and a quick kiss before he’s hurrying out of the room.
Hands scrub over your face as you wait for him, your head knocking against the headboard. You purposefully focus on playing a game on your phone while you wait, refusing to let your thoughts loop incessantly around your brain.
It's a little while when Jeongguk walks back in with Nari on his hip. The sight makes you coo.
Nari’s looking around like she’s still a little out of it, her tiny round body in a light pink nightie covered in little bunnies sleeping on clouds and moons. Instead of her hair being in her trademark little ponies, it’s down, falling in messy little wisps around her face. The narwhal is clutched in her tiny hand by the horn and when she sees you, she blinks a few times before she smiles around the paci in her mouth.
“Hi sweet girl,” you say, when Jeongguk places her on the bed.
She tries to walk over to you, but the bed is soft and she’s very much still tired so she stumbles, hits the mattress with a small oof and an airy little giggle. Crawling the rest of the way she sits herself next to you, puts her plush in her lap.
“Think someone had a bad dream,” Jeongguk says around a yawn, taking his spot on the bed. “Also sorry it took a second, had to change her pull up.”
You hum, your hand coming up to pet at her hair, dark, silky, and baby scented.
“Wanna watch something, boba?” Jeongguk asks, laying himself on his side, one hand propped under his head, the other on the remote.
Nari nods, hunkers down in the fluffy pillow behind her. She looks at you and pats the sheets, as if telling you to lay down like her and her Daddy. Of course you listen.
It’s calm and quiet, just the children’s show playing in the background that you all are watching. You and Jeongguk half heartedly, Nari with round eyes. She lets out little laughs every now and then, her blinks slow and heavy. Jeongguk’s got a hand resting on Nari’s tummy and her little hand holds onto his thumb.
The scene is domestic.
“She doesn’t have nightmares often, does she?” you ask quietly.
Jeongguk glances at you, shakes his head. “Not here at least.”
“Has she always been a co sleeper?”
Jeongguk shakes his head again. “Not till after the divorce,” he says. “And I wouldn’t say she still co sleeps… most nights she sleeps on well on her own. I just don’t tell her no if she wants to come into my room.”
At the mention of the divorce your brain begins to whirl.
It’s not something he brings up often, and it’s never really bothered you. But after today, after you saw and heard how he and his ex interacted… It makes you curious. They seem to get along decently well, and they both clearly love Nari.
You sound a bit timid when you ask, “Why did you guys split up?”
Jeongguk’s quiet, doesn’t acknowledge that he heard you even though you know that he did. You worry that you’ve said something wrong, and you’re about to apologize but he speaks up.
“I’ll tell you… just getting my thoughts in order.”
~~~
Jeongguk stares down at the teeny, tiny baby in the bassinet. The light pink of the skirt at the bottom matches the accents on the walls of her nursery.
Her big eyes are watching the fairy mobile, big felt flowers dangling above her, the softest baby coos leaving her mouth every once in a while. She was already up when he got home from work.
When he puts his hand inside the baby bed and extends one of his fingers petting at her small hand, the baby jumps a little like she didn’t know he was there, but recognition is instant and she smiles up at him, her tiny fingers clutching around his.
“Hi miss Nari,” he says quietly, “How long have you been up, hmm? Bout time for some milk isn’t it?”
She blows a bubble up at him.
His heart swells as he picks her up, a big hand supporting her head as he pulls her to his chest. A detour to the changing table precedes his walk to the living room, where his wife is sat cross legged on the floor, papers and her laptop scattered in front of her on the coffee table. The video baby monitor is propped up as well.
“Hi honey,” Jeongguk says.
Dasom looks over her shoulder, sees the two of them and smiles. “Hey, how was work? And how’s our baby?” She types something on her laptop.
“Baby is good and work was work. Remember how I said we are thinking of setting up another branch?” Jeongguk asks, swaying a little with his cheek resting on Nari’s head. She smells like baby and Dasom hums in acknowledgement. “My brother finally got me a list of locations, so just a lot of assigning scouts to scope them out and budgeting for the cost of their travel.”
“That’s great, babe,” Dasom says.
Jeongguk watches her for a few more moments, as she flips through the papers like she’s looking for something. He walks around, so that he can sit in the loveseat off to the side, adjusts Nari so that she’s cradled in the bend of his arm. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“Just reviewing everything that’s happened at the office over the last few months…” She flicks her eyes to him.
Jeongguk frowns. “You still have two and a half weeks before you have to go back, don’t you?”
“Yeah, wanna be prepared though.”
Nari starts to wiggle in his arms, fussy. “Did you ever see if you could get a few more weeks since you guys were in the hospital for so long? That’s hardly a leave, if you ask me.”
She laughs lightly. “That’s true. But I don’t think it’s necessary? She’s doing really well, and I think that that Montessori nursery will be good for her.”
Tension fills Jeongguk’s body. “I thought we talked about letting Yeoreum watch her when you go back to work.”
“Well yes. We talked about it– but we didn’t commit to–”
“We didn’t commit to Montessori either–”
“What benefits is Nari getting if we do that?” Dasom says, finally giving Jeongguk her full attention. “No offense to Jin’s wife, but it’s not like she’s certified to care for newborns.”
“She’s a mother, Som. A very good one, she knows how to care for a baby. And Nari would be the only baby she’s taking care of so it’s one on one attention and it’s someone we know and trust so–”
“Montessori has curriculum, and it teaches children to be independent–”
“She’s a baby! She doesn’t need to be independent. She needs to be–”
Nari’s fussiness has escalated, her tiny cries filling the living room. Jeongguk starts rocking her, shushing her with soft coos. He tries the pacifier attached to her onesie, but she just pushes it out, crying louder.
“She’s hungry,” Jeongguk says, getting to his feet so he can hand her to her mom.
“I pre-pumped when she was napping earlier. There’s a bottle with 6.5 ounces in the fridge.”
Picking his battles and barely suppressing a frustrated sigh, he walks to the kitchen and places the bottle in the warmer. Nari’s cries continue to sound as he waits, bouncing her a little, rubbing her back.
Back in the loveseat, he tries to give Nari her dinner but she’s grumpy, turning her head or pushing the nipple out of her mouth, growing angrier by the minute, her tiny body turning red from how hard she’s crying.
“She’s not taking the bottle, I think she–”
“Is it warm enough?”
“Yes, I think she wants you.”
Nari’s mom looks over the top of her laptop and nods. “I’m just about done–”
“Dasom, please,” Jeongguk says, “She’s hungry and she wants her mom.”
Almost like a fog clears, Dasom’s face falls before she’s nodding hastily. “Yeah, yeah… I’m sorry I– bring her to me.”
As soon as Nari’s in her mom’s arms she quiets some, and once Dasom holds her close and starts to feed her it’s serene again. Nari’s little hand opens and closes rhythmically, until her mom gives her her finger, like Jeongguk did early. Ever since she came home from the hospital, she’s liked to hold hands.
“I’m sorry,” Dasom whispers again, without looking at Jeongguk. He can hear the guilt in her voice.
He tells her it's okay and that he’s going to shower.
Later when Nari’s down for the night and he and his wife are laying in bed, Dasom apologizes again. Tells Jeongguk that she was just stressed with preparing for work and juggling the baby.
“Som-ie, that reminds me, I was thinking…”
She turns to look at him from his side of the bed, smiling. “Not too hard, hopefully.”
“Ha-ha,” he says, unamused. He continues nervously, like he’s walking on eggshells. “But I was thinking– what if you took off for the first year or so?”
The shift in atmosphere is instant. Dasom goes stiff in her spot next to him, and she says silent.
“I only say it because we would be fine, you know?” He tries to explain, “My job brings in more than enough for us to be okay, and if you just stayed home with her, you could teach her the way that you want and I would get the peace of mind knowing that she’s safe with someone I love and trust. We would solve the daycare dilemma…”
Still, his wife says nothing, her brows furrowed.
“And you wouldn’t be so stressed…” Jeongguk continues, “you wouldn’t have to worry about work on top of being a mom… You would never miss any of her firsts and–”
“When we talked about having a baby, I told you I didn’t want to be one of those moms.”
Dasom’s voice is upset, her tone hard.
“I know, I know,” Jeongguk says softly, “But it wouldn’t be for forever. Just until she’s older… I read that companies will give extended leaves sometimes, kind of like a sabbatical.”
She laughs in disbelief, “How long have you been thinking about this? I’m not taking an extended leave, or a sabbatical, or a hiatus or whatever it is you’ve been researching, Jeongguk. I worked so hard to get to where I am,” she closes her eyes like she’s trying to stay calm, “You can’t ask me to throw that away.”
“That’s not what I’m asking–”
“But it is!” she exclaims, “Even being gone for 3 months has already put me back. My position isn’t one that can stay open for extended periods of time. And that means if I take off for even just a year– it’ll be given to someone else. Someone else will come into what I built and either reap the benefits or ruin it.”
Jeongguk stays quiet, looking at the pattern of the duvet over his lap.
It’s softer when Dasom speaks up again. “If that’s the kind of mother you want me to be– the kind that has no substance, or passions, or goals outside of being a mom– then… you may as well get the papers.”
Jeongguk’s head snaps up, his expression shocked and confused. “Divorce? Why is that the first thing your mind goes to?”
Dasom runs her hands through her hair, pressing the heels of her palms against her temples. “I’m not gonna bend on this, Kook.”
And it was almost like when the idea of divorce was spoken into existence, it was something that hung over them, like a curse that took only 7 months to come true.
~~~
“Dasom is a good mom,” Jeongguk says slowly, “We just parent very differently.”
You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue, adjusting yourself so that you’re looking at him.
“That’s the root of it, really. We couldn’t agree on anything when it came to Nari. And obviously we talked about things before she was born, and had a loose idea of how we wanted to raise her…” He stops for a moment to think.
“It’s just so different when they are born, like you think you know what it means to be a parent but you really don’t. Not until it’s already happened and they are in your arms and you’re searching for a daycare and coming across horror stories about the workers abusing the kids. Or thinking about how it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she doesn’t talk but also knowing how much harder her life will be if she doesn’t.”
You can feel a heaviness cloud the room. Jeongguk is so good at keeping this part of himself tucked away, good at putting on a brave face that when you look at him and see him looking down at his baby with worried, furrowed brows, your heart aches.
“And it led to a lot of really bad fights and it just got to a point where one day I decided I wouldn’t raise a baby in a home that was tumultuous.”
“What did you guys argue about?” you ask softly.
Jeongguk gives you a sad smile. “More like what didn’t we argue about. Daycare… But I’ll admit I agreed to it before she was born and then changed my mind... Her speech, how to deal with tantrums, where she slept, what she ate. I think Dasom’s too tough, she thinks I’m too soft…” he taps his fingers on Nari’s belly, “She thinks I’m part of the reason why she doesn’t talk. That because I dote on her, Nari thinks that she doesn’t need to use words so she just doesn’t.”
Your brows furrow. “Babies hit milestones at different rates, my cousin didn’t talk at all until he was three… Taking care of her isn’t hindering her development.”
“Thank you,” he says, quietly. “I think she’s starting to understand that too, as we keep getting outside opinions…”
He falls silent and you can tell he’s sad, his hand coming up to push Nari’s hair off of her forehead, the baby now sleeping, her round tummy expanding as she takes deep breaths. You feel bad, having brought the tense atmosphere on with your questions.
“Nari’s so smart, Gguk,” you say, kind of hasty, eager to make him feel better. “Like earlier I was upset, and she just knew… she’s so emotionally intelligent and has such a pure heart–”
“You were upset earlier?” Jeongguk asks, his gaze questioning as he looks at you.
Your mouth opens and closes like you’re trying to find the right words, but none will come out.
“Why were you upset?” he asks again, genuine worry on his face.
And just like a few hours ago, when you felt like Nari was asking you if you were okay; when Jeongguk asks you why you were upset, tears begin to well in your eyes.
At the sight of tearing up, Jeongguk sits up gingerly trying to not wake Nari, but also be attentive at the same time. “Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me…”
You sit up too, looking at Jeongguk for a moment before looking down at your hands in your lap. A tear lands on your skin when you blink, and you take a deep breath before you say, “I… I heard you earlier…”
His face pulls into one of confusion. “Me and Dasom?”
Your head tilts back, and you sound exasperated when you say, “Who else?”
Jeongguk thinks for a moment, goes over what he and his ex talked about, remembers her being a bit touchy about your age, and then he thinks he gets it. His features soften as he says, “Don’t listen to her… seeing you just caught her off guard, she–”
You give a hopeless watery laugh, turning to look at him with sad eyes. “It’s not what she said, it’s what you didn’t say.”
And once again confusion takes over his features, his mind trying to comprehend how and why something he never even said could hurt you to the point of you sniffling in his bed, your eyes begging him to get it. He feels bad when he says, “I don’t understand?”
It was never in the plan for you to be the girl that’s crying about why a man did or didn’t do something– that’s never been who you are. You’ve never really cared enough to get upset, you’ve always been independent, just cutting your losses and moving on.
But with Jeongguk, cutting your losses feels a lot like cutting out part of your heart, and you don’t think you’ll make it if you do that. One can live with half their lungs, only one of their kidneys… but no one ever lasts long when part of their heart goes missing. Jeongguk has become vital to you.
“Jeongguk,” you whisper, “What are we doing?”
Maybe it’s unfair of you to ask him something like that, when you both agreed to something carefree, no strings attached. But you think that falling in love with someone is a lot like how Jeongguk described being a parent: You think you know what it means, but you really don’t. Not until it’s already happened.
Because that’s what felt different prior to opening that door and letting doubt in with the breeze. Everything felt warmer, easier, safer, better because it was laced with the realization that you love Jeongguk.
His face has fallen when you look at him, waiting for his reply. The corners of his lips are down turned, and his brows are turned up. He begins to shake his head softly, his mouth parting a few times before he’s raising his shoulders in a hopeless way.
“I– I don’t know anymore,” he whispers back.
That’s the answer you expected, but it still makes you exhale pain, like his words knock the wind out of you. It’s shaky when you catch your breath, but you nod.
“I think I should leave for tonight,” you tell him, starting to push his comforter to the side.
Jeongguk feels his heart start to race, and he reaches out for you, his hand landing on your shoulder. “What? Right now? It’s the middle of the night– don’t– it’s–”
“If you don’t want me to leave,” you interrupt him, “then we need to talk.”
His mouth snaps shut and he rolls his lips between his teeth like he’s thinking. He glances at the baby sleeping between you, and gives you a quick nod. “Yeah, okay… Just not here, I don’t want her waking up again… let me get the monitor from her room. I’ll meet you in the living room.”
Nodding wordlessly, you slip out of the room.
You’re pacing lightly, in nothing but his shirt that hits high on your thigh and a pair of panties, when Jeongguk comes out. He’s still shirtless, but he pulled on some joggers before leaving the room. One hand is pushing his hair back like he’s stressed, and the other is holding the baby monitor. He places it on the counter, and turns to you. A sad smile is offered, and you give him one back because it’s instinct.
It seems like neither of you know where to begin, both just breathing heavy in the artificial light. You take a deep breath.
“I wanted you to defend me,” you admit.
Jeongguk stays quiet, but his brows pinch.
“Or maybe like… defend us…” Embarrassment creeps into your bones.
“Defend us over what?” he asks. He doesn’t sound like he’s being dense, but like he actually doesn’t know.
Sighing, you say, “The way she talked about me, Gguk… She said I was something you needed to ‘get out of your system’... just a friend you fuck that’s disposable and unimportant and–”
“You know that’s not true,” he interjects.
“Yeah I do. Why didn’t you tell her that?” You can feel the first licks of anger in your chest, your voice coming out harsher than you intend. “Why did you let her talk about me like I’m just some stupid kid that doesn’t know what she wants? Like you don’t know what you want?”
Jeongguk thinks about it, realizes the answer is quite simple.
“Because I don’t know what I want, and I don’t think that you know what you want either.”
You look taken aback, and anger colors your features. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that this turned into something it was never supposed to and now we don’t know how to navigate it or what we want from each other anymore,” Jeongguk explains, trying to keep the sadness out of his voice.
It’s true and it’s not at the same time. Because Jeongguk knows what he wants, at least to some extent, but he knows he can’t have it. Meaning that if he can’t have what he wants, he doesn’t know what he wants instead of that. And he supposes he can’t speak for you, but he doesn’t correct himself, instead says, “We’re in too deep, __… I care about you.”
It doesn’t sound like much, but you know what he means… know that it’s a confession of some sort.
Tentative hope bubbles in your chest at his words, and you take a few steps closer to him. “That’s not a bad thing, I care too. We both care so we can–” you pause, and look up at him. “We can just take the next step or something, right?”
Jeongguk smiles softly, and his hands come up to cup your face and it’s warm again, and it’s safe when you’re in his palms and when he’s kissing you. Your hands come up to just hold at his wrists, eyes shutting, and it’s sweet again and–
“It’s not that simple, baby…”
–and it’s over.
“There’s something that Dasom said that’s true.”
And you know it’s childish but you shake your head in his hands and tears begin to brim. She ruined everything. She planted that seed of doubt in both your heads, and she’s the reason why Jeongguk doesn’t feel safe anymore and why his hands aren’t warm and why everything is falling apart. You squeeze your eyes shut and scrunch your brows together, a few tears spilling over. “I don’t want to talk about her,” you whisper.
He smiles, a sad curve to his lips. “I know, you don’t... But we both need to hear it… We don’t agree on a lot when it comes to Nari, but she was right when she said that thing about people coming into Nari’s life and then leaving after she gets attached. That’s not fair to Nari and it was selfish of me to let it happen.”
“How do you know I’m just going to leave?” you ask.
“Because I’m not going to let you stay,” Jeongguk whispers, his thumb wiping away the tears that have already started to flow.
Words don’t even come to you, because of how badly it hurts. And you’re doing your best to keep it as together as you can because you aren’t pathetic. You’re not going to beg him to let you stay but you want to understand why. Your voice cracks when you ask him.
“You’re too young, __. And I’m not saying that’s why I don’t think you know what you want… But I don’t think you know what being with me long term means, and what you would be missing out on… I’m not going to trap you, it’ll just lead to you resenting me,” he says gently. His hands have left your face, and he walks around a little like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. “And there’s just so much that I have to balance. I don’t know if I have room or the time–”
It feels like a slap in the face. How did everything change so quickly from this morning?
“There was room in your bed for me,” you interrupt him, bitter pain lacing your words. “You had time to fuck me.”
He winces. “You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he tells you gently, “I just meant… I think I need to think about things, reevaluate my priorities–”
It sounds a lot like what you said earlier, when you were under him, taunting him with kisses.
You hum, “I just think you need to reevaluate your priorities, maybe.”
“And what do you think my priorities should be, __?” he whispers, eyes searching your face, lingering on your lips, a fond look coloring his features.
“Well, right now,” you start, looping your arms around his neck, “I think you should really focus on that plank, and on that kiss you’re dying to give me.”
And god, you wish you could go back. Wish you could rewind and just replay everything up until the doorbell rang. But you can’t because the reality of the situation is that this was always going to end.
Jeongguk has his mind made up. The fear of you leaving him and Nari and the fear of you resenting him if you stayed are inevitable feelings that he would have realized eventually. He has priorities and if he doesn’t change the way he thinks, it won’t ever work because–
“Because I’m not one of them…” you realize quietly. He cares, but not enough.
Jeongguk’s composure breaks and it’s written all over his face, how much it hurts him to hurt you, even if it’s not intentional. “I’m sorry,” he says, and it sounds desperate like he’s yearning for you to know that he means it. “But it’s always going to be her, Nari will always be the most important thing to me.”
And you won’t beg for a place in his life, but you want him to understand.
“I’m not asking to be the most important thing in your life, that’s not what I want,” you tell him.
“What do you want?” he asks.
“I want you to understand that I just want to be with you,” you tell him.
He’s by the couch now, sitting on the armrest. His lips are pressed in a tight line, and you can see redness around his eyes from fighting tears of his own. You’re still by the counter where he left you.
“It doesn’t have to be so extreme, Gguk… It’s not like we’re getting married, we would just be taking a next step–”
“But we might, __!” he yells, before shutting his eyes roughly and taking a deep breath. His tone is softer when he continues. “Obviously I wouldn’t spring that on you, but being with me means that you have to be okay with a lot of things,” he says.  
When you ask him what kinds of things he says, “You would have to be okay with never coming first, with me cancelling on you whenever something comes up with Nari. You would have to be okay with me still having a relationship with my ex because I refuse to let my baby have parents that hate each other.”
You try to keep your face straight but he must be able to see how he’s getting into your head because he continues, almost like he’s trying to convince you it’s not worth it being with him.
“At 22 you have to be okay with potentially getting married, with being a stepmom… I know you care about Nari, but if you were to commit to me, you would have to commit to her too. There would be boundaries that me and Dasom make, and you would have to respect them. You and her would have to learn to get along.”
“You’re only 22, __,” he continues, his voice borders on whining, like he just wants you to get it. “You don’t want that. You would lose your freedom… while your friends are travelling or doing whatever, you’ll be in a relationship, tied down… I won’t do that to you, __.” He looks at you for a moment. “Maybe you want a relationship,” he amends, trying to acknowledge your feelings. “But you don’t want an instant family, it’s too much for someone so young. It’s even a lot for people my age.”
“Why does it have to be so… all or nothing?” you ask, a little desperate because it's hard to understand the way he thinks.
“I can’t think short term when I have a baby who depends on me long term,” he replies.
“Then what have we been doing this whole time?”
Jeongguk opens his hands, turns his palms up like he’s giving up. “I was selfish and I got caught up… I made a mistake.”
A mistake. Your heart breaks a little but it beats loud in your ears as you let his words sink in. It's a lot to take in, especially when you two haven’t spoken about being in a committed relationship even once before. And it's confusing because he said he cared.
“I thought you cared about me… Why does it feel like you’re trying to scare me away?” you ask him, voice hurt.
Jeongguk looks at his hands, like he can’t face you. “I do care about you, and I’m not trying to scare you,” he says quietly. “I’m just telling you a fraction of the things that you really need to think about.”
And think you do.
Do you really want all that? Was he right when he alluded to you losing more than you gain? Are you ready to get into a relationship with someone who has marriage as the end goal when you don’t even have your life figured out? Are you really mature enough to handle his relationship with his ex, when you can’t even maturely handle things with your roommates sometimes?
Would being with you be a good thing for him and Nari? Or would they be better off with someone else? Someone with goals and passions, and their life a little more figured out. Maybe someone who has a kid of her own, because she knows what it’s like already. Someone older and more mature with a good job. Someone who is nothing like you.
You didn’t even notice that you started crying, but when you come back, your eyes are blurry and your cheeks are sticky with old and new tears.
“Okay,” you say. You try to smile, but your chin is quivering. “I’ll let you know when I’ve thought through everything.”
When you go back to his room to get you things, you give Nari a tiny kiss, and you tell her that you’ll miss her. As you walk past Jeongguk to his front door, he doesn’t try to stop you this time.
You love Jeongguk, you’re sure that you do, but maybe being with him isn’t what's best. Doubt has made a home in your heart, that warmth you long for nowhere to be seen or felt.
~~~~
AYOOOOO don’t scream at me too much, that's not the end lmao but whoa... how’d they go from kissing to crying just like that hmm... also, opinions on the ex wife?? genuinely curious bc i actually dont hate her ?? 🤔 anyway, i hope you liked it, if you did please do all the things~~ please reblog, like, comment, send an ask... very curious about how we feel about this one 🙇🏻‍♀️ thanks for reading and as always i love u, sorry im posting late lol byeeee <3
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opaljm · 19 days ago
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i. legend of the lamp (m) – jjk
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➺ pairing: genie!jungkook x female reader
➺ genres/tropes: fluff; humor; smut; fantasy au; magic au; strangers to lovers
➺ warning/content tags: 18+; explicit sexual content: female masturbation (solo shower time activities, pro anal enthusiast y/n she wants it SOO bad but is very deep in denial); underwater sexual activities plz do not attempt at home you might drown (kissing, fingering, multiple orgasms, boob kink jeon makes his debut, he likes to bite and make it hurt but he also likes to kiss it better); sex in public (jungkook is an exhibitionist freak, y/n and jungkook give the ‘mile high’ club a new meaning, very mild food play, mean cocky jungkook shows up as expected, jjk's dirty talk is UNMATCHED, gross nasty jeon with the spit/licking kink, overstimulation, orgasm denial, the slightest bit of breath play/choking kink, impregnation kink is mentioned, possessive attention whore jungkook); sloppy cunnilingus with too much teeth tbh, finger fucking, there’s almost fisting but they both wimped out— there's always next time tho ;), forced orgasms, big dick hung like a fucking stallion jeon jungkook, unprotected sex but its fine cuz koo is a genie with fetus deletus powers, spanking, soft dom jk who degrades y/n like a CHAMP if it were a contest he would be winning a gold medal for it, jungkook likes to punish y/n until she can’t even think straight, standing up sex courtesy of strength demon jeon, praise thirsty competitive af constantly wanting validation jungkook, they both have a size kink let’s be real, reader has a strength kink throughout this entire fic she just wants to be manhandled and thrown around like she’s jungkook’s pretty sex doll, soft passionate sex, creampie, lovely aftercare from our cleaning fairy koo
➺ word count: 23k semi-edited but im too tired to actually do it properly :(
➺ summary: Jungkook has been serving his time as a genie for the last 2000 years, unfortunately stuck in a lamp for the last 200 years before he is woken from his slumber by a beautiful woman who somehow activates his lamp while making a wish that ends up letting him out. After eons of having to bend over backwards to make the desires of evil individuals from power hungry dictators to spoiled princesses come into fruition, he’s updated his contract to be more choosy over who the lamp allows to be his master. It comes to his great surprise that this woman was able to make the lamp work and that she only yearns to be loved and no longer be lonely. But all of the wishes he grants now have time constraints, another caveat he added to the contract, and he wonders what life would be like if he had never made that stupid rule. Because, as the week progresses, he finds himself falling deeper and deeper into her spell, pondering what it would be like if he never had to stop playing the role of her man. 
➺ author’s note: Sorry for disappearing after announcing a fic, I had a health scare which kind of had the domino effect of making me have a really shitty three weeks regarding my education and future and pulling me into a depressive episode (which yea turns out can be firmly blamed on the medication I've been taking because its a possible side effect). It's been a mess and a half but, I'm here, the fic's here (or half of it anyways). I hope you all enjoy it and leave some love 💕 Also, if I had known that all of that shit would’ve happened, I would’ve posted part one a lot longer ago, since you all know I had finished writing it a while back. I just kept holding out hope that I would be able to finish the entire fic in time but life got in the way of that. I hope that y’all don’t hold that against me too much! Part two will drop after Jimin’s birthday fic drop so I don’t fuck up that deadline as well! I’m under a lot of pressure as one of the hosts of his birthday collaboration. Please, please, please leave feedback for this story. Since it’s a two shot, your feedback is absolutely critical in helping my self-esteem about the direction of the story and flowing my creative juices for writing part two! 
This fic is a part of Namkook’s Moonrise Masquerade! Banner made by @kimtaehyunq​. Beta-read by @jimilter​ (miss girl helped out with the content warnings too we love her!), @ressjeon​, and @amourtae​ the lovely angels❣️
↳ second/final part | main masterlist
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Today has just absolutely not been your day. 
It seems like things went off to a rough start from right when your morning began. You woke up late because your alarm clock hadn’t gone off, and in your hurry to leave for work this morning, you picked out your outfit for the day half asleep as you attempted to brush your teeth and comb through the unruly mess that was your bedheaded locks of hair. When you spit out that white cloud of mint flavored foam, it got on your peach colored lavallière top, staining the silk pussycat bow. 
You ended up wearing a too tight black with gray pinstripes pencil skirt you kept meaning to donate to Goodwill, but never quite got around to it, and a silky white blouse that you had loved when you thrifted but then later had realized that the abstract black lines that made up its designs were not flowers like you initially had thought but were rather depictions of nude female silhouettes. The shirt is lovely; it’s certainly a statement piece and one that would look great on you on most occasions and would make for a darling ‘outfit of the day’ post on Instagram, however it is not exactly workplace appropriate attire for the public university where you work as an admissions counselor. 
But even with that little kerfuffle, you had not been too stressed early on in the day. Oh, if only you knew how badly the rest of the day would continue to be. As you went out the door, you smartly thought of snatching your black peacoat off the coat hook in the entryway, which could be used to cover up the sexually deviant positions the ladies on your shirt were contorted into. You ended up needing it too, after a mishap at the coffee shop in the student union left you with dark coffee dripping down your torso and making your shirt transparent as it clung to you with the wet sugariness of the shaken espresso seeped with vanilla syrup. 
Things continued to go badly during your appointment with an incoming freshman and her parents who wanted to pull her out of the university because of the trouble she had gotten into over the summer after graduating from high school. Your heart goes out to the girl after remembering how badly that conversation had gone and how despite your best attempts, neither you nor she could sway her parents’ made up minds. You weren’t even able to convince them to change her enrollment to an off-campus one where she could commute from her parents house, whereas she was previously an on-campus student with a room in the freshmen dorms. They wanted her to pay for her actions by going to community college and getting a part time job.
Making matters worse, you had almost thrown up the 6-inch Subway tuna melt you had gotten and now as you walk home, in your pinching heels, too tight skirt, and your peacoat hiding your stained shirt, to your apartment just two miles away on the far end of the glittering and bustling university village that was adjacent to one of the largest and most vibrant cities in the country, it starts to drizzle.
Normally, you do not mind the rain. Of course, your previous attitude of the rain was based on the fact that you did not have too many experiences of being wet like a drowning rat, caught in the middle of the storm without an umbrella or any sort of protection while wearing shoes that were not that slip resistant. 
You sigh as you continue onwards, wondering if maybe you should duck into the Target that you are passing to buy an umbrella. But you already know that Target will be out of stock, like it always is out of stock during unexpected bouts of rain because the students buy out the umbrellas, even going so far as to making the overpriced ones in the student store, that are in the school colors and have the school’s mascot imprinted on them bold and center, out of stock. 
When you finally do get home, you leave your wet shoes on the mat you have just inside the entrance, toeing them off and exchanging them for your fuzzy pink bunny slippers that are not only soft and dry but a huge and warm comfort to your freezing feet. You scamper your way to the opposite side of the apartment, sliding the glass doors that lead to the balcony open, and you hang your coat off of the backs of one of your iron outdoor chairs for it to dry, or at least keep it from dripping all over your apartment. 
You debate whether you should take your clothes off on the balcony too. You’re not afraid of university students seeing you; your apartment is out of most of their price ranges except for the richest of them all, but even knowing that, you don’t have a lot of fear since half of your balcony is covered in thin mesh privacy netting. The half of your wraparound balcony that is exposed to the elements is the part of it that you can access from your bedroom’s sliding doors as well. Not wasting another second, you quickly shed the offending articles of clothing off, just standing there in your fuzzy slippers and a matching black pair of Sabrina panties and brassiere from Honey Birdette. You regret your decision instantly as the transparent tulle and ribbons of lace do nothing to protect you from the blasts of wind causing the rain to drift your way but you fight through it. After letting those clothes hang to dry as well, you make your way back in, bypassing the living room to head straight for the shower. 
Your black underwear set clings to your body, you notice when you catch a glimpse of yourself of the giant mirror that takes over half the wall over your dual sink vanity. You see a figure with hardened plum colored nipples, covered in goosebumps, staring back at you. Her eyes widen from her surprise at how her body quivers even indoors and her hair is drying in messy curly tendrils around her ears. You look almost unrecognizable.
Flittering around the modern minimalistic styled bathroom, you busy yourself turning on the shower and waiting for the water to turn warm, as it always takes the pipes a moment to heat up. In the interim, you grab two fuzzy towels, one for your hair and one for your body, to throw over the glass partition of the shower since there are no conveniently placed towel racks. You also grab your fancy pink “cloud” face wash from the sink, which honestly does too little for its steep price point, in your opinion, and your A Thousand Wishes body cream from Bath & Body Works, that you had stocked up on during the summer semi-annual sale. 
By now, the water is finally hot enough and starting to steam up your bathroom a bit. You slide off your bra and step out of your panties before flinging them into the laundry hamper. Walking into the shower stall is a welcome respite after your long day. For a moment, you just stand there motionless, letting your eyes flutter shut as the showerhead jets water over you, soaking your hair completely and soothing your worn out exhausted muscles. You could pass out from comfort in the shower and that would be horrible but oh you understand now why some people are able to fall asleep in their baths. 
Your shampoo and conditioner bottles are the pump kind so you don’t need to put in too much effort to squeeze out the peony and amaretto scented ambery gold colored liquid into your cupped palm. Today is going to be a simple shower; you’re too drained to go into your whole hair routine with its scalp scrubs, serums, and hair masks, in addition to the usual shampooing and conditioning you do. When it's finally worked into your hair, making it foamy from how well you scrubbed it in, you let the shower wash your hands clean and let the suds disperse. 
Your shower gel is A Thousand Wishes scented too; you’re not the type to mix scents and give yourself a migraine when you can avoid it. Abandoning the loofah, you decide to run your soapy hands over your body for a quick clean. When your hands skim over your breasts and your long acrylic nude ombre nails catch on a nipple, instantly turning the already hard nub into a rock solid bullet, you stifle a surprised moan. Your mind whirls as you recover from the sensation. 
Even as fatigue clouds your mind, the world seems to get closer as your senses become hyperaware. Suddenly you can feel the cool stone underneath your feet that much more as your toes curl in pleasure from how it contrasts wonderfully with the warm water cascading over you. As your hands wander down your body, molding your palms against every curve and divot, the shower gel and water provides a nice lubrication, making it easy for you to slide your fingers over your body. You have to press harder to make your touches rougher, and the delicious friction that comes from those more frantic brushes make your voice catch in the back of your throat before it crawls its way up in the form of a delicious keen.
Oh, what you would do to have a gorgeous male manhandle you right now. You like it rough; you like a little bit of force that reminds you of the strength behind his muscles that you know he would never use on you but the idea that he could make your strength and size kinks come alive. Your hand now transverses over to your throat and you wrap your slim fingers around it, your long nails lightly scraping against the delicate flesh, relishing in the hold but sighing in frustration that your small weak hands can’t apply the pressure that you actually want. 
You’re single because the males you keep finding have no idea how to treat a woman in a way that makes her feel safe even when she wants to be utterly destroyed. A lot of it is based on trust and respect. The shitheads you meet? You wouldn’t even trust them to walk you home at night without angling for a kiss you don’t want to give. 
Abandoning the hand from your throat, you instead press your front side against the marble walls of the shower, pretending that it’s your lover who’s got you clinging to the damp stone and that his hands are dipping over your hips before going lower, wrapping themselves around your thighs in a way that has his thumbs pressing into the clefts of your asscheeks as he spreads them apart and the water from the shower flows into the puckering hole that is revealed. You hate the concept of anal sex but as one of your hands busy themselves in the front, plucking at your clit and fluttering across your folds as you tease yourself to the brink without any insertion, the other hand is working on your tight asshole, your thumb pressing onto it, flirting by only letting the tip of your thumb in before pulling away.
What you would do to have a big heavy cock stroke your ass, painting it with its precum, taunting the sensitive hole hidden between by pressing against it but not entering. Or for you to be on your tiptoes with your legs parted so that his cock could slide underneath, thrusting against the petaled furls of your pussy until he plunged into it from behind while you’re trapped between his warm slick body, his hard abdominal muscles and chest pressing against your back, and the cool marble, your nipples turning into stiffened peaks that are begging to be touched but finding no purchase against the slippery walls. It would feel almost claustrophobic, like you can’t move due to his delicious weight and like the only part of you that could move was your pussy, its walls clenching around him and clinging to him every time he slammed into you. 
With three fingers inside you, you can almost pretend that it’s real. Though, you know that at any moment you can move away since there's nothing actually trapping you into the position that you are in. You can’t finish though, your mind is your own mental prison, too cynical and realistic for its own good. You find yourself reaching up for the removable shower head and pulling it down. Your hand frantically clicks on the controls, increasing the water pressure. You debate if you want to do this standing up but you know that you will lose the feeling in your legs the second your explosive orgasm hits after being edged for so long. Thus, you slide down to a sitting position in your shower, your back against the wall, your legs folded up and spread apart as you position the showerhead right at your cunt, knowing that your clit will be getting the maximum pressure possible. 
You emerge from your shower ten minutes later with your legs feeling so jelly-like you have to grip at the walls to make it back to the sink to finish up your skincare routine and return the products that you had taken with you into the shower back to their original homes. 
When you feel squeaky clean and refreshed, bundled up in your favorite pajamas, a beige plaid set you had gotten as a white elephant present so they are very roomy and swamp your body, you finally deal with your wet work clothes properly and put them for a cycle in the dryer. You’ll likely have to deal with your Chinese Laundry peep toe pumps as well so that the leather doesn’t dry weirdly and make them crack in places but, that’s a concern for you in the future.
With a towel wrapped high around your head in a way that might end up giving you a receding hairline, if you don’t stop using that method to dry your hair soon, you step back into the main part of your apartment. Your eyes quickly go to the coffee table where it appears that your best friend had dropped something off while you were away at work.
There’s a bouquet of pink and white peonies that you immediately fix up in a vase with the proper amount of water, a square box covered in black matte wrapping paper with art deco style gold designs embedded into it, and lastly, a wine bottle in a gorgeous black and gold gift bag that compliments the wrapping on the box and has a matching envelope pinned to it. Before you sit back down on the plush comfort of your oat colored cloud sofa, you rip the envelope off from how it’s been stapled to the gift bag so that you can tear open the flap and get to the card inside. Reclining back, you narrow your eyes to read, having forgotten to grab your glasses from your bedroom dresser and having already taken off your contacts for the day:
Happy Birthday my darling Y/N! I hope that your 25th birthday is the most beautiful one to come so far! Wishing you nothing but blessings and good fortune on this beautiful day! Your present this year is one that surprised me as well but when I saw it, I was drawn to it instantly and the thought that it might be perfect for you abruptly flooded my mind! Can’t wait to hear your opinion on it!
Love, Safi
P.S. Don’t waste this wine by keeping it for a better day! Live in the now by cracking it open today and enjoying a birthday toast because today is just as important as whatever future occasion you’re trying to justify would be a better opportunity to enjoy the wine! (save the Sephora gift card for a rainy day though lol)
You laugh self-indulgently and look back inside the envelope where there is indeed a black $100 Sephora gift card before putting them all aside. You suppose you should listen to Safi’s advice even though today has not been a great birthday by any stretch of the words since it will be nice for you to unwind with a glass of wine. Pulling the bottle out you can see that it is a bottle of rosé, Gerard Bertrand Cote des Rosé to be precise, and the glassware is magnificent with the bottom of the bottle being designed in the shape of a rose with all its petals. 
The box lies unopened for now even if it’s your main present. You have too much of a one track mind and you immediately want to crack open the alcohol to let loose and make yourself forget about your day for just a little bit. You head for the kitchen cabinets and reach for the first drinking vessel you can grab, not too picky when it’s almost 11pm and you have to wake up at 6 in the morning. Perhaps Safi didn’t want you to drink the alcohol out of a coffee mug, in your most comfy sleepwear and a towel wrapped around your head, but it’s the best you can do at the moment. 
You nestle the bottle in the crook of your right arm, holding the mug in the same hand while grabbing the box with your left and taking all three objects out with you to the balcony. It takes you a little finagling to manage opening the sliding door but you soon make your way out where a light breeze brushes against your body comfortingly. Placing everything on the table you have outside, you head back in once more to grab your corkscrew from where it was misplaced in the junk drawer.
It’s not long before you’re back outside, sitting down and admiring the rainfall, which you are now able to appreciate since you are no longer soaking in it. It’s more of a light drizzle now and most of the clouds have dissipated, leaving only the thinnest types of stratus and stratocumulus clouds. In the heart of the city it’s impossible to make out any stars in the night sky due to the pollution and lights but you enjoy looking at the moon as you sip from your mug and let the rosé, which somehow managed to stay chilly all this time, slide down your throat. 
Your attention finally goes to the box and you carefully unwrap it, though you know that it will be unlikely that you will reuse the wrapping paper unless you take up scrapbooking again. Inside is a simple black colored cardboard gift box, and once you remove the top, you find yourself looking at a gorgeous antique looking hanji lamp though you know better than to think that Safi dropped money on an authentic Silla era lantern. You can’t even begin to imagine how much that would cost. Even still, as you turn over the rectangular structure in your hands, you find yourself musing that you would never dare to light the magnificent ornament. It was going to remain a purely decorative piece whose design and history you would appreciate from its place on one of your shelves. 
You find yourself holding it up to your face to get a closer look at all four paper sides of the wooden structure, squinting to make out the images painted on them though it’s difficult because you had forgotten to turn on your string lights and the moon is only a crescent, not providing much of a glow, so you are practically bathed in darkness. 
You scrunch up your forehead thinking of how nice it would be if you had better lighting, No sooner does the thought come across your mind, do you find yourself suddenly bathed in a luminous glow as a shooting star hurls across the inky black sky, painting it with a white blue streak of light. You have never in all of your years seen a shooting star flying across the sky so close to you and you immediately snap your eyes closed. You were never one to waste your time on wishes but maybe in between it being 11:11pm, the shooting star, and the fact that you have not made a birthday wish yet, one of them will work to make your desire come to fruition. It can’t hurt to try right? Maybe finally your deepest yearnings will come to life. 
Little do you realize, that as you make your wish, a little light is cast from the inside of the hanji lamp, warming it up with a small soft candle glow before it flickers out at the end of your wish. When you finally open your eyes and look down, of course you see nothing. That hope you had quickly vanishes as your cynicism returns and you find yourself painfully laughing in a self-flagellating way. You down the last of the wine in the mug and stand up, picking up all your things and getting ready for bed. 
Little do you know, you’ve just wildly changed the course of your life.
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While you’re asleep, a slow cloud of golden shimmery smoke begins to seep out from the lamp you placed on your dresser before sinking into bed and burrowing yourself under a mountain of blankets. 
A man emerges when the gold mist seems to have finally fully trickled out, building himself up from the cloud, becoming humanoid and corporeal. He is bare from the chest up, a golden chain around his hips marking the thing that holds him captive to the lamp and trapped under its control. His lower half is wearing loose baji brown trousers, the lower half of a hanbok that is the fashion of the Silla dynasty. It’s embroidered jeogori that’s a shiny silky white with gold embroidery is somewhere back in the lantern but he’s too lazy to get it now. Those are the clothes that he was entrapped in, so those are the clothes he is stuck in whenever he is kept inside the lamp. No one could blame him for whiling away his time in the vessel by choosing to slumber instead of waiting for himself to be let out again. 
Besides, as his gaze flickers over your modern style bedroom and he makes out a pile of clothing on top of a chair, he distinctly gets the feeling that he is no longer in the Joseon era, which was the last time he had been let out. Jungkook had gotten trapped in the lamp and turned into a genie when he was about 24, on the eve of his 25th birthday around 2,000 years ago, and has been paying for his mistake and the punishment that followed it ever since. In between that time and now though, he’s been let out of the lantern sporadically, over the centuries, every time it fell into the hands of someone who understood its power and wanted to make use of his abilities. 
But right now, his mistress is asleep and he is free, so he finds himself leaving the apartment, in search of what fashion and culture must be like in this weird modern time. He can’t escape her permanently, not when she has one wish left and his lamp in her possession, but he is free to wander while she’s not using him. It’s a little harder to define when and when she isn’t using him because of her second wish but since she’s unconscious right now it’s obvious that she cannot be requiring his presence currently. 
With nary but a thought, he’s suddenly on the streets in front of her apartment. He has no idea where he is; could this truly be Korea? Just because it’s past midnight doesn’t mean that the city is any less alive. He almost gets run over by a car, it’s impossible for him to get hurt given what he is, but his presence, with his feet over the line that separates the two lanes, spooks a driver who yells out a barrage of hateful language before manueving his gray SUV and driving around Jungkook’s body. Some of the comments are about a shirtless madman wandering the roads which makes Jungkook wince and even more impatient to get a change of clothes. They were not spoken in Korean which he won’t realize until later since he is gifted with omnilingual abilities that make him able to understand any and every language that exists or comes into being.
He wanders all the way to the shopping district where all the words are definitely not in Korean but using his mythical powers he’s readily able to translate them, understanding every language instantaneously. Whatever clothes he sees on the mannequins that he likes, he imagines them on himself and thus builds an entire wardrobe this way. His powers of manifestation come in handy giving him clothes that are perfectly tailored to fit his muscular frame which is paired with not only bulging biceps, broad shoulders, and thick thighs but a narrow waist too. He vastly prefers this power to his ability to make anything he wants be in his possession. Why not just make his own more perfect version than the store sizes of a men’s medium and large? Those cookie cutter sizes only account for his muscles but hide the rest of his body away under their expansive lengths of fabric. 
After his clothing shopping spree he sends all his creations back to his mistress’s home with a snap of his fingers and then begins his prowl for food. Genies don’t need sustenance and they can’t gain weight, though they can change their appearances if they wanted, but Jungkook loved food from his time as a human and he regularly uses his powers to let himself enjoy its taste, when he is out of his lamp, even though he can never make himself feel full.
His wanderings take him to a Korean restaurant that is open until dawn, and since food is the one thing he hates creating, he instead magicks himself the currency of this country, in this day and age, and bows to the ajumma who is working inside the establishment. He gets a table for one and orders a giant set of tteokbokki that has the maximum amount of heat allowed along with extra fish cakes and cheese, as well as three different kinds of Korean fried chicken: honey garlic, sweet and spicy, and barbeque, which are all flavors he has never heard of before, and finishes off with a clay pot of kimchi soondubu jiggae, a kimchi soft tofu stew. He only buys one beer knowing that the ajumma would get concerned over his tolerance if he had a dozen glasses.
When he’s done with all the food, he finds himself wistfully pining for the time when he was human and would have been truly able to not only enjoy but also appreciate this bountiful feast. After all, he had been born into a family of laborers, it’s why he had been able to grow so strong through hard manual work.
He finally returns to the apartment, but his work is not over. Unlike his mistress who can sleep blissfully having no idea what she had just done, Jungkook has long hours ahead of him to make her wish come to life in a way that seems believable and that she readily buys into by the time she wakes up. It’s not the hardest desire or demand he has ever had to complete but it will use a lot of his power, more than he’s used lately. And though he’s got an unexpendable amount of magic, he’s out of practice.
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When you rouse the next morning, you can instantly tell that something is different and it immediately makes your hackles rise up. It’s more than just the smell of fried eggs, apple sausages, and maple syrup permeating the air of the apartment, making its way from the kitchen into the bedroom, though you know that you live alone and have no one to cook you such an amazing spread to wake up to. 
The air feels different, like the energy of the universe had shifted somehow. None of that makes any sense and yet somehow it also does. You don’t know what you mean when you think that but there is no other way that you can put this sense of unease into words. When you open your eyes and look across the room you see a male lounging against the wall wearing a street style look with black and gray FILA joggers and windbreaker covering the length of his long modelesque body; there’s a black bucket hat hiding his blond locks. 
You let out a loud scream immediately, terrified out of your wits, and instantly pull your comforter up to your chin even if you had gone to sleep in a pair of pajamas that covered you as though you were a nun. The male narrows his eyes at the shrill sound but the look is quickly shuttered away when a small pleasant smile takes over his face instead. 
He walks closer to you and murmurs, his doe eyes shining with the twinkle of stars from a million galaxies, “Are you okay, jagiya? I’m sorry for surprising you with breakfast this morning but I missed you. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday since I didn’t get the chance yesterday.”
“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” you yelp, tightening your comforter even closer around your body, wrapping yourself up like a human burrito.
“Your lover, Jeon Jungkook,” the male calmly states, his eyes peering at you, not losing their shine as he looks at you like you had grown another head and are the crazy one amongst the two of you.
“I don’t have a lover named Jeon Jungkook,” you contradict, narrowing your eyes into slits full of suspicion. And if you did, you didn’t think you would call him your lover. Perhaps, your man, your boyfriend, or even your fwb though you weren’t really the type to dabble in such meaningless romps of pleasure, but not lover.
“Are you sure about that,” he silkily purrs, using his tattoo adorned hand to gesture to your gallery wall. 
Your eyes follow its path and you’re horrified to see the most adorable couple pictures, most of which appear to have been professionally photographed though some are cutely caught candids, of you and this ‘Jungkook’ together, staring into each other’s eyes lovingly while holding each other in an embrace that speaks volumes about passion and affection. 
“Would you like to check your phone,” suggests the male as well, his blond locks playing peekaboo with his bucket hat as his head turns towards your nightstand and he nods at the iPhone that had been charging on top of it. 
You instantly grab the device, unplugging it from the white charging cord and clutching it possessively to your chest before you finally work up the nerve to see what exactly he means. You swipe down to look at your lockscreen and it’s a live photo of Jungkook squishing his face into the side of your’s, rubbing the tip of his nose into the apple of your cheek softly. Mortified, you use facial recognition to gain further access into your phone and what you see leaves you even more bewildered. Your home screen is the most aesthetic that you’ve seen it: organized by using the IOS 15 feature. It’s blush pink and cream and the background image is a digitally manipulated picture of you and Jungkook looking into the bay from your perches on a bridge at the bottom of the image as the sky melts into a creamy pink color that's been altered to match the theme of your phone. 
At this point, you’re nervously holding onto your disbelief, so it’s with trepidation that you go into your camera roll to find hundreds upon hundreds of photos of Jungkook in an assortment of scenarios, from cute date night pics with you to dozens almost identical selfies where he’s trying out a variety of facial expressions from the same angle and in the same outfits to then even the embarrassing kinds that look like you took them on the down low when you thought he wasn’t looking. None of this makes any sense. But he looks so cute and kissable. You almost want to cry helplessly at the insanity of this all. What if he was your boyfriend? Life would be so much easier then.
You leap out of bed to go out to the front of the apartment and it’s even more confusing because there’s half a dozen pairs of chunky sneakers and boots with spiked soles that look like fashionable and weaponized soccer cleats on the shoe rack that’s by the front door— all belonging to designer brands and looking slightly threatening. It is clear that those shoes belong to a male, most likely this male, and they are all neatly organized to one side while your shoes, the shoes that you remember, are off to the other end. 
“This makes no sense,” you whine, rubbing your forehead frantically. Is this what hyperrealistic nightmares feel like? It seems as though you’ve been transported to the Twilight Zone in your opinion, and you just want to desperately get out.
“Would you like to call your mother and ask her about me?” Jungkook, his voice a smooth cadence as he unhelpfully directs the suggestion to your back. He had evidently followed you out back here. 
“What?”
“Your mother? We FaceTime her all the time. She’s really been pushing for me to pop the question for the last couple of months. Despite what she thinks, it’s really not that covert,” he scoffs, his lips flaring out into a pout. You note with bemusement that there is a small mole underneath the plush of his strawberry colored lower lip. How dare he have a mole in such a perfect location? Now your mind would never know peace until you dragged his lower lip between yours and sucked on that tiny chocolate chip. It’s actually deranged how your mind continuously chooses to flit between lust and rationality. 
“Jungkook?” Your voice takes on a shrill sound, “How long have we been dating?”
“As long as you want it to be.”
That doesn’t make any sense.
“Jungkook, please don’t mess around with me! How long have we been dating?” you demand more urgently. You are halfway to a full-blown panic attack and you need to calm down but nothing seems to be placating you about this entire situation.
The male walks around to step in front of you and then faces you head on. He keeps his hands to himself, crossing them while making sure that his fingers are folded and tucking into his armpits. He bends a little to look you in the eyes since he’s much taller, to peer carefully into your eyes that are slightly blown out from your constant state of shock and bewilderment. “Why didn’t it work?” he wonders.
“HAVE YOU BEEN GASLIGHTING ME?!”
“Well, not intentionally,” he muses, tapping a finger to his lip. God, even his hands are perfect. Each digit is long and tipped with neatly cut and perfectly clean fingernails. And they’re shiny too like he uses some type of cuticle oil. Not to mention how he’s got sexily protruding veins wrapping along the back of his hand and down to his wrist and arm.“I thought you’d be in on it. Could it be that it didn’t work on you even though it worked on everyone else in your life because you made the wish? My magic probably assumed that you didn’t need convincing since after all, this was what you wanted.”
Things make even less sense after his explanation even though Jungkook probably thought he was being helpful by providing it. Your eyes are narrowed in disbelief as you perturbedly shake your head.
“What are you talking about?” you hesitantly ask. You’re nervous because you’ve moved on from the idea that this is a hyperrealistic bad dream to the conspiracy theory that you have a crazy stalker who somehow figured out how to almost seamlessly integrate himself into your life and that he’s more than just the ordinary type of psychopath; this one seems like he’s the delusional type that thinks he has otherworldly powers. Wouldn’t that be just your luck: Jungkook is the first man you’ve been attracted to in months but he didn’t approach you like a normal person who wanted to pursue something.
Jungkook’s mouth takes on a pursed shape as he narrows his eyes at you, deep in thought; the coral red lips are scrunched together with the upper one flaring out. You can see the chocolatey brown mole right below them again and you are suddenly hit with the urge to kiss his lips until the frown is smoothed out.
“Do you have any idea what you even did last night?” he barks, his tone entirely too accusatory for your liking. One would think you had cheated on your imaginary boyfriend the evening before. He takes off his bucket hat in frustration and runs a hand through his blond locks, ruffling them. His jerky hand movements bring attention not only to the length of tattoos that encompass his arm but also its muscular veininess that had held you previously enraptured. You blink, you need to get dicked down soon. You wanted to give into Stockholm Syndrome way too easily for this man. Don’t do it, Y/N, no matter how hot Jungkook is, it’s scary that he’s in your house right now.
You rack your brain but come up woefully short. “I went to bed with only rosé as my dinner?” you hedge. You don’t think it’s that big of a deal although it’s definitely unadvisable to do. 
The male huffs, raising his right hand up before he snaps the fingers on that hand. A paper lantern appears, landing perfectly on his palm. Your eyebrows both raise because you recognize it immediately; it’s the lamp Safi had gifted you as your birthday present. 
“You made a wish for the perfect beau,” Jungkook explains patiently, “I made your wish come to life.”
“Can’t you undo it?” you push urgently. Why are you entertaining this mad man? Magic isn’t real, Y/N!
He excitedly quirks an eyebrow of his own, smirking as he takes in your look of bemusement. “Is that another wish?” he asks.
“No!” you swiftly interrupt. If you are in the Twilight Zone somehow, you need to be smart with how you navigate within this nightmare, at least until you figure out a way to wake yourself up.
“You only have one left, anyways,” he sasses tapping his plumper lower lip with his pointer and middle fingers, you’ve already noticed it’s a habit, rolling his big doe eyes, “I could kind of undo the effects of the wish by making its time constraint shorter so that it stops in the next five minutes but in my opinion, that’s just another wasted wish. So if I were you,” he says with a shrug, “personally I’d go along with it for the next ten days. We wouldn’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable but I would still be playing the role of the doting attentive paramour.”
You blink at him, your mind still sluggish from your wine hangover and terrible bout of sleep. “I only have one wish left?”
“Not the smartest of my mistresses or masters by a long stretch,” Jungkook agrees, teasing you, scrunching his nose to peer at you cutely. 
You gasp loudly, obviously affronted. Not the handsome weirdo calling you dumb. 
“Do I get three?” you question. Your mind is working on overtime today and it’s still taking you too long to understand things. You’d like to tell this Jungkook character that you graduated from the top university in the nation and have two degrees but you don’t think that he would believe you if you bragged and let that tidbit slip. 
“You do,” he nods, unhelpful as ever.
It kind of makes sense; you assume the purpose of genies is to manipulate their rulers into making all of their wishes as quickly as possible.
“Oh, you want me to tell you what your two used wishes were. Humans really are weak, aren’t they? Is your mind normally supposed to be so foggy after drinking so much?” He calls you out directly and you gasp; you suppose that genies don’t have manners. Or at least this one doesn’t, you glare at Jungkook’s untactfulness.
“I know one of them was to have you here,” as your boyfriend, you finish off in your head, too unnerved to say it out loud just in case that makes it more true, “but what was the one before it?”
“Oh! You wanted there to be light.” Fiat lux, look at you, and you thought you weren’t philosophical. 
You blink again. Nope, that doesn’t follow. You would never be so profound. What would a wish like that even mean to a genie? An increase in intelligence? For there to be less ignorant people in the world? Ah. Wait. You do vaguely remember thinking that it would be so nice if you had more light to see the markings on the lantern. But—
“I made my wish for a man on a shooting star,” you retort as a counterargument, trying to wheedle out of Jungkook’s covenant so that you’ll have an additional wish to add to your arsenal.
“Nice try,” snorts Jungkook. He’s probably listened to a thousand arguments by a thousand masters that have all tried to bargain and reason with him trying to manipulate him and exploit him for more wishes, “But I made that appear in the night sky. It was not fated to be there that night until I materialized it. It wasn’t real so it didn’t have the powers of a normal shooting star.”
“So shooting stars actually work?” 
He shrugs, “Sometimes. Wishes depend on the caster. Theoretically you can make a wish on a shooting star, a wishing well, your birthday, on a deity, etc. But you can rarely succeed at having a wish granted, much less by using the same method twice. And most people, if they’re lucky, only get to have one wish come true in their lifetime. It’s much more common for there to be no successful ones. Aren’t you lucky to have woken me up from my slumber,” he snarks, “you got three.”
“I made a birthday wish,” you faintly mutter rather dispiritedly.
He hears you anyways, “I don’t think it worked. Why not try again next year?” 
You ignore the snarkiness of his suggestion, “So you’re really my boyfriend for the next ten days.”
He nods. You squint at him, you still haven’t put your contacts on for the day and your glasses remain forgotten in your bedroom. 
“Can I ask you to do things? Like a girlfriend asks her boyfriend? Or does that count as a wish.”
“You can ask me anything. Whether or not I do anything is entirely up to me. I suppose I will be more courteous and mindful of your requests since I am playing the part of the perfect significant other. As long as it’s related to this wish, I will try my best to make it come to fruition for you. For example, if you wanted me to take you out for dinner on the rooftop of a skyscraper I probably would. If you wanted me to buy you a bunch of gifts or fill your rooms with flowers, I could do that too.”
“Why is it only ten days? I didn’t wish for ten days,” you inquire.
Jungkook smiles at you sheepishly, showing the first sign of less than suaveness. “As far as mistresses go, you’re not a selfish one but would you believe me if I told you that in the past only terrible people used to be able to draw me out of my lamp and make demands of me? As the years went by I added rules: only three wishes, no wishes have permanent effects, and only those pure of heart can awaken me, just to name a few.”
“Oh.” You don’t know what else to say.
“In ten days, your life will go back to normal. And even though you will always remember this, it will become more and more dreamlike and disconnected from reality as time goes on. One day you might even come to the decision that you had made me up and that I was a figment of your imagination. No one can hold onto the idea that this was all real for too long.”
“So for this week, everyone in my life is convinced we’ve been together for a while but next week they won’t even have known I had a boyfriend?” you conclude.
“You’ll wake up on the eleventh morning like time hasn’t passed at all; it’ll be like it’s today all over again but without me in all those pictures that stand as proof of a shared, albeit fake, history,” Jungkook confirms.
“But what will happen to you?” you worry. 
“I’ll be sticking around unless you make your third wish before then.” He looks at you hopefully but you snort in retort. “When you make the third wish, I’ll go back into the lamp and it will disappear from your life before the process starts all over for me. I’ll probably be sleeping until I’m let out again.”
“I wasn’t the one who found you,” you frown. “My best friend gave it to me as a birthday present.”
Jungkook's eyes widen marginally but you don’t catch how the genie appears momentarily unnerved, he shrugs it off to you, feigning nonchalance, “That doesn’t really matter because you were the one that was able to let the lamp open.”
You hum but say nothing. You’re distracted by the magnificent bounty of breakfast food that Jungkook has arranged on your tiny square table for four, not that you ever had to use all four of the place settings at the same time. You make your way to the dining area, edging away from Jungkook and the conversation, but as expected, the male trails after you like a lost puppy. 
“Do you have any plans for how our day should progress, mistress?”
“Please stop calling me that,” you blush hotly. You are the subbiest sub ever so it’s discomforting to hear you being referred to in such a manner even if it’s not in a sexual context.
“What would you like to be called instead?” Jungkook inquires, altruistically.
“Let’s just stick to my name for now,” you mutter, placing two fried eggs on your plate before going for the waffles. Jungkook should be glad you’re such a benevolent holder of the lamp, he says you’re pure of heart but you don’t know about all that, all you do know is, you won’t make Jungkook’s life any harder than it needs to be for the next ten days.
A light smirk paints Jungkook’s lips as he takes the seat opposite to you. “We can make our way to pet names and terms of endearment as the days progress.”
You choke, coughing and sputtering as a square of waffle gets lodged in your throat. But as your eyes water up, widening from pain and surprise, Jungkook smoothly waves his hand in a flippant manner in your direction and the waffle disappears immediately.
Gasping for air you ask, “Does this mean that when you’re finally gone I’ll be going back to choking and die a painful death?”
Jungkook scoffs, “Only the wishes I make come true for my masters have limits to them. And it’s a recent development I made to curb their usually evil desires. I’m very powerful. Everything I do has permanent effects. It’s why I’m locked up any time I don’t have an owner.”
You blink, gobsmacked. Somehow his arrogance is terribly sexy and it makes your pussy throb. 
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On the first day, following breakfast, Jungkook makes the two of you disappear and reappear in Malta for an island vacation and date. You’re in a panic, claiming that you can’t be in a foreign country without any identification, money, or clothes. But the male just rolls his eyes at your antics and reminds you just who exactly has been cast to play the role of your picture perfect boyfriend. 
You side-eye him now. He is walking slightly ahead of you to the left so that there is space left for you to walk beside him if you want to catch up but you can’t make up your mind if you want to. His blond hair is trapped under yet another black bucket hat which makes you wonder if he hates the pale color of his locks and he’s wearing a black Hawaiian shirt with white hibiscuses creating an artfully arranged pattern. His black board shorts have a 5 inch inseam and you’re wondering how it is that this thousands-of-years old mythical being dresses like an emo alt boy. Not that you know what two out of those three words mean. You assume it’s like a vibe from what the gen z college students that appear in your office tell you. Jungkook looks just like them. 
You’ve been wheedling Jungkook to reveal details about his own life but the individual has managed to remain tight-lipped thus far. He runs ahead to a street vendor to excitedly buy you a sandwich. The round leavened bread has a filling of potatoes, capers, tomatoes, and mozzarella. He hands you one of the diagonally cut slices before bringing the other half to his mouth.
You hold it in your hand bemusedly, at a loss of what to do with it. You had quite literally finished the meal he had prepared for you half an hour ago. Side-eyeing him once again, this time enviously, you sigh; you can’t eat like he does because unlike him you do not have magical powers and if he continues to feed you like this, you’ll gain 30 pounds by the end of the 10 days. And you could ask him to keep you from gaining weight but that would probably count as a third wish instead of being an extension of his boyfriendly duties.
“Are you ready to see our lodgings?” he asks, a droplet of olive oil, that the sandwich had practically been doused in, glistening on his perfectly coral colored Cupid’s bow.
You give him a look that wordlessly states ‘lead the way,’ and follow him as your walk takes the two of you before a two story condo located on the waterfront. 
“Can I ask you a question,” you start off.
Jungkook interrupts you immediately, knowing just where your head was going, “I did not make the apartment appear out of midair. It was conveniently empty and I planted a thought in the owner’s head that he had rented it to us.”
Okay first of all, that was not what you were going to ask. “Are you going to pay him?” you demand self-righteously.
“Why?” Jungkook deadpans, “The timeline will be reset soon enough.”
“I was actually going to ask you,” you tread carefully, though apparently not delicately enough because the male’s hackles start to rise and his gaze turns into one that is more filled with suspicion and distrust. You plow ahead anyways and repeat, “I wanted to ask you why you were going along with this.”
“Because it is your wish.” He says it with such simplicity, his face as expressionless as his tone.
You sigh frustratedly, “Yes but—am I making you uncomfortable? You don’t have to pretend to be my lover. I have to admit I wasn’t thinking that this would happen when I made that wish.”
“So, did you have a male in mind then?” Jungkook’s expression turns even more grim as he shutters away his emotions. His large dark brown eyes are impassive for the first time since you’ve met him and you’re starting to miss the shine of those doelike lenses.
“Well, no. But, if I wanted my fake boyfriend to be Kim Namjoon, could you do that?”
“Who is Kim Namjoon?” He sounds so affronted, unable to believe that you could prefer anyone to him. Huh. You had the feeling that Jungkook was a cocky self-aggrandizing genie but you hadn’t realized how much until now.
“My celebrity crush.”
“What is a ‘celebrity’?”
You stare at him blankly, “So you weren’t out in the twentieth century either, huh?” 
When he frowns at you, those cute lips of his curving down, you hurriedly tack on, “It doesn’t matter, anyways. I just asked because, well— We don’t have to be ‘lovers,’” you quote Jungkook from earlier on in the day. “What if we just hung out as friends for the next ten days?”
“I would like that,” admitted Jungkook. “Although I’m not sure if that actually fulfills your wish.”
“Why not?” you pout. “What was the explicit wording of my wish, anyways?”
Jungkook looks away without answering you and then wordlessly marches towards the front door of the condo, expecting you to follow. 
The inside of the two storied structure is very rustic but clean. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of clutter, which you appreciate, but you wouldn’t call it minimalistic. It had a beachy European vibe to it with furniture pieces that had probably seen their prime in design in the late 90s. You actually like the old school feel of the place; it makes it feel more authentic. The place has about four bedrooms but Jungkook tells you that the two rooms the two of you will be sharing are right next to each other. 
When you walk into the place where you’ll be sleeping tonight, you are met by the sight of a white painted metal bed frame that has a lot of curlicues making up the headboard. The bedding looks comfy and clean which is always nice and the box springs and mattress look relatively new, providing a nice height and plumpness to your bed. There’s a massive pile of shopping bags and boxes stacked against the wall and you can only wonder if your attractive genie companion had gone into the trouble of making sure you would have a variety of clothes and necessities on this trip.
As you fiddle through the tissue paper hiding the contents of a bright orange Louis Vuitton bag, you are puzzled how Jungkook is both on top of and out of the loop when it comes to the 21st century. The male is on top of fashion but not famous people and you wonder what else he knows or is woefully oblivious about. You put on a cute russet brown bikini set that looks gorgeous on your honeyed skin; there is a large gold hoop connecting the two halves of your top as well as two matching hoops on the sides of your hips. You are currently pulling on a pair of Louis Vuitton shorts with cute pockets that are lined with a gold colored zipper and are almost the exact same shade of brown as your swimming suit but covered by the familiar and iconic pattern of interlocking LV’s with flowers in white, teal, orange, and light brown, just about having buckled in the cute strappy belt that comes with it when your door is unceremoniously thrust open. 
You stand, jaw slackened in surprise, as Jungkook walks into the room looking so colorful that you blink to make sure it’s actually him. His hair is now the pinkish red color of cherries and he's wearing a yellow T-shirt that has an opened shirt that looks like a white baseball tee over it, though the fabric is more airy and lightweight; the sleeves of his yellow top are tucked into the sleeves of the white one. He’s wearing navy blue swimming trunks and you love that he turned out to be the type of male that sticks to 5-7 inch inseams rather than wearing shorts that go down super low and cover his knees like you know so many men in your acquaintance to do. It baffles you; don’t they realize how ugly it makes their outfits look? 
Jungkook snaps his fingers to make a pair of black Ray-Bans with gold frames cover your eyes to match the ones tucked into his soft red hair and you notice the multitude of beaded bracelets adorning his wrist. 
“I haven’t gone to the beach in years,” you proclaim excitedly. 
Now that you two have settled that he’s a genie and you’re his mistress who gets to call all the shots, there is a sense of calm over the two of you and this wayward situation that you’ve thrusted the two of you into. He’s not acting the role of your boyfriend. He’s just someone you’re on vacation with and it makes it so much easier to relax when you keep that in mind. 
You eagerly reach out to grab his large hand in your much smaller one to tug him along with you, back outside of the condominium so that you two could eventually make your way to the beachfront. The male gives in easily, he engulfs his hand with yours and you can feel its warm heat cupping you comfortably. You give him a happy smile and proceed to pull him along with you which is much easier said than done because Jungkook finds it hilarious to drag his feet and stand his ground on the gravelly cobblestone streets so that he can laugh at your feeble attempts at strength as you try to move him. 
Jungkook is bored at the beach. You scowl at him. He’s being a party pooper, acting like a black hole that’s bringing down your excitement and sucking it all in. He has no idea how to relax. You had told him as much when he sighed as he sat down next to you in the little area you made him create for the two of you. There’s a cute blanket for the two of you to lie on and an umbrella if you no longer want to be in the sun. You even got him to materialize some books for you (you just had to tell him the author and title) but from the looks of his displeased frown when he discovered that nearly all of the books have raunchy covers, Jungkook’s not thrilled about your little omission. 
You glower at him. The blanket is massive with enough space for the two of you, yet Jungkook sits so close beside you that you’re almost halfway to the sand as you hover near the edge of the cloth. You slip your shorts off and put it on one of the beach chairs next to the two of you before flopping down again. You turn your body around so that you are facing the beach as you lie on your stomach, your elbows propping you up so you can read the third book of the Bridgertons series. 
“God, Jungkook,” you goad, “If you’re not going to do anything, can you apply my sunscreen on me?” It’s in the little tote you have with you.
Jungkook scrunches up his face as he scrutinizes you from behind the lenses of his matching black sunglasses. You had to put yours back on your head because you couldn’t read anything with how dark they made the page appear. “Why don’t you put sunscreen on me first?” 
“Jungkook, you don’t need sunscreen!” you whine. “You’re a genie. You don’t have to worry about the dangers of skin cancer and UV rays.”
“It’s amazing how often I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he muses as he huffs at you, going into your bag to pull out the sunscreen.
Perhaps because he’s unused to applying sunscreen on, you doubted the Joseon era (which was the last time he had been out) Koreans did because you were pretty sure it was invented in the early 1940s, he squirts what feels like half the bottle on your back. You screech at the cold aqueous feeling of the liquid as it trails down your figure approaching the barriers of your cute bikini top. 
“Jungkook!” you yelp. “Untie my clothes! It’s going to ruin them and leave ugly chalky marks on the fabric, you asshole! And you’re supposed to blend it into my skin so there’s no white cast.”
Jungkook places his hand against your back, cupping the deliquescent lotion and trapping it beneath his massive palm. One handedly, he undoes the tie to your brown string bikini, leaving your back bare as the cloth protects your minimal modesty in the front only. Ignoring what you had said about getting your bottoms ruined, he doesn't remove them, though you have no idea why. There’s not anyone near you on this long stretch of the coast. Instead, he just tugs it halfway down your ass. 
He moves his body so that his knees are straddling you on either side but since he’s lightly perched on your thighs, your uncovered ass is mere centimeters away from his crotch and when he moves to make sure that his hands are covering every inch of your revealed body with the sun block, you swear you can feel something large poking you at times.
His touch is feather light as his fingertips ghost along your back making you arch into him. His finger traces along your spine, making you keen lightly as you bite down on your lower lip to keep him from hearing you. His palms knead at the knots in your body as you still at the sensations he is pulling from your body. He’s being perfectly respectful, his hands stay on the length of your back, not moving under to canvas your breasts or slip down your hips or drift along the plump curve of your ass, yet somehow you are still mindless under his dexterous palms. 
Your eyelashes flutter closed, your eyes no longer able to focus on Benedict Bridgerton’s love story, as Jungkook massages the white cream into your skin with his strong hands. The male pulls his lip between his bunny teeth as he frowns when he hears your attempts to conceal the sounds that he is coaxing out of you. 
“Jungkook,” you pant out nervously, fearing how much further this can go if you don’t put a wise stop to it now. 
“Hmm?”
“I can do my legs,” you suggest. 
“Ah okay, Y/N,” he agrees. “But do you really want to spend the whole day reading that?” 
His face is twisted into a grimace as he glares at the upside down book you half opened to hold its place. 
“What do you want to do?” you ask getting up from the blanket and grabbing the bottle of sunscreen before squirting some on your hands to go over all the areas Jungkook hadn’t gotten around to.
“Do you want to go scuba diving?”
“Have you ever gone scuba diving?” 
“Of course not,” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “But I’ll try everything once.”
He whisks you two away to the Maltese island of Comino once you’re ready to call it quits at the beach. When you’re finally with the group of people who are getting ready to scuba dive with the instructor, suiting up and paying attention to the directions so they’re safe as they start to explore the reefs, lagoons, and underwater caves, you start to panic.
“Jungkook,” you mumble, edging closer to him and tiptoeing so you can whisper into his ear. The male turns his head to look at you, moving closer and instantly stooping down so you can easily state your piece. “Jungkook, I don’t feel comfortable scuba diving.”
“I’ll keep you safe, Y/N.” God, did you wish for the perfect boyfriend or what? Maybe drunk off her ass Y/N had something going for her. Even before, you had been tempted to make things get sexual as he was running those powerful hands over your pliant body, but you had managed to barely control yourself and keep yourself from shoving Jungkook down on the sand to climb over his body. It had been so nice of him to do that for you, very boyfriend, or as Jungkook would probably say, lover-like.
“Yes, I know,” you pause, deep in thought, before you continue, “but I don’t want you to limit your enjoyment because you’re so busy looking over me, trying to keep me from accidentally killing or maiming myself. Can we like do something a little more tame... like snorkeling? I don’t want to go so deep into the water.”
He gives into you easily, it doesn’t even take him a second to think about what you’re asking from him, and he readily transports the two of you onto a boat where a snorkeling class has already began to put on their masks and flippers before they make their ways to the edge of the boat to jump off. 
After watching the humans struggle putting on the equipment for ten or even fifteen minutes each, Jungkook decides it’ll just be easier if he does it for you so you don’t have to worry about if anything was worn improperly or unsafely.
He thinks you look adorable with the giant clear goggles; your long mane of hair squishes to your skull where the straps of the mask are pressing into your head and the lenses magnify your eyes making them look cute albeit a little bug-like. He quietly commands you to stop fiddling around with the snorkel; he knows you’re worried but he doesn’t want you to mess around with the pipe and accidentally disconnect what Jungkook had correctly set up for you. You’re waddling a bit in your large black and indigo flippers, attempting to pull your shorts off and get the holes through your suddenly enormous feet. You trip and Jungkook catches you, holding you against his bare chest because he had gotten rid of his clothes as well so he would only be in his swimming trunks.
“You okay?” he softly inquires, keeping you trapped within the heat of his comforting embrace. 
You can only squeak your reply, distracted about how his massive palms are so warm and almost entirely encapsulate your waist as he holds you up against him. There is something cool and metallic digging into your skin and your hand brushes against it. Was Jungkook wearing a waist chain? The male flinches away from your hold, stepping back instantly. 
“No need to worry about the jump or the water being too cold,” Jungkook murmurs, blatantly ignoring whatever had happened seconds ago, “I’ve got you.”
And in a flash, the two of you are underwater, surrounded by so much clean liquid that you can enjoy the greenish blue hue of the ocean and yet make out everything with such clarity. 
You frown when you notice that though Jungkook put on flippers he didn’t have a mask covering his face and making him look as distorted and ugly as you felt. It was so unfair; you have to look unattractive so you can breathe and not die submerged in the sea but Jungkook looks like a model with the water lifting his red locks and making them swirl around his head. Though he doesn’t want your eyes to focus on his waist, your gaze is immediately drawn to it, shifting their focus from the clean cut muscled edges of his eight pack, just barely able to make out the gold band that sits snugly around his bronzed skin, kept in place by the minimal flare to his hips, due to how your vision is slightly warped and distorted by your goggles. 
Jungkook reaches out to grab your hand, his long fingers wrapping themselves around your delicate wrist and he gently pulls you towards him, his lengthy legs swiftly flapping along as he propels his body around the water, taking you on his guided tour for one. Swimming side by side with Jungkook, you follow him deeper into the half submerged caves of St. Maria, your eyes taking in the mesmerizing schools of snappers and sea bream swimming around, ducking in and out of view when they travel around sandbars. You flinch into yourself, pulling away from Jungkook when you see a moray eel but the male just giggles, air bubbles releasing from his mouth as his chortles continue, his red hair a darkened burgundy cloud around his ears. He softly tugs you back to him and pursues on with the two of yours sea adventure. 
You gasp and clap excitedly when you see several cuttlefish and even a sand colored octopus, eagerly pointing it out to Jungkook, who only smiles when he notices your hand slip out of his again and then swims closer to the octopus to ooh and aah over it. Eventually, the snorkeling guide asks for everyone to come back onto the boat so that they can direct it over to a ship wreckage where you all will be allowed to go back into the sea to get a closer glimpse at the German minesweeper. 
The rusting boat is a little deeper than expected and you find yourself hesitantly waddling your legs in the water to keep yourself in the same unmoving position, while the rest of your class energetically flaps their legs to swim towards the ship, swimming further into the depths of the Maltese sea. Jungkook looks back at you from where he had gone to follow the crowd, his lips jutting out as he purses his lips, deep in contemplation. 
His eyes narrow as he looks at you consideringly though you’re absentminded in your persisting fear and have not become aware of his gaze in your direction yet. He smoothly paddles back to you, holding you with his warm palm pressed against the small of your back. You look up at him and shiver. 
Do you want me to help you? You know I wouldn't let you drown or have anything bad happen to you? You purposefully screw and unscrew your eyes shut, trying to make sense that this powerful genie possesses the ability to broadcast his thoughts into your mind because the two of you can’t speak in water. He probably has a more equipt way of dealing with that too but was choosing to exert less energy.
You nod brusquely and the male transports the two of you right by the wreckage where the rest of the class are enthusiastically swimming around and admiring the ruins of the World War II ship. Jungkook gently presses on your lower back pushing you forward to encourage you to explore the minesweeper on your own but you back up pressing yourself into his front, not even leaving an inch of space in between you. 
He looks down at you indulgently, tucking one of your wildly floating locks of hair behind your ear, as his hand moves away, it caresses the side of your cheek, making its way down. As you let out a longing sigh, he grips the underside of your jaw, tilting your chin up so he can remove the mouthpiece to your snorkel before he swoops down to capture your lips with his.
You’ve been yearning for his kiss since the moment you woke up and found your eyes enraptured by those pillowy coral colored lips, and Jungkook does not disappoint. They taste like mint chapstick and coffee as he hauls your body against his, one of his brawny arms locking you into his hold while the other works its way up while he winds his fingers through the drenched locks of your hair. As you continuously gasp in between every short kiss he slots over your lips, your hands travel across his broad shoulders and impressive back where you can feel flexing bundles of muscles beneath your fingertips. 
Tiring of the small abrupt pecks, Jungkook pulls you up, your legs instinctually wrapping around his hips as you meet him for a more impassioned kiss. You enthusiastically part your mouth, welcoming him and his tongue licks its way into that wet cavern, twining around your tongue as you both fight for control. You’re weak to the way that his lips mold against yours with its firm pressure, fitting against you perfectly. As you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on tight, Jungkook moves his hands to cup your ass, fitting you more perfectly against him. He gropes your butt fervently as your fingers snake themselves into his luscious locks. 
You can feel his curious wandering hands roving across the planes of your body as you lean deeper into the kisses, gasping when Jungkook releases you to let you catch your breath. But even then, your lips are still attached to his as he busies himself with nibbling on your plump bottom lip, not wanting to waste a single second. His fingers find themselves into the hidden space between your cheeks, gripping on them softly to spread them more apart and then he runs his index finger across the seam, traveling from your clenching asshole to your fluttering core. Your pussy gushes more and more with his every pass over it, not that he can tell with you both underwater. But surely he can sense that your clit is becoming more sensitive and engorged with the minimal simulation, eager for more. His fingernail catches on that little bud his next pass over and you moan loudly against his lips before accidentally biting down on the lower one impassionately. 
When the two of you break apart, he leans his forehead against your nape, licking over his bitten lip tasting the faint flavor of iron and sea salt. It stings a little, if he wants to be completely honest. But with a simple burst of his powers, the pain is gone and since Jungkook already has his face pressing against your neck, he uses the opportunity to dart his tongue into the shallow pools of your collar bones, lapping at them softly, his tongue moving across your throat to manipulate whines and keens out of you. Even as he does this, his focus is split and he finds himself nudging your copper colored bikini bottom to the side as he reveals your pussy folds to one of his questing hands. 
Jungkook grows daring as he nudges at your pussy with nimble fingers, thumbing your clit and pressing down hard enough to make you wail. His fingers dart across the furled petals leading to your throbbing core and he ghosts those appendages, letting you feel the sudden sensation of fullness before it’s swiftly gone like you imagined it. You’re writhing in his arms, sound travels differently in the ocean but he selfishly doesn’t want anyone to see your eyes rolling backwards as your mouth opens wide in an ahegao type expression. 
A red flush covers your tanned skin, travelling from your décolletage to your throat and Jungkook finds himself capturing your chin in his firm grasp. His thumb swipes at your lips repeatedly until you finally part them so he can shove it inside all whilst jutting two fingers in and out of your cunt deliciously. You gag around the appendage, saliva trailing down your lips and painting the sides of your mouth as you struggle to acclimate your body to the brutal and hectic pace of how he thrusts his fingers in and out your folds. 
With Jungkook’s promise to keep you safe, you don’t have to worry about sputtering and choking on salty sea water, instead you’re doing so on his thick fingers which are a pale and slim imitation to how his cock will feel in your mouth. With your focus so frayed and with him dead set on making you go mindless with lust, Jungkook turns his focus to his mouth, nipping his way down the neglected column of your throat, until he gets to your cleavage. Jungkook chooses to bite down on that golden circle connecting the two halves of your skimpy bikini, pulling at it with his bunny teeth before letting go again to have the swimwear bounce against your skin, stimulating your nipples and making them harden into beads. He kisses and tongues your breasts through the moisture resistant fabric, growling in frustration at its thickness that inhibits his abilities to inflame you even further. He nabs it between the hold of his clenched teeth and tugs, pulling at your top until only one cup is left maintaining your precarious modesty. 
With one of your breasts free from the cloth, Jungkook wastes no time to wrap his lips around it’s stiffened tip. His agile tongue swirls itself around, laving the hardened bud, and he gently nibbles at it, making you reflexively nip at his thumb. He has you wrapped around him both figuratively and literally, and he divides his attention, never forgetting to incite your pulsating pussy with forceful pumps of his appendages as he sucks on your breasts and lets you suck on the fingers to his other hand. There’s something about gagging on Jungkook’s tatted digits that has you raggedly inhaling through your nose and falling apart at the seams at all the attention your body is under. 
When you finally cum, you sag against him; your top is halfway down your abdomen and one of its straps is dangling by your elbow. Your eyes are still blown out from lust but you’ve calmed down somewhat though you're desperately trying to catch your breath, counting on Jungkook’s inexhaustible strength to hold you up beside him. You seem to be completely unaware of your surroundings and how the other snorkelers swim closer to the two of you since you are both breathless and a little disoriented from the heated kisses, and more, that followed.
Fortunately for your unsettled self, the male isn’t standing idle as you are, trying to make sense of your surroundings. He fixes your bottom so that it no longer digs into your soft curves and repositions it so that your pussy is completely covered. You float in the water and let him manhandle you like you’re his pretty doll, letting him secure up your bikini so your breasts are no longer exposed. He even reties it in the back for you before he puts your snorkel back onto your mouth. But as he does so, he bites on his lower lip, sucking his cheeks in as his eyes hold a glimmer of something that he’s trying to hide from you.
You irately raise your eyebrows at him as he finally lets out the laughter he had been holding in, in the form of a breathy chuckle. Sorry, it’s nothing, his thoughts are once again intruding your mind, it’s just I forgot you were wearing your cute goggles, that’s all!
Immediately you are still as mortification takes over your body, a frown adorning your features. And just like that, the moment is broken and you are no longer under his spell. 
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In the afternoon, you two walk around the beachfront of where your condo lies, tired after scuba diving and wanting to engage in some low level, minimal effort tourism. Well, you’re tired; Jungkook has a boundless expanse of energy. He’s like an excitable puppy who takes on everything he sees as if it’s his first life although you know it’s not. But you suppose, if you were kept in a prison regularly for upwards of hundreds of years without any idea when your next chance at freedom was, you too would make the most of every opportunity that presented itself to you. 
Jungkook claps every time you pick up something that suits you and immediately buys it for you, flitting between acting the role of a supportive best friend and a sexy sugar daddy, but you’re into it, enraptured by the duality that suits him, giving him a cute glow to his dark brown doe eyes. After you end up with too many souvenir bracelets and little knick knacks, even a little pouch to hold your phone and money, though you aren’t likely to call anyone or need to spend any money during the next ten days, you cut Jungkook off from getting you anything more. You beg off for a chance to relax, maybe even take a midday nap which isn’t something you’ve done since you were in high school, before getting ready to go to the night time date that Jungkook promises will be even more spectacular. 
It’s about 6pm, and you’re all glammed up for your date with Jungkook. He’s taking his job of wooing you super seriously. You dimly wonder whether all genies are as competitive as Jungkook, striving for a 100% satisfaction guaranteed (which he certainly had done in the turquoise water earlier in the day). You had asked him about it during one of the rounds to the small kiosks around the open air bazaar, if you got to fill out a customer service report at the end of this entire experience. The male had narrowed his eyes at you, a slandered look of affront taking over his face as he wound up his arms together tightly and pointedly stalked away from you.
He seems to have mellowed out however. You could have sworn you heard him singing lightly as he went around his room, immersed in his tasks, talking to inanimate objects like the Disney character that he was. However Jungkook is a little bit petty, and had decided to withhold the location of your date tonight from you which left you with no idea of what dress code to aim for. 
You think you did pretty well, all things considered.
Your thick locks have been washed to get rid of all the salt that clung to them after your snorkeling excursion and you have it slicked back into a sleek half up half down hairdo that doesn't have a single hair out of place. Meanwhile, your makeup features smokey eyes and dark currant colored lips since you wanted your glam look to have an edge to it. 
Your outfit is made out of the contents of the packages and shopping bags that Jungkook had lined the wall of your room with, earlier in the day. You’re wearing a skin clinging Versace mini dress with a plunging neckline that barely covers your ass and is covered in glittery burgundy colored sequins. It makes your rack look fabulous which is only being held up with some nude bra pads, sticky tape, and sheer pleas for divine intervention. Meanwhile, your ass looks scrumptious and perky like you just got a BBL on this Maltese vacation. There are long strappy black Saint Laurent heels wrapping around your legs and lengthening the limbs making you look like an Amazonian queen. Gold Harry Winston hoops adorn your ears with a slim gold chain from the brand dipping into your cleavage while an assortment of rings from Chanel and Cartier adorn your fingers and offset the gold love bracelet banging against your left wrist. To put it simply, you look like a Goddamn fucking catch. 
After making sure that every detail to your look is perfect as you gaze into the full length mirror in your room and attempt tugging on the skirt of the Versace dress one more time, you leave your room to knock on the door to Jungkook’s room that is right beside it. 
The male opens it instantly, almost like he was waiting for you to knock and his jaw slackens a little as he takes in the full, lethal, image of you in your micro mini, with the tumbling dark locks of hair falling over your shoulder and your legs looking like they would look perfect over his shoulders with the strappy sandals still on, their thin stiletto heels digging into his back as he pounded you into blissful nirvana.
Like always, you remain oblivious to Jungkook’s ravenous and coveting glances. Mostly, it’s because you are similarly distracted. His hair is no longer cherry red or the blond that you think is its default; rather, Jungkook has long cobalt colored locks that get darker towards the roots framing his face suavely. He stands in front of you looking gloriously tall as he wears a slightly loose fit dark colored blazer that reveals a white tucked in shirt underneath and black cargo joggers to soften the formal look to his outfit. His black Prada Chelsea boots make him tower over you with their giant imposing soles. He has a few earrings in and a silver chain hanging from his neck that makes you wonder if it will clink against your nude body if the night ends with another bout of heated sexual exploration. When he offers you his hand, you notice that he has a few bands adorning his fingers as well. 
You allow yourself to get pulled into his embrace. He tucks you against his chest, your bare back hitting the soft cotton of his T-shirt, the fabric is so thin that you can easily feel the heat of his body and more importantly, every hard ridge of muscle. The waist chain is there too and you have figured out that it is probably what keeps Jungkook bound under the lamp’s control. No wonder he hates it.  
His arm is securely pressed against your waist, squeezing you lightly. He’s in a good mood and you are too. You’ll just ignore the fact that he’s an immortal and that he’s not actually yours. You two can play pretend for nine more days. While you sigh and your eyes softly shutter shut in contentment, he dips his chin into the hollow of your collarbone before he whisks the two of you away to the dinner that he had planned for the two of you.
You blink in confusion as you take in the new sight. 
The sky is turning purplish blue in the evening and from the looks of it Jungkook has just taken you to an empty construction site. There’s nothing but excavators, front loaders, and a bulldozer in your vicinity. The skeletal metal outline of a partially made building explains the presence of the class 8 vehicles. 
You gingerly step out of Jungkook’s hold, walking a full ten feet away before turning back towards him. Your head is cocked and your freezing fingers are gripping your hips as you place your hands on them. “Can you kill your master?” you whisper yell back at him hesitantly, “Is that allowed?”
Jungkook rolls his eyes before he scoffs, “No, it isn’t. Not that I would want to,” he side eyes you, “yet, anyway.” 
He says it lightly as a joke, obviously, but you let out a dry laugh of, “Ha. Ha. Ha,” to match his heinous sounding cackles as you glare back at him, full of indignation as you hold your ground, extremely nonplussed. 
“Get over here, will you?” he hisses, “Our date isn’t even here; it’s over there.” 
He points to a crane on the left and you squint in the direction, still baffled. “I don’t get it.”
Jungkook sighs with displeasurement before he transports in front of you and grabs you by the waist again. Within seconds you are transported to what appears to be a dinner table attached to a crane and Jungkook has already gotten you seat belted and safely harnessed into your seat. And to your even greater surprise, his comfy blazer is covering your arms, enveloping your body and keeping you warm as Jungkook’s discernible scent of delicate florals and rich sandalwood overwhelm your senses. 
He sits next to you because the table is long and rectangular and this is the only way to be close to each other. You have to twist your body to the left to face him but you don’t find yourself minding when you notice that there is a lovely grin on his kissable mouth and a lock of dark blue hair falling into his face that he doesn’t move away. The waiters as well as the safety instructors of this sky high restaurant suddenly reappear, from wherever it was that they were hiding, to bustle around the two of you, breaking the spell you had been under, hypnotized by Jeon fucking Jungkook. 
They fill up your wine glasses with a 1967 Burgundy and water, placing two baskets between the two of you that hold a variety of French breads. Jungkook gazes into your eyes from beside you, his palm pressed against his cheek. “Anything you want to try?”
You blink, flustered, as you take on the brunt of the heat from those glowing chocolatey orbs. You don’t think you have ever been in such close proximity to Jungkook while under such a thorough perusal. Your eyes immediately slide down and you focus your attention onto the menu that had been placed before you. Almost all of it is in French. 
You happily hum when you notice there is seafood, choosing to order the Moules-frites, mussels on a shallot and white wine sauce with shoestring fried potatoes. You murmur your request to Jungkook and he calls the waiter over to tell him your desire for seafood. Perhaps inspired by you, he orders salmon en papillote with beurre blanc, sauce vierge and sauteed asparagus. It sounds fancy but it’s just salmon wrapped in parchment paper that Jungook cuts open in front of you with a side of tomatoes dressed with vinaigrette, the French white butter sauce and asparagus. 
The two of you dig into your meals vigorously and you almost forget that you’re on a date as you sigh after every bite of the scrumptious meal that brings tears to your eyes over how amazing it tastes. 
Jungkook chuckles softly next to you, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so happy.” There is almost a wistful tone to his remark.
You lick a drop of the white wine sauce off your lip before tapping your mouth with a cream colored cloth napkin. “Well, you’ve only known me for about a day,” you tease. “But I love food.”
“I do too,” admits Jungkook. You knew that. You had spent more time around food and eating today than you did over most weekends that you had off. And it was always so much food. If anything, you would’ve been surprised if he had said he hated eating and that it was just a necessary task he had to partake in to continue to be alive like some of the gym bros you knew. This time the wistfulness of his tone is more evident and you easily catch it in his words. 
“You can’t enjoy food?” you inquire, sharply. You’re aghast. You could never imagine living such an abhorrent half-life. This was primarily one of the reasons that you were anti-Edward during the Twilight craze of the 2010s. You would never give up on the pleasures that came from eating to exchange it for a life of drinking only blood for sustenance.
“I don’t need to eat food to survive,” admits Jungkook forlornly, “I can’t enjoy it at all; it's just mastication for me. Like I’m chewing on sawdust covered in spices. But I still do it. It’s the only way to remind me of my humanity. And it looks so good. I can smell it but it tastes like nothing much and I can’t savor it at all.”
You quirk an eyebrow silently. This was the first hint you had gotten into Jungkook’s person. He used to be human once upon a time. You don’t want to rock the boat so you don’t hedge for more details. 
“That’s horrible,” you cry out instead, visibly livid on his behalf. “Would it help if I ate for the both of us?” 
He laughs again and pushes his salmon towards you, “Only because I know how much you adore seafood. You won’t be able to get the wine or dessert away from me though,” he warns. 
You just grin at him and he returns a lopsided one at you, his eyes crinkle at the corners softening his gaze as his dimples make an appearance for the first time. You gawk at him, mesmerized by his gorgeous features. He’s so handsome. You wonder if he was this handsome before he was a genie or if being a genie amped up his attractiveness so you would fall under his lure like a siren with her prey. Nah, with your luck Jungkook was probably born looking like Adonis. 
You two eat in comfortable company, the conversation ebbing and flowing freely. You tell Jungkook about your job as an admissions counselor and the terrible guilt you feel when you can’t help one of your students accomplish their dreams of graduating from one of the best four year universities in the nation. Jungkook oohs and aahs while also making sounds of dismay at the appropriate moments. He’s a great listener; he’s super involved in the conversation and makes you feel important as though what you’re sharing deserves to get heard. You’re not sure how much of it is an act he’s putting on for your benefit to fulfill your wish and how much of it is him going above and beyond, but you greatly appreciate it. Today might just be the best day of your life. You’ve been treated like a queen the entire time. 
In exchange for sharing your little anecdotes you beg Jungkook to share something with you to keep the repartee going. With a groan he gives into you, and animatedly chats to you about the time he had a vampiress find his lamp.
You gasp loudly, “Vampires aren’t real Jungkook!” you can’t stop laughing. It’s a good thing you weren’t chewing because you would have spit out your fancy dinner all over the pristine white table cloth.
He wags his eyebrows at you with a cocky smirk painting his lips, “Oh? Are you sure? I mean I’m a genie, Y/N. It would make sense for there to be other magical beings besides me. I wasn’t born into existence as a genie, I was created.”
“Yeah,” you murmur softly, is this your moment to ask Jungkook how it had all begun? “Jungkook, I—”
 “Monsieur, mademoiselle,” one of the servers had returned with your desserts in tow, intruding on your conversation, “crème brulée à la lavande.”
He places two leaf shaped cream colored ramekins in front of the pair of you. You hum in astonishment as you take in the delectable looking lavender infused crème brulée with the browned sugar crust and the decorative buds of lavender on top. It smells faintly floral and you just know that when you taste it, your tongue is going to be in heaven, tasting the delicate yet complex layers to the dish.
Jungkook smirks at you cockily before he spoons up a sizable scoop of the crème and pulls it into his mouth, his lips pursing around the utensil until he sucks off all the dessert on the ladeled part. He hums his pleasure as his tongue rolls around in his mouth, sucking in the taste of the rich cream and the sweet sugar that is roped through it. His eyelids turn heavy and you have to suck in a breath when you realize this is probably what Jungkook would look like if he ate you out and was savoring the taste of your juices on his velvety lush tongue. 
You’re flustered but you can’t let him have the upperhand. You pick up the little dessert spoon and tap on the sugar crust, cracking it softly before you carefully scoop some of the confection onto your utensil, making sure to get both the hardened sugar and the smooth cream underneath.
You moan around it as you close your mouth with the first bite. You’re in heaven, you’re not sure you have ever had anything that was quite as rich or decadent as this before in your life. The velvety texture of the crème brulée swamps your tongue while the sugar melts into it from the heat of your warm, lush mouth. Your senses are heightened as you can taste every single ingredient that has gone into the dish and you inhale sharply before letting out another soft moan of satisfaction.
You wrap your lips around the spoon as you twirl your tongue around it to make sure you’ve gotten every last bit of the dessert off of it before you release from your mouth with a light pop. There’s a gossamer thread of spit connecting your lip to the spoon so you quickly dart your tongue out to break it. The male next to you shudders lightly, his breath hitches raggedly as he glares at you with hard eyes that have gone dark from the heat of his debauched desires. 
“Y/N,” he warns, groaning lightly, his tongue nearly poking a hole through his cheek in his irritation.
“Hmm?” you reply with faux innocence, determined to play with fire tonight. You don’t want to get burned tonight, oh no, you want much much more than that. You want to get consumed by the flames that have Jungkook within their hold.
You continue to eat up your crème brulée slowly, savoring each and every carefully scooped spoonful. Your tongue rolls in your mouth after each bite as you try to lick up all of the cream from the crevices before you go in for the next spoon. You’re not playing up your reactions by any means; it’s so delicious and rich, meant to be relished. And Jungkook is, figuratively, eating up all of the noises slipping between your plump sugar covered lips. His jaw is tight, lips thinned into a harsh line as he heatedly glares at you.
“It seems to me like you want something else to draw out those little pathetic sounds from your throat,” Jungkook grates, “until, perhaps, they are full blown moans of ecstasy.”
You still when you feel his long sinuous fingers gripping into the soft flesh of your exposed thigh. His palm is feverishly hot against your skin and Jungkook takes advantage of the fact that you’re wearing a mini dress to push your thighs apart and slip his hand in between. 
“Ju-Jungkook,” you stammer, letting your spoon clank against the ramekin where there’s still more than half of the dessert left. Your hands go to where his is cupping your cunt through the diaphanous black mesh thong you’re wearing from Agent Provocateur, you pull at his arm and attempt to take it off but you’re unable to shake the grip he has on you as his fingers stroke lines against the seam to your cunt through the thin, ineffective barrier of your panties. The pad of his index finger runs its path up and down until your pussy lips feel swollen, the folds sensitive and inflamed, as you slowly wet the mesh material until it’s practically invisible from how drenched it becomes. 
“What are you doing?” he hisses, his tone both gruff and lethal. “Get your hands off of me.” 
Your insides warm as you get aroused from his harshness and you let your hands fall off from where they were still attempting to pull him away. You already had a flush from the wine earlier heating your skin but now the blood crawls up your chest and rushes to your cheeks for a different reason.
“Don’t you have a dessert to eat, Y/N?” Jungkook mocks, pausing his fingers’ wickedly dexterous pursuit.
“I-I,” you stutter, “Y-y-yes, Jungkook.”
Your body was turned 90 degrees so that you could face him but when he raises an eyebrow that means ‘Get on with it,’ you instantly turn back around to properly face the dinner table and pick up your spoon from the ramekin with a shaking hand. You scoop up some of the dessert into your mouth and nervously close your lips around it, hyper aware of everything that is happening around you, on the tether hooks as you wait with bated breath for Jungkook’s next move.
He pinches your clit, invoking a squeal to slip out of your mouth as your walls flutter around nothing, clenching in dismay. “Why so silent, Y/N? Aren’t you enjoying your dessert? I think I’m going to feast on you though.”
“Mmpfh,” you moan behind clenched teeth, hurriedly swallowing down the velvety cream and spooning up another bite to place into your mouth, “It’s so good, Jungkook,” you gasp breathlessly.
“Good,” Jungkook grunts into your ear, he’s halfway out his chair, his body stretching over the small distance between your seats. His chest is digging into your shoulder and he has an arm, the one whose digits aren’t currently focused on stroking you into madness, wrapped around your back so that he can slip it around the front and hold your neck in it’s grip, squeezing it lightly in warning. Your breath catches in your throat and you gulp, able to feel every cold curve of each individual metal ring on his fingers lightly pressing into your skin. 
“You want to keep eating, Y/N?” Jungkook murmurs, hot breath tickling your ear as his lips brush against it before he pulls your delicate lobe between his teeth. 
“N-No!” you protest.
“Oh?” He quips. His voice has gone low and raspy, the tenor of his tone licking flames in the pit of your stomach, causing your nerves to tingle from anticipation, “Got something else in mind for dessert, princess?”
You pause hesitantly. The words are stuck in your throat.
“Go on, Y/N, tell me what my bratty spoiled princess really wants for dessert,” Jungkook growls, removing his long nimble fingers from the wet heat of your cunt when you don’t answer him.
Your hands immediately fly down, pressing down on his to keep it trapped between your warm palms and your waxed, bare mons. “You, Jungkook. You,” you wail, “I want you for dessert.”
“I thought so,” murmurs the genie silkily. He removes his hand from your throat, his thumb rubbing circles into the delicate flesh before his fingers move away to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. He unwinds his arm from around you, choosing to grip your chin, tilting your mouth up before meeting your lips in a fervent messy embrace.
It’s more desperate than sensual, a frantic clashing of lips as your tongues tangle with each other and your teeth almost knock against each other from the brutal force of the kisses. Jungkook drags your plump lower lip into his mouth, his teeth lightly nipping on it while he sucks until it feels raw and battered. His hand is tangled into your hair and he’s gripping on those locks tightly to maneuver your head in the exact position he wants. You ignore the pain erupting from your scalp as your palms freely roam the length of his upper body, slipping under the thin cotton T-shirt he had on to rake your long acrylic nails against his warm, muscled back. Your fingers travel up to his broad shoulders, gripping them under his shirt until you leave little crescent indentations from your nails on his flesh.
Jungkook shifts his lips from yours as he leaves you gulping for air, struggling to catch your breath. “My fucking selfish princess has bitten off more than she can chew on her quest to feast on everything she possibly can,” he murmurs, his hot breath fans over your cheek before he softly nips on the plumpest part of it. When you gasp at the sting, his tongue immediately darts out to soothe the pain as he licks up the side of your face messily. “Baby, you made a deal with the devil for these wishes,” he rumbles.
Your dress barely covers your chest which hectically heaves as Jungkook trails suctioning, bruising kisses down the length of your throat on the path to your breasts. The shimmery wine red cloth is barely hanging on to you as your hardening nipples struggle to keep them in position acting as the only thing holding them in place. The slippery cloth has almost fallen down several times, and you are millimeters away from suddenly exposing your entire upper half to the birds that are flying around as you sit on your sky high dinner date.
Jungkook’s strong agile fingers pull at the fabric as his mouth finds the large exposed expanse of cleavage available to him. He gently presses his lips on your soft warm skin before he parts them to leave hard open mouthed kisses on your breasts. When he’s finally able to get a strong enough purchase on the dress that he can pull it down to your waist, he deftly plucks the nude silicon pads off and flings them into the night sky before wrapping his lips against one of your hardened peaks.
His fingers are strumming at its twin while Jungkook sucks and sucks at your nipple like he thinks that he can get it to leak if he tries hard enough. That thought makes you still. An impregnation kink? You had never thought of it before but the thought of Jungkook fucking you with the sole purpose of breeding you and making you round and luminous as you carry his children, your breasts large and your curves plumper and softer than before has your heart beating loudly and erratically in your chest.
“Hey,” he complains when he notices you've gotten sidetracked in your thoughts. He bites down on your furled bud to draw back your attention, “Where did you go? Someone’s getting greedy. Do you need more, princess? Do you need me to do more so you’ll pay attention to me?”
“I,” you stammer. But Jungkook ignores you, he uses both of his hands to maneuver your skin clinging dress over your hips and then he tucks two fingers into the thin ribboned band of your underwear, pulling it away from your heated skin until the delicate mesh falls apart from his use of force, getting ripped straight off of your cunt. His jaw absentmindedly falls open a little as takes in the sight of your glistening pussy folds. 
“Oh, baby, you’re so pretty,” he murmurs. 
He plunges his middle finger in, going deep within your core as he curls it up, pumping within you so furiously that you can hear loud squelching sounds coming from your gushing pussy.
“Jung-Jungkook,” you whine. You need more. You need to be stuffed. “Jungkook, I can take more!” The last word comes out as a scream when he suddenly thrusts his ring finger and pinky inside you too. All three digits are assailing your insides, your core tightens around them, clenching hard but it doesn’t stop his intensity as he makes a complete mess of your pussy, wetness gushing out and dripping on your seat, trailing down your parted thighs. 
He has the side of his face pressed against your chest, your stiffened tips poking harshly into his right cheek as he glances downwards at the wreckage he’s created from the fruits of his labor. Your head is bent with your chin tucked on top of his crop of dark cyan hair, your long tumbling locks of hair falling forward to hide your expression as Jungkook makes you lose your mind underneath him.
“Your clit is so swollen, sweet girl, do you want me to rub it?” He asks, turning towards your breasts, rubbing his face into them, his nose tickling the valley between them. 
“Yes, Jungkook,” you urge breathlessly, “Please.”
His thumb and forefinger pinches that little sensitive bead, rolling it in between them before rubbing it side to side in a rapid, furious pace. “Or maybe it’s still not enough,” Jungkook wonders, “Do you want my head buried between those thighs as you ride your way to release or do you want my cock pounding you into submission, baby?”
Your mouth is hanging open, you can barely think, let alone put together a string of words that will have Jungkook satisfied with your reply. “Jungkook,” you pant, “I need—”
“Monsieur Jeon?” the waiter inquires after returning.
You still immediately, your head bending even further to conceal your body with your hair though you are already covered by Jungkook’s body on top of yours.
“Yes, Pierre,” Jungkook murmurs, not moving his face away from the comfort of your breasts. You hadn’t even realized that had been the name of your server.
“If you and mademoiselle are done with your dinners we can take you back to the ground.”
“Yes, thank you, Pierre. We would appreciate that.”
“I will go inform the team,” Pierre acquises, “Would you like for me to get more wine as we make our way down?”
“I think we are fine for now,” assures Jungkook. 
When the staff finally leaves you push Jungkook off of you, straightening up your dress, pulling it over your breasts and tugging it down to cover your bottom again. 
Jungkook merely smirks, purring, “You’re changing your tune so soon, princess? I take it you don’t want for things to continue when we’re on the ground then?”
You stiffly cross your arms over your chest, using them as supports under your breasts to hold onto the dress and keep it from slipping down and making you expose yourself to all of the sky high restaurant’s crew since Jungkook had gotten rid of your bra pads.
“Did you have to do that?” you demand.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, princess,” Jungkook fibs.
You roll your eyes, “It’s not enough that every time we do something it’s in public but you’ve started to destroy my underwear too.”
“Oh relax, Y/N,” Jungkook coaxes, “Your rack is spectacular and will be doing a more than great job of holding up your dress. You have nothing to worry about. And even if you did ever expose yourself to anyone you didn’t want to, I would just erase their memories for you.”
“My hero,” you simper sarcastically, tugging on his right ear.
The male narrows his eyes at you, consideringly. His front teeth nip at his bottom lip and you know that you’ve gotten yourself in trouble again as Jungkook thinks up ways to get back at you during the descent of the restaurant. 
When you are finally back touching solid ground, you are able to messily untangle yourself from the harnesses that kept you secured to your seat. You almost fall flat on the ground when you gingerly step off the platform you two had been eating on, towards the cracked pavement of the empty lot. Your legs had turned into jelly during their time up in the air, it’s a combination of vertigo and your legs still being shaky from having you edged to an orgasm that was woefully stolen away from you.
Jungkook immediately catches you in his arms, peering down at you softly before coming to a decision. He lowers himself, bending down to wrap his arms around your back and thighs more securely, before picking you up in a bridal carry. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him after hesitantly locking your arms around his thick neck.
“So,” he hedges, moving his face forward so that he can nudge at your plump cheeks with his nose. “Should the night end here princess?” he asks, “Or do you want the fun to continue when we get back home?”
“Yes, please,” you quietly beg.
Jungkook gently brushes his lips against your forehead before escorting the two of you home in a whirlwind cloud of gold dust before you two suddenly reappear in the hallway in front of the two of your rooms.
“Are we sleeping in different rooms tonight?” Jungkook inquires, just to check that your mind hasn’t changed within the last two minutes.
“Take me to your bed,” you softly urge the genie as you upturn your face, your nose nudging against the thin scar across his left cheek. He swiftly traipses forward, his long legs reaching his door in one effortless stride. 
His room is similar to yours except his bed is bigger, you notice with envy, and his furniture appears to be made of black colored iron unlike the white painted pieces in your room. He sets you down in front of him as he goes to close the door.
“Jungkook, babe,” you call out to his back. He raises an eyebrow as he turns to face you again. “Can you help me with my zipper? It’s a little hard for me to get it down.”
The slim invisible zipper to your deep burgundy shimmery dress is located right on the topmost part of your ass since it’s a mostly backless piece. Jungkook crowds you from behind, his massive frame enveloping yours as his long deft fingers go to zip you down. You shudder as his knuckles brush against the warm sensitive skin of your back, each touch sending a lighting bolt of attraction shooting up your spine while causing arousal to pool between your thighs. When the zipper is halfway down, resting on the swell of your ass, you step out of his hold. 
You turn around to face him as you pull down on the thin straps of the dress, letting them hang around your elbows as your bust works overtime to keep the dress up. With a twisted smirk painting your plush lips, you shimmy out of the glittery wine colored fabric, letting it pool around your Saint Laurent encased feet before stepping out of the circle of clothing lying on the ground. You lithely stalk towards Jungkook, your hair a sexy mess around your shoulders, curling into your breasts and brushing against your nipples as you make your way to the genie, completely nude since he had gotten rid of all of your underwear a while back.
Jungkook’s eyes softly shutter close as you finally reach him, his eyelids fluttering as he raggedly takes in a deep breath. You look utterly divine wearing only gold jewelry and your long strappy black heels that make your sun kissed limbs look miles long. You wrap your arms around his thick neck, pressing your heaving breasts against his hard pectoral muscles, “Jungkook?”
His hands grip onto your hips pulling your smooth crotch against his clothed one as he backs the two of you into the door. His hard pulsating cock is pressed against your slit and it makes you whimper when you shift and the zipper to his pants hits your clit. He secures his arms across your ass, pushing you up into his hold, making your toes tip because even in your heels you’re unable to be face to face with him. The man is sexily and inconveniently tall. Balancing all of your weight on your toes and Jungkook’s arms, you stretch so that your face is aligned with his and you can comfortably kiss him. Your teeth grab for his plump lower lip and pull it between yours so you can suck on that lush flesh, agitating it so it becomes red, wet, and swollen.
A subtle growl starts low in Jungkook’s chest as he pushes your body even further up and as you lose your footing you tangle a leg around Jungkook’s hips. His other hand moves up to roughly capture your jaw in its hold, locking you in position as he aggressively meets your lips back. His kisses are greedy and all-consuming; Jungkook kisses you like he’s a starving man and you are his first meal in a long time. His hand, the one that's gently hanging by your ass, starts to knead the supple flesh and your breath catches in your throat as you let out a choked gasp. His fingers are right by your puckered sensitive hole and you’re reminded of the fantasy you had had the night before he came into your life. Of a man touching and stroking you there in that forbidden orifice and working you up. 
Meanwhile, his mouth is busy; his tongue is prodding its way past your lips, slipping in and licking a torrid path in the lush cavern of your mouth. It’s agile and long, and the strong wet muscle twirls with your own, easily taking control of your mouth. The sounds slipping out of both of your lips as you continuously meet each other for more and more impassioned kisses are obscene; they’re loud wet sounds of fervent hunger that grow more frantic as the kisses persist.
Your core is clenching around nothing and it has you rutting against Jungkook’s crotch like a bitch in heat, leaving a dark damp patch on the black fabric of his dressy joggers. Jungkook stops stroking and squeezing your ass to pull your other leg around his hips until your stiletto heels are digging into his butt and you are wrapped entirely around his body like a koala. He backs away from the door, his lips breaking apart from yours so he can look where he is walking and carrying you. You are still kissing him though; your lips have trailed down to kiss and bite along his jaw and neck, you even let yourself suck on his Adam’s apple which has him gulping and your lips stretching into a smirk against the flushed smooth flesh  of his throat, as you can feel every movement underneath the delicate skin.
He carefully drops you onto the bed, taking precaution not to fall over with you and crush you underneath his weight. You stare up at him, wide-eyed as your lips part with hunger and surprise at the change in position. His large doe eyes have gone black with lust, becoming heavy lidded as they travel up the entire length of your body with lazy glances. 
He steps in between your parted legs, his hands curling around your soft meaty thighs, dimpling into them with the pressure from his fingertips. “Let me eat you out?” he asks huskily, his tenor sounding ragged and raspy.
“Please,” you beg with wide eyes shining with lust. Your legs part even more to let Jungkook see just how wet your folds are.
He sinks to his knees before you, holding down on your thighs as he lowers himself to the ground. He places a flurry of light open mouth kisses against your soft thighs as he nudges them apart and pulls you forward so that your ass hangs off the bed and he can throw your legs over his shoulders. Your Saint Laurent encased limbs spasm against his back and the pointed heels dig into his white T-shirt making him grunt as he falls forward a little. 
You let out a pained whine when you notice Jungkook manages to catch himself right before he faceplants onto your cunt. He slowly lowers his face, nose tenderly nudging at your slit before he purses his lips and kisses at your folds. He gently mouths at the petals of oversensitive and swollen flesh, softly lapping at the juices that cling to them. You let out a shrill, frenzied moan when he flattens his tongue against your core, licking long and hot fat stripes down the opening. Your fingers snake into his damp indigo colored locks, drenched from his sweat, scratching your acrylic nails against his scalp as you attempt to push him down further into your crotch. 
He slides his hands up your warm thighs making your muscles contract at the sensation before he grabs onto your hips, guiding their motion with his grip. He lets you rock against his mouth frantically, opening his jaw wide as your juices that he’s unable to capture drip down his chin. You wail, letting out a desperate sob as he buries his face deeper into your cunt licking and slurping like a man maddened from lust. His nose juts against your swollen inflamed clit as his teeth clamp down lightly on your folds and pull at them gently, making you convulse and twitch as you mindlessly shove your pussy against him. 
“Is this good, sweet girl,” he murmurs huskily, “Is this what you wanted?”
He brushes his plush lips over your clit, teasing you, tempting you until he has your laser focus drawn to what he is doing. It’s then that he starts working on that hyper responsive bundle of nerves, teasing that little bead with flicks of his tongue, hard focused snaps of his wet muscle against the overworked bud. He’s giving you everything; his mouth wrapping around your clit, his lips gently pressing against it in faux respite, his teeth nipping it to draw out cries, and his tongue manipulating it to make you turn feral. He’s got you in the palm of his hand and it makes him realize that he’s been neglecting you in perhaps the most important way.
“Is,” his tongue jabs into your core, “This,” his teeth clamp down on your clit, inducing tears to spring from your eyes, “Good,” he slurps at your arousal noisily, repeating the question.
You frantically nod in his direction before you realize he can't see your expression with his face shoved into your pussy. “Ye-Yes,” you choke out, clearing your throat that's gone rough from the constant stream of screaming that Jungkook’s been able to pull from your lips. You think it subsides him but then he tilts his head in a calculating way that’s got you freezing against him.
He pulls away to draw your attention back to his face, you glance at him with glazed over eyes that are confused yet frustrated. Staring right at you with sleepy, hooded lids, he holds your gaze as he runs his index finger up and down your fluttering core, gathering up your juices on top of his finger, using the transparent ropes of arousal to coat his finger, lubricating it before he plunges it into you. 
“Jungkook,” your legs spasm over his shoulders as you accidentally hit his back with one of your high heels. “I’m gonna c— I’m gonna COME! I can’t— I can’t take much more of THIS!” Your hips raise up from the bed as you squirm, fucking his finger into you since he hasn’t started moving it yet. 
He stares at you consideringly, “Fuck my fingers Y/N,” he raspily commands, “Fuck yourself to completion.”
You still, momentarily unnerved but Jungkook uses his thumb to flick the nail of his middle finger against your clit, which not only pulls out an embarrassing keen from your mouth but also spurs you into action, rocking your hips in fluid motions as your core takes in the entire length of his index finger.
You whine in frustration, complaining, “Jungkook, this isn’t enough!”
“I’d say make it enough,” the male responds, “If I hadn’t been tempting you all night long. Consider yourself lucky, princess.” And with that Jungkook shoves three more fingers in you, pumping them into you impressively faster and harder than he had ever teased you before, almost inserting half his hand, a centimeter into his palm as well, into the cunt he stretched out during dinner. It’s a good thing he thought to do that since you would be struggling when he finally took you. 
Your vision turns white as your eyes almost roll backwards and your teeth chatter, knocking into each other due to the violent intensity at which Jungkook was impaling your pussy with his fingers. Your thighs quake uncontrollably as you’re finally pushed to the brink. With your voice crescendoing into a needlessly long and cacophonously loud scream, you reach an earth shattering climax, slumping down onto the bed, your legs twitching absentmindedly.  
The male gets off of his knees, the bottom half of his face is still glistening with the remnants of your arousal. He stretches, his broad shoulders getting rolled back, before he one-handedly pulls off his fitted white tee in a decidedly sexy manner. Your eyes immediately shift to his bare upper half when you hear the clink of metal and you find yourself staring at, for the first time, his golden waist chain. The gossamer strands of metal are wrapped around his thin, sun bronzed waist, practically blinding you with the shine from their yellow color that glitters as it moves with every flow and shift of Jungkook’s body. 
Jungkook doesn’t let the chain hold your attention for too long, immediately distracting you as he unbuttons and undoes the fly on his dark cargo joggers. He lets the fabric hang loose around his hips as he palms his massive shaft though the black cotton of his Balenciaga boxer briefs. He rubs the bulbous tip of his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear as he toes off his imposing spiky heeled Chelsea boots. Once the shoes are off, he gently tugs on his pants, letting them pool around his ankles and stepping out of them.
He walks towards you almost nude except for the briefs that cling to his muscley thick thighs and show how pronounced his dick is as it struggles to pop out from behind the band. There is a cocky smirk painting his lovely coral colored Cupid’s bow and his nicely shaped eyebrows quirk in challenge as he steps in your direction. You groan in impatience and need as he stands in front of you, legs spread hips’ length apart. A light chuckle sounds from behind the plush lip he’s biting hard as he pushes down on the black elastic band of the underwear and his massive cock, which you have only felt against you but never seen before this moment, bounces out from the confines. He’s larger than you dreamed he could be, and you know better than to assume that Jungkook, fiercely competitive and authentic as he is, would increase the size with magic. 
Your hips are already subconsciously gyrating against the air as you take him in with a slackened jaw and numbly hanging open mouth. It’s girthy and twitching lightly, slightly bouncing as it stands proud free from the confines of pants and underwear. The mushroom tip is swollen and flushed a dark berry red. The thick protruding vein you wanna nibble on, runs along the underside of the cock and is more pronounced, becoming easier for you to see, when he holds up the shaft to rub at its bulbous head to work precum out of it, make the white viscous liquid bead from the tip. 
His cock is fucking pretty, and you want to suck on it, but a quick glance at the male reveals that he’s too impatient to let you do that now and just wants you to take him in. You can’t blame him after he’s gotten you off about half a dozen times over the course of the day without having blown off some steam himself. 
The tattoos along his arm seem to pop against his sun kissed skin as he strokes his cock which swells at the stimulation. “Ready princess?” he asks quietly.
“Please.” You beg a repetition of the one word that always finds its way easily to your lips when Jungkook is working you up. 
He guides his cock to your gushing slit, brushing the mushroom head against your folds, rubbing it into them causing his precum and your arousal to combine and mix. He slaps his head against your clit a few times before he deems you sufficiently drenched and ready to take him in. He slowly presses the round tip into your folds, hunting for your opening, his veiny hand guiding his shaft’s path. Slowly it breaches you, causing your mouth to fall open as a sex crazed look takes over your features. You moan a long, wanton sound at the intrusion, even though Jungkook took his time preparing you, it’s been more than a year since you’ve fucked anyone. With one hand still directing his cock, he uses the other to grab your hip to gently lift it up so he can palm the small of your back and push you up towards him.
You meet him eagerly, squirming as you help him get you up, throwing your arms over his shoulders and holding onto his neck with a deathgrip. He slowly moves the hand from your back to run along your hip and then your thigh so that he can wrap your curvy leg around his hip. Pulling your leg up had another advantage as well, now he can more easily enter you and he slams into you, impaling you with his cock until he is fully sheathed and your waxed bare mons meet the nicely groomed dark patch of hair on his pubic bone, your pelvises flush against each other. 
You can feel the ridges of his shaft sliding along your walls as they clench around him, letting you feel every bump and vein. “A-Ah,” you stutter as a mewl slips from your panting lips. “Jung—JUNGKOOK,” you cry out as his cock twitches within you and the tip just barely hits that elusive g-spot.
“Fuck,” he grunts before a guttural moan breaks out of him. 
“God, princess. This is what you wanted all along didn’t you. The entire day you’ve been teasing me. Tempting me with those fucking sly smiles and suggestive looks. You didn’t want a fucking considerate boyfriend you wanted a rude libertine to blow your back out. Isn’t that right—princess,” he hisses through his clenched teeth.
You’re unable to answer him as he quickens the pace, slipping in and out of you furiously, taking his cock almost entirely out with only his fat tip in you before thrusting manically again, pounding into your pelvis, battering up your insides and making you turn into a boneless pile of goo.
You’re practically drooling at this point while your eyes are shiny from the tears that come from his frantic impaling as he jackhammers into you. Your mouth is hanging open and he smacks the ass cheeks he’s been gripping onto this entire time when you don’t give him a reply.
“This.” Smack. “Is.” Smack. “What.” Smack. “You.” Smack. “Wanted.” Smack. “Isn’t it, princess?” he growls, ending off with one last smack.
“Yes, Jungkook!” you sob, “This is what I wanted!” You’re inconsolable as he continues with the frenzied onslaught of sex. 
He hauls you up even further, he had one arm hugging your lower back as the other focused on keeping your thigh firmly locked around his waist and then you’re bouncing on his cock in midair, the metal of his waist chain poking into the soft skin of your tummy every time the two of you met into the middle. It’s a good thing he’s helping you stay attached to him because with the way he is bending you over, making your back arch as he attacks your breasts and neck with impassioned bites and kisses, you would have fallen right off of him without the extra support.
He makes his way up to your mouth, peppering your skin with sucking kisses before finally reaching it and wildly attacking your lips with his in a messy frenzy of teeth and tongue. After what seems like long interminable moments, he finally releases your lips with a wet pop. There’s still a string of saliva connecting the two of you that breaks when he parts open his mouth and whispers sweetly against yours, “That’s all you had to say, princess.”
He picks up the pace as he buries his face into your neck, dead set on leaving a bruising hickey that will remain for several days. You press your lips against his crown, his blue hair tickling your nostrils as you attempt to silence your cries against his scalp. His hold on you tightens like he never wants to let you go, keeping your sweaty body clinging to his, his biceps flexing as he grips onto you and jackhammers uncontrollably, losing all signs of rhyme or rhythm, just knowing that he wants to be buried in your heat forever.
“Say you want this,” he demands. “Say you want ME!” The last word is punctuated by a brutal thrust that hits your g-spot perfectly and has you crying into his hair. 
“I want you,” you sob, “God, I need you Jungkook.” Your breasts are heaving against his hard pecs, your nipples dragging along the smooth solid planes of his chest as you struggle to get your words out.
If you could have seen Jungkook’s eyes at that moment, you would have seen how they turned reddish black, the color of molten lava as a look of pure possessiveness took over his features. But since you can’t see his face, you’re unaware of how your genie is falling for you just as easily as you are falling for him. 
The loud sounds of his balls hitting your skin resound through the bedroom and Jungkook never lets down on the pace. He fucks you into submission as you hang off of him, jellylike with no control over your spasming limbs. Jungkook takes your well timed bout of flexibility to maneuver your legs off of his thighs to hang off his elbows as he wraps his arms around your knees and has them circle behind you. This new height and shift in position has his hip rolls drag his cock through your folds in a more enticing manner, working up your engorged clit with every pounding. You almost forget that he’s no longer hitting your g-spot as you shriek loudly, your poor clit sobbing at the new brutal onslaught of stimulation. 
“Jungkook,” you keen, “God, Jungkook. I don’t know how much further I can go.”
“I’m sure you’ll keep up,” he hums meanly, as he pistons his hips again and again. You’re writhing against him, barely able to roll your hips to meet his every thrust anymore. You feel like you just ran a marathon and you’re approaching the last yard. The end is near and you can sense it with how overheated your body becomes and how you wince and whimper at every move Jungkook makes, able to feel every drag of his magnificent cock through your core down to what feels like the cellular level. Your walls keep clenching onto him tighter and tighter as well, reluctant to release him from their hold and he finds himself putting in even more effort into every snap of his hips.
“You’re almost there aren’t you, sweet girl,” he mumbles against your throat, biting harshly along the delicate skin under your jaw and pulling at it with his front teeth. You can only let out a wordless amalgamation of sounds erupt from your throat as you moan. 
“Let me take you there, princess,” he mutters, “I’ll be your guide, darling.” He bucks into you one last time and he’s almost done it. He’s sent you there to that precipice. You’re hanging on the high but you need to come down. All it takes is one pinch from his clever fingers to your bruised clit as he bites down on your shoulder and you’re there, screaming as you hit your release, gushing around him like a broken sprinkler while Jungkook soothes the abused flesh with soft kitten licks from his tongue, his cool saliva covering the tender area like a balm. 
As you hang of his body, your head sagging against his chest, arms no longer bothering to hold onto his neck, the male lets a faint smile grace his lips, holding you up with his impressive strength, gently rocking his cock into your drenched folds a couple more passes over before he explodes inside of you, painting your walls with his hot viscous ropes of white cum. 
You’re practically asleep in his arms when he’s struggling to pull his shaft out of your fluttering folds that still want to keep it sheathed in their slick embrace, warming his cock with their heat, but he persists, gently dragging it out. The amount of cum that flows out from between your thighs after that is almost obscene. 
Jungkook looks back at his bed before glancing at the mess the two of you have created and decides that the best thing to do right now would be to magically make the liquid disappear before also cleaning you two up like you two had come straight out of a shower. Once your skin is glowing and clean, he gently lays your body down on the right side of his bed, carefully making sure that your head is correctly positioned on the fluffy pillow before covering up your nudity with the silk comforter. 
He walks over to the other side and slips easily into bed, facing the ceiling as he reclines next to you, pondering something. He seems to finally come to a decision and the lights flicker off, swamping the room in darkness, as he turns over to face you and drags your body into his so that your ass is pressed against his front. Throwing an arm and a leg over your form that is loose-limbed in slumber, the male comfortably spoons you before he plunges into sleep as well. 
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This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - Non Commercial - No Derivatives 4.0 International License
©OPALJM 2021
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inkedtae · 20 days ago
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crema ⇾ jjk. [M]
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⌁ pairing; brother's best friend!jungkook x curvy!reader (f.)
⌁ genre/rating; f2l, pwp, coffee shop au, forbidden romance au, smut, tad bit of fluff, 18+ 
⌁ summary; after sending your brother’s best friend a compromising video, the last thing you expected him to do is enthusiastically watch it.
⌁ word count; 5k
⌁ warnings; dom!jungkook, sub!reader, lowkey brat!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, filmed sex, public sex, use of sex toys (vibrator), exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, creampie, praise kink, size kink, masturbation (m.and f.), degradation, humiliation, face licking, cockwarming, choking, fingering, begging, teasing, hair pulling, spanking, nipple/breast play, cum play
✧ special thanks to the cutie, the talented amelia ( @knjsnoona ) for making this phenomenal banner for me~💕 and a million thanks to eva ( @nottodayjjk​ ) for betaing this and encouraging me always 🥺💞 and to sammy ( @chateautae​ ) for titling this fall filth fest for me, reading it over, and feeding into my jungcock horn train dhjfk 😚💓
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❂ Fall for Romance
⁂ Hosted by: Professor Dia ( @yoonia ) through @bangtansorciere
⤐  au type: autumn leaves - brother’s best friend au
⤐  themes: coffee shop, forbidden romance
⤐  kinks: spanking, hair pulling, choking, nipple play, dildo/vibrator, fingering, masturbation, public sex, voyeurism, cockwarming, size kink, cum play, multiple orgasms
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Phone glitching from rain exposure, you spam Jungkook’s messages once more. Since accidently sending him a video of yourself in an all too compromising position, he hasn’t replied. It’s particularly frustrating since you know he’s read all messages, including the video bubble of your nightly solo endeavors, but refuses to acknowledge any of them. 
You curse under your breath at your stupidity for the tenth time. Curiosity had gotten the best of you and you simply wanted to know what your pussy looked like when gushing, when so blissfully stimulated by wave after wave of vibrations. Since you couldn’t find a mirror, you settled for your phone camera. And since you couldn’t focus on what you looked like from all that erotic stimulation, you pressed record to view it back later. Who knew your sticky fingers would betray you? 
Puddles drench your shoes, sogging your socks as you run towards your brother’s little coffee shop across the street. You peer in through the rain-streaked windows. Namjoon left Jungkook in charge, a decision you encouraged him to reconsider, but he seemed adamant that his best friend is responsible enough to keep things running smoothly for a day or two. 
He’s not completely wrong, but you know Jungkook has a tendency to be impulsive. He might change the menu on a whim or redecorate to fit his aesthetics instead of Namjoon’s. 
The now closed shop looks clean, though. Chairs rest on top of tables and the floors gleam under the golden fairy lights. It somewhat surprises you, but you’re too consumed with worry to dwell too much on that fact.
Noticing it’s emptiness, you assume he’s left when lightning strikes. It lights the shop and flashes the image of Jungkook behind the counter, one hand frantically moving by his waist with the other holding up his phone. In the darkness, the phone screen is bright enough for you to know exactly what he’s looking at. Panic and humiliation flood your features, heart dropping to the pit of your gut. The familiar silicon tail of your white vibrator sticks out between your spread legs, which now shake from your impending orgasm. 
Jungkook bites his lip. His head rolls back just to right itself again and he continues to stare at your stimulated form. When you grab the underside of your thighs, lifting your legs higher and displaying a clearer image of your pussy, he loudly groans to himself. It’s not long before streaks of white shoot out from under the counter, smearing the walls above the coffee machines.
Did he just… 
He throws his head back as another rope of cum shoots out. His shoulders shake, buff chest heaves and Adam’s apple bobs with exhaustion. His hand moves slowly now, but intentional. 
You moan, fogging up the glass. 
Wide doe eyes snap to the window. The panic within them softens when they meet yours. A smirk tugs on the corner of his wet lips. Pierced brow quirked, he turns the ending video towards you. The reel of you cumming, legs a trembling mess and body riling in your bed, plays to completion. The video alone is not as arousing to you, but held in the hand of a still masturbating Jungkook makes you shiver. 
You press your legs together to relieve some building tension and find your vibrator stretching against your clenching walls. Having been absorbed in your fear, you forgot to pull it out before getting dressed. You’re not even sure you’re wearing any panties, having pulled on the biggest sweater you can find and rushed over. 
Jungkook chuckles at your flushed features. As he tosses his phone on the counter, he nods towards the door. 
He can’t be serious. Does he really think the two of you can have a normal conversation after the shit he just pulled? You told him, countless times over text, that the video was an accident. You sent it by mistake and under no circumstances should it be discussed any further. If Namjoon finds out you’ve hit on his best friend, you’d never hear the end of it. And if he finds out how Jungkook reacted to it, you’re sure that would be the end of their friendship. For seven years, you’ve kept every overly friendly thought about Jungkook locked away in the darkest corner of your mind, never to be referred to again. It can’t all be in vain now. 
The squeak of your docs echoes in the quiet shop. The zip of Jungkook’s jeans soon follows. He glances over his shoulder, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face, and chuckles, “Came for a show in return?” 
His sticky hand presses against the clean counter. The streaks of his cum slowly drip down the wall behind him. It’s suddenly hard to keep him hidden in that mental corner. You shift your weight, lingering by the door. 
“Please delete it,” you quietly request, voice uneven against the muffled rainfall. 
Ego wavering, Jungkook grabs his phone and swipes his thumb around before showing you his screen. “You never said not to watch,” he explains with a lick of his lips. “There’s just a bunch of messages that say not to mention it.”
You understand the confusion, the reason behind his actions now. He thinks this is an invitation for a relationship, or at the very least, a night of obligation-less fun. Either one needs to be kept from Namjoon, all of which you inexplicably imply in your cryptic messages. 
“I also said it was a mistake.”
“So why didn’t you tell me to delete it sooner?”
You bite your lip. You tell yourself you don’t reply because you’re not strong enough to and it has nothing to do with the fact that you knew he’d listen. It truly was an accident, but did you want him to watch it? Did you rush over here hoping to make sure he did or didn’t?
Given your silence, Jungkook seems to draw his own conclusions. You can already tell you don’t like them, that resurfacing smirk enough of an indication. 
“Well,” he sighs, standing straighter and wiping down the counter. “It’s gone now. So you can skip back home, sweetheart.”
Jaw tight, you glare. “I told you to stop calling me that.”
That smirk widens into a knowing smile. “But you get so cute when I say it,” he chuckles.
“I get angry,” you correct. 
“And it’s so cute! You do this little pout and try to glare at me and I seriously can’t handle it when you clench your fists- Oh! You were just doing it!”
You shove your hands in your hoodie pocket, face hot all over despite the wet cold the rain leaves you in. Is that why he’s always picking on you, always calling you by that stupid nickname? He likes seeing you so riled up. 
Could he be keeping you locked in the corner of his mind too?
“Excuse me for trying not to choke you.”
A condescending, uproarious laugh leaves him. He throws back his head, eyes gleaming with arrogant amusement when he looks back at you. “You don’t even have the guts to touch me, sweetheart,” he challenges. 
Maybe you aren’t kept anywhere within him, not before tonight anyways. This could all just be an off-night, a one timer, a tiny moment of weakness where both of you can’t seem to shake the idea of the other naked. 
Naked. Jungkook… naked. Buff chest out, tattoos on full display and his cock standing tall. He came a lot. You wonder just how fucking big he is. You once saw the outline of it at the pool last summer. His swim trunks seemed to have trouble keeping him in place, straining against his huge length. The implied sight of him made you so wet that day, you had to excuse yourself twice to get off in one of the washroom stalls. How the hell did he manage to tuck himself back in now?
You can’t help the bite behind your words as you reply, “I don’t think you’re in a position to decide what I am or am not capable of.”
He glances at his phone. You already know what he’s thinking about. The small silver balls of his brow piercing twinkle as he raises it. “I can always put us in one.” 
Embarrassment festers in your chest at the fact that you’re more surprised by his words than the fact that you’re willing to take him up on his offer. You’re not sure what his intentions these last few years of knowing each other have been, but you’re certain now that he’s interested. Whether for the night or not, you want him. You need him. 
With the way you witnessed him fuck himself, you just know he’s going to be deliberate with the way he touches you. He’d be rough in his grips. In his kisses, he’d be soft. Unless he’s teasing, of course. You just know he’d be brutal with his mouth when he’s playing around. 
Your sweater is tugged up and over your head before you can think through your actions. You toss it aside, forgotten somewhere on the floor with your sanity and inhibitions. Naked, save for your docs and knee-highs, you make your way towards him. 
His hungry eyes have trouble keeping still. They shift all over your body, lingering around your bouncing breasts. He swallows thickly once you’re finally within reach. Your body trembles when his warm hands settle upon your cold skin, gripping onto your hips. You hadn’t noticed the cold until his touch. Your nipples almost sting as they harden, back arches upon feeling the droplets from your wet hair stream down. 
Jungkook forces his eyes off your body long enough to search your eyes. He pulls you closer, raising his brow when you comply. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s hesitating, second-guessing this entire situation. 
Have you come on too strong? You weren’t sure that was a possibility with how this moment came about. He did just provoke you too, right? You didn’t just make that up. 
Thumb gently rubbing against your skin, he dips his head low to meet your eye line and asks tentatively, “You sure about this?” 
Your hands fist his shirt. He puffs his chest out, biting his lip. You can feel his nipple right under your thumb and gently flick it. He presses his fingers into your hips, issuing a silent yet rough warning. 
When you breathe a moan, he rests his forehead against yours. “There’s no turning back if we do this, sweetheart,” he whispers. “We can leave now and pretend nothing happened.”
“Is that what you want?” Your voice betrays your intentions to remain composed, sounding small and weak. You just couldn’t help asking with the way he’s been stalling. 
He shakes his head. 
A smile you can’t fight settles on your lips. Your body acts on it’s own, pressing right into him. Those tightly gripped hips push against his. A hard bulge meets your pussy, leaving a vicious enough impression to make you gush around that vibrator. 
Your craving for him intensifies and you decide that you’ve lost all control over your body. As long as you're in his embrace, you’re going to indulge in every filthy urge that consumes you. So, when your hand flies up to wrap around his strong neck, you don’t fight it, don’t even question it. You simply hold his gaze and whisper, “What was that thing you said about my guts?”
Eyes drowning in malicious arousal, Jungkook swallows thickly. Voice dropping to dangerous levels of desire, he hisses,“They need rearranging.”
His face is between your breasts in seconds. He takes over so seamlessly, it’s as if you never held his neck in your hands, like you never really held any power in the conversation. Arms wrapped around your middle, Jungkook squeezes your body as close as he can against his own, sucking and licking at the valley of your breast before finally committing to one. His warm tongue swirls around your left nipple once, twice, and by the third time he’s peering up at you teasingly. 
Fingers lost in his hair, you tug at the ends in silent reply. One of his eyes twitch beneath that brow stud at the sensation before he sinks his teeth around the taut nub, nib, nib, nibbling viciously like a starved man. 
No clenches of your jaw or bites of your lip can suppress your moans, no matter how hard you try. You don’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing he can control you so easily, but perhaps you’re already past the point of self-redemption. He knows what you left behind when you took that sweater off. Perhaps he knew it when you hit send. A part of you can’t even begin to care about how much you’re risking. You’ve sunk into him now and you don’t think you can convince yourself to turn back, even if you tried. 
You arch your back, pushing your chest further in his face. He chuckles around your nipple when your head rolls back with a breathless moan. As one of his hands slides up to cup your other breast, you realize that he’s not obsessed with your body as he is with your voice. He tugs and twists your nipples with both his mouth and fingers to hear you whine and moan, specifically for him. 
“Say my name,” he orders with your nipple between his teeth. The tip of his tongue flicks at your nipple so deliciously, if you focused hard enough, you could probably cum to it. The vibrator pushing against your tightening walls still isn’t doing you any favours. 
Voice breathy, breaking already, you meekly moan, “J-Jungkook.”
A deep groan leaves him and unsettles your stomach with dreadful desire. Gushing, you roll your hips into his again. 
Panic momentarily flashes in his eyes. Bulge throbbing against you, he shifts his weight. You’re about to wonder if he’s changed his mind when he engulfs what he can of your breast in his mouth. Sucking, tongue twisting and eyes fluttering shut, Jungkook practically makes out with your tit. His kiss is frantic yet calculative, head shaking and tilting to get every inch of you. 
Gasping, breathless in your wordless confessions, you gently massage his scalp. The gesture issues the attention of a single eye peeking up at you. The lick of your lips provokes him to flatten his tongue and drag it up along the curve of your breast, neck, chin until it finally meets your lips. 
Jungkook brushes the tip of his nose against yours, hovering a kiss you think he might never offer. Why does he keep hesitating? If he’s second-guessing this so much, why is he so determined to keep you locked in his arms, right against that huge dick of his?  
You’re about to question him when he catches your lips with his. He starts soft, uncertain and tentative. When you kiss back, however, he leaks that closeted passion with a bite of your lip. His tongue soon plays with yours and you realize all this time you weren’t simply craving a fill of him because of a hidden crush, but because you’ve always been curious as to what the fuck his lips feel like. All those times you couldn’t stomach watching him kiss his exes was not because you’ve been feeling sick, but because those girls were not you. Those lips were not yours to praise and worship with your own. 
That shirt needs to be torn. These jeans need to be tossed. You don’t care which one of you does it as long as it gets done. You want to feel his chest on yours as he grinds against you. Would he keep his lips attached to yours, or let them explore the most sensitive parts of your neck? Would his hands hold you in place, or roam and grope what they can? 
Sloppily unbuttoning his shirt, you’re tired of guessing. You want to feel it for yourself. If this night is all you’re going to have of him, then you better ease every one of these filthy thoughts you’ve been ignoring for years. 
Jungkook picks up on your intentions quickly. He helps you reveal his chest, lips never leaving yours. His shirt comes right off, apron next and as he works on getting his jeans down his legs too, you pull away and take a moment to gaze upon his torso. 
He’s just as beefy as you remember, tattoos extending from his arm to his left pec, decorating it so beautifully. You can’t resist the urge to pinch his nipples, rolling them between your fingers. He smirks as he watches you indulge, straightening his posture so you get the best image of him possible. 
Carefully peering up at him through your lashes, you place a chaste kiss upon his tattoos. He bites his lip and runs a rough hand through your hair. Fingers latching to your roots, he tugs you away before you can do anything more. Your neck cranes back, at the mercy of his touch, as he towers over you. 
“Teasing won’t make this any easier for you, sweetheart,” he warns in a whisper. You shiver against him, much to his amusement. After a wet peck of your lips, he hovers his mouth over yours and licks at it. “That’s just what you love doing, isn’t it,” he questions between little licks of your lips. When you furrow your brows in confusion, he clarifies, “Just like you did in the tiny bikini last summer. Walking around with your ass out like the precious fucking whore you are.”
He… he was watching you? You were staring at him all day, why the hell didn’t you notice that? Is that why he was so fucking hard? Is that why his girlfriend at the time left so suddenly in such a huff? 
Jungkook presses you back against the counter. You think he might bend you over it, but he’s too obsessed with your face not to shower it with attention. Forehead resting against yours, he bites on your lip and gently groans. “You’re so fucking hot,” he thinks aloud in a broken whisper. 
“You should’ve just fucked me then.”
His hands come down to grip the fat of your ass. He smirks as he kneads each cheek, ripples of his warm breath fanning over you as he chuckles. “I was so fucking tempted to bend you over the fucking diving board in front of everyone. I wanted to smack,” he growls as he spanks you, “this fucking ass for bouncing around my face like that.” 
A loud squeal echoes in the empty cafe. Jungkook spanks you some more just to hear you cry out for him again and again. He then jiggles each cheek in his hand because he can, because he’s obsessed with the way it ever so slightly claps for him. 
He laughs at the sound, smugly raising that pierced brow. “Already applauding me, sweetheart?”
He’s so infuriating, you can’t help gushing for him. You’re sure there’s a sticky, stringy mess between your legs by now. Nails digging into his shoulders, you huff an annoyed sigh and whine, “Just fuck me already, Guk.”
“Need my cock, baby?”
“Fuck, yes. Please fucking ruin me,” you beg, scratching at his muscular biceps. Your voice is pathetically weak, on the brink of dryly sobbing and he’s barely even touched you yet. 
Jungkook props your leg up and over his shoulder, forcing you to relocate one of your hands to grip the counter’s edge behind you. “Whatever you want, sweet-” He pauses when he spots the silicon tail of your vibrator shoved in your pussy. 
“Oh—you fucking slut,” he smirks through a vicious hiss. 
“I left it by accident,” you meekly try to explain. 
A growl of a laugh vibrates right off his chest and into yours, resonating so deep within your bones that they begin to tremble with desire. “Just like the video? You really expect me to believe you didn’t plan this shit?”
“I didn’t!”
“You’re a filthy,” he pulls out the toy, “little,” he tosses it aside, “whore.”
Rounding your eyes, you exaggerate a pout and sweetly ask, “Does that mean you’re going to fuck me like one, Gukkie?”
Two fingers push deliciously slow into you, scissoring against your tight walls. You reach your other hand back to hold onto the counter and keep you stable in his arms. Head rolling back, you let out a whiney moan. Jungkook takes the opportunity to pepper your newly exposed skin with wet kisses. His fingers curl to repeatedly press down on that sensitive spot of yours you can never really reach because your hands are not as big as his. 
Perhaps the most compelling part is how his huge cock pushes between your asscheeks. You can feel the tip around your tightest hole. So big and meaty you know that it will probably never be able to properly fit in your pussy, let alone your asshole. 
“Pussy already a mess,” he mutters more to himself between tender, sloppy kisses. “Were you thinking about me when you were playing with yourself, sweetheart?” he breathes against your jawline before grazing his teeth against it. 
Of course you were. His name is always on the tip of your tongue when your legs are spread. Is that information he really needs to know, though? You’ve already exposed so much of yourself, would confessing this really be such a travesty? 
“Do you think of me?” you find yourself asking instead. 
“I say your name,” he growls. “You’re the fucking reason I can never keep anyone else.” 
He imagines you? When he’s with other girls, he pretends they’re you? You can’t help wondering what the point of that is. If he really wanted you, why didn’t he make it known? It can’t just be for Namjoon’s sake. Then again, it is for his sake that you never told Jungkook how you were feeling either.
“I thought of you fucking me into my bed,” you confess in a frayed whisper. His fingers make it hard to utter anything coherently. You just have to let him know, though. You have to make sure he is fully aware of how badly you’ve wanted him all this time, too. 
Since you met him at fifteen, you wondered what it would be like to be his girl. You always thought it was just a little schoolgirl crush until puberty really settled in on him. At nineteen, all you can think about is how good his cock would look, lodged right in your throat. It only took a couple more years to confess anything of the sort and you’re not about to potentially let a chance to taste him slip away all because of fear and pride. 
Jungkook pulls his fingers out to slide up and gently rub them at your clit. He moves his hands up and down a few times, smirking at your quivering lips as you moan for him. “You should know I’d fuck you anywhere, sweetheart,” he whispers over your lips. Softly kissing you, he slightly tilts his head and mutters delicately against them, “Just promise to cream my cock tonight.”
“I-I’ll do it every night.” 
It seems that’s all he needed to hear. One hand around your lifted thigh and the other pinned to your side, Jungkook elevates your hips enough so you’re standing on your toes and slowly pushes himself in you. Your eyes twitch at the slow stretch, pussy hugging that big cock like a virgin. You’re almost glad you’re not one, knowing you’d never be able to take him so seamlessly without cumming at least twice. Even now, once does not seem enough. 
He then pauses, breathless voice hissing, “Shit, I forgot a condom. I don’t even know if I have on-”
“Fuck that,” you whine, righting your head to find him staring at your breasts. Clenching around him out of habit when horny, you watch him set his jaw, struggling to hold himself together. “If you don’t cum inside me then-then wh-at the f-fuck is the point?” 
Jungkook chuckles, provoking your own shy giggles. His cheek rests against the side of your knee as it rests over his shoulder. Smirking lips grazing your skin, he teases teething kisses. “You’re so fucking gorgerous,” he sighs, gaze lost in yours. 
Your face flushes, chin tucking in your chest as a shy attempt to compose yourself. Why must he be so sweet when he’s about to ruin you?
Cock throbbing, he licks his lips, tongue brushing your skin, and smirks, “Should I stay like this, sweetheart? You feel so good warming my cock with that juicy pussy,” he whispers with a throaty groan. 
You whine, throwing your head back more in frustration than arousal. “Gukkie, please! Please, we waited long enough already,” you practically cry, brows furrowed and face crumpled in lust. 
He falls weak to your pleads, further pushing himself in. A collision of hissing moans fill the rain muffled silence of the coffee shop. It smells more like sex than caffeine now, or perhaps you’re just hoping it does. You can smell Jungkook’s body wash, the rich coconut oak scent overwhelming your senses. By the end of the night, you want to be dripping with both his cum and scent. When you meet up with your friends tomorrow, you want them to know you’ve been railed by Jungkook with a single whiff. 
“Ah, baby,” he grunts with that first forceful thrust. 
The lifted angle of your hips ensures he hits you right where you need him, over and over. Your name tumbles right out of his lips paired with dirty confessions. “I knew this pussy was made for me,” he sighs before sucking on your thigh. 
“I-I knew this co-ck,” you take a moment to swallow thickly. Jungkook is all too amused not to raise a brow. He bites his lip to hold back a chuckle as you continue, “was too big-g for me.” 
“So fucking cute,” he hisses before leaning forward for a deep kiss. He sips on your soul with every swirl of his tongue, drowning you in all that he is. 
Strong frame towering over your meek one, Jungkook practically pounces on you, pound, pound, pounding like a fucking jackhammer. You can barely make out much of his words with the rattle of cups and the coffee machine. A few cups fall, shattering with the crackle of the thunder. Coffee beans scatter the floor. All of Jungkook’s hard work is squandered over making sure you get that rearranging of your guts he promised. 
“That’s my girl,” he growls. “Take this fucking cock, sweetheart. Take it like the little slut I fucking know you are.” 
You really want to believe that it isn’t the use of a possessive pronoun that trails you closer to the edge. You want to convince yourself that belonging to him and only him is not what’s making you scream louder. The tremble of your legs and tightening of your pussy is because of his unwavering pace and force. It’s not because he just claimed you, stretching you out so fucking well that no one else can even dream of comparing. 
But the lies only hold up for so long. Especially when he tugs at your lip, sucking on it, only to let go and breathlessly purr, “My nasty little girl.” 
“Y-yours,” you mewl. 
No hesitations, no questions. In this little shop, you belong to each other. You revel in one another over and over and over again, bodies locked in lust and hunger. 
Jungkook sucks on your inner thigh, asking against the sensitive skin, “Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” 
He knows you are. You know he feels the impending clench of your pussy getting tighter and tighter, feels the clear shake of your entire body. Your knees buckle that he’s become your only chance of standing. 
Asking only gets him off all the more. You catch the addiction to power in his gaze as he visually devours you. He adores watching you so consumed by him, for him. You’re tempted to send him that video again to be sure he remembers what it feels like to control you like this. 
When his lips crash into yours again, you come undone. The twist of an orgasm you didn’t even really know was growing, snaps in waves of ecstasy. It overwhelms your senses, blurring your vision and clouding your ear enough to muffle every sound. Even with the grip of the counter behind you, your body quakes so much you almost fall right out of his grasp. 
Jungkook is quick to wrap his free hand around your waist.  He buries his face in your breasts as you arch right into him, muttering something about how good his little slut is. 
“Smell so fucking sexy,” he sighs. “Bet you taste even better.” 
His tongue would be a dream but you want to feel him fill you up. All of which you make known, begging, “Cum in me, Gukkie. Please, please, please!” 
He doesn’t need much more convincing, biting down on one of your tits as he pulls in deep. That mess he previously made on the walls of the shop, is recreated in your sloppy pussy. Your eyes twitch, mouth hung open at the sticky, warm feeling of his load shooting you full. He slows his thrusts down as he finishes himself off. He pulls out and brings along streams of himself, dripping right out of you. 
Pussy a creamy mess, he makes you his. 
Praises on the tip of your tongue, you’re about to tell him just how long you’ve wanted this, how fucking good he makes you feel. 
But then the lights flicker on. Namjoon stands at the doorway, drenched in rain and staring in shock at your entangled bodies behind the counter. The both of you make quick work of detaching yourselves, pouring frantic reassurance that- 
“It’s not what it looks like!” 
It’s too late. He’s furious. Tossing you the hoodie you discarded by the door, Namjoon waits until you’re dressed. He can’t bear meeting your apologetic gaze. You receive the silent treatment. 
Jungkook is not as fortunate. 
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note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.
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chateautae · a month ago
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hotter than hell | jjk. (m)
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banner by miss solaris @jamaisjoons <3
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➵ summary : jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.
↳ part of the Namkook Moonrise Masquerade collab hosted by @jamaisjoons
➵ pairing : fallen lucifer!jungkook x human!reader
➵ genre : supernatural/fantasy!au, romance, e2l, road trip, angst, fluff, eventual smut, three-shot
➵ rating : 18+
➵ word count : 27k
➵ warnings : swearing, angst, alcohol consumption, semi-biblically-accurate depictions of angels and demons, supernatural themes, mentions and depictions of sin, s e x u a l  t e n s i o n, neck-kissing, straddling
➵ a/n : WHY HELLO EVERYONE here’s the demon lucifer jk as promised!! i stayed up an entire night just to create the plot, i hope it delivers!! it’s literally one of the my favourite ideas ever hehe. this is the first part of a three-shot :) please excuse any mistakes or error since I didn’t have a beta and will probably get someone to do so later 🤧 PLEASE IMAGINE MOTS ON:E DAY 1 MY TIME JUNGKOOK FOR THIS Y’ALL, enjoy!! <3
➵ playlist : asshole by hooligan chase
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| 01 | 02 | final. |
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‘Why is she looking at my man?’ 
‘I need to get blackout drunk.’
‘Damn, that girl is fucking hot.’
‘I’ll steal it when he isn’t looking.’
Jungkook’s head rings with an innumerable amount of others’ thoughts, and he can’t seem to silence the blaring volume of them at all.
He’s roaming in complete confusion, clutching his palms over his ears because shit, is everything just so loud. His feet hurt too, when have his feet ever hurt? Why can’t he fucking fly? Why does he suddenly feel so cold?
Jungkook’s bleary vision catches sight of neon signs and lights that invite head-splitting migraines. His usual leather outfit suddenly feels like it’s sticking to his skin too much, and what is this constant pang he feels in his stomach?
He doesn’t know, all he knows is that this isn’t hell, and he definitely should not be here. 
In all his thinking, his shoulder smacks into a passing stranger and he scolds them with stern eyes, only to ram into someone else yet again. 
Fuck, that hurt. Why did that hurt? When has he ever felt pain at all? Jungkook grunts in frustration as he weaves through passing bodies in the streets and eventually tumbles before a closed store. The second he looks through the window, his eyes widen in sheer horror. 
He’s.. he’s human? 
No, impossible. He can’t be human, where did his red eyes go? Why can’t he see his wings? He snaps quick glances at his shoulder blades and finds them empty, even reaching behind his back to only feel a seamless leather jacket. He looks at his hands and sees them just like his usual form, but when did he lose that natural, searing heat to his skin? 
Jungkook can’t think, he can’t understand what’s going on but can only comprehend one very obvious, almost laughable thing. 
He’s been cast out of hell. 
He laughs, then laughs some more because shit, is that goddamn funny, comedic, absolutely hysterical. Lucifer, the king of hell himself, has been cast out of his own kingdom? Sent to Earth as some measly blubbering, putrid human? 
The second Jungkook whips his head around to a horn honking, his equilibrium unbalanced itself, that incessant ringing in his ear returning. He feels too fucking dizzy, the axis of his entire world spinning. Groaning in dull pain, he begins stalking down the street with his clammy palm to his head. 
He bumps into more people and staggers, but he doesn’t care when he can still feel that same agonizing headache plaguing him. His eyesight begins to lose precision, and before he advances, he feels his knees buckle into the nearest alleyway. He drops to the ground hard, and his surroundings disappear before he feels his cheek meet the cold pavement. 
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Monday’s are so goddamn boring. 
Absolutely nothing is special about the dreadful day. All you ever desire is to crawl into a hole and slowly perish. And the only remedy to such an issue? At least to you, it would be a nice, steaming cup of coffee. 
But what absolutely trashes even the taste of coffee on a Monday?
The fact that it’s a Monday.
You drag your feet down the street, listless and exhausted after a tiresome day at work. You loosely clutch your bag over your shoulder as you trudge along, paying attention only squarely in front of you when suddenly, your feet ram into something. You almost trip over, furrowing your brows in confusion as you zero-in on the culprit. 
Once your vision becomes clear, you immediately squeal out in shock. You look carefully to find a man lying unconscious nearby a dumpster, appalled by the disgusting trash that litters the area next to him. 
You step slowly towards the stranger, finding that he’s actually quite… handsome. No, scratch that, he is drop-dead gorgeous, his looks almost too devilishly attractive. He appears fairly young to you as well, maybe the same age as you. You scan his outfit next and find him in a quite showy leather outfit; black boots, sheer-patterned shirt that exposed his body, hair flawlessly framing his face. 
You could’ve believed he was a fallen angel, his almost ethereal aura screaming of an existence far from here. His face structure is almost perfectly crafted from the finest marble, his nose looks boopable and his adorable lips naturally fall into this charming pout. 
Though his cuteness was not to be taken head-on, because you could only imagine what such a beautiful man’s eyes look like, and what allure remained hidden within them. 
You shake your head out of the compromising thoughts, swallowing as you contemplate what to do next. The most logical thing would be to call 911, that would help him out the most, wouldn’t it?
You whip out your phone and tap your screen, only to gain no response. You quirk your brows, clicking your power button and finding your device completely drained of battery. You groan with a roll of your eyes, too shy to inquire another stranger on the street for their phone.
Weighing on the decision that the stranger most likely has a phone, you bite your lip before squatting down by him. You precariously reach into his jacket and gently search for any pockets inside, only met with empty ones. You target his leather pants next and surprisingly come up dry of a phone or wallet, no keys or even a damn stick of gum. 
That leaves you with a real head-scratcher. The stranger seems to have absolutely nothing on him, now suddenly curious of whether or not he's even dead or alive. Heart quickening at the prospect of this being a dead body, you nervously gulp as you carefully take his wrist, and place two fingers against his pulse point. 
You thankfully feel a faint heartbeat and release a breath of relief, thinking quickly on your feet. You couldn’t just leave the stranger to fend for himself, it was already cold tonight and God knows what would happen to him without any of his necessary belongings. 
On a whim and out of sheer concern for the man’s well-being, you decide to haul a cab and take him home with you, hoping to also treat that nasty wound on his cheek. 
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Jungkook feels his consciousness resurfacing, head heavy, legs weighing a ton. His eyes flutter open to a white ceiling, darting around to find himself not on the street, not in hell, but inside a quaint apartment.
He furrows his brows, rubbing lazily at an eye once he does a quick once over of the place. He sincerely doesn’t understand where he is or what he’s doing here, but right now his head is still pounding too hard to even contemplate his next move. 
Sitting up, he swallows to find his throat desert-dry, stomach producing this weird gurgling sound he can’t piece together an answer for, and his eyes feel this hefty weight behind his lids. 
With a sigh, he rises to his feet, steadying himself. He sighs at just how annoyingly human he is, feeling the sensation of his legs aching, his neck adopting a crook from being awkwardly perched on the couch’s armrest, even his cheek stinging with something. 
He touches the afflicted area and instead finds some sort of cloth taped over him, wondering what in the hell it is. He touches it some more, and applies pressure only to hiss at his wound, rolling his eyes at the sensation of pain. 
With a deep exhale to release the frustration from his body, Jungkook notices he can still feel the fiery pits of hell coursing through his veins. That hot flame is still alive inside him, something heated still within his blood and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do something about it. With a focused mind and a composed breath, Jungkook attempts to revisit the very first, innate thing about his older form, imagining conjuring up his red, glowing eyes. 
He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, and envisions them glowing crimson before he opens them again, feeling a smoldering heat spark in his irises. He spots a mirror by the front door of the apartment and peers at himself, finding his eyes a vibrant, almost fiery red. 
He smirks, proud and satisfied. He’s still got it in him and he’ll be fucked six ways from Sunday if anyone can tell him otherwise. Feeling confident and alive, Jungkook attempts to conjure up some flames in his palms. Lo and behold, after a tense second of undivided focus, a fire gushes open in his bare hands. It feels just like when he’s perched on his throne in hell, Jungkook cracking another smug grin at the power he still holds. 
In that moment however, he hears the distinct clatter of something tumbling to the ground, and whips around to the noise. He shockingly finds a human woman staring at him in utter terror, hand clutched to her heart with her phone on the ground, and cowering into the wall as she shakes profusely. 
You’re stunned, flabbergasted, downright terrified out of your wits seeing the same man you found unconscious in the street now with fire flushing out of his hands. You see him begin to approach you and you’re overridden with fear, screaming at the unnatural sight before you. 
You scream, you scream and scream and look around for objects of any sort. You spot a small bottle of body spray on your hallway counter and immediately fling it towards the man for defence. 
“Get away from me, get away!” 
“Woah, hey, hey! Calm down!” 
But you don’t, and you instead throw other obscure and heavy objects towards him only for him to either burn or dodge them, eliciting even more of your panic. He’s getting closer as he attempts to pacify you, darting by him and running directly towards your kitchen.
Your frazzled brain isn’t thinking and you immediately fling open a cabinet, reaching for the very first thing you see and rapidly grasp a pan. You hold it up ready for punishing the man before he scrambles and hushes your ear-splitting shrills, holding up his hands in surrender. 
“Wait, wait, stop! Shh!” 
“How can I not scream when your eyes are literally red?!” 
Jungkook struggles for a sentence. “Look, just, shh. You’re gonna alarm the people in your building!” 
“That’s the fucking point?! You’re a maniac!” You yell and grab open your drawer of utensils, beginning to chuck forks and spoons at the frantic man. 
“Hey, stop! Would you-stop throwing shit!” Jungkook yells frustratedly as you send him a scowl, only catapulting things harder in response. But suddenly, Jungkook burns a butter knife you haul his way, and fearfully watching it melt right before your eyes. They widen in absolute horror.
You’re seriously, and very horribly fucked.
Panic invades your chest and you spot your phone lying on the ground near your bedroom door, quickly bolting towards it in hopes of calling 911, or at least somebody for help. You dive towards the floor and snatch up your device, racing mind unable to sift through contacts efficiently enough before you feel strong arms quickly caging around you. The stranger traps your wriggling body as he attempts to grab at your phone, yelling angrily. 
“Are you insane?! Why are you calling someone?!” 
“Because you’re a fucking maniac!” 
You struggle against the man’s burly hold and flail around hopelessly, utterly panicking realizing how strong he is.  
Screams escape you as you useslessly fight each other on the floor, incessantly attempting to weaken his grasp. The man with much larger hands than yours however nabs your phone and tosses it into your room somewhere, attempting to hush you as you squeal and kick at him profusely. 
“Stop it, stop! I can explain myself!” 
“I don’t want to hear your fucking evil plan before you kill me!” 
The man’s arms are still, curled around you and hugging your back to his chest, but it’s not a warm welcome at all as he keeps you from escaping, all while you holler incoherently at him to release you. You grow tired of the shenanigans and stuff the meat of his hand in between your teeth, sinking them in with enough force to harm him. The man exclaims in pain as his arms detangle from you. 
“Ow! What the fuck?!” 
You rapidly rise to your feet in search of your phone. It’s laying near your bed and you scamper off towards it, bending down with a grabby hand to reach it, but suddenly feel the man’s heavy figure hurtle you onto the bed. You both tumble onto your mattress, the handsome stranger on top as he locks down your thrashing hands, eyes urgent as he regards you below. 
“Woman, please, please stop screaming.” He warns crucially. “I’m not someone people can know about, we’ll both get in shit!” 
“By who? You’re the only freak here!” You wiggle your smaller wrist out of his grip and reach over for a stray cushion on your bed. You feel the fleecy material in your hand and harshly begin smacking the man with the pillow. 
“Oh c’mon-what the fuck?!” You disarm him completely as he falters at your hits, the stranger toppling onto the ground as you recklessly beat the living hell out of him. 
He crosses his arms over his face in an effort to protect himself, knowing even if you run now, the man seemed strong and smart enough to capture you again; two deadly combinations that could mean your demise. So you decide to keep senselessly whacking the cushion at him until he eventually tires, and you’ll make a break for it, or Mr. and Mrs. Tran next door will most likely come to your rescue. 
You stand above him and yell profanities as you practically abuse the stranger with your pillow. However, the man latches a hand onto the pillow to halt you and causes the cheap material to completely tear open. Feather’s instantly fly out of the cushion and fill your room with white fluffiness, groaning in complaint at the mess. 
You disregard the $4 ripped-up thing, and return to smacking at the man with the pillow cover. 
“Why. The. Fuck. Did you. Rip. My. PILLOW?!” You howl between each of your attacks and the man struggles on the ground as he exclaims in pain, blinded and barely able to shout in return. 
“Are you fucking kidding me?! Why are you beating me up?!” 
“Says the one who ripped my pillow and tried to murder me!” 
“I’m not even-what!” The stranger shrieks in disbelief. “I never tried to murder you! I didn’t do anything wrong!” 
That response actually halts your actions, freezing once you truly contemplate the stranger didn’t try to exactly kill you or anything, and you’re then in fact assaulting him for no concrete reason. As your easily distracted mind wanders, the man suddenly pulls at your legs with grabby hands. You squeal as you suddenly land on top of his rather muscular body, crashing onto him hard. 
Funny enough, you end up apologizing for settling over him so roughly. “Oh my God, I’m so-” 
“Shh, shh.” The man pushes his index fingers to your lips and his own, shushing you both. There’s a long moment of silence, both you and the albeit, gorgeous man staring into each other’s round eyes as your chests press into each other’s tightly, feathers slowly cascading down around your entangled bodies. 
You swallow as you watch the man underneath you in fear, wondering why he hushed you. You open your mouth to question him but he only shakes his head, warning you with a hush again. 
“Shh, I hear footsteps.” 
Suddenly, your front door is racked with a few hard raps. 
“Who’s-” The man begins a question but you immediately smack your hands over his mouth, silencing him. 
“Shh, don’t say anything!” 
He removes your dainty hands from his lips and surprisingly holds them quite gently. “But is it the police-” 
You clasp them over his mouth tighter, your face and his suddenly mere inches from each other as you tut him. “Shh! They can’t hear another voice!” 
“Honey! Are you in there?” 
You both pause, wide-eyed and frozen in time as you hear the voices of the nice couple that live next door to you. Your fight or flight mode kicks in, stress hormones on high alert as you register the idea of them seeing a random man in your apartment. 
Let alone you on top of him like this.
They’ll assume the worst and get too worried for their own good, sighing with immense anxiety. You rapidly scramble off the leather-wearing stranger and snatch up his wrist, quickly tugging him upwards and onto his feet. He balances himself and you quickly shove him onto your tousled sheets and disorderly feathers. 
“Look, just-stay here.” You hiss in a whisper, gesturing to him to stay put like a pet dog as you rapidly kick some stray feathers that escaped into the hallway inside your bedroom. You fix your outfit with a few strokes and begin shutting the door to hide the man, until he suddenly calls you back with a whisper-yell. 
“Wait, woman!” 
You poke your head back in with an incredulous ‘what the fuck?’, and the man rises as he steps speedily towards you. His hands jut out for what you believe to be in effort to harm you, but instead find your hair and smooth down some of your wild locks, even picking out a fuzzy piece of feather that stuck to your bangs. 
“Oh..” You quietly exclaim, running your hands through your hair for a quick fix.
“Dear, where are you? We’re getting very worried!” You hear Mr. Tran yell more urgently this time, and your hands smack against the strangers to unhand you, pushing him back within the four walls of your bedroom and shutting the door on his handsome face. 
You compose yourself once you’ve done so and reach your foyer, swinging open your front door. 
“Oh dear, Y/N, we were so worried, honey. Are you alright?” Mrs. Tran holds her hand to her chest as she takes a deep breath, Mr. Tran soon joining. 
“Is anything going on, sweetheart? We heard so much yelling.” 
“I’m okay, Mr. and Mrs. Tran. You don’t need to worry about me at all.” 
“Are you sure you’re okay, dear? There was an awful lot of screaming.” Mrs. Tran’s eyes flit around your apartment discreetly. 
“I was just on video call with my friends and they decided to play a scary prank on me.” You bellow out a fake laugh and watch them lighten up, buying the lie. 
“Oh gosh, we thought we heard another man’s voice and got so scared! We’re so glad you’re alright, dear.” Mr. Tran laughs with you, and you kindly reply. 
“Oh not at all! Thank you for checking on me, Mr. and Mrs. Tran.” You smile big and wide to appear okay, momentarily snapping your vision towards your bedroom with a gulp. They end up bidding their farewells and you watch them entirely enter their apartment, sighing with relief once their door closes. 
You shut yours, and practically stomp over to your bedroom as you hurl the door back open. The man on the other side practically leaps when you do, staring wide-eyed with raised eyebrows at your angry expression. 
“You have a lot of explaining to do.” The man watches steam figuratively blown out of your ears, and a little noise escapes the back of his throat that almost sounds like a laugh. 
“Did you just laugh at me?” 
“N-no.” He brushes off sauvely. 
You roll your eyes and snatch his wrist again, dragging him over to your living room and abruptly halting just before your couches. You shove him towards them and he snaps a testy look at you, taking his seat. 
You decide to stand and look down at him as he crosses a leg and lays his arm against the backrest, sitting as if he owned the place. You fold your arms and tap your foot in anticipation, eyes pissed and steely. “Well?” 
“Well, what?” 
“Do you not owe me an explanation?” You quirk an audacious brow, attempting to fathom what just transpired in the last 5 minutes.
“Explanation.. of what exactly?” He tilts his head and watches you with fascination, and it was now you realized his eyes weren’t glowing red anymore, they’re the colour of chocolate brown. But that doesn’t mean what you saw was a hallucination or a mind-trick either, you remember exactly what you witnessed with your naked eyes. 
The man seems to feel a crook in his neck. Your once occupied attention now snaps to the way he stretches it out, listening to the cracks of his bones that sound practically inhuman. 
“Why the hell did I see fire coming out of your hands? And your red eyes? Who the fuck are you?!” 
The stranger has an ah-hah moment, and understands you with a small nod. He goes from a non-committing look of disinterest to a mirthy smirk on his face, one that almost seemed devilish. He lets out a proud sigh as he hoists himself up, standing tall before you as he suavely tugs at the lapels of his leather jacket. 
“Well, I’ll cut to the chase,” The man quirks his eyebrows and plays with his lips in this undeniably sexy way you can’t help but find hot, blinking away the thought before it consumes you. 
“I’m Lucifer, the king of hell, baby.” 
You blink; once, twice, then three times. You stare at him dumbfounded, as if that would help you understand what he just so casually uttered. You finally let out a noise akin to a scoff. “I’m sorry, what?” 
“I’m Lucifer. You know, fallen archangel? Satan? The Devil?” 
You blink. “Do you think this is a joke?” 
The so-called Lucifer furrows his brows. “Huh?” 
“I nursed you after finding you unconscious on the street, and now you want to joke with me?” 
“But I’m not joking..?” The man seems acutely confused, even tilting his head in this innocent way that completely contrasted his scorching hot looks. He even peers so vividly into your eyes, it's as though he could read every corner of your soul. He towers over you, you also realized. His height is so significantly taller than yours that he has to crane his neck to look down at you. And all of sudden, the way your eyes shift up to meet his gaze feels oddly searing, almost like you feel something hot ignite within you when your lines of sight lock.
“There’s no way in hell you’re Lucifer, buddy. Tell me who you really are and maybe we can talk.” 
“But that is who I am,” Jungkook emphasizes, watching him step closer to you. He suddenly leans down to be eye-level with you, staring directly into your pupils smugly before cracking an evil grin. “Let me show you.” 
Your lips fall into a quizzical pout as you watch him perplexedly before you, and witness the man’s eyes suddenly morph from a warm coffee brown into a dull, flaming colour of dark scarlet. You flinch, watching the image of almost a smoldering fire in his eyes, and the coy way he tongues his cheek gives you the impression he’s a man dripping in sin. 
He blinks and rids himself of the flames, straightening up. “Believe me now, angel?” 
You couldn’t fathom this information, nor the pet name he just used on you. Did you in fact find Lucifer, the devil himself unconscious in the street and brought him into your home? Even nursed him and let him crash in your living room? Not that you regretted it at the time, you do remember admiring his absolutely gorgeous face and couldn’t help but openly gawk at him. 
Of course Lucifer had to be scorching hot with a face that could be sat on.
So-called Lucifer suddenly cracks a grin and chuckles, narrowed eyes snapping to him. “Why’d you just laugh?” 
“Nothing,” The man shrugs, amused eyes scanning you over. “You’re kinda cute.” 
You scowl at him sternly and roll your eyes, clearing your throat as you address him. “Well, Mr. Lucifer-” 
“Jungkook,” he gestures with a hand before folding his arms. “Just call me Jungkook.” 
“J-Jungkook.. what in God’s name are you-or not God. What in hell’s.. the devil’s name?” You become confused trying to form the question, pensive finger to your lips. 
“What am I doing here on Earth, is what you’re asking?” 
You nod with big, curious eyes, though still hold an adorable amount of annoyance within them Jungkook couldn’t help but notice. Said man flashes an evident look towards your lips before he continues. “To be honest, miss. I have no clue.” 
You purse your confused petals as you figure  that’s not exactly much to go on. You wonder what a celestial being of such high caliber could possibly be doing on Earth, let alone appearing to you like some rockstar that missed out on his opening act for Elvis Presely. 
“You didn’t tell me a name.” 
Your eyes flicker to his. “Huh?” 
“Your name.. I don’t know it.” He flatly remarks as his hands slip into his pockets, still eyeing you, almost examining you with that intense stare that seemed to burn you alive. 
“O-oh, right. My name..” You nervously laugh, arms crossed over your chest. “Y/N.. Y/N Y/L/N.” 
Jungkook jerks his brows in amusement, doing that thing where he tongues his cheek, and now you suddenly wonder why he plays around with his tongue so much. “That’s a nice name.” 
“Thanks,” you rigidly respond, not exactly knowing what to do. You’re all but traversing the many thoughts swarming your head; is this even real? Is this a dream? Is this some sort of colossal, sick joke someone’s playing on you? 
But you’re interrupted by the sound of a sudden gurgle, knowing you’ve already eaten dinner, and discerning it’s coming from your otherworldly companion. 
“Umm, are you hungry?” 
“Shit, is that what this is? Hunger?” Jungkook pulls a disgusted expression and pretends to throw up, lamenting horribly. “Fuck, I really am human.” 
You roll your eyes as he puts on a show of fake-sobbing, his pretentiousness eliciting a scoff from you. “Look, do you wanna eat something or starve?” 
Jungkook lightly pouts his lips as his shoulders slump and hands falter, eyes suddenly much more innocent. “Eat, I think? It’s not good for a human to not eat food, right?” 
You realize with such a question how little knowledge Jungkook possesses on humans, and with a hard sigh, you nod as you lead him towards your kitchen. 
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You watch Jungkook literally devour all the leftovers you housed in your fridge; fried chicken, some old Chinese, even the pasta and ravioli you’d left earlier today all down his stomach. You feel full just watching him when you lean your elbows over the counter, seriously inquiring about him. 
“So, wait, repeat that again?” 
Jungkook scarfs down a slice of pizza in practically a whole second, speaking messily through a full mouth. You try not to grimace. 
“Basically, I was cast out of hell and now…” Jungkook swallows as he reaches for a tall glass of water. “I have to find my way back in.” 
You blink multiple times to compute the information. “So for some reason you were kicked out of hell, and now you need to find your way back? Why the hell were you kicked out in the first place?” 
“I have no clue,” Jungkook takes another swig of water to wash down the dense content of his food. “All I know is that I need a way back in.” 
“Do you at least know how? Or what you need to do?” 
You watch him slam down your glass after finishing off, and now, you find every plate you presented to him nearly wiped clean. “I have no clue about that, either.” 
You deadpan. “What the fuck?” 
“Look, human. All I know is that I can find the answers I’m looking for. I just don’t know where to start.” You sigh, cradling your cheek in your palm as you watch him pat a napkin to his lips, and all of a sudden it draws attention to the soft petals. 
Why are his lips so damn kissable?
Jungkook’s eyes suddenly flicker up to yours and you snap out of your trance, swallowing. “W-what? Have you never been on Earth before?” You internally facepalm yourself for your idiotic stutter. 
“Nope, not at all.” 
You narrow your eyes. “Then how do you even know how to act like a human?” 
Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to deadpan, an elbow coming up to rest on the table as his other hand cups over his thigh, leaning in. “Are you forgetting who I am, angel?” He smugly asks. “I’m the devil, watching humans is part of my job.” 
You shoot him a testy look for the pet name again, but become curious of his job all of a sudden. “What do you even do as Lucifer? Sit on a throne and hear the screams of poor souls perishing in hell’s fire?” 
Jungkook genuinely laughs at your words, and you become even more annoyed. “What?!” 
“You’re quite right,” Jungkook sends you a proud nod, though he suddenly leans in closer, and he’s now bridged the gap between you and himself over your kitchen counter. He’s close, close enough you catch a whiff of this crisp, warm, though attractive scent off him. It was practically beckoning you closer with each breath in. The heat that radiates off him is almost scalding alone, swallowing as his proximity calls this certain side of you to jump out. 
Or more so, jump him. 
Jungkook smirks again, wetting his lips. “But I’m also the king and master of sin. I draw people’s deepest, darkest secrets out of them. All the bad in them.” 
He deliberately eyes you, almost too hard. It's as though he’s searching every crevice of your mind and can suddenly see all the hidden, disguised aspects of yourself. Now the air’s suffocating, those searing eyes you swear turn scarlet at one point so immensely bewitching you, it’s hard to look away. 
You can feel this almost magnetic pull towards him, eyes darting down to those cute lips of his again. But you immediately brush it off, knowing men like, well, devilish men like him love using their charms to entrance whomever they deem weak enough to fall into the trap. 
You scoff, looking away. “I’ve gotta take a shower.” 
You abruptly rise from your seat. You swipe your phone with you as you watch him settle into his chair, arms folded and now appearing very bored. You sigh as you glare at him, wondering how you’re meant to keep Lucifer of all people entertained. 
A question pops into your head, having mulled over it since you’d nursed him on your couch. “Hey, demon.” 
His gaze flickers to you, chewing on his lip. 
“Do you have a place to stay?” 
You watch as Jungkook actually becomes uncharacteristically shy, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “Not exactly, no.” The column of his throat bobs as he gulps. “Why? Are you trying to kick me out?” 
You laugh, covering your smile when you do. “No, I’m not like whatever higher power that casted you out of hell.” 
Jungkook’s smile returns then, less snarky but now actually more.. charming? “Funny and cute. I like you, human.” 
You narrow your eyes with a curt reminder. “Human’s not my name, demon.” 
“And demon’s not mine, either.” You contort your lips into an annoyed pout and stare him down. He returns the challenging look, though lightens up for his next question. “So.. can I stay here?” 
You don’t take much time to consider your answer, knowing your empathetically-cursed character could never deny the homeless man shelter. “I guess so. I don’t think it’s smart to let you roam the human world with your little knowledge of it.” Jungkook moves to deny you the insult of his pea-sized brain, but you calm him down. “I don’t mean it offensively. I mean it for your safety, Jungkook.” 
He settles down, understanding. “Yeah, I get you.” 
Jungkook seems to then regard you with a much more amicable look, his eyes conveying unusual, though present gratefulness. Suddenly you become interested in exactly how human Jungkook really is, seeing as he appears as human as it gets, but exactly how Lucifer is he still? 
“If I may ask.. are you really.. human on earth? As in.. do you have a different form in hell?” 
Jungkook finds the question endearing, laughing a little. “Not really. I appear like this in hell too, all the way down to my outfit.” He gestures towards his attire. “Though in hell I have wings. My eyes permanently glow red and I usually have flames surrounding me.. mainly my wings.” 
You’re stunned, now contemplating the image of Jungkook with these wide, gorgeous wings. You’re left completely speechless, envisioning the flames that probably burst out of them like a Phoenix rising from the ashes. 
“They must be beautiful.” You don’t even realize you let your thoughts slip aloud, regaining focus when you see Jungkook smirk through a laugh. 
“I-I mean.. are you sure you’re human? I mean your skin and all.. do you even need to sleep?” 
Jungkook tilts his head side-to-side for an unsure answer. “Eh, it’s different now that I’m on Earth. In hell, I’m at full power and never need to sleep, eat. Shit, I don’t even feel pain. My flames act as a sort of protective shield, I never incur injuries.” Jungkook elucidates casually.
 “But it seems the rules are different for me on Earth. I get hungry and thirsty. And this,” he gestures towards the small bandage you placed over his cheek wound. “Means I don’t automatically heal, and the exhaustion in my body means I also require sleep.” Jungkook simultaneously yawns as he informs you, covering his mouth. 
“And your skin..? Is your body entirely human?” 
Jungkook cracks a chuckle and his devilish eyes land on you, staring into your soul yet again. He props off his chair without warning and suddenly steps towards you, towering over your smaller frame again. His eyes remain locked with yours as he removes the lapels of his jacket, peeling back the item as he tongues his cheek. The action calls attention towards the sharp edge of his jawline, noticing how attractive it makes his thick neck appear. 
Fuck, if only you could mark a neck that pretty. 
The sound of his sudden snort reels you back into reality, watching him strip his jacket off.
“Jungkook-” You panic to cover him, but he continues, tossing the jacket onto the couch behind you as he then employs his fingers towards his nearly sheer, black-patterened dress shirt. You grow nervous as you watch him dislodge each button, wanting to avert your eyes and do so, but something about him beckons your sight back. Eventually he casts his shirt open, and your eyes nearly fall out of your sockets. 
Jungkook is ripped, as in he has the sexiest body you’ve ever witnessed in your entire life. The Statue of David must be jealous, hell, Aphrodite herself would probably choose Jungkook over ugly ol’ Adonis; that is how gorgeous he is. 
“Touch me and see for yourself.” 
You gulp, wide eyes flashing towards him. “Huh?” 
His lips curve into a smug grin, emphasizing his already drop-dead gorgeous face. “If you want to know whether I'm human or not, touch my body.” 
You suck in a breath, suddenly his open shirt exposing his sculpted torso is making your brain go haywire. The deep timbre of his voice saying such words already have you in shambles, wondering when he became so goddamn irresistible?
You can see each divot and protrusion of his muscular body, his abs prominent and his chest downright sinful. Though it’s his tiny, almost delicate waist that has you swooning, practically drooling over the hour-glass figure of his stunning, practically ethereal body. 
You snap a look at Jungkook, and his eyes await you as he watches with pure mirth. You hmph, acting as though this isn’t a big deal when you step closer and slowly, but surely press your palm to his chest. You lose air the second you feel the rock hard muscle.
Fuck, can I squish my face between his pecs? 
You shake your head and hear Jungkook let out the tiniest of laughs, shooting him a grumpy look. You then carefully traverse his skin, being able to feel the beating of his heart, the flesh and blood that make up his body. He feels warm.. almost too warm and it’s as though he’s.. calling you. Your body feels that magnetic pull again, wanting to either devour him whole or litter his body with your sinful kisses. 
It rushes through your veins and floods your lungs, filling your bloodstream with this instinct to simply jump him, touch him, bring this ravenous, dark side of you out into the world. Your breathing increases speed; suddenly he’s all you see and you can feel your body needing him just like you need air, like you wouldn’t survive without him until.. you pull yourself out of the trance. 
You physically rip your hand away and breathe erratically, as though you weren’t yourself just now. Your perplexed eyes blink multiple times to allow the rush to subside, and swallow harshly as you look away from him. 
“What.. what is that?” 
“What’s what?” 
“That-that thing. That fucking attraction to you or whatever..” 
He displays a lop-sided grin on his face as he quirks his brow amusingly, scoffing. “I’m Lucifer, angel. I breed sin wherever I go.” 
“What-what do you mean?” You peer at him with annoyance but also.. intrigue? This was oddly interesting to you, never have you felt the effects of something so utterly hypnotizing, attractive, alluring.  
Never have you felt your heart hammer and mind race like that. 
Jungkook makes it a statement to subtract the space between you two, your bubble invaded by his bare body as he carefully circles a palm around your arm, searing eyes boring into yours. “It means whatever sin you think of; lust, greed, gluttony, envy. They’re all heightened when you’re close to me, and worse if anyone’s lucky enough to touch me.” 
Your vision locks with his, finding the explanation to that scalding heat of his body. 
He’s goddamn Lucifer. 
“But.. I touched you.” 
He breathes a laugh through his nose. “And I don’t let just anyone touch me, angel.” 
You narrow your eyes at him, tugging your arm out of his hold. “Why do you call me angel?” 
Jungkook lightly gestures towards your chest area, and before you can grow offended over his line of thinking, you flicker downwards to find that your pajama t-shirt for tonight has the word ‘angel’ written across it, then adorned with wings and a halo around the text. 
You scoff, returning to him. “Really?” 
“That, and you seem to radiate the energy of an angel.” 
“And how exactly do I seem to do that, demon?” 
Jungkook’s fingertips find themselves preoccupied with feeling a piece of your hair, letting himself watch the action with a faint smile. You would smack his hand away, but his softer eyes look towards you, and you swallow nervously when you feel that heated attraction to him once again. 
His open shirt is already difficult to ignore, and you can’t seem to want to shove him away.
“Angels are pure, and true. They’re virtuous and serve the good of the universe.” You feel his hot breath tickle your skin as he decreases the gap between you two. His eyes remain locked with yours as he releases your hair. “But one thing to be known about angels,” He leans in closer, and pierces your soul with his searing heat. 
“They’re not as innocent as they seem.” 
He does it again, peering as if he knows something about you, deliberately searches your eyes as if he can sift through your mind, and you need to simply break away from him. His lips are too close and fuck, do you already find his lips so goddamn kissable. Not to mention this now supernatural pull you have towards him heightening your darkest desires. 
“I’m gonna take a shower, busy yourself in the main area.” You mutter almost incoherently. 
And all you hear is Jungkook’s muffled laugh as you scurry away. 
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The sounds of the TV running quirks your brows, ruffling a towel against your damp hair as you enter the living room. 
You find the odd sight of Jungkook holding a remote in his hand, lounging on your couch as he watches an episode of Friends. A laugh escapes you, not having ever imagined Lucifer doing something as mundane as watching TV. 
His eyes shift towards you at the sound of your chuckle, Jungkook sitting up much straighter. 
“Welcome back, human.” 
“It’s my house, demon.” 
Jungkook kisses his teeth as you approach him, your towel hanging around your shoulders. His eyes remain on your face for a while, though they travel down your body with a little scan. You realize it’s your short-cladded legs he’s observing, then returns his sight to you. 
“What are you wearing?” 
“Pajamas?” You answer him with a chide. 
He purses his lips in this certain manner of understanding, leaning his arm against the back of the couch, legs manspreading almost indefinitely. This is when you earn the opportunity to really view Jungkook’s legs, and fuck, are you goddamn mesmerized. His strong, thick thighs are hugged snuggly by those leather pants, and they do him a damn service by emphasizing their muscular, sexy build. His legs are also long, you notice, perfectly presenting his lap to you and it takes every ounce of your being to not so obviously look at his bulging crotch; naturally bulging crotch may you add. 
I swear if he’s packing too, this’ll just be unfair. 
Jungkook cracks a scoff all of a sudden and you narrow your vision, scrutinizing him. 
“I asked you a question?” He suddenly says.  
“Huh?” You blink; he must’ve queried you when you spaced out. “What did you ask?” 
“I asked if that’s how humans usually dress for the night.” Jungkook repeats himself. 
“Well, yeah. You wanna be comfortable when you’re sleeping, less clothing is usually the answer.” You reply honestly, arms crossed over your chest that adorns no bra. “You’re a guest in my home, and this is how I dress.” 
“You consider me a guest?” Jungkook inquires with a slight smile. 
“Well, yes. To be fair, I’m the one who brought you to my home, you didn’t infiltrate it or anything.” You offer him a shrug. 
You watch Jungkook genuinely grin at that, amused eyes flitting to you. “You’re nice, human.” 
“Thanks.” You’re not sure how much a compliment from Lucifer matters, but you take it anyway. 
“Oh shit, you don’t have anything to wear tonight, do you?” 
Jungkook’s round eyes wander off in thought, and it’s now that you notice his eyes are actually quite.. cute. “I don’t think so. I assume sleeping in an outfit like this wouldn’t be comfortable, as you say.” 
“Yeah, just hold on. I’ll come back with something.” 
You return to Jungkook with a set of comfortable clothes in hand, presenting them to him. “Here, I think these should fit.” 
Jungkook quirks a brow as he peers at the clothes with incredulousness, then you. “You’re going to make me wear that?” 
You roll your eyes as you regard the Hello Kitty shirt and grey sweatpants in your hands. “This is my biggest oversized shirt, okay?” You attempt to defend yourself. 
Jungkook appears as though his ego is hurt, a baffled hand to his heart. “You expect Lucifer, the king of hell, to wear something like this?” 
“It’s either this or no clothes, buddy.” You try to reason with him. 
Jungkook smirks then, standing to his feet before you with an amused and suggestive attitude. “I mean, I don’t mind not wearing clothes. But I think the only person that’s gonna have a problem with that is you, angel.” 
God, his eyes just scream the fiery pits of hell and mischievous mirth, who fucking knew Lucifer could be so obnoxious? His sense of confidence is suffocating and he seems as egotistical as the high school captain of a football team. 
You shove the clothes into his, dare you say, rock hard abs and huff with a scowl. “Just take the fucking clothes and change, demon.” 
Jungkook scoffs with barely-there acquiescence, inspecting the clothing items as he picks out the sweatpants. “These sweatpants don’t look like they belong to a woman.” 
“They’re not mine.” You absent-mindedly grumble as you make your way towards your kitchen, deciding on tidying up the many plates Jungkook left scoured from his feast. 
“Whose are they?” 
“Ex’s.” You reply flatly, compiling the plates together and nabbing the utensils he used. 
Jungkook nods in understanding, though now seems a bit out of place holding the pants. He reveals what could’ve been... sympathy? Pity? You don’t know. 
“Why are they in your apartment?” 
“He left them here after I kicked him out.” Jungkook notices the way you seem too casual while washing the plates, querying again. 
“Why did you kick him out..?” 
You set down the plates harshly in the sink then, producing a loud clattering noise. “Could you just fucking change?”
You didn’t mean to say it so sternly and with a cold-cut tone, but you settle once you see the taken aback expression on Jungkook’s face. You bite your lip as the water runs over your now cold hands, sighing as you return to your dishes. “I’m sorry. Just-get changed, please? That outfit must be bothering you.” 
Offering your words a little sweeter this way seems to dissemble the look of surprise on Jungkook, nodding as he visibly zips his mouth shut. Jungkook then begins to unbutton his pants right before you, undoing and just about tugging them down until you rapidly hold up your soapy hands to halt him. 
“Wait-wait! Not here!” 
“What?” 
“Don’t get changed in front of me, change in my room or something!” You attempt to mask your line of sight. No way would you goddam let yourself see whatever beast Lucifer is hiding in his leather pants. 
“And why would I need to do that? Haven’t you seen a man naked?” 
You roll your eyes at his snarky remark, knowing there’s got to be another smug grin on his rideable face right now. “I have but I haven’t seen you naked. Just change in my room please.” 
Jungkook lets out a grievous huff as he fixes his pants back on. “Fine, I’ll be back.” 
He snatches up his clothes and finds his way to your bedroom, shutting himself inside after flashing you a purposefully saccharine grin. You exhale once he’s disappeared, now running through the millions of thoughts that plague your mind. 
Is this really what your life’s now come to? Housing Lucifer in your home? You do digress on the matter that it’s not his fault. He’s been cast out of hell for a reason he doesn’t know, and it’s not like he was provided an elaborate guide on how to get himself back in either. 
You assume it must do with learning a valuable lesson or performing some sort of task, though it’s not like you know what the mighty powers above have in store for an already ethereal being such as Lucifer. You weigh your options here, maybe you can simply let him live here as a roommate until he can find a way back, right? 
Considering he has no means of living in the real world; ID, wallet, phone, fuck, even a passport, he won’t be able to get around easily. So for now, you might as well let him slumber with you until he deals with whatever introspective prospect of himself he needs to clean up. 
Your bedroom door clicks open as you find Jungkook emerging in your ex’s sweatpants that actually fit him quite well, and a stifled giggle escapes you once regarding him in your blush pink Hello Kitty t-shirt. 
“Well, you look just about ready for your hellish throne, don’t you?” 
“Fuck you.” He harmlessly exasperates, dragging his feet towards you with slumped shoulders. “You couldn’t have found me a shirt that maybe had anything to do with hell? Like that one sitting on your chair by your desk?” 
You scoff, scrunching up your facial features in disbelief. “No way would I give you my Thrasher t-shirt.” You glower. “It’s my favourite t-shirt.” 
“And I’m about to become your favourite person soon, hand it over.” Jungkook holds out his palm and requests the shirt with an arrogant curl of his fingers, sending him a deadpan expression and shoving his hand aside. 
“Maybe if you help me clean up my apartment and the dishes I’ll consider the offer, demon.” 
Jungkook rolls his eyes, kissing his teeth yet again. “You made a mess of objects in your apartment by throwing them at me, and now I have to clean them up, human?” 
“Who’s the ‘human’ that’s keeping your identity as Lucifer a secret and is letting you live here for free?” Jungkook pulls his lips back guiltily at that, pursing them with an affirmative nod before reluctantly getting on with his task. You quietly huff as you watch him compliantly clean up the mess, glad that he can at least follow instructions. 
It boggles you actually. Did you just instruct Lucifer, the obnoxious ruler of the Underworld to do something, and he listened? Do you now have one of the most powerful beings in the universe wrapped around your finger for offering your home? The thought paints a smirk onto your face. You did not begin this Monday at all thinking you’d be in the good graces of the devil himself. 
Too preoccupied with your thoughts, suddenly a searing heat beside you startles you. You peer up to find Jungkook slotted right next to you and picking up the dishes you’ve sudded up, silently rinsing them with this pout on his lips that seemed like a natural habit.
Cute.
You quirk an inquisitive brow though, hands having stopped moving. “What are you doing?” 
“I’m helping you?” He replies obviously. 
You absorb the kind gesture and loosen up a little. “That’s.. kind of you.”  
“What? Didn’t think Lucifer could be kind?” He’s teasing you now, his eyebrows jerking in an amusing way that shows you he just loves the game. You roll your eyes, nudging his elbow as you bite back a smile. 
“Get to work, demon.” 
Jungkook suppresses a grin. He rather contorts his lips in acquiesce as he continues to wash diligently, humming a tune very similar to The Beatles’ “Devil in Her Heart”. 
And you quietly chuckle. 
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“There,” you gesture with an accomplished grin, hands perching onto your hips. You and Jungkook both look on at a makeshift bed you had crafted for him in your room, eyes peering at him for approval. 
He observes it with a critical lens, pensive pointer finger and thumb stroking his chin. “Is this meant to be where I sleep?” 
“Of course, where else would you sleep?” 
Jungkook’s eyes flicker towards your queen-sized bed and very obviously gestures towards it. “Maybe on the entire bed in your room? Did you think I don’t know that humans sleep in beds?” 
You exhale with irritation, palm smacking your forehead. “You can’t just sleep in my bed, genius. I barely know you!” 
“And what’s so bad about a man and a woman sleeping in the same bed?” Jungkook questions argumentatively. 
You send him a glare. “Like I said, I don’t know you and your intentions, and sleeping is when humans are in their most vulnerable state.” 
Jungkook contorts his lips with dislike. “I’m not going to unsolicitedly touch you or anything, if that’s your concern. All you are is a measly human to me, I have no attraction to you.” He holds up a hand in protest. 
“Excuse me?” You gasp. “Are you saying I’m unattractive?” 
“So now you want me to think you're attractive and want to unsolicitedly touch you?” 
You halt once you see the flaw in your argument, brewing in resentment as you watch him grin proudly. “That’s what I thought, human.” 
“Fine, you know what? Either you sleep on this lovely bed I made for you on the floor, or you sleep on my couch.” 
Jungkook sticks his tongue out and blows a wet raspberry, arms folded over his hard chest. “Fuck your couch, it put this damn crook in my neck.” 
You clasp your hands together and emphasize the most pathetically sympathetic pout in the universe. “Awh, did little Luci get an ouchy?” 
“Are you asking me to burn your couch? Because I’ll do so without hesitation, angel.” 
“Ugh!” You suddenly burst out into figurative flames, standing square before Jungkook to address him seriously. “Alright, demon. Since you seem to be the epitome of a picky child, you can sleep in my bed with me.” 
Jungkook’s face purposefully lights up like an elated child, gasping comically loudly just to get on your nerves, but you halt him with a finger. “But, we’re putting a barrier of pillows between us.” 
Jungkok scoffs with folded arms, hating that the action called attention to his bulky, bulging biceps in a funnily contrasting women’s shirt. “Not like I wanted to cuddle with you and catch your human disease, anyway.” 
You exclaim disapprovingly at the way he spits the term, hands perched on your hips with a speedy retort. “Well fuck you and your smoldering heat, demon. When I asked for a new furnace I didn’t mean you.”
Jungkook childishly mocks your expression, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, if you need a furnace then clearly it gets cold at night, and then we’ll see who’s cuddling up to who for heat.” 
You watch him practically throw open your covers and shuffle inside, hmphing as you step off in search of your light switch and shut it off. “Whatever.” You weakly grumble back. 
You settle into your covers as you harshly shove a bunch of pillows between you and Jungkook, not even daring to spare the infuriating man a look, turning completely away from his figure. You huddle into your side like a fetus once the night really kicks in, cursing your goddamn furnace for supplying such sparse heat while your window leaks chilly air through the old cracks. 
You shiver all while Jungkook seems to completely knock out in peace, most likely from his first oh so tiresome day being human. You’re welcomed by his light snoring for hours as you roll your eyes in contempt. 
Wanting to pin it on him for so irritatingly interrupting your much-needed sleep, you become annoyed not just with Jungkook’s snoring, but that he was right. 
You really wanted to cuddle up to him for some goddamn warmth that night. 
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You bop around to the Beatles’ 1963 track Jungkook was humming last night, pushing around some strips of bacon in your pan, messy hair tied and in your lounge wear. You’d cracked a few more eggs and cooked more bacon for your annoyingly hellish acquaintance. 
The chilly night really didn’t serve you well as you froze in your spot, only shuffling towards Jungkook after peeking at his slobbering, snoring state of sleep. You were thankful he still radiated such an abundant amount of heat, that finding relief in the small waves you could feel even over the pillow barrier wasn’t too difficult. 
Your pride kept you from removing even a single cushion. 
You produce playful noises from your lips as you busy yourself, setting up some breakfast considering your house does not only have a population of one anymore, but two, and it still continues to shift the axis of your world. 
Was last night really your reality? Are you sure that wasn’t just a wild figment of your imagination? It had to be, even if you believe in the supernatural, there was no way such a superior celestial being could so casually be a guest in your home. 
You’re reminded of that certain special guest when you suddenly hear a loud thud in your bedroom, concerned eyes perking towards your ajar door. 
“Demon?” You call. 
You gain no answer, wondering if you truly did just imagine all the events from last night. 
“Jungkook-!” Said man tumbles out of your room then, groggy as all hell as he lazily rubs his eyes and appears to you as death himself, though still delectably hot. 
Ugh, fuck him. 
“Y/N.. shit.” He addresses you, and suddenly the deep, gravelly tone of his morning voice makes your core inadvertently clench. “Y-yes?” 
“I crashed into your damn vanity in the bathroom.. why is everything of yours so tiny?” He complains first thing in the morning, now remembering just how frustrating the king of hell really is. 
“Maybe you’re just too big, demon.” He grunts his response, stalking over to you as he can’t seem to adjust to the morning light filtering into your apartment. 
You watch him approach you, gathering the necessary tableware for a quality morning breakfast. “How’d you sleep, demon?” 
Jungkook’s barely-open eyes scrutinize you as he seats himself on a stool by your counter, covering his mouth when he yawns. “Meh. I had this… this thing. I saw these pictures in my head when I was sleeping…” 
“A dream?” You assist him as you pour out a glass of milk. 
“Yeah, whatever the fuck it’s called. Anyway, I think.. I think I saw something that’ll help me get back to hell.” 
That pries your eyes open with intrigue, setting the glass of milk down for him on the counter. “Oh shit, already?” 
He nods, and you find it actually quite endearing how much his hair was tousled into this attractive bed-head, eyes puffy, lips pouting. “I saw this club.. I remember seeing it when I used to be in hell.” 
“A club?” 
“Mm,” he replies with a confirming hum as he reaches for the glass, lightly inspecting the drink as he continues. “It’s this exclusive club only for celestial beings. I heard about it sometimes among my demon subjects, but I was too busy being the mighty king of hell to give a crap.” He haughtily regards himself as he takes a moderate swig of the milk, licking his lips as he nods in approval of the beverage. 
“I like this, what is this?” 
“Milk,” you elaborate. “What about this club?” 
Jungkook takes another lazy sip as his eyes scan over the food you now plate on the counter. “Well, it’s obviously only meant for celestial beings. Demons and angels. I’m thinking if I can find even one of my demons, I could find out where the club is, and then figure out why I was kicked out of hell.” 
“Ohh,” you remark with understanding, setting aside the pan and spatula, while nabbing two forks from a drawer. “So you just have to visit this club then, correct?” 
“Correct,” Jungkook answers. “There’s just two things.” He begins as he takes the fork you hand him with ease, impressed by his adeptness for such human, mundane things. 
He must’ve watched humans for a brain-numbing amount of eons. 
“One, this one’s mainly angel territory.” 
You raise your brows in question, arms crossed and eagerly interested in the information. “There’s more than one?” 
“There are clubs scattered around Earth, it’s to allow celestial beings a place of refuge when they visit here.” Jungkook explains. “I remember seeing an American flag when I landed here, so I’m assuming I’m in America, and the only existing club here is in Chicago.” 
“Chicago?!” You exclaim with utter shock. “That’s across the entire country from here!” 
“Not the point, human.” He cuts you off with a finger. “Point is, that club will be crawling with angels, and as Lucifer they may not welcome me with open arms.” Jungkooks sets his fork down against your counter with a sigh, almost seeing his mind shift its locks and gears. 
“The only way I’ll be able to get in is if..” He pauses, serious eyes locking with yours. “Is if I bring a human with me.” 
You blink; rapidly, then slowly, then rapidly again somehow hoping it would change what you just heard. “Come again?” 
Jungkook sighs, his facial features already telling you he finds this difficult to discuss. “This club in Chicago is angel-dominant, meaning demons need to bring a human companion in order to get in. Like a truce, a sign we mean no harm.” Jungkook elaborates. “And even as Lucifer, I don’t think my charms and wit alone can get me through considering my less powerful, human form.” 
You scoff at him shamelessly tooting his own horn, wondering if he’ll ever tire of it. “Sounds like a real pickle, Luci. Wonder where you’ll find yourself a ‘measly’ human.” You snark with a snort, placing the milk back in your fridge and reaching for your mango juice. 
You swivel back around to a Jungkook who doesn’t smirk, nor grin nor tongue his cheek condescendingly, but simply leans his elbows over the counter and pressingly peers at you. As if communicating with his eyes alone… 
No, no way. No way in the fiery pits of Jungkook would you goddamn do this. 
“Jungkook, don’t you dare..” 
“Human.. it’s important.” You scoff through a humourless laugh, setting down your carton of mango juice and gesturing towards yourself in disbelief. 
“Me? You want the human to be me?” 
“Y/N…” Jungkook quite gently calls your name, a complete contrast to his arrogance and while the sound of your name on his tongue lights something within your chest, you can’t help but snort with utter derision. 
“No. I’m not fucking accompanying you all the way to Chicago just for some innocence show-and-tell.” You immediately deny him, contemplating just how crazy this is. How in the world could you just up and leave for some travelling with the devil all the way across the country? You couldn’t even take a goddamn flight considering dear-old Lucifer’s lack of passport ID. 
“Y/N.. look. I know it’s not ideal for you, but this is seriously important.” Jungkook emphasizes with a persuasive tone. “I need you…” 
Those last three words and the look of pure need in his eyes tug at the strings of your weak heart, groaning in complaint. “Jungkook, you can’t be serious. I-I have a life here! I have friends and a job and not to mention school starts back up for me in a month-” 
Jungkook suddenly rises from his seat and paces over to you, grasping a careful hold of your hands and the innate warmth he emits from his skin actually feels.. comforting. 
“Y/N, look. I get it. You have a life here on Earth, a place where you belong. But I have a life in hell, a place where I belong. Wouldn’t it be best to just accompany me and get me back to hell so I can get out of your hair?” 
“Jungkook…” You counter with an uncooperative tone, eyes communicating sympathy, but you can’t offer him the help he needs. “I can’t.” 
“This will benefit both of us, human.” Jungkook convincingly states. “I go back to hell faster, and I leave you alone faster. I know how much you don’t want me here.” 
You hesitate, eyesight faltering to your connected hands; his thumbs are actually soothing the back of your hands? When did he start doing that? 
“That’s not exactly true…” 
“Y/N, just come. I know it’s asking a lot but I really need this.” Jungkook pleads. 
“And what will you do for me in return if I come with you?” 
“Oh, Y/N, I’ll do anything. The faster I can get back to hell the faster I reclaim my full powers, and I’ll grant you anything you desire. I promise.” You’re uncertain of how strong a promise from the devil could be, deterring you from giving him an answer he wants to hear. 
With a sad sigh, you disconnect your hands from Jungkook’s. “I really can’t, Jungkook. It’s non-negotiable…” 
You watch as the usually confident, cocky man falls into an expression of glumness, silently retracting his hands. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly as he acquiesces, though seems silently upset. “Okay..” 
The gloomy pout to his cute lips does you in. “Look, Jungkook. I’m going out with friends tonight for drinks at this bar. Maybe you can tag along and you can easily find another human? I’m sure any girl would be willing to roadtrip with a super handsome guy like you across the country.” You attempt to present a peace-offering with a joke, hands shoved into your sweater paws as you hug your chest. 
“But those humans won’t be like you..” He groans with a huff, eyes evading you. 
“And what’s so different about me?” 
“You already know I’m Lucifer, that makes things 100x easier for me.” He argues. 
“Well, I found out and I ended up accepting you. Who’s to say you won’t find another human like that?” You plead your case, but Jungkook just scoffs in reply. 
“Please, do you not remember what happened when you saw that I was Lucifer?” You recall the fiasco of forks, flinging and feathers, sighing once you see his point. “Exactly. Besides, you saw me as Lucifer by accident, I can’t just be revealing my identity to anybody. It’s not allowed.” 
“But I know..?” You question genuinely, gesturing towards yourself. 
“Like I said, by accident. Though I’m assuming the Council won’t see it that way, and they’ll come for me anyway.” Jungkook more so mutters to himself as he frustratedly tongues his cheek and steps around, brewing with stress. 
“The what?” You question. 
Jungkook rolls his eyes, as though now registering just how annoyingly human you are. “Think of them as angel police, yeah?” 
You mimic his tone purposefully and he impersonates you back, scoffing to end the interaction. “Look, if you already have these angel police people on your ass then what’s the harm in telling another human? They’ll be chasing you anyway.” 
Jungkook laughs dryly, looking away from you as he shakes his head. “I can’t just do that, that’s not how it works.” 
You sigh, watching the way his jaw flexes because he’s grinding down on his teeth too hard, a clear sign of his anger. You hate that it emphasizes the sharp edge of his jawline, and that it’s actually fucking hot. 
He suddenly breaks into the slightest laughter that holds some amusement, wondering what he’s laughing at. Nonetheless, you decide to defuse this situation and try to comfort him. You meant it when you said last night you wanted to be in Lucifer’s good graces, but also remain in them no matter how irritating he is. 
You approach him amicably and grasp his bare bicep, brushing his arm in support. “Look, Jungkook. Just come with me tonight and try, okay? Maybe your answer is just an arm’s length away.” 
Jungkook’s eyes find yours, and you watch them glimmer with something akin to understanding, surprisingly loosening up at your touch. Though his irises are soon blanketed with his signature mirth as he eyes you, feeling the heat of his body suddenly radiate off him like a heatwave. 
“You sure you want me to come tonight, angel? Your friends may think I’m your scorching hot boyfriend.” 
You produce an appalling noise of disapproval, removing your hand from him and shaking off his Luciferness. “Fuck you. I’m telling them you’re my roommate and that’s final.” 
“And where exactly did you find me as a roommate? On the street?” Jungkook laughs as you shoot him a crabby glare, not missing the way his amused eyes flit over your figure with almost… likeness? 
“I’m telling them you’re a co-worker. No way am I saying I just found you on a whim, they’ll think we’re-” 
“We’re sleeping together, right?” 
You grow aggravated by the sly way he’s folded his arms and does that stupidly attractive thing where he tongues his cheek, fed up with his suggestive fun. You quickly snatch your kitchen towel in your hands and roll it up into a punishing device, rapidly smacking at him. 
Jungkook exclaims playfully as he dodges your hit. “Wo-hoah, human. Didn’t I tell you angels are good and pure beings? They don’t hit people.” He laughs as you grunt in frustration and follow his retreating form for another whack, actually landing it against his arm. 
“Hey, bad angel!” Jungkook tuts you light-heartedly as he cleverly evades your angry attacks. You hate that even while he’s riling you up, you actually liked the image of his glowing, entertained smile, his cute teeth reminding you of a bunny. 
“Says the obnoxious Lucifer!” You holler loudly in complaint, chasing him while your once warm breakfast turns unfavourably cold. 
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“And this is Jungkook, my co-worker!” You cheer as you present Jungkook to your group of friends, earning wide smiles and gawking eyes from your female friends and equally surprised male friends. 
“Hey, everyone.” Jungkook waves with a confident smile, showcasing his adorable teeth for a lovable grin. 
Did he seriously have to be cute too?
You snap out of it once you see your friends all greeting him kindly, Jungkook only left to shyly smile and reply shortly to all the inquiries he gains. His lost eyes find yours and he reveals genuine fear in them, silently requesting you to come join him and let up the traffic of questions. 
A snort escapes you as you watch on, who knew Lucifer could actually be awkward? You swear he should’ve been a natural with people, though you contend he just doesn’t do well with so many questions at once. 
To be fair, he’s never been around other humans before either. 
You grant him mercy by sliding in beside him, shooting pleasant grins all around as you answer the dozens of questions your friends ask about your new gorgeous co-worker. 
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“Doesn’t he just look like one of those men that’ll eat you out until he can’t breathe?” 
“Oh for sure, looks like he’d stuff himself full and even when you tell him to breathe he just says no.” 
“Hell, he’d be that type that pulls your hips back down over his face when you try to let him breathe.” 
“Guys..!” You interject as your friends Madison, Naila and Kiara all giggle together. You’re all huddled together drinking by the bar as your friends become more interested in observing Jungkook in all his dripping sexiness. 
And to be honest, you don’t really blame them, he’s wearing that scorching hot leather outfit again. 
“Y/N, seriously. How could you not tell us someone that hot worked with you?” 
“This has got to be a crime, were you gate-keeping him?” Naila suddenly complains as you quell their grievances. 
“Guys, he just.. got transferred to my department recently. He’s new.” You find a quick enough and convincing lie. 
“How did you two end up even living together? There had to have been some sort of meet-cute.” The girls all gush together when Kiara asks, all eyes shifting towards you as they excitedly await an answer. 
“Well.. we just.. got on the topic of him needing a place and we hung out sometimes. So I offered my place.” 
“And?!” 
You feel slightly cornered, but confidently answer with another white lie. “And he said okay.” 
They all squeal together like teen girls, honestly finding amusement in their reactions. “Ugh, you’re living the dream, Y/N.” Madison suddenly slings an arm around you and tugs you towards her, gesturing towards nothing that indicates her depiction of ‘the dream’. “You’re in a roommate situation with an absolutely scorching hot guy, you’ll totally end up either falling in love or banging him!” 
“What?” You squeak as you throw back a shot of tequila Naila handed you. “No way will that happen, he’s obnoxious as hell!” 
“Ugh, babes. Even if he’s obnoxious I bet that dick isn’t.” Kiara jokes and the girls all chuckle together, tipping back their shot glasses after filling some back up. You roll your eyes and smack her arm as she exclaims, trying to lighten you up. 
“Y/N, c’mon. You deserve to have some fun after that shitty fucking ex of yours. Live a little, ya know? Whether it’s love or dick, they’re both great remedies.” 
You scoff as your lips hover over a shot glass, eyes wandering the club as if you're occupied, but really, you know it’s in an effort to look for Jungkook. It’s funny you act like you don’t know where he is, when you know his exact location. 
Your eyes flicker across the bar, finding Jungkook having casually slipped into conversation with the boys tonight. He was laughing and happily tipping back shots himself, amused that he at least eased up and found some company with your male friends. 
Sights absorbed in suddenly eyeing him, it’s truly difficult to pry your gaze away. No way was this Jungkook’s impact of being Lucifer, you now knew you needed to be very close, or at least touching him in order to feel those effects. So why is it that you still feel this magnetic pull towards him? Can’t help but not only find him incredibly sexy in his usual outfit, but something so mysteriously alluring about him? 
Your body wanted him, you knew that much. Anyone with eyes and functioning reproductive organs would know that, but you couldn’t shake off the fact that it wasn’t just your body that wanted him.
He was just so intriguing, and you wanted to know more. 
Suddenly, Jungkook’s eyes casually shift from your friend Hobi he’s speaking to, and locks with your gaze across the bar. You freeze, eyebrows raising as you hesitate to take your shot, caught in a stare with him you can’t break. 
Jungkook stares back, and he stares goddamn good. He tongues his cheek again irritatingly and you try to swallow down the way he makes your core light up. Jungkook then tilts his head a little downwards with a cracked smirk, before he peers up at you again with eyes so devilishly smoldering, you could feel a sweat break out at the nape of your neck. 
You gulp as Jungkook then tips his head to the side with a light furrow of his brows, as if questioning you what’s wrong, and you lightly nod to him nothing. He laughs a little, hating that he finds this somehow amusing. You’re in the middle of narrowing your eyes at him until Naila interrupts you, Jungkook cleverly looking away then. 
“See, they’re practically eye-fucking already!” You shoot them all an annoyed look as you grunt in complaint. 
“Are you sure you guys aren’t together?” Madison inquires. “It seems like he already likes you, babes.” 
You click your tongue in disapproval. “He just likes to tease me, guys. Drop it, would you?” 
“As long as you land on his face, then everything should be good.” The drunk girls giggle together, and you can’t help but snicker at the joke. You contemplate in your tipsy head there really is something about Jungkook’s smoking hot face that makes it seem so rideable. 
“I’ll be back, guys. Stay here.” You instruct the girls as you set your shot glass down. You weave through the throngs of people mingling and dancing in the bar, ignoring your girls’ hollers of encouragement as you bee-line towards Jungkook. 
You reach the occupied man and tug lightly at the end of his sleeve for his attention. “Jungkook!” You shout over the blaring speaker the guys are all near. 
Jungkook’s vision snaps to you as he simultaneously touches your wrist to acknowledge you. Your skin ignites at a simple touch of his, feeling a rush you’ve never experienced before. You blink it away before lightly tugging him aside, speaking to him. 
“What’s up, human!” The booming bass of synth-pop beats abuses your eardrums, requiring both you and Jungkook to yell at each other. 
“Why haven’t you talked to anyone yet!” 
“Huh!” He hollers in response.
You exclaim in complaint as you lean in a little towards his ear, shouting louder. “I brought you here to talk to someone and bring with you, why haven’t you been talking to anyone yet!” 
Jungkook draws back and signals to you he can’t hear, rolling your eyes and curling your palm around his wrist, dragging him through the crowd. You tug him into the secluded restroom area where it’s much quieter, the shut door closing out the music. 
“Ah, that’s much better.” Jungkook notes. 
“I was asking if you’ve talked to anyone about Chicago yet, Jungkook.” You repeat yourself from earlier, hand still holding onto his wrist. “That’s what I brought you here for, remember?” 
“Hey, I’ve been talking to people,” Jungkook defends himself, though his expression falters into one of hesitancy. “Kind of..?” 
You glower at him, “Jungkook, what do you mean by ‘kind of’?” 
Jungkook sighs, shoulders slumping as he surprisingly doesn’t even make you let go of him. You can feel that rush of his energy coursing through you, but you manage the invasive feeling as you focus on the conversation instead. 
“I’ve been trying to get it out of me but.. I just never end up asking.” You exclaim in annoyance as you scold him.
“Jungkook, why not?!” 
“Because it’s just weird, okay, Y/N?” Jungkook argues. “I’m meeting these people for the first time, I can’t just fucking ask them to hitchhike with me all the way across the damn country.” 
“But it was completely okay to ask me?” 
Jungkook kisses his teeth with a roll of his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you you’re different, human?” 
“Well, I’m not any different when you always call me a ‘human’ anyway, demon.” 
Jungkook becomes fed up with your pestering and scoffs. “Whatever. You’re the only human I can do this in front of and not have someone screaming their head off.” Jungkook emphasizes his point by conjuring up a hot flame from his palm. His suddenly glowing red eyes also appear, shooting you an ‘I-told-you-so’ look of challenge as you glare back at him. 
You’re seconds from retorting until you’re suddenly interrupted by the shrieking of a woman. You’re startled as your unsuspecting vision falls to a random stranger who had just ventured out of the bathroom and…
“Fire, fire!” 
You and Jungkook both look at the flame in his palm, then towards the woman in fear, finally locking anxious eyes with one another and panicking. Jungkook puts out the fire and you rapidly approach the woman to calm her down, hoping nobody can hear how goddamn loudly she’s screaming. 
“Shh, oh my God. It’s okay, it’s a prank. It’s a prank!” You repeatedly yell in order to shut the lady up, but she keeps yelling and trying to make a horrified break for her purse. She scrambles inside and you both watch her fish out a small bottle of something that’s engraved with almost-visible writing.
Holy Water. 
“A demon, it’s a demon!” She shrills so goddamn ear-splittingly, you and Jungkook leap into flight mode. He engulfs your arm in his and tugs you towards him urgently.
“Y/N, we have to go!” 
You curse repeatedly as Jungkook swings open the doors to the club and you shoot the woman apologizing glances, begging for her to put a damn sock in it. Jungkook takes the lead as he drags you out into the bar. He rapidly pulls you through people and ensures he keeps a tight hold of your arm, tugging you incredibly close to his own body as some sort of shield. 
Your friends end up seeing you both fleeing and shooting you looks of either ‘what the fuck’ or ‘get it on!’ as you practically hide your face in embarrassment. You and Jungkook hurtle out into the blissful night as he tugs you both down the way he knows you parked your car. You grunt in raging frustration once you realize that you parked it far with this place being downtown. 
“Ugh! You just had to fucking use your powers out in the open!” You complain aloud while you run with Jungkook, not caring now for the few late-night city stragglers hearing you. 
“Not my fault you keep nagging me about finding another human!” Jungkook argues as he continues pulling you down the road, the fear of authorities being called by the random woman scaring him. “Do you see now why you’re the only one who can come with me?!” 
You whine as you consider he’s correct, there’s no use in him searching for another human for ages when you exist right before his eyes. “Fine, fine! I’ll fucking go with you, asshole! Can we just stop fucking running?!” 
You become too tired to keep up with Jungkook, feet aching in your shoes once you realize how fast Jungkook was going, hands dropping to your knees as he releases you. 
“You… you run.. fucking fast.” You heave for air as you register the sweat on your forehead, having participated in too much exercise just now. 
“I’m a little faster as Lucifer, human.” Jungkook elaborates oh-so-obviously as you wave him off, squawking for air as though you were a fish out of water. 
“You okay?” Jungkook asks as he nears your bent over form with a hand, and you swallow harshly as you tell him to give you a minute. You’re focusing on resupplying your lungs oxygen until you suddenly feel arms cupping underneath your body, and are unexpectedly hoisted up in the air. 
You squeal as you find Jungkook’s lifted you off the ground bridal-style, freaking out at just how strong he is. “J-Jungkook, put me down! You can’t carry me all the way to the car?!” 
Jungkook swiftly ignores you as he begins jogging towards the direction of your car, and quite frankly does so almost too easily. “I’m fast and strong as Lucifer, human. I can handle you.” 
Jungkook quells your worries as your round eyes watch him flash a look down at you, and try to stifle the flutter of your heart when he shoots you a show-stopping smile. 
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It was the day of your trip, and having woken up at the ass crack of dawn to get on the roads early, you and Jungkook currently load your car with your luggage enough for two weeks of travelling. You groan as you rub an exhausted eye, yawning when you feel sleep still beckoning you to your warm bed. 
You stand frozen in your spot as you refuse to move the suitcase resting at your feet, rather staring at it with delirium instead. 
You feel a sudden nudge to your shoulder, finding Jungkook settling beside you. “Hey, sleepyhead, get moving.” He instructs in rather a light, encouraging tone, finding that very different from his usually pushy tone. 
Sight still filled with sleep, your eyes remain locked on Jungkook shooting you one last look before he’s hauling a duffle bag over his shoulder, and carries another heavy suitcase effortlessly, hating that it all made his biceps pop so goddamn sickeningly.
Did Lucifer really have to be ripped?  
You roll your eyes at how unfair this is; Jungkook having begged you last week to take him on a small shopping spree so he had enough trendy clothes to wear and didn’t have to keep sporting your Hello Kitty shirt. Not only that, but you had to spend even more bucks purchasing him necessary things to even live in the human world; his own toothbrush, cologne, hell, even boxers were on the list with Jungkook’s shameless ass promising he’ll shower you in gold once he’s ruling hell again. 
Jungkook suddenly waves his hand before your eyes, perking up as your eyes shift upwards to accommodate for his height. “Hello, human? I need you with me.” 
You blink rapidly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here.” 
“You okay? I know you didn’t sleep well with everything you needed to arrange.” Jungkook’s palm curls around your arm, carefully inspecting your features. “How was your call with work?” 
“Not terrible. They were kinda pissed. I was asking for vacation time at the last minute but when I explained it was a family emergency, they weren’t so annoyed about it.” Jungkook approves of that as he rubs your arm supportively. 
“I promise we’ll be back in two weeks, and your life will go right back to normal, human.” Jungkook grants you another promise as he sends a small smile, earning a miniscule, tired grin from you. 
“Did you get the last of everything from inside my apartment?” You gesture towards your building. 
“Yeah, I got everything. Just your suitcase left.” You nod in understanding as you bend down to lug at your suitcase. You struggle as your palms fasten onto the bag but find the weight too much for your flimsy arms. You make a rather resilient effort to tug it towards the trunk of your car with all your might, until Jungkook’s hand suddenly replaces yours on the handle. 
His presence casts you aside as he shoots you a tight-lipped smile and lifts your luggage himself, tucking it into your trunk effortlessly and shutting the hood. You stand frozen at the sudden kind gesture, brows furrowed in confusion. 
Did he just do something nice for me? 
You decide not to snarkily comment on it, instead shutting your mouth and making towards your beat up Prius.
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Ironically, AC/DC blasts through your car’s speakers, snickering a little once you consider you genuinely are on the ‘Highway to Hell’. 
Your laugh catches Jungkook’s attention, who’s enthusiastically pretending to drum the exact beats of the rock song. With your peripheral, you find Jungkook completely enjoying himself before shooting a look at you, then back out on the road again. 
You and Jungkook were about 2 hours into driving now, having decided to blare the music in order to keep each other awake in the early morning. 
“You sure you don’t want me to drive, human?” Jungkook asks as he settles in his seat, getting comfy as your hands remain at ten and two. 
“Nah, it’s okay. If I don’t drive I’ll fall asleep.” 
“You kinda look like you need it.” You shoot him a glare as you move a hand to smack at his arm, to which Jungkook hisses and tuts. 
“Hey, focus on the road, will you?” 
You hear him laugh while you roll your eyes, returning your hand to the steering wheel. “Fuck you, do you even know how to drive, demon?” 
“Of course I do. It isn’t too difficult.” Jungkook shrugs as though you were both discussing apple-picking. 
“And how to hell do you know that?” 
Jungkook scoffs a dry laugh, taking a long, deep sigh. “Sweetheart, you have no clue how long I’ve been watching humans.” 
He reclines back in his seat as he shuts his eyes, tossing the heels of his shoes over your dashboard until you swat violently at his legs, sneering reprimandingly. “Hello? This is my car? Get your dirty feet off.” 
You shove his legs off and Jungkook awakes with a disagreeable scowl. “What the fuck? Can’t a guy goddamn rest?” 
“You’re Lucifer, Jungkook. Not a human, remember?” You purposefully chide with a saccharine tone, and you listen to him scoff. 
“Whatever.” 
“Awh, he’e becoming more human everyday.” 
Jungkook mocks you before you find his arms tightly folding over his chest, huddling against the window as he genuinely attempts to get some shut-eye. You presume he’s not so used to needing sleep. 
“Do you even know if this is the right way, Jungkook?” You ask, ensuring with him every now and then if he wasn’t just simply leading you to your demise somewhere. Who knows, maybe the real way for him to get back into hell is by sacrificing a human life through a ritual or something. 
You shiver hoping that’s not true at all. 
“Yes, I know..” Jungkook grumbles with his closed eyes and an exhausted body, watching him peacefully come to rest. 
You decide to not bother him considering he did complete most of the work packing and loading all your luggage for the road trip this morning, needing to have woken up before you for the task. You shoot a glance at his resting state, his lips falling into that pout you’ve now noticed over the week, in fact, is a natural habit of his. 
He usually makes it when he falls asleep. 
With an acknowledging side-grin, you turn down the volume of the music, and focus on driving again. 
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“You just had to eat all the Fuzzy Peaches, didn’t you?” 
“No I didn’t, there were only three left once I even got the bag, it was you.” 
“And you couldn’t spare some for me? I’ve been driving for 4 hours!” 
That particularly stupid argument is what led both you and Jungkook to pull into this convenience store along the side of a quite bustling street. Car washes, lauder mats, even a brunch diner were all located in this small plaza ‘Ed’s Convenience’ was also in. Across the street from you was a supermarket, the rest of the area littered with stores whatever odd town in California housed. 
Currently, you were waiting for Jungkook to return to you from the convenience store. Despite now knowing him and his tendency to snack a lot, you allowed him to take your card after he promised that you would be given the choice of always deciding where you eat. 
You had to seriously discuss with Jungkook that money was going to be your biggest issue on this trip. Considering gas, eating out, staying at hotels, a lot of your own personal finances were going to be depleted just for this 2 week trip. Jungkook yet again, promised indefinitely that once he returned to hell he would be able to conjure up triple what you spent on him, along with a slew of fake-sobs that you reluctantly agreed to in order to shut him up. 
You roll your eyes remembering the interaction, having set a strict rule with him that your money will have to be managed and budgeted very well while on this trip. Sometimes you would both have to survive on convenience store food, sometimes it would be best to just camp out in the car together rather than always spending nights at crappy motels. 
The sound of gravel crunching catches your attention, soon finding Jungkook appearing before you. He was wearing black ripped jeans, combat boots, black shirt all tied together with his leather jacket, holding a bag of convenience store goodies as he plopped down next to you on the trunk of the car. 
He currently munches on some gummy worms as you watch him, finding that he probably appeared the most innocent when he was eating. His eyes go round as though he’s a child eating food for the first time, and he chews in his adorable pout you can’t help but admire, rather ironic for the sinful king of hell. 
You never expected to see him in such a domestic, human state. 
His eyes flash to you and you wake up from your trance, clearing your throat before flickering back to your laptop screen. “You’re back, demon.” 
“Mm,” he hums, reaching into his bag and suddenly presenting you with a bag of Fuzzy Peaches. You raise your eyebrows in surprise as your hand tentatively clasps around it. 
“For me?” 
“Well, you threw a whole tantrum over em’.” 
You immediately move to elbow him but he defend himself, laughing as he presents the bag of candy. You accept the bag with a scoff, disguising the grateful smile and flutter that threatens your heart at the gesture. 
“What are you looking at?” He inquires with narrowed eyes to get a better look at the screen. 
“Google maps. I know you said the club you need to visit is in Chicago, but do you know the exact location so that it’s easier once we’re in Chicago? I need to know which highways to take.” 
Jungkook nibbles on the last of a gummy worm as he pouts his lips in thought, watching the clear blue sky above him. “I told you, we’d have to ask one of my demon subjects in order to find that out.” 
You nod in comprehension. “Do you know anyone we could possibly visit for an exact address?” 
Jungkook reaches inside his packet for another bite of a gummy worm. “I do. I think most of my subjects would know, though the only one I can recall the exact location of is a demon named Azazel.” He snaps a piece of his gummy worm in half, bringing one of them to his lips for a nibble as he details. “He’s one of the Princes of hell, serves right under me. He likes to hang out at this one place in Nevada I think. He’d definitely know where the celestial club is located.” 
You purse your lips as you absorb the information, checking it through with him. “Prince of hell?” 
“Yeah,” Jungkook nods. “They’re these 7 princes that are meant to represent the Seven Deadly Sins. They’re a ranking just below me, powerful beings but they’d never dare defy me.” Jungkook proudly remarks, watching the way he straightens up his slouched back and squares his shoulders. 
“That’s interesting. Which sin does this Azazel demon represent?” 
“Lust. Or, well, vanity.” Jungkook clarifies. “But when I say he’s a super weird one, I mean it. He’s got his own very… unique tastes he thinks very highly of.” Jungkook grimaces as he seems to remember something bone-chilling about the demon. He then laughs, however, finishing off the last of his gummy worms as he regards you beside him, trying not to squirm at how much larger he is than you, or how he even makes damn ripped jeans look scorching hot.  
“Take a guess where you think we’ll find someone like him?” 
You furrow your brows as you tilt your head in question, Jungkook’s eyes lighting up at the adorable gesture of yours. “Where?” 
6 hours later, you stand frozen, mouth agape, legs unmoving. You listlessly stare at a loud, flashy neon-pink sign that depicts the image of an erotically-posed woman wrapped around a pole, along with the name “The Devil Wears Prada” ironically plastered underneath in cursive. 
It’s a fucking stripclub. 
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You peer at Jungkook absolutely bewildered, blinking a few times to compute whether or not he was serious. Jungkook merely stands all too giddy, arms folded over his chest as he flashes you a beaming smile. 
He’s having way too much fun with this.
“Jungkook..” You draw out his name with a scolding. 
“Oh c’mon, Y/N, it’ll be fun.” He attempts to warm you up to the idea, nudging your elbow too adorably. 
You shoot him a dirty look and snatch your arm away from him, exhaling annoyingly. “Did it really have to be a stripclub?” 
“Why?” Jungkook queries. “Have you never been to one?” 
You freeze, suddenly a lump forming in your throat and trying to swallow it down. You’re not sure how you’re going to tell Jungkook that you actually have without revisiting a long-gone memory from your past. Your eyes evade him completely then, squeezing your folded arms tighter. “I have.” 
Jungkook furrows his brows. “Is.. there a problem?” 
“No just-get us inside, will you? It’s not exactly warm out here.” You begrudgingly complain as you harshly tug your cardigan around yourself. You hate that the temperature suddenly dropped significantly at night, leaving you freezing in your tank top, jean shorts and a measly wool cardigan. 
You internally groan then, not just at the weather but standing in front of this Godforsaken place. The entire idea of a stripclub is off-putting to you, and it’s not like you’ll tell Jungkook exactly why. 
You didn’t want to recall the god awful person attached to it. 
All of a sudden, you’re enveloped by the warmth of a jacket around your shoulders. You surprisingly snap to your right and find Jungkook adjusting his cozy leather jacket over you, warm from his usual higher temperature. Your lips fall into a quizzical little pout. 
“Why’d you...” 
“Let’s go inside, we don’t want Azazel leaving, do we?” 
You regard Jungkook with round eyes as he simply sends you a smile, halting yourself from swooning over the deadly image. He wraps a warm palm around your wrist and drags you to the entrance of the club, silently following him with the hint of a shy smile. 
A long line awaits outside the door, but Jungkook confidently stalks over to the security guard on duty. The man almost protests angrily until Jungkook glowers at him with his crimson eyes, sending the man to instantly shiver with fear. He graciously opens the door for you both without a hitch, even granting you VIP access badges. 
Impression is all that colours you as you contemplate Jungkook’s mere unmatched power, knowing damn well you’ll refrain from pissing him off too much, You slip inside the lively club with Jungkook, and unconsciously slide your fingers into his with acutely rising nerves, squeezing slightly. 
And surprisingly enough, Jungkook squeezes back. 
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Your pairs of once peaceful ears are welcomed by the sound of raunchy music blasting over the speakers, scantily-clad women dancing on a neon platform with a shimmering pole, and also decorating the many suit-wearing men in the crowds. 
You feel out of place, awkward, only having been in a stripclub once, and it was not your best experience at all. You clasp Jungkook’s hand a little harder this time, even cowering into his much larger form as people pass you by and disregard all means of space. 
Jungkook’s eyes sweep over the place with nothing but mischief and mirth, watching his eyes smolder a fiery red with a smug grin.
“Fuck, now this is my place.” This must be exactly where Jungkook thrives; sin litters this place from left to right and you assume it’s channeling his powers of pure evil. 
You fear a human possibly sighting his Lucifer eyes though, and quickly prop yourself on your tip-toes. Your hand curls over his shoulder and you speak to him in his ear, Jungkook instinctively bending down. “Jungkook, your eyes.” 
“Hm?” His round orbs stare into your soul inquisitively, and you suddenly realize he actually has very big eyes, almost doe-like. 
“Your eyes, they’re red. Someone will notice.” 
“Oh,” Jungkook blinks a few times and dials down the heat, dispersing the colour. “Better?” 
“Better.” You nod. It takes a good second for you to notice how close your faces are to each other, however, and your breath catches in your throat. Jungkook’s lips curve into a little smile when he sees that, becoming too swept up in his ocean and immediately removing yourself from him. Only your hands clutch each other as you avert your sight. 
You continue to evade him and Jungkook instead zeroes in on you, scrutinizing your features. “Are you okay?” 
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 
“Oh my God, don’t tell me you totally lied about going to a stripclub.” Jungkook drawled. “You’re so innocent.” 
Jungkook makes it a statement to ruffle the top of your head, and you quickly smack his hand away as you send him a death glare. “I’m not lying, for your information. I have been to a stripclub, and I’m not that innocent.” 
You have no clue the things I’ve thought of.
Jungkook cracks a sexy grin. “Hmm, are you sure about that?” He leans in eye-level with you suddenly, and you lean back in accordance. “I’m sensing something else here.” 
“The only thing you should be sensing is Azazel, demon.” You shove him back and Jungkook lets out a hearty laugh, rolling your eyes in response. 
“You’re right, I actually can sense him. He should be here.” Jungkook scans the place with his demonic eyes, attempting to discern where exactly Azazel may be. 
You’re busy hmphing when you move to cross your arms, and realize that Jungkook, while distracted, is still holding your hand. You peer down at the means of contact, feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling suddenly spreading across your chest. You push it away once Jungkook turns to you, ensuring he doesn't catch you staring at your connected hands. 
“I think he may be in one of the VIP rooms, I’m going to check, okay?” 
“Wait,” you pull him back, Jungkook all ears for you. “Why are you going alone? I can’t come?” 
Jungkook chuckles a little. “Demons usually take up the vip rooms in this club,” Jungkook then suddenly tugs you towards him without warning, and you tumble directly into his chest. You peer up at him in complete surprise, only to find his smile absolutely shit-eating. 
“I wouldn’t want an angel like you in a den of sinners.” 
Your heart hammers against your ribcage, being this close to him just sets off an insatiable fire inside you that’ll never have an explanation anymore. Maybe it’s Jungkook’s attraction as Lucifer, you’re not sure, but suddenly feeling his chest against yours, mere inches from his lips, his eyes only on you in a room full of exotic, topless dancers, you feel yourself falling into his abyss. 
Why can’t I just kiss his cute lips?
A shove to Jungkook’s shoulder by a stranger snaps you out of it, immediately adding space between you two. “G-go find Azazel.” You see Jungkook crack a knowing grin before he holds up his hands in mock surrender. 
“Alright, alright.” He vindicates himself, but suddenly winds an arm around your shoulders, his lips brushing your ear. He tugs you close enough to catch a whiff of the coffee you both drank on the way here, trying not to ignite at the feeling of his lips touching your skin. 
“Stay here, don’t talk to anyone. Don’t take a drink from a stranger either, only wait for me.” He instructs firmly with a squeeze to your arm, turning to the side to question him why, but Jungkook has already let you go. He disappears into the crowd and booming club then, before you can even breathe. 
Damn, he really is fast as Lucifer. 
You suddenly become reclusive in the grandiose, erotic club. All you see are boobs and sexy women flaunting their gorgeous bodies, and as much as you find it downright impressive, respecting the hell out of the stunning dancers, a pit settles into your stomach.
Stripclubs just aren’t your thing, they never have been. Especially after what your asshole of an ex did to you in a stripclub before, they unsettle you to the very core. It brews a storm in your heart you can’t remedy nor can ever forget, sighing as you suddenly wish Jungkook didn’t leave you alone. 
What the fuck? When did you even need his presence around in the first place? 
You shake the jitters out of you. You won’t let some dark part of your past haunt you anymore nor think about the literal devil himself, you’re far beyond that and a healed person. 
You sigh as you contemplate what you’re meant to do now, Jungkook’s instructions of staying put and not even touching a drink producing your sheer boredom. You stand with your arms folded and step towards the bar ensuring you weren’t in the way of any dancing women, or didn’t catch the eye of some ogling man waving money. 
Blowing a raspberry, you silently bop around to a sultry rock beat as a new stripper presents herself on stage. Your own eyes are glued to her almost instantly, surprised by how gorgeous she is and mentally commending her for her graceful figure and well.. generous assets. 
Out of boredom, her show becomes your center of attention until a sudden tap to your shoulder turns you around. You come face-to-face with a very handsome bartender. 
“Sorry to interrupt, but this drink’s for you.” He sends you a polite smile. 
“Oh, but I didn’t order a drink.” 
“I know, I ordered one for you.” You’re internally taken aback by not only the man’s boldness, but his drop-dead gorgeous smile. A grateful grin creeps up onto your lips as you chuckle a little.
“And why did you do that?” 
The handsome stranger shrugs. “It looked like you needed one.” 
You slowly wet your lips as you try to keep from smiling too wide, encircling the glass. “That’s awfully kind of you.” 
“Don’t mention it,” he waves you off. There’s a simple moment where you’re merely looking at your glass, taking it in your hand for a drink until Jungkook’s voice rings clearly in your head. 
‘Don’t drink anything either.’ 
You furrow your eyebrows wondering why you exactly couldn’t. You teeter on either defying him or simply choosing to listen, not knowing how severe his order was. You buffer on the drink until the man’s rather hypnotizing voice pulls you out. 
“So.. what’s a woman like you doing here all alone?” 
You quirk a brow. “And who exactly is a woman like me?” 
“Too pretty to be alone.” 
You crack a chuckle at that, the charm he’s laying suddenly loosening you up. “That’s a good one.” 
“Good enough to know whether you’re alone or not?” 
You hesitate on an answer here, not knowing his intentions but giving him an honest answer nonetheless. “No, I’m.. not here alone.” 
“Are you here with a boyfriend?” 
Your heart stops at that, someone referencing Jungkook of all people as your damn boyfriend feels ridiculous. Even imagining such a thing leaves you sneering, and no the idea does not make your heart swell or your chest flutter. In no corner of the world will you find even a measly speck of you considering Jungkook as your boyfriend, a good idea. He’s only the smoldering hot king of the underworld that seems to actually be nice despite being the master of sin, has these cute doe eyes when he’s confused or these pouty lips whenever he eats. 
And he does not have you undeniably attracted to him. 
Not at all. 
“N-no, not my boyfriend.” You choke on your saliva. 
“Ah, so I don’t have to worry about a jealous man or anything.” He smirks all too handsomely. 
“And why exactly would a jealous man bother you?” 
“Because I’d like to make you mine tonight.” 
You feel your heart experience whiplash in your chest as you feel it bloom with fuzziness. Suddenly his smile is show-stopping, the way he leans over the counter emphasizes his muscles and his black button-up hugs his body like a second skin. 
“Have a drink and loosen up, gorgeous.” The smoldering bartender tongues his cheek, and suddenly his jawline is looking too good to not kiss up.
With a smirk of your own, you run your tongue inside your cheek as well, a fire lighting inside you. Your fingers curl around your glass of what seems to be a cocktail, suddenly thirsty for a drink. You eye up the handsome stranger as you bring the glass to your lips, tipping your drink over. 
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jungkook’s voice startles you as he suddenly clamps down on your wrist and displaces your drink, spilling some on you. “Didn’t I tell you not to drink anything or talk to anyone?” 
His sudden rude tone ticks you off. “Jungkook, it’s just a drink-” 
“Hey, man. I was just talking to her.” 
Jungkook’s eyes immediately become annoyed regarding the stranger behind the bar, quickly approaching him with a furious look. “I’m not some ‘man’, and I know you aren’t either.” 
Jungkook then violently grabs the bartender’s collar and tugs him over the counter harshly, the anger in his eyes absolutely searing. You panic as Jungkook’s harsh actions catch the attention of others nearby, your glass now empty as it spills over. 
“Jungkook-!” You try to pull him back, only to be completely surprised with what you see next. 
Jungkook’s eyes spark into a demonic fire as he stares into the man’s very soul, and you watch as the bartender’s irises suddenly reveal a deep shade of red himself. You falter back in shock as the man’s features immediately paint over with terror so horrific, he scrambles to be let go of.
“Sir, please-” 
“Get the fuck out of my face.” 
The once smirky and charming bartender turns into the equivalent of a crybaby, practically tripping over his feet as he runs off to cower away in the employee’s break room. Jungkook without a word snatches up your hand and begins leading you through the club, ignoring the concerned eyes that follow you two. You’re overridden by a million questions as he relentlessly pulls you, not even granting you a moment’s rest.
“Jungkook, Jungkook! What are you-” 
“Did I not fucking telling you to stay put and not talk to anybody? Did you think I said that for fun?” 
The irritation in his tone makes you feel guilty, and maybe you’re realizing your mistake, but Jungkook didn’t have to be so damn pushy about it. 
“I don’t exactly see the problem-” 
“That was the problem.” Jungkook suddenly stops you both before a dimly lit corridor as he gestures in the direction of the bar. His breaths are hot and heavy as his eyes cut you cold. 
“And what kind of problem was that? He was just a bartender-” 
“He was a demon,” Jungkook emphasizes. “This place is crawling with them.” 
Something about the anger in Jungkook’s face either makes you feel turned on, want to argue back, or a deadly combination of both, 
Why is it so sexy when his jaw clenches like that? 
You try to ignore the way your legs suddenly squirm. “So what if he was a demon?” 
Jungkook scoffs dryly, wetting his lips as he looks away. “That’s what the demons do here. They reel human women in with their charms, roofie their fucking drinks and get them alone.” He then mutters under his breath, focusing on nothing in particular with sheer indignation. “You have no clue the disgusting things he was thinking.” 
You scrunch your face in confusion. “And you do?” 
Jungkook rolls his eyes before he simply huffs, “it wasn’t hard to tell. Do you even know what a demon would do to an unsuspecting human like you?” 
His evasiveness and avoidance of making eye contact only increases your pissy mood, folding your arms with a pressing question. “And since when did it bother you what happens to me?” 
Eyes flashing to you, Jungkook only produces a mean look of hesitation. His jaw clenches as he gnaws at his teeth, lips impatiently pressed together. He then simply takes your hand in his, muttering yet again. “I found Azazel, let’s go.” 
And he drags you away as you unwillingly tag along. 
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You and Jungkook stop before a rather grand-looking door, noticing it’s probably the most expensive and exorbitant among the hallways. The entrance is perched by two guards on both flanks, a stern-looking man and an evil looking woman, both staring you and Jungkook down as though they could see right through you.  
Jungkook clears his throat, proudly presenting himself with a look of unbothered confidence. “Good evening, underlings. I need to see Azazel.” 
“And who might be asking?” The sultry woman practically slithers out her words. 
Jungkook rolls his eyes before he, for the dozenth time, flashes them his scarlet eyes, watching the stoic man raise his brows in surprised acknowledgement, as the woman merely shivers in pleasure. Both their own eyes glow a deep shade of ruby, and you now understand that they’re demons as well.
Did Lucifer have some sort of connection or invisible linkage between all demons? Was there something about his eyes? 
“Ah, the king himself is here.” She cheers, clasping her hands together with excitement. Her vision flashes down to Jungkook cradling your hand in his, though, but she doesn’t show any disapproval or bitchiness about it, rather seems intrigued. 
She abandons her post and makes towards Jungkook, her red dress accentuating every slim curve of her body. She laughs an almost harmonious giggle as her hands soon land over Jungkook’s chest, biting her bottom lip as she asks in a whisper. 
“Is it really you, master?” 
Jungkook merely laughs, tilting his head as he condescendingly asks. “Who else would it be?” 
Her eyes flicker with fire, fingers slowly feeling over much of Jungkook’s muscly body as he simply allows her to do so. His expression doesn’t really communicate much of anything however, as though he’s bored and simply letting the demon have her fun. Clearly the attraction to Jungkook isn’t just a human thing, he has practically all creatures on their knees for him, and he seems to know it too. 
Arrogant prick. 
A laugh escapes you suddenly, and the female demon’s attention immediately snaps towards you, eyes narrowed into slits. 
“And who might this be?” 
“None of your concern.” Jungkook tugs you a little closer to his body, almost shielding you. You can only intently watch, unable to do much of anything. But the female demon boldly ignores Jungkook, too enthralled by you to remain obedient. She approaches your figure with almost a cat-like nature, extremely curious and hyper-aware. 
You suspect absolutely nothing, until within the blink of an eye, she suddenly grapples the back of your neck and tugs you flush against her own face. You gasp in immediate fear when her fingernails transform into sharp claws. 
“Amara.” Jungkook scolds with a reprimanding tone as he squeezes your hand, but she only continues on, the bridge of her nose skimming the arch of your cheekbone. She actually sniffs you, and her lips curve into a downright demonic smile. 
Ironic. 
“A human..” She chimes lowly, but is only interrupted by an irritated Jungkook. 
“Amara, let her go. She belongs to me.” Jungkook instructs firmly, and your heart does a backflip inside your chest. When did you ever become his? 
Even worse, when did you actually like the idea? 
“Is that why she’s wearing your clothes, master?” She queries as her sharp hand rests over your shoulder, feeling at Jungkook’s leather jacket on you. “Master never gives his clothes to anyone.” 
The fact leaves your eyes widening, looking towards Jungkook who merely sighs. He then holds onto Amara’s shoulder and forces her to face him, seriously peering into her eyes. 
“Amara, let her go.” Jungkook’s eyes beam a vibrant red as he authoritatively orders. “I will not ask you again.”  Amara immediately lets you go then with thinly-pursed lips, holding her head up high as she returns to her post. 
Jungkook wets his lips in frustration before he turns to you and gently gathers your hair in his hands, carefully peeking behind your neck. He lightly whispers in your ear, “did she hurt you?” 
Ignoring the goosebumps that arise across your skin, your fingertips canvas over your neck as you feel the slightest sting in a certain area, knowing it must be a scratch. “Not really.” 
Jungkook laughs then, and you furrow eyebrows. “Why’d you just laugh?” 
“Because the desire to sin really does kick in when you’re near me, huh?” Jungkook’s pointer finger then slides over the exact cut you had, and you instantly let out a hiss. Jungkook knowingly grins. “You just lied to me.” 
You roll your eyes, seconds from swatting his hand off you until the sudden scent of coffee on his breath stops your heart. Jungkook casts your hair aside as he gently leans over your shoulder, and invades all your personal space. You’re unsure of what he’s doing until you feel his breath fanning you—he’s blowing on your cut. Surprisingly enough, it’s almost as though Jungkook’s delicate blows cauterize your wound, feeling your pain melt away in an instant. 
Sweeping your hand over the nape of your neck, suddenly it’s as though there was never a wound at all. You look at Jungkook with pure wonderment as he simply flashes you that sexy quirk of his brow and an attractive grin. Adjusting his shirt on himself, he then fixes his jacket on you, pulling it tight around your body. He turns back to the demons after finishing his task and grasps your hand yet again “We need to see Azazel, open the doors.” 
The stoic man that’s merely stood there the entire time silently clasps onto the handle. He opens the door without a complaint, standing off to the side. Jungkook enthusiastically tugs you along with him as you pass Amara, who only flashes a half-hearted smile your way before you’re greeted by something you never expected. 
Rouge curtains, a plethora of intoxicating incense, bright, vivid colours of Moroccan splendour designs attacking your eyes. The entire place is littered with these vibrantly coloured fabrics and charms, gaudy pieces of diversified collectibles and an odd earthy though spicy scent that made you throw up in your mouth. Though what catches you next are the multitude of nearly naked women sensually dancing and sitting around a quite eclectically dressed man, your brain far from boggled. 
The man’s too busy making out with a certain woman until Jungkook loudly clears his throat. “Azazel,” 
Said man, well, demon suddenly rips his mouth away from the topless woman, wiping some lipstick that smeared onto his skin. His hooded, hazed-over eyes are far more entertained when he regards Jungkook, however, lips curving into a mirthy grin. 
“My, my, if it isn’t the king of hell himself.” 
Jungkook purses his lips in acknowledgement as Azazel leans over onto his knees, waving off his dancing women. “Nobody told me you’d be visiting little old me.” 
“Maybe if you weren’t sucking the life out of female humans, you would know.” 
Azazel’s eyes bounce as though he were dealt a hit he actually liked, snickering in his throat. “A little too haughty for someone in your position, don’t you think?” 
Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion, and Azazel merely scoffs. “Think the whole of hell doesn’t know what’s going on with you, boss?” He questions rhetorically. Azazel then gets up from his seat, the women around him not even minding as they seem in almost an unbreakable trance. 
‘They reel human women in with their charms, roofie their fucking drinks and get them alone.’
Fuck, Jungkook was really telling the truth. Better yet, was he genuinely trying to protect you?
He approaches Jungkook, almost too close for comfort. Jungkook squeezes your hand in response, and you stay right by his side. 
“We all know the big man upstairs kicked you out of hell and you’re about as powerless as a mouse in a glue trap, boss.” The demon, you now realize, is almost ironically nothing what you imagined the demon of lust to be like. He seems the epitome of gluttony with his larger belly and older-looking features, honestly disgusted by him. Jungkook almost reads your mind as he makes an expression of distaste too, turning his face away from Azazel’s to actually breathe. He faces him then, eyes powerful and self-assured.  
“I’m still the king, and I rank higher than you, Prince of hell.” Jungkook squashes Azazel’s ego. “I’d watch what comes out of your mouth.” 
“And I’d do the same if I were you, boss. Right now it’s looking right about rocky for you with your powers gone.” Azazel practically, or well, quite literally spits. “I’m thinking you should choose your words wisely, could probably squash you like a pesky ant on the side of a road, Your Highness.” Something about the superiority complex and condescension of Azazel ticks you off. You turn to Jungkook trying to believe what the demon said isn’t true, but Jungkook’s acquiescing expression clues you in to the fact that that’s not the case. 
Maybe he really does have to play nice right now, you didn’t know the breadth of Azazel’s powers compared to a human Lucifer, anyway. 
Jungkook sighs as he tongue his cheek. “I just need to ask a question, Azazel.” He then instinctively tugs you further behind his larger frame, but that only draws Azazel attention to you, and suddenly his once normal eyes beam with an intriguing, red hot flame. 
“And who might this be?” His creepy voice curls around your spine and makes you shiver, sending him a look of disapproval. His hand comes out to cup your cheek but you immediately smack his hand, leaning away from him. 
His eyes glow with anger as he almost lunges towards you, but is stopped by Jungkook’s arm blocking the way. “Behave, Azazel. She’s mine.”   
“Ohh,” Azazel calms down with a snarky tone, eyes still scavenging your figure as though you were a meal to consume. “The master’s keeping a toy, I see.” 
The context of that leaves a bad taste in your mouth, watching Jungkook’s expression stay predominantly blank. He squares his shoulders when he requests again. “Just answer my question, Azazel.” 
The demon hmph’s as he sends you and Jungkook a death glare, returning to his seat. “Sit down.” He practically growls. 
Jungkook leads you with him towards the vibrant indigo, velvet couch across from the weird demon. Jungkook plops down on the cushions, and just as you’re about to seat yourself next to him, he immediately tugs you forward with a force you couldn’t deny. You tumble into his lap and your ass settles over his strong, thick thighs. Your arms naturally fall around his neck as his hands delicately hold your waist, panic overflowing you once your core presses into his crotch. 
“J-Jungkook, what are you-” 
“Shh,” he grits quietly under his teeth. “Just play along.” 
You pull a confused face, watching as Azazel becomes busy speaking with one of his scarcely-dressed ladies. “What do you mean? Why do I-”
“Azazel has a thing for human girls,” Jungkook whispers closely in your ear, hands slowly soothing your side that leaves you squirmy. He suddenly dares to nibble on your lobe a little, the touch igniting a lusty flame inside you despite the initial surprise. “Especially girls like you.” 
“What-what are you doing?” 
“Acting,” he rasps in a whisper, tongue gently licking at your lobe. “Play along.” He repeats pressingly. 
“What do you mean…” You attempt to suppress a yelp when Jungkook unexpectedly bites your ear lobe, only fidgeting over him more. “Girls like me?” 
You feel Jungkook smirk as he presses a bold kiss behind your ear, a hand of his dropping to your bare thigh. He ever so slightly brushes the tips of his fingers up and down your skin, fuelling every nerve inside your sensitive body. 
“Sweet and innocent ones like you.” 
His tone is so dark, so deep and low you’re forgetting where you even are. Your grip on his shoulders tightens when Jungkook skims his nose up your pulse point, his heated breath and lips raising goosebumps all over you. You chew on your bottom lip to contain how horny you suddenly feel, as though every cell in your body wanted Jungkook kissing you, on you, inside you. The hunger was insatiable, your legs rubbing together once your panties felt too sticky. 
“Since-since when did you care? I thought you hated humans.” 
“I said I hated humans, not you.” 
“You..” You contain a moan when he grips your bare thigh. “You said you’d never be attracted to a human like me.”
A scoff escapes him as his lips graze your skin, scrunching his shirt in your fist for any semblance of control. It’s hilarious that Jungkook is so transparent about insisting you’re different, but never explains why you are in the first place. His silence now beckons you to question him again, though it comes out more akin to a moan.
“Jungkook...” 
Jungkook then finally latches his wet mouth onto your neck, feeling your core gush with an immediate waterfall. He begins ever so slightly mouthing at your skin, laying soft kisses that were almost feather-like, barely there, yet you felt as though you were on fire. You realized he didn’t answer, wanting to query him again but fuck, you’re too goddamn distracted by his plushy lips sinfully kissing your weak spot. 
Suppressing a moan, you manage, “why are you doing this.. Jungkook?” 
“I need to show him you’re mine..” Jungkook mumbles against your neck as he sucks a soft bruise . “So he won’t take you.” 
His words snap you out of your daze, reminded that you and Jungkook are here for a goddamn task. He wasn’t doing this because he actually wanted you, there was an underlying agenda here and you need to stop getting sucked into his tempting ocean. 
You gently push him off you and find Jungkook’s amused eyes peering at you, cracking his signature grin. You realize you must appear flushed, the heat of Jungkook’s Lucifer body too searing to handle. 
Eyes locked in an untelling gaze, this position with Jungkook feels too unreal. You’re currently perched in his lap as you hold his neck and he hugs your waist, face mere inches from each other, almost kissing but not. You hate how much you suddenly yearn to kiss his lips, wondering if that certain Lucifer attraction is the reason why, or maybe Jungkook’s lips are just so fucking kissable. 
Jungkook doesn’t break your eye contact as he juts out his tongue to swipe his bottom lip, flashing his vision down to your petals that hang slightly open. You breathe carefully attempting to not suffocate, Jungkook is seriously, and very undeniably hotter than hell. You can almost taste the coffee on his breath again as he nears you, vision flashing to his lips that suddenly seem so close…
“Cozy, now aren’t we?” 
You both snap towards Azazel in unison, clearing your throat as Jungkook plants his feet down and straightens himself. 
“What’d you wanna ask, boss? Make it quick.” Azazal tends to one of his topless girls feeling him up, practically cooing at her as he speaks annoyingly. “I’ve got better things to do.” 
Jungkook rolls his eyes, his hand on your tummy drawing soft circles. You try not to melt. 
“I need the location of a club, Azazel.” 
The demon laughs across from you both, caressing one of his dancers that flank his left side. “There are many clubs, boss. You gotta be specific.” 
“You know which one I’m talking about,” Jungkook scowls, his palm firmly clutching your bare thigh, and you try not to imagine what he’d feel like touching you elsewhere. 
What if he touched me down there?
Jungkook suddenly squeezes your thigh and you practically jump, trying to refocus on the conversation. You attempt to not pay attention to the way Jungkook’s practically eye-level with your cleavage. The mere prospect of his sexy face in your boobs leaves your legs rubbing together, nipples shamelessly hardening. 
God, why are you so horny?
“Angels Give You Wings, you know the one.” Jungkook affirms, seriously trying to work with the rather disinterested demon. 
But once the name’s up in the air, Azazel’s eyes shimmer with mirth as his attention shifts to Jungkook. “The infamous club, you say?” he asks rhetorically. “You should know it’s in Chicago.” 
Jungkook sighs. “I know it’s in Chicago, but I need the real address.” 
Azazel raises his brows. “And why would you need the real address?” 
“It’s not exactly your concern.” Jungkook cuts in all too arrogantly, Azazel narrowing his eyes. He now examines you both, almost scrutinizing the pair of you as he touches one of his strippers. 
“You two don’t look very close for a couple.” Azazel observes, flitting over your entangled bodies. You become displaced, looking towards Jungkook for an answer. But you only find him glaring back at Azazel as he cradles you in his arms, practically demon-growling at him.
Azazel hoots as he watches Jungkook’s anger grow. “Wow, would you look at the master being possessive of his toys for once.” He smiles evilly, laying both his arms over the back of the couch with a repulsive look. “If you’re being possessive of her, then you ain’t getting jack shit tonight, boss.” 
“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jungkok practically spits.
“It means,” Azazel mimics Jungkook’s harsh tone. “If you wanna know the address, you need to let me read her.” 
You furrow your brows as Jungkook heavily sighs, bringing a hand to his forehead with distress. Your fingers ask for his attention through rubbing at the nape of his neck, voice quiet.
“Jungkook, what does he mean?” 
“Oh!” Azazel cheers all of a sudden. “She calls you by your real name, master? That’s wonderful!” He claps like a happy seal, now understanding what Jungkook meant by Azazel being quite the... odd type.  
Jungkook lifts his head to look at you then, eyes revealing something akin to.. Fear? Stress? You couldn’t place it accurately. “I won’t let him have you, angel.” 
You’re sure Jungkook is probably only saying this to act like you’re together, hell, even his hands slowly but soothingly caressing your waist and thigh have all probably got to do with this ruse. But something about the reveal of emotion in his eyes maybe indicated he could be speaking the truth. 
Or at least, you’d like to believe so. 
“Hand the girl over, boss.” 
Something ticks inside Jungkook as he flashes his eyes a searing red, and practically sneers at Azazel. “You’re not touching her.” 
Azazel’s amused expression only thrives off Jungkook's anger. “Well then, you won’t be getting your address, then.” 
Jungkook huffs with a dry scoff. “I’m not offering her to you anyway.” He then pats your thigh to move off him. You climb off Jungkook’s lap as he stands on his feet with you, avoiding your eyes as you wonder why he won’t just give you up. He intertwined his hand with yours in mere milliseconds as he sends Azazel a death glare. “We’re leaving, angel.” 
“You’re funny, boss. How do you expect to get your address?” 
Azazel’s condescending tone stops Jungkook, and you need to seriously squeeze Jungkook’s hand tightly in order to prevent him from charging forward. You should’ve known, Lucifer would obviously be irrationally hot-heated. But, also being the representation of Pride among the so-called seven princes of hell, he absolutely hated it when someone knocked him off his high horse. 
And that’s all Azazel has been doing. 
“I can ask any other demon.” Jungkook grits through his teeth. 
Azazel clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Nuh uh. That’s an Angel-dominant club, do you really think some second-rate lackey could get in? It takes someone of my power-ranking or higher to even withstand those damn halo-wearing pricks.” 
Jungkook scoffs. “I’m Lucifer, Azazel. I can ask an angel.” 
Azazel snickers as though he were told an immature joke. “You really think an angel won't go straight to The Council and rat you out? Don’t think you’d appreciate seeing your estranged brothers in this circumstance, boss.” 
You hear a crack in Jungkook’s neck as you watch his jaw flex firmly again, except now, it seems like Jungkook could be breaking his teeth as he bites down hard. His eyes are a seething ruby, wondering what could be causing Jungkook so much heated distress. 
Brothers? Did brothers mean.. the rest of the Archangels? 
Your hand suddenly feels too hot as Jungkook practically crushes the life out of you. You exclaim in pain, realizing that Jungkook’s utterly losing his cool. You panic, knowing Jungkook is still quite powerful and you did not want to see him angry. He needs to simmer down before all hell actually breaks loose, worriedly approaching him. 
You rapidly step in front of him and grips his biceps, attempting to gain his attention. 
“Jungkook, hey, Jungkook.” You call him with light shakes, but his breaths only increase in speed. His vision is glowing a vibrant red and you can feel him entering attack mode. You protest for him yet again, to look at you, to calm down, hoping your voice can pull him out but gain no response. 
Jungkook is seconds from unleashing his flames, already raising his palm for a ferocious blast until your small hands suddenly engulf his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. 
“Jungkook!” You say it so worriedly, so sweetly that something almost automatically switches off inside Jungkook. It’s as though the figurative flames bursting out of him are extinguished, his breath stabilizing as you find his doe eyes staring back at you. 
You crack a smile as you watch his features change, becoming the exact Jungkook you met back in your apartment. 
“Human..” You’re unsure of why Jungkook’s stuck with the name, but funny enough, it made you laugh a little
“Demon..” You chide him, and he actually cracks a grin too. You wet your lips as you seriously peer into his eyes, speaking kindly. “Jungkook, you should let Azazel read me.” 
His eyes flood with something akin to anxiety and he grips your hand against his cheek, shaking his head. “No, it’s not a good idea, angel. He’ll hurt you.” 
Your lips pout slightly hearing his concern, again, unsure of whether or not this was all a ruse. You wouldn’t know. 
“What will he do?” 
“He can read minds when he touches people. Angel, demon, human, it doesn’t matter. But it hurts, especially for humans.” Jungkook warns, eyes communicating the urgency he desires to reach you. 
You can see where Jungkook’s coming from, whether it was for the ploy or his own genuine compassion, you wouldn’t want Jungkook to hurt himself just for you, either. But you knew this was important to him, he really needed to unearth that club and figure out his way back to hell. 
He needed to go back home.
You’ve already tagged along and come this far, not to mention how many times Jungkook really did show concern for you and helped you out. You should repay that kindness and help him too. 
“Jungkook, you really need that location.” You explain softly. “It’s okay, it won’t be for long, right? I can endure it.” 
“Human..” You can see the worry in his eyes, feeling your heart melt. He squeezes your hand harder and you try to ignore the fact that he doesn’t even mean any of it, only an act meant for the demon you can tell is staring you both down. 
But you’d oddly like to believe it was real.
“He’s going to infiltrate your mind, read your deepest, darkest thoughts, invade your privacy...” He urges you, emphasizing gravely that this is not something to be taken lightly. 
“I’ll be okay, demon.” 
Jungkook sighs with evident worry. “If you feel uncomfortable for even a second, I’ll kill him.” He proclaims. “You don’t have to go through with this.” 
“I’ll be fine, Jungkook. We’re a team now, alright? I got you.” 
You’re unsure of what emotion flashes through Jungkook, but you can clearly see his expression soften. He purses his lip, and simply nods as he slowly lets your hand go, but not without leaning in close to your ear. “You need to convince him..” Jungkook advises quietly. “Convince him about us to get the address.” 
You nod back in affirmation, detangling your fingers and stepping towards the sleazy demon. 
Azazel flashes you a toothy smile you wish you couldn’t see, repulsed as you stand before him. You notice the women flanking him don’t necessarily pay attention to you, and have only been touching and dancing around Azazel the majority of the time. You wonder if they’re under some sort of trance, attributing their behaviour to the drugging methods Jungkook informed you of earlier. 
Though you also wouldn’t rule out the doings of Azazel knowing he’s the sin of Lust. 
“What do you want?” You question bleakly. 
“Your hand, darling.” He slides his tongue over his teeth. 
“Do more than just read her, and I’ll torture you in hell for eternity.” Jungkook scolds threateningly, jaw clenched and eyes smoldering. 
Azazel merely acknowledges Jungkook as you reach the eclectic demon. With a weirded out expression, you hesitantly present your hand to Azazel, who snatches you up as though he were a starving dog seeing meat for the first time. He immediately shoves the back of your hand against his nostrils, gaining a good, heady whiff of you. You try not to feel a sense of ickiness all over your body, suddenly feeling this certain shock that runs throughout all your veins. 
It feels uncomfortable at first, but suddenly transforms into this sharp pain flooding your bloodstream. You exclaim immediately, feeling as though knives were suddenly coursing through your arteries. You falter as the feeling crawls all over your skin, clutching your hand to your chest in a panic. 
“Human!” Jungkook worriedly approaches you, but stops once Azazel’s ominous red eyes warn him. 
You calm down for Jungkook’s sake, breathing through the aching intrusion. “I’m fine.. I’m fine, Jungkook.” 
You remember his words in an instant, enduring the pain as you focus on thinking about Jungkook. He needs to think you’re both together, right? What better way than to conjure up every appealing thought you’ve had of Jungkook? 
His lips, his body, his eyes, his rockstar hair, his sexy leather outfit that hugs him just right. His Adam's apple, his thick neck, his alluring voice, the attractive way he tongues his cheek. Not to mention the adorable way his eyes go round or his small, cute lips pucker into a pout. 
Your mind naturally drifts towards the thought of all those features, and how they ignite your core anytime you ponder them. His fingers? His tongue? His lips? What could they do in other places? Would he be fast or slow? Would he touch you right? Would he be rough or soft? 
You try to imagine how it would feel if he were to touch your pulsing clit, shuddering once you register that masculine roughness he has to them. You bite on your lip, center lighting up with wanton desire once you consider how his tongue would feel, and most of all, you wonder exactly what beast Jungkook hides in his pants. You practically scream all these things at yourself, prominently contemplating your attraction to Jungkook for Azazel. 
Though funny enough, you know deep down they were real thoughts you merely suppressed. 
Azazel continues to read your mind, your shut eyes too focused on honing in on your likeness for Jungkook until all the pain in your body suddenly stops. You exhale harshly, as though air was sucked out of your lungs once you return to Earth. You recall your place in reality and face Azazel, swallowing. 
“Hmm,” Azazel contemplates, suggestive, mirthy eyes gazing up at you. “She really does belong to you, boss.” 
You hear Jungkook let out a triumphant scoff, hands on his hips as he quirks a brow. 
“You’re all she seems to think about.” Azazel then eyes your figure up and down. “And they mainly seem to be very dirty.” 
That fact makes you physically choke, coughing out the spit that caught in your throat. You rip your hand out of Azazel’s hold, recovering from the hiccup. 
“T-the address, Azazel.” 
Azazel’s annoyed vision flits to the side as he leans back. He rolls his eyes, holding out his pointer and middle finger in the air. He suddenly flicks them to conjure up a piece of paper with a bright spark of flames. Its edges are burnt, though the integrity of the piece still holds up. 
You smile victoriously as you reach out for the paper, only for Azazel to suddenly retract it. 
“You owe me for this, boss.” 
Jungkook laughs dryly, suddenly feeling his presence beside you as he flattens his warm palm against the small of your back. “We’ll see about that in hell—what did you say? Second-rate lackey.” 
The term makes Azazel growl as a counter, finally nabbing the paper from him and nuzzling into Jungkook, proudly presenting it before him. 
“For you, my liege.” You bow as part of your skit, Jungkook clasping the paper. 
“Why thank you, my angel.” Jungkook responds in the same playful tone, bowing as well. 
He graciously snatches the paper from you and tucks it inside the pocket of his leather jacket you wear. He pats the pocket condescendingly before entangling his fingers with yours and tugging you flush against his side, saluting Azazel. 
“So long, Azazel. Hope you grow the balls one day to fight me in hell.” Jungkook snarks, cocking a proud brow. “We’ll see then who's more powerful. If you’re not too busy getting your balls taken care of here, that is.” 
Azazel literally spits at the ground you both walk on, Jungkook immediately clutching you close to him as he merrily laughs at his own remark. 
And honestly speaking, as obnoxious as Jungkook can be, you laugh, too. 
Hugging the paper with the address to your chest, Jungkook side-hugs you to him as the pair of you walk out together into the main area of the strip club. There’s a new stripper on stage now, and Nelly Furtado’s ‘Maneater’ fills the hooting club as you both make your triumphant exit. 
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The soft thrum of rock beats keep your eyes open, shifting in and out of sleep as you slump into your passenger seat. Jungkook sits at the wheel now, and despite only claiming he could drive, you admit he’s a pretty decent driver for someone who’s only learned through observation. 
You’re yet again falling asleep after the day’s tedious activities, cheek resting in your palm while you huddle into Jungkook’s warm leather jacket. It was oddly very comforting. 
“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Jungkook lightly hits your arm and you shoot up, grumbling with sleep-laden eyes. 
“What the fuck, Jungkook?” 
“Feel lucky I even called you beauty, you don’t look so hot right now.” 
You roll your eyes, not caring of your appearance after driving for God knows how long. You still run your fingers through your hair, however. “Fuck you.” 
You see in your peripheral Jungkook silently scoffing, chiding you with an expression of mimicry. You narrow your eyes into slits at him, huffing at how easily you both return to normal. You should’ve known whatever concern and care Jungkook was showing you was only for Azazel, there’s no way the daft idiot could even muster a single cell of decency. 
Asshole.
Jungkook suddenly toes at your shin, nearly kicking you awake once again. You turn around and face him with sheer annoyance. “Jungkook, what the fuck! Can’t you just fucking drive?!” 
“So you have dirty thoughts about me, huh?” Your throat cinches, your brain shuts down and you transform into the epitome of an error 404 not found code. You hold up a finger in protest as you buffer, lips struggling for a sentence. 
“I-” 
“I didn’t know I was always on your mind, angel.” Jungkook bounces his brows as he peers at you, but it seems like his expression completely depicts the opposite of what he says. He eyes as if he knows the inner workings of your brain, knows exactly what you think, what’s on your mind, and knows they’re not innocent like an angel. 
God, he’s so annoying. 
“Would you shut up? That was for Azazel. You wouldn’t have your precious address without me anyway, demon.” 
Jungkook scoffs, laughing at your rather cute act of denial. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, human.” Jungkook's hand once gripping the steering wheel then suddenly settles over your thigh, not squeezing or touching, but merely resting there as he refrains from doing anything compromising. 
His eyes then suddenly flit towards you.
“You seem to be quite the dirty little angel.” 
Your cheeks heat up, growing angry because.. fuck, did he actually have to be right? Why did it feel like he could see right through you? Like he could read you as though you were bearing all the pages of your book? You scrutinize him repulsively as you shove his hand off you, shuffling away from him further. 
“Whatever. You should be letting me sleep, asshole.” You counter in response. “And watch the fucking road.” 
Jungkook stifles a laugh in his throat as he returns his eyes to the road, his hand now resting over the console as he drives with one hand freely. You try not to flit down to his legs manspreading deliciously, or gaze at the veins that sprawl up his arm and his rough hand on the steering wheel. You even ignore the way he tongues his cheek as though he’s too amused. 
“Why did you keep calling me that?” 
Jungkook flickers towards you. “Huh?” 
“With Azazel, you kept calling me angel.” You grumble. “You only use that when you’re being an asshole.” 
Jungkook breathes a laugh through his nose, his vision focusing on the road as he handles the steering wheel. He swipes his lips with his tongue as he looks ahead, flexing his jaw. 
“I didn’t want him knowing your real name.” 
Your brows raise in light surprise, not expecting that concern to come from him even without putting on a show. 
“That’s rich coming from you.” You scoff. 
Jungkook cracks a smoldering smirk, hating that he was so obnoxiously attractive. “It’s rich that for an angel you have a lot of dirty thoughts.” 
You roll your eyes, shutting down the arousal that floods your core as you smack his bicep. Fuck Azazel for saying that aloud, and now fuck Jungkook for snickering about it to himself. You exhale tiredly as you tuck your hand underneath your cheek and force yourself to sleep, completely avoiding him. 
So what if you wanted to fucking jump his bones? It’s his fault for being so sexy. 
With a knowing smile and quirk of his brow, Jungkook leans over and turns the volume of the music down, continuing your journey under the dark sky with spangled stars. 
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Jungkook brings in the last of your luggage from the car into your motel room, setting down the heavy bags and suitcases in one-go. He appeared seriously fucking strong doing so, and suddenly the image of him hauling stuff like that was simply too hot to not watch. 
His shirt clings to his muscular body as he maneuvers your things around the room, filling up space the way it should. You laid on your tummy simply scrolling through your laptop, meant to be looking up the address of the club you’d received from Azazel. 
Instead, you watch Jungkook’s back muscles flex as he zips open his duffle bag, shuffling through his belongings. You genuinely wonder if it’s possible to be attracted to someone’s back. He’s just so incredibly broad and wide, his traps and shoulder blades adding to the breadth of his posterior. He seems strong enough to be able to manhandle you, but kind enough to be gentle about it. 
Suddenly you remember what your friends were all whispering about regarding Jungkook; the type of man that would let you do anything to him to gain your own pleasure. 
Fuck, would he ever let you ride his back? 
Jungkook stifles a laugh in his throat as his eyes shift to you, sexy smile on display with amused eyes. You become aware of your blatant ogling and hide behind the screen of your laptop, clearing your throat. 
“What’re you doing over there, angel?” 
You heat up once you realize he clearly saw you, though act as though absolutely nothing happened. “Nothing, I’m just researching the address we got.” 
You continue clicking through much of Google maps, only to find yourself coming up empty. That was the issue with the address you’d both earned from Azazel, it appeared like a normal address, though it didn’t show up on any maps or across the grand internet. 
“Have you found the exact address?” 
“Honestly, I’m having some trouble with it.” 
Jungkook furrows his eyebrows with a little confused noise, abandoning his things and joining you on the motel bed. He seats himself right next to you, and just as you begin explaining the conundrum, Jungkook leans in close and places a hand over your body. His fingers squish into the sheets next to you as he practically cages you on the bed, feeling a fluttering in your chest at his unusual proximity. The scent of his cologne mixed with the fabric softener he started to like set your nerves ablaze, never having expected Lucifer himself to smell so nice, be so suffocating. 
It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating. He’s simply leaning over you to closely peer at the screen, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart race in your chest, feel his presence permeate your back. 
“What’s troubling you?” 
You struggle with your sentences before you can find feasible words, attempting to not stare at his thick thigh through his ripped jeans right in your face. “I-yeah. Um, did Azazel give us the right address? I can’t seem to find the club.” 
Jungkook hums in understanding, cutely pursing his lips. “I see. Let me take a look.” 
To your surprise, Jungkook leans down directly over your head to type on your laptop, and you attempt to not squeal at how incredibly proximal he is now. He covers all of your upper body so easily, and you suddenly wonder what it would be like if he were on top of you. 
He’d probably completely dominate me. 
You hear Jungkook breathe a scoff above you, tentatively peering up to find that in fact, his chin could’ve been resting atop your head. You watch his gorgeous, thick fingers type over your laptop then, searching diligently as you silently grow warmer underneath him. 
“Hmm, I see what you mean.” Jungkook chimes as he drifts into thought, also coming up dry. “Azazel shouldn’t have lied to me, the princes of hell are incapable of doing so.” 
You tilt your head and peer up at him, chin resting in your hands as you swing your legs back and forth over the mattress. “Why so?” 
Jungkook smirks devilishly, eyes flitting down to you. “They know the hell they’re in for if they do.” 
You roll your eyes, how typical of Lucifer. Jungkook ticks his head, however, as he thinks, trying to piece together what to do now. He brings his pointer finger and thumb to his chin, contemplating. 
“Can I see the paper Azazel gave us?” 
You fish it out of Jungkook’s leather jacket that you were in fact still wearing, presenting it to him. You watch Jungkook stare at the paper in his hand, scrutinizing the living hell out of it. You watch the gears in his head shift until finally, Jungkook has an ah-hah moment. 
He brings the piece close to his pink lips and gently blows over the paper. You watch in surprise as it smolders in accordance with Jungkook’s breath, suddenly small text emerging in a searing heat underneath the original address. 
‘Only those with wings can truly see.’
Jungkook cracks a scoff as he finally understands, laughing to himself. “Azazel, you damn bastard.” 
“What does it mean?” You query curiously. 
“You can’t see it, but I can.” Jungkook explains. He shows you the paper and runs underneath the first part of the text, indicating it to you. “‘Only those with wings’ means celestial beings like angels and demons, they both have wings. Humans can’t see the address or location unless they’re with a celestial being.” 
“Ohh,” you nod your head in acknowledgement. “That makes so much more sense. Google maps just kept showing me this dead-end alleyway.” 
Jungkook clicks his tongue as he ruffles your hair. “Should’ve been using that big brain of yours instead of staring at me, angel.” 
You scoff underneath him, peering up through narrowed slits. “Shut up, I wasn’t staring at you.” 
“You were pretty clearly staring at me, sweetheart. Next time you want a piece of this,” he gestures towards his brawny body. “You can let me know.” 
You pretend-vomit as you shove him away from you, Jungkook chuckling as you prop yourself back up. “Get away from me, your egotistical head is too big.” 
“Nuh-uh” Jungkook tuts with a finger. “I may be egotistical, but I know what I saw. Just tell me you want me and it’ll solve all your problems, angel.” 
“And who said I want you? It’s not like you want me.” 
“Did I ever say I didn’t want you?” 
Your eyes fall open in surprise, Jungkook merely staring at you with his mirthy eyes. He even dares tilt his head as he intensifies his gaze, growing too flustered to consider what he just said. He’s clearly only playing with you. 
“Whatever,” you wave him off. You grab the physical map you’d purchased at a convenience store. “Just fucking circle where we need to go on this.” 
You’re presenting a map to Jungkook for actual work, but he then cunningly swipes it from your grasp. “Wait a minute, what map exactly?” 
You grievously complain as Jungkook holds the map too high for your height, cursing his long arms and how much larger he is in comparison to you. You practically climb his strong body and lap to retrieve the flimsy thing, only for Jungkook to retract it every time you think you’re close. 
“Jungkook!” 
“You have to try harder than that, angel.” You breathe out a fed-up chuckle as you reach with all your might, wildly struggling as he simply giggles at your attempts. You finally snatch the map out of his hand and let out a triumphant ‘ah-hah!’
But just as you celebrate, Jungkook unbalances you with his grasp and the weight of his body sends you toppling over, falling back against the bed. Jungkook falters directly over you, his hands either side of your head as you stare up at him in shock. 
Your hands are sprawled either side of your head, round eyes regarding him with sheer surprise. You notice the way Jungkook’s knee has settled right between your legs, causing you to fidget. You swallow watching the smirk on his face grow, all too amused by the compromising position. 
“Mmm,” Jungkook suddenly hums. “For an ‘innocent’ angel you seem very comfortable as a bottom, huh?” 
You suck in an immediate breath, hating how much this position lights your nerves on fire. An arousal shoots through your core as you attempt to appear normal, countering his comment with your own. 
“Funny, you don’t seem much like a top.” You were lying straight through your teeth, and you goddamn knew it. But nothing else really mattered as you flit between Jungkook’s lips and his eyes that gleam with mischief, another typical characteristic of Lucifer, you thought. 
“Ouu,” Jungkook hisses. “You really are a liar, aren’t you?” 
You stare him down in challenge as he slowly leans down towards you, examining your every feature. “Wonder who taught such a pure angel like you to sin so much.” His voice is so condescendingly low, you couldn’t help but squish your thighs together. 
“And I wonder who taught such an arrogant asshole like you manners. They seemed to have left out personal space.” 
Jungkook hisses yet again, head dipping for a dry laugh before refocusing his almost lust-ridden, fiery eyes back on you. “We need to do something about that attitude. Angels don't talk back.” 
“One, I’m a human, not an angel.” You snark wittily. “And two, what exactly will you do about my attitude, King of hell?” 
Jungkook wets his lip slowly, taking his time with it. He very obviously flits down over your body before he arrives at your face, lowering himself even more as his fingers slide into yours against the mattress. His proximity shoots waves of arousal through you, your once dry core now fluttering with anticipation. 
Goosebumps blossom over your skin as Jungkook comes exactly face to face with you, lips mere inches from yours as your body loses control. 
“You have no clue what I’ve got in mind,” he whispers, his deep voice travelling through you and right to your dampening pussy. “But once I’m done with you, you won’t be so pure anymore, angel.” 
Your breath hitches as Jungkook maintains his heated closeness, eyes flickering down to your lips as he seems seconds from connecting them, petals brushing yours as you taste his breath… only to finally collect yourself. Registering this as Jungkook’s crazy Lucifer attraction, you quickly shove him off you with a loud huff as you sit up on the sheets, muttering almost incoherently. 
“I’m going to take a shower.” You attempt to shake all the dirty thoughts about him out of your system, slipping into your slippers and making towards your luggage. 
Jungkook chuckles before tonguing his cheek while you search through your things, his thumb swiping across his bottom lip. He props a leg up on the bed, leaning his elbow over his knee as he regards you. 
“We should eat dinner after your shower, human.” He nonchalantly says, as though absolutely nothing happened between you just now. Funny, you should’ve known Jungkook was playing, it’s practically the only trait Lucifer has. “You get to choose, remember.” 
“I do. You’ll have to eat whatever I want, though. No complaints.” You gain the courage to look him in the eye, and honestly laugh shyly when you find him very obviously checking you out. Or just looking? You didn’t know, but sitting like that while purposefully peering at you seemed evident enough. 
“No complaints here.” He held up his hands in mock surrender, ticking his head towards the shower. “Go, I’ll be here if you need anything.” 
You nod in response, and try to divert yourself from considering the fact that you’ll be in a room over from Jungkook, showering and naked. 
You wonder what he looks like naked. 
Jitters crawl all over your body and you snap yourself out of it, rapidly nabbing your clothes and rushing towards the bathroom without a single thought. You stand in the doorframe and peek back into the room, only to see Jungkook bouncing his brows just to tease you with a little wave, and you roll your eyes as you slam the door shut. 
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Shutting the shower nozzle close, you let out a sigh as you finish. You wanted to smack your head against the shower wall repeatedly, horrendously until it produced an answer for why in God’s name Jungkook made you feel like this. 
Why did you like him on top of you like that? Why were his lips so goddamn tempting? Maybe it really was the Lucifer effect he has on you and practically anyone he comes into contact with, but you groan once you realize this feels stronger. 
If it were merely the effect of Jungkook, then you shouldn’t like it so much, should you? It feels as though it isn’t an arbitrary attraction anymore, but rather a voluntary desire that keeps manifesting itself everytime you’re near him. Maybe the effect is just stronger on humans, you didn’t know. But what you did know is that you wanted him, and it did not originate from whatever spell Jungkook always manages to cast upon you. 
You smack your forehead as you emerge from the shower, spotting your clothes for tonight’s outing and drying yourself with a towel nearby. You wrap it around your chest as you proceed to apply moisturiser and your usual skin care routine, plugging in a blow dryer for your hair before sorting through your clothes for your undergarments. 
Only to realize, they weren’t here. 
You immediately gasp as a hand covers your agape mouth. Your dumbass really didn’t think to bring your bra and panties when you were angrily snatching your clothes in front of Jungkook. You feel dread overcome you as you contemplate needing to venture out into the motel room for your clothes, stepping anxiously in your spot as nerves flood your system. 
You take a deep breath once you realize that they’re merely your clothes, and whether or not Jungkook lets you live this down, at least you didn’t go completely commando out to dinner with him. 
Mustering every speck of courage in the world, you crack the bathroom door open to take a small glimpse, expecting to see Jungkook maybe sprawled on his bed and watching TV, but only finding an empty mattress. 
“Jungkook?” You call quietly, hoping for a response. You don’t hear anything though, sparking your light concern. You meander out a little further and call his name again, but gain no answer. You presume he could be out of your room right now, using this as your golden opportunity. You scamper towards your bag with all your delicates in only a measly towel, clutching it loosely from falling out of place as you scrounge through your bag. 
You rapidly put together a matching set and instantly zip your bag shut, barging it back into your suitcase. You swivel around to make a risky break for it, only to run smack dab into someone’s rock hard chest. Suppressing the desire to cry, you recognize it anywhere, complaining as you rub your forehead from the contact. 
“Ouch.” 
“What are you doing?” 
Your face heats up, carefully meeting Jungkook’s gaze as you see him fully clothed, while you’re naked and wet underneath a towel. The thought pries your embarrassed eyes away from him, clutching your garments to your chest in order to conceal them, but his sharp eyes can clearly discern what they are.
Damn his Lucifer abilities.
“I-I’m sorry. I just forgot something..” Your eyes flit everywhere but at Jungkook, who stands firmly in place without even the slightest bit of shame, towering over you. 
“You could’ve asked me to grab them for you.” Jungkook proclaims, his voice velvet-like and practically serenading you. 
“This isn’t something you can exactly grab.” You state. “It’s embarrassing.” 
“What’s so embarrassing about you being a woman?” Jungkook suddenly asks, still unable to meet his gaze, and you’re honestly glad Jungkook doesn’t demand it out of you either. His voice seems softer now however, almost understanding you. 
“Nothing, but it’s just…” You trail, not feeling exactly uncomfortable about him here, but feeling quite bare and open. All your intimate parts are covered, yes, but the mere idea that only a layer separating him from witnessing what lies underneath leaves you almost mortified. What if you’re not desirable at all to him? What would he think about your stretch marks? Your scars? All the flaws that you adorn? 
It leaves you clutching the towel even tighter, the very thought making you swallow a wad down your throat. Jungkook seems to notice your unease, and his expression falls from one of his usual amusement to seriousness. 
He very carefully, and hesitantly juts out his hand towards your hair. He considerately watches your reaction as his fingers meet a certain strand dangling in your eyesight, and he gently casts it behind your ear. His fingertips naturally fall to your chin, and you instinctively peer at him as he holds you ever so delicately. 
“You don’t have to be embarrassed with me, Y/N. I’m not expecting anything from you.” Jungkook clarifies, his tone uber soft. “Is that what you think of me?” 
“No.. I just,” you pause, searching for better wording. “Don’t know what you’ll think of me.” 
Jungkook furrows his brows, as though contemplating how that’s even something you could say.  He light-heartedly laughs as he looks to the ground, then peers back up at you. His eyes have softened into those round orbs of coffee, noticing that his eyes actually had a tendency to emit this natural glow, almost like a shimmer of stars. 
“You really think I’d be the type of guy that judges a woman’s body? Or her bra and panties?” 
You suck in a breath listening to his pretty lips say those words, gently nibbling on your lip as your tentative sight meets his. 
“If there’s one thing you should know about me, angel.” Jungkook begins, still cradling your chin. “You never have to be ashamed of yourself around me. I’m Lucifer, baby. All your sins, your secrets, your darkest thoughts.. I got you.” 
Jungkook steps closer to you, closing the space between your bodies as he releases heat that only warms you up, both inside and on the outside. He then closes the space between you two ever so slowly, lip brushing your ear as he whispers. 
“Even the dirty ones.” 
 His words ignite a lustful fire inside you, wondering a million heart-pumping possibilities with him so close to you, but choosing your gratitude over your horniness. You and Jungkook are merely a team, not a relationship waiting to happen. And so you crack a smile as you find yourself gazing into his eyes, wondering where this was coming from, and contemplating that maybe Jungkook... really isn’t half bad. 
That was, until he opened his mouth. 
“But if you’re like a furry or something, I’m gonna have to pass.” 
You scoff as you propel his chest away from you, shooting a repulsed expression his way. “Let’s just go to dinner, jackass.” 
Jungkook laughs as he watches you march away, flickering back to scold him, but only seeing his lips curving into this rather attractive bunny-like smile, wondering why the fuck Lucifer had to be blessed with such cute lips. 
And also wondering what it would feel like to kiss them. You didn’t know you’d find out later that night, or that Jungkook is in fact hotter than hell. 
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jamaisjoons · 16 days ago
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blood & lust⤑ knj | m.
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⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 on the night of his two-hundred-and-seventieth birthday, your demon knight in a shining black suit shows you just how devoted he is to you, his future empress 〞dark fantasy au. demon au. royalty au. soulmate au. established relationship au. porn with plot.
❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: demon!namjoon x demon!reader
❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: fluff ∝ smut
❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 18k 𝘺𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 haha 🤡
⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: mentions of war, age gap (they’re both demons in their 200s but there’s a 40 year age gap), classism/class system because again. royalty, mentions of death and murder, mentions of violence, both oc and namjoon are... a little unhinged and also sadistic because u know,,, demons, mentions of blood, mentions of drinking blood, hard dom!namjoon, big cock!namjoon, possessive!namjoon, bratty sub!reader, jealous!namjoon, biting, heavy petting, degradation, teasing, public sex, dirty talk, fingering, exhibitionism, slight corruption kink, rough kissing, handjob, cum licking, finger sucking, size kink, rough blowjob, slight cock worship, hair pulling, cock swallowing, deepthroat, face fucking, throat fucking, choking on cock, gagging on cock, lots of spit, crying, pinning, bondage - using hands i.e. he restrains her wrists using his hands, jealous sex, possessive sex, praise, marking, clit pinching, pussy eating, tongue fucking, face riding, orgasm control, orgasm denial, ruined orgasm, slight brat taming, crying, begging, unprotected sex, balcony sex, pussy slapping (with a cock), grinding, wet and messy sex, forced orgasm, slight masochism, namjoon cawk huge, rough sex, deep dicking ♡, scratching, choking (with a hand), multiple orgasms, creampie, cumplay
➵ 𝑎/𝑛: this was NOT supposed to be as plot based or as long as it is but YOLO. also i was supposed to get this up for namjoon’s birthday but i’m a mess so have it for spooky month and kinktober instead ♡
⏤ thank you to my loves @lavienjin​ and @yeoldontknow​ for beta reading ♡
⏤ written for the namkook moonrise masquerade collab hosted by yours truly ♡
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❂ Writing Game Fall for Romance           ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Dia through @bangtansorciere​​
⤐  AU Type: soulmate au ⤐  Themes: royalty, age gap ⤐  Kinks: hair pulling, choking, fingering, throat fucking, public sex, orgasm denial/control, cum play, multiple orgasm, size kink
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It wasn’t often that you attended events thrown by the various noble families of the Bael Empire. After all, as the Crown Princess, and heir to the greatest sovereign power in the Demon Realm, your appearance to any such affair—whether it be tea parties, balls and masquerades, or ceremonial feasts—was always one rooted in politics, rather than simple interest; even if the latter was your reason for attendance. Mainly because, as the scion of the illustrious House Bael, your presence was a sign that your family, and the realm itself, supported whichever aristocrat was hosting the event. A powerful endorsement that most—if not all—houses vied for.
As such, you rarely frequented social gatherings.
Though, if you were completely honest, you preferred it that way.
Most events—no matter which house they were hosted by—were boring; nothing more than a ruse for the varying nobles to boast their wealth, political standing, and fief’s latest feats and accomplishments. Of course, as the highest standing member of the aristocracy—surpassed only by the Emperor and Empress; your parents—these events were also just a place for members of noblesse to suck up to you in order to garner your favour.
Which was precisely why you were stuck here, with a tall, gaunt man—the head of House Andromalius, if you remember correctly—as he spills empty comments behind a conniving smile.
Boring.
“My, my, Your Highness, you look splendid even today,” the man gushes, “Though of course, considering you are the glorious Bael Empire’s greatest beauty, that’s a given,” he continues. Internally, you wonder if this was the very same Count Andromalius who had believed that you were nothing but a marionette—a powerless puppet whose authority would eventually cede to your husband.
“Thank you, Count Andromalius,” you drawl with a polite smile. Evidently, he had no respect for your right as the heir; all his compliments are fickle and centred around your renowned beauty. Despite your lacklustre response, Count Andromalius continues blathering his praises, each one behind a thinly veiled attempt to flatter your ego.
Indifferent to his adulation, you zone out his droning. Instead, your eyes skim across the ballroom. From the tall, intricately carved granite columns and the burnished sconces adorned in jewels, to the baroque ceiling embellished with alabaster statues, the entire hall flaunts extravagance and opulence. Sable-streaked marble reflects gilded light; aurulent flames flickering from numerous candles littered across crystal chandeliers. Irised beams of dense moonlight filter through ceiling-high, arched windows; the nacreous effulgence offsetting the croceate radiance of candlelight. Burgundy curtains are draped over glass panes, the heavy velvet emblazoned with the Astaroth Archduchy’s heraldic symbol in pearlescent silk.
A grandiose display of wealth. One befitting the affluence of House Astaroth—the Demon Realm’s only archduchy.
Matching the grandness of the ballroom are the attending noblesse: each one attired in their most luxurious outfits and decorated with their most priceless jewellery. Ambient chatter fills the air, the gentle murmuration of the guests intertwining with the euphonic melodies of the string orchestra. As your gaze nonchalantly sweeps across the room, you can’t help but notice the sheer amount of nobles in attendance. Almost every one of the seventy-two houses is in attendance, whether they're affiliated with the Astaroth Archduchy or not. Not that you're all that surprised by their attendance.
As the second most prestigious house in the empire—losing only to the sovereign House Bael—there was no need for House Astaroth to host social gatherings. Their political influence was a given, eternal and unyielding.
After all, the histories of both Houses were the very foundation of the Bael Empire.
Aeons ago, the Demon Realm was nothing but a cesspit of chaos, anarchy, and carnage. Turmoil gripped all of demonkind. Lesser Demons—beasts manifested from malevolence and evil—ran amok, leaving the majority of the realm in lawlessness and unrest. Simultaneously, the seventy-two houses of Higher Demons were in the midst of never-ending war, each of them trying to seize power to rule as the sovereign of the Demon Realm. With the Higher Demons at war, the rest of the Greater Demon population fell into a state of decline and poverty. And for centuries, this state of discord and imbalance governed the Demon Realm.
Eventually, however, that all changed.
When Maximillian Bael and Hesperia Astaroth formed an alliance.
With House Bael—known for its prowess in sorcery—and House Astaroth—known for its mastery of swordsmanship—united, the rest of the Higher Demons soon fell to their combined might. Under the gifted intellect and natural charisma of Maximillian, House Bael ascended to the sovereign, and the Bael Empire was founded. At the same time, House Astaroth rose to be the only Archduchy of the realm, as well as its greatest combatant force—a house of knights tasked with the protection of the empire and its monarchs.
Thus, with such honourable prestige, it was no wonder that House Astaroth rarely held social gatherings such as these. They had no need for them. Furthermore, with how closely House Bael and House Astaroth were tied, it was given that you—the Crown Princess of the Empire—would be in attendance today. It was unheard of for a member of Bael to be absent at an event held by Astaroth and vice versa. Though, of course, regardless of House Bael’s duty in attending events held by House Astaroth, you would have found yourself in attendance at this particular celebration anyway. After all, this event was to commemorate the Astaroth Archduke’s two-hundred-and-seventieth birthday.
The very same Astaroth Archduke who just happened to be your lover of almost three-quarters of a century now.
Magnetised, like a sailor to a siren’s call, your eyes immediately land on the object of your affection and the very guest of honour.
Namjoon.
Vaguely, you perceive Count Andromalius’ words, his continued drivel impregnating the air like that of an irksome fly hovering around your ear. Despite your apparent detached politeness and aloof demeanour, it seemed he hadn’t cognised your lack of interest in his conversation; even your intermittent hums hadn’t fazed the man. That, or perhaps he was too rooted in his sycophancy that he didn’t care about your blatant disregard for his presence. Nonetheless, choosing to ignore him, you instead focus on Namjoon. At the opposite end of the room, he stands surrounded by nobles much older than him—Barons Malphas and Valac, Count Glasya-Labolas, and Duke Gusion, you think—as they offer their congratulations. Even with the distance between you both, you can’t help but rake your ardent gaze over him.
Tall and dignified, more so than any of the aristocrats surrounding him, he towers over his guests—his statuesque build and distinguished aura easily drawing attention to his knight heritage while concurrently separating him from the rest of the nobles. Like that of spun silver, silken hair is side-swept, the argent waves displaying his strong eyebrows and sharp eyes. Incarnadine depths peek through heavy, hooded eyes: two rough-cut garnets that glint in the amber incandescence of the ballroom. Delicately, he holds his glass, casually sipping the melliferous bloodwine—the claret substance staining his full, sensual lips.
A black satin blazer clings to his figure—the material pulled taut over the corded musculature of his back—while gold epaulettes sit over his clavicles—the fringed embellishments augmenting the already broad expanse of his shoulders; both emphasising his powerful frame. The lapels of his jacket are studded with gold buttons, and embroidered in intricate patterns, matching the braided aiguillette that loops from the bottom of the epaulettes to just under his breast pocket. Underneath, he dons a simple white shirt and a matching frilled, lace cravat—their simplicity matched by his plain black trousers and leather loafers.
All in all, he’s a picture-perfect display of authority and dominance. One that has molten heat pooling within the pits of your abdomen.
“Your Highness? Are you listening to me?” Count Andromalius questions, his dour voice drawing your attention from Namjoon and back to the surly man. Without thinking, you let out a scoff.
“If I’m completely honest, Count Andromalius, I’ve barely paid attention to anything you’ve said,” you drawl, a derisive smile plastered on your lips as you sip at your bloodwine. The purposely lackadaisical intonation to your voice causes the man to bristle.
Spluttering, “Now, look here, Princess,” he begins. The moment he drops his respectful—borderline servile—tone, your gaze hardens.
“Your Highness” you hiss. Corner of your jaw flexing in irritation, you raise your head slightly and glower at him. The turbulent fierceness in your eyes has him cowering, and despite the height difference, you glare down at him. “That’s ‘Your Highness’ to you, Count Andromalius”, you revile, the harshness of your voice causing the crowd around you to quieten down as they look between you and the man. “Or do you think a mere Count could address me—the heir to the Bael Empire—as casually as Princess?” you censure, intentionally emphasising his status.
“I-I didn’t m-mean any disrespect, I a-apologise if I’ve offended you, Your H-Highness,” he recoils. Despite his deferential words, you find your lips twisting into a sneer. Seeing your displeasure, he wrings his hands together, nervously glancing at the nobles around you. “S-Surely, you will be beneficent and forgive this old man’s mistake,” he continues.
Audibly, you scoff.
“Old man’s mistake, you say?” you repeat, your voice deliberately placid. Crossing your left arm across your chest, the hand casually resting in the crook of the other’s elbow, your right hand softly taps the rim of your glass against your chin in thought. “Perhaps I will forgive you,” you ponder out loud. A look of relief immediately colours Count Andromalius’ visage. Though, it’s fleeting—disappearing the moment you smile coldly. “Or maybe I’ll have you thrown in the palace dungeons for contempt against the Crown Heir and insubordination of the Bael Empire,” you taunt.
“Y-Your Highness,” Count Andromalius attempts to protest, his back inclining forward as he bows before you. Features twisting into an expression of faux sweetness, you smile at him.
“Then again, what do I know? After all, I’m just a spoiled princess who knows nothing of the world nor how to run an empire. Perhaps I shall ask my husband to make my decision for me,” you suggest, your deceptively honeyed voice belied by the barely concealed loathing that mars your visage. Hearing your words, Count Andromalius’ blanches, the ashen expression blanching his already pallid complexion. As he stutters, his head bowed and his eyes wide with fear, a trill of amusement flutters through you.
By now, the entire ballroom is quiet, the string orchestra having halted their symphony while the rest of the nobles pay close attention to the altercation between you and the Count. Chancing a glance at Namjoon, you watch as he scrutinises the trembling man with predatory, almost bloodthirsty, eyes; his garnet depths darkening from limpid crimson to luminous carmine. As though he feels your stare, he changes his target, and the instant your eyes meet, your breath hitches. Lightning strikes your being, excitement coursing through your bloodstream and setting your body afire with wanton need. Feeling your inner walls clench involuntarily, you look away and back at Count Andromalius.
Scoffing at his grovelling state, you roll your eyes. You take a few steps forward, the gold of your heels clicking harshly against the pristine marble floors—the sound resonating through the silent ballroom. You pause and lower your head when you’re directly beside the Count until your lips are beside his ear. “You should be careful of what you say inside the palace walls, Count Andromalius. You never who’s listening in,” you teasingly gibe. Then, lowering your voice to a coy husk, “The walls may even have ears,” you quip.
Your words cause the man to collapse onto the floor, his knees giving out in shock. With your back turned to him, you hear the Count scramble to his feet before the sounds of hasty steps, and heavy doors fill the air. Clearly, Count Andromalius had decided to make a quick getaway, lest he incurs your wrath any further. When you hear the door slam shut, your lips tug into your most charming smile. His pitiful state has you smiling viciously, and with a soft tut, you walk away.
“Well, it seems Count Andromalius decided to retire early for the evening. Please do not worry, I’m sure he was just tired,” you lightheartedly chuckle. You wave your hand in a casual gesture. “Ah, let’s not let his exit spoil the celebration. Do continue. It is Archduke Astaraoth’s two-hundred-and-seventieth birthday,” you follow.
The string orchestra again resumes their compositions with your words, each string carefully manipulated to produce dulcet notes. They coalesce into a mellifluous harmony that resonates pleasantly in your ear, interlaced by the murmuration of the nobles and forming an amiable milieu. As the celebration resumes once again, the dissension between you and Count Andromalius is quickly forgotten. If any of the aristocrats have anything to say about your altercation, they stay quiet. Though, of course, it’s not like they could say anything in the first place. Not that you’d care if they did, Count Andromalius had it coming.
Flicking one of the stray curls out from your eye, you place your empty glass of bloodwine on the tray of a passing waiter and grab another full drink instead. If there was one thing you adored about the social events thrown by House Astaroth, it was the abundance of bloodwine they supplied—a delicacy that only the Archduchy, or House Bael itself, could provide in such large quantities due to its shockingly extravagant price. Unlike most wines, it wasn’t astringent in the slightest. Rather, it was nectarous, like the finest of ambrosia stolen from divinity themselves—a fragrant, honeyed concoction that had every demon salivating at its taste. The cloying aroma wafts through the air as you swirl the claret beverage, and mouth-watering, you sip at the drink in a bid to quench your thirst.
The sanguine honey gently flows down your throat, and closing your eyes; you relish in its taste. In the midst of your delight, however, you feel a heavy presence leer at you. Casually peeking your eyelids open, you come face to face with Namjoon, your lover practically devouring you with his smouldering stare from across the room. Fervent ruby gaze rakes over your body, and even with the distance between the two of you, you notice the way his incarnadine depths turn hazy with desirous lust. As he studies you from head to toe, you can’t help but shuffle from foot to foot, the heat of his observance causing liquid fire to pool between your thighs.
Deliberately, he traces over your figure, and as he tracks further and further down, you allow a wicked smile to curl at your lips. You had purposely chosen your dress for him today—an outfit you knew he’d… appreciate.
Lustrous black material clings to the top half of your frame like a second skin, highlighting your curves in the most flattering way. It exposes the entirety of your décolletage, the expensive ruby-encrusted choker only drawing attention to the elegant column of your neck, as well as the sweeping v-neck of the dress. With how deep the neckline is, it splits the corset in two, exposing your chest to the very bottom of your sternum and displaying the rounded curves of your breasts in a wholly tantalising manner. Gilded lace appliqué decorates your bodice, the gossamer fabric scintillating as you move and captivating anyone and everyone with its shimmer.
The skirt falls around your legs in swathes of inky chiffon and into a sweeping train that pools at your feet. A hip-high split separates the material, each of your steps hinting at the supple curve of your calves and thighs—their lengths only elongated by your stilettos. Satin pumps adorn your feet, the heels embellished with rubies and a golden spray of leaves. From your jewellery to your gown, it was clear that you and Namjoon had coordinated, even if you’d both—intentionally—attended the event separately and without any other escorts.
All of a sudden, Namjoon’s eyes snap up to yours, the abruptness of the gesture startling you. Locking his fervid gaze with yours, his tongue darts out, and he licks at his lips. Instantly, heat floods your cheeks, your body temperature rising by a couple of degrees. Involuntarily, your abdomen clenches, a trickle of wetness seeping out of your core and onto the insides of your thighs. Shifting from one foot to the other, you take in a deep but subtle breath and allay your electrified nerves. Then, corners of your mouth tugging, they twist into a coy smile, and purposely, you look at him through the thick of your eyelashes.
Casually, you take another sip of your drink and deliberately swallow thickly. The movement of your oesophagus draws Namjoon’s attention to the arc of your neck, his eyes darkening at the way your choker-clad throat bobs as you imbibe the bloodwine. You watch as he exhales deeply, his chest rising and falling harshly. Knowing you’ve rattled him, you suppress the smirk that threatens to break out on your lips. Instead, you raise a nonchalant eyebrow in challenge. Lust-blackened eyes leer at you; he glances towards a pair of glass doors on the ride side of the room, and with a short incline of his head, he motions for you to meet him outside on the balcony.
Just as you move to nod, “Your humble servant greets the most noble and sovereign Crown Heir to the Bael Empire. May our ancestors shine their blessings and glory upon you, Your Highness,” a newcomer announces, stepping in front of you and obscuring Namjoon from your line of view.
Cocking an eyebrow, you look at the stranger. He’s taller than you, even with your six-inch heels—though, only by a couple of short centimetres—and incredibly slender, his frame composed of lithe limbs and sinewy muscles. Raspberry-tinged red tresses are pulled into a high ponytail, the ends falling to the mid of his waist, while shorter, choppier locks frame his forehead. Crimson-tinged canary eyes stare down at you like that of a blazing fire, the depths twinkling in an impish manner while your gaze darts to the phoenix-emblazoned pin attached to his outer breast pocket.
“Lord Phenex, I don’t think we’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting,” you respond politely with a short curtsy. You have no idea who the man is. As you’ve mentioned, you haven’t even met him before. However, from the heraldic pin on his pocket, you know he must be from the Marquisate of House Phenex. Although, that does confuse you somewhat.
As a Marquisate House, the second-highest rank—preceded only by a Ducal House; though not including House Bael or House Astaroth—House Phenex holds a relatively high position in the Imperial Council. Which, of course, meant that you’d met the current ruling members of House Phenex—an old demon who was nearing the end of his life expectancy. Sadly, the Head of Phenex’s wife had met her end shortly after delivering her stillborn child. Too heartbroken over the loss of both his wife and child on the same day, the Marquis had never remarried—choosing to stay a widow and grieve their passing for the rest of his life. However, that only meant that there were no current heirs to House Phenex or any young members. Hence why the man’s appearance confuses you.
For some reason, a lop-sided smirk paints the man’s lips, and eyes gleaming with excitement; he bows down. To your utter surprise, he then takes your free hand in his and brushes his lips against your knuckles. Now, to those not familiar with Higher Demon customs, the gesture would be wholly innocent, a mere greeting to a noble such of yourself. However, it’s a bold action for those aware of Higher Demon customs—notably, the entirety of the guests in attendance. A very bold action. Especially since you’re all in attendance at Archduke Namjoon’s birthday celebration.
You see, in Higher Demon customs, a kiss to the back of someone’s hand usually indicated an interest in courtship. Which, in ordinary cases, would be fine. After all, another facet of these gatherings was to form political alliances and marriage contracts, and a marriage contract with the Crown Heir of the Empire was highly sought after. Nonetheless, this isn’t an ordinary case. Mostly because, even though you weren’t officially betrothed, there wasn’t a single noble who did not know of your relationship with Namjoon.
So, under usual circumstances, and if you were single, his actions would be no cause of concern.
However, these aren’t usual circumstances.
You’re not single.
And your lover was the very host of the event you’re attending.
A grievous faux pass on Lord Phenex’s end, really.
Looking over the mysterious Lord Phenex’s back, you catch Namjoon’s face. For a second time that night, he looks murderous—the dangerous glint to his carmine eyes sending a shiver of excitement up your spine. You watch as the corner of his jaw flexes, the tips of his knuckles turning white as he grips his wine glass as hard as possible; both telltale signs that he’s doing everything he can to control the blood lust entrenched in his Astaroth lineage. You have no doubt that had his sword been on his hip like it usually was, his hand would already be on its burnished hilt.
“Lord Killian Phenex, heir to House Phenex, greets the Crown Princess _____. The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness,” Killian introduces himself, his posture still in a bow.
Carefully, but not unkindly, taking your hand from his, “You may rise,” you softly say.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” he returns as he straightens his back. Cocking your head to the side, you casually sweep your gaze over him. He’s handsome, you think, his dark cerise hair and golden eyes an alluring contrast to deep russet skin.
“Last I heard, House Phenex didn’t have an heir,” you remark, curiosity lacing your tone. A sheepish expression crosses Killian’s face.
“Ah. I’m not a direct heir to House Phenex; Marquis Silas is my great uncle from my mother’s side. He’s just recently adopted me as his official successor. Until recently, I’ve been living in the Phenex territory,” Killian elucidates. His words clear your confusion, and you finally understand why Killian doesn’t know about your relationship with Namjoon. It wasn’t often that news from the Capital made its way back to remote territories—unless, of course, it was significant, and paramount, for members of the fief to know such as wars, or sovereign decrees.
Well then, maybe you’ll indulge him a little bit.
“How dutiful of you to introduce yourself to me,” you intone airily, a coy smile on your lips as you take a small swig of your bloodwine.
Furtively, you glimpse at Namjoon, his brooding visage peeking over the red-haired’s shoulder as he glares daggers at the Phenex Heir’s back. Honestly, you’re surprised Killian hasn’t noticed Namjoon’s ire, especially with the sheer intensity of your lover’s glower. Either the golden-eyed demon was oblivious, or he just had no sense of self-preservation or survival instincts. After all, even the oldest of the Ducal Lords cowered in Namjoon’s presence.
“Oh, it wasn’t duty that brought me here. I’d heard rumours of the beautiful Crown Princess, and I just had to see for myself,” Killian brazenly admits. His lips curl into a flirtatious smile, one of his sharpened fangs devilishly peeking through the plump folds. If you were any other noble, you would have swooned at his suave charm. Nonetheless, you aren’t any other noble, and you’ve already got a handsome, charming demon to call your own. “And, if I may be so bold, you certainly did not disappoint. Though, even the rumours did not do Your Highness any justice,” he continues with a flirtatious husk.
You purse your lips together; an amused exhale escaping your nose as you stifle your laughter. With blasé mirthfulness, your gaze sweeps over him. Perhaps he really doesn’t have a sense of self-preservation nor any inkling of a survival instinct. Well, at least he was entertaining. You shift, and as your hip cocks to the side, you watch as Killian’s eyes follow the movement before he blatantly ogles the swell of your curves and the glimpse of your legs through the high slit in your skirt. You hum noncommittally, the sound drawing his attention back to your face.
“So… you just heard rumours of my beauty? Nothing else?” you question, unable to hide the amusement in your voice. Killian stares at you with a blank face, bewilderment evident on his handsome face.
“No… Was I supposed to? I did inquire as to whether you were formally betrothed to anyone, but I didn’t hear anything about it,” he ponders out loud while scratching his chin. His words have you lifting your hand, your fingers pressed to your lips as you smother the laughter that threatens to spill from your throat. Instead, swallowing it down, you clear your throat. “Honestly, I’m surprised someone as beautiful as you isn’t officially betrothed yet. Can I take it as a sign that perhaps you haven’t met anyone who catches your eye yet?” he hopefully inquires.
“Hmm… Can you?” you respond cryptically. Of course, you, and every other noble in the Capital, know that he decidedly cannot take it as a sign that you haven’t met anyone. Nonetheless, you can’t help but playfully entertain the man’s fantasies. After all, he’d soon find out that you are in no way, shape, or form, single. Even if you weren’t officially betrothed to Namjoon just yet. Though, that was also intentional on both your parts.
The lack of formality in your relationship with Namjoon had been a conscientious decision, and completely consensual on both your parts. When the two of you had first started courting, almost seventy-five years ago, Namjoon was still just the heir to the Archduchy of Astaroth, and you had yet to be named the Crown Heir. As such, with your position to the throne unsecured, you had not wanted to enter a formal courtship with Namjoon. For no other reason than the fact that you had not wanted Namjoon’s power to influence your right to the title of Crown Princess.
You aren’t stupid. In fact, you’re quite the opposite: intelligent, cunning, devious. However, despite your intellect, there were still many who believed that the right to the throne belonged to a man, to one of your cousins. Because to certain nobles—Count Andromalius included—a male Crown Heir would be much better than a directly legitimate female Crown Heir. Thus, knowing that, and with the knowledge of both House Astaroth’s military and political influence, you and Namjoon had both agreed to hold off on a betrothal until your power was secure; until you’d built enough influence and reputation for yourself—not just that of House Bael’s—that no one would be able to contest to your right.
Of course, roughly a decade ago, you’d finally been coronated as the Crown Princess. Nonetheless, you and Namjoon had still decided to wait. Mostly since there were still some nobles who weren’t happy with a female Crown Heir. Besides, even with the lack of formality in your relationship, you and Namjoon had been together long enough that every one of the seventy-two aristocratic houses of the Bael Empire knew that eventually, you would be tied together.
Which was the real reason you had no official betrothal.
Not because someone hadn’t caught your eye yet.
“Well, if you haven’t, I would love to formally court you and see if I can catch your eye,” Killian appeals.
As he speaks, you finally find Namjoon’s eyes. Your twinkling depths meet his menacing ones, and seeing the spark of dominance in them, your stomach contracts reflexively. From the amicable ambience of the ballroom—only a few intrigued whispers flittering through the air—it was clear that, unlike your altercation with Count Andromalius, barely anyone had noticed your conversation with Lord Phenex. That, or they knew to mind their business. Of course, one of those people just happened to be your lover. Your very vexed, very domineering lover. Taking pity on him—perhaps you’d pushed him a little too much today— you turn back to Killian.
“You are a very handsome man. And typically, I’d love to play with you,” you teasingly purr. The seductive intonation has Killian’s eyes clouding with desire, and you watch as the thick knot of his Adam’s apple bobs within his throat. “However, I don’t think that’ll be possible,” you quickly shut down, your voice returning to its usual airy confidence. Killian splutters at the abrupt shift in your disposition, but before he can open his mouth to retort, you’re smiling politely at him. “Now, I’d like to get some fresh air,” you excuse yourself. Without wasting a moment, you confidently stride to the glass double doors Namjoon had gestured to a little while back. Then, pushing them wide open, you step onto the balcony.
A cool breeze instantly envelops your body, the crisp air sending a shiver down your spine as it kisses the exposed skin of your back. You approach the edge of the landing, your heels clicking loudly in the silence of the night. The midnight sky looms about you, painted in violet-hued shades of mazarine and obscured by mist-like clouds that glow lambent with an amaranth hue. Behind the noctilucent veil shines the moon, the celestial body a nacre beacon of rose quartz. Its light cascades down from the star-speckled welkin like a lustrous river of pearls, the opaline deluge raining over the Astaroth Manor. Under the moonlight, the entire balcony glimmers ivory.
Vines of astar creep around ivory balusters; ruffled petals of sanguine are juxtaposed by palmate leaves of viridian in a verdant display of life. Each floret is delicately lucid with a vermeil shimmer, and illuminated by the moonlight, they simply glimmer brighter—taking on an almost ethereal hue. Dewdrops bead the petals, each one fragrant with redolent floral notes and a deeper undertone of laden musk; the two scents blending together into an intoxicating aroma and saturate the atmosphere in its potent headiness. Approaching the balustrade, you place your hands on the ledge and close your eyes before inhaling deeply.
You’d always admired the rare beauty—and even rarer fragrance—of astars, and growing up, you’d always wanted to cultivate some in your palace gardens. Nonetheless, astars were a unique species of flowering vines, native to the Astaroth Archduchy, and as such, a sacrosanct symbol of both their house and territory. Thus, even you, the daughter of the current emperor and empress, had not been able to gain permission to propagate them in the Princess’ Palace. Of course, that had all changed on your fiftieth anniversary with Namjoon—when your lover had lavished you with an entire garden of them.
Opening your eyes, you smile down at the flowers before deftly tracing one of the furled edges of the petals. Mid-appreciation, you hear the balcony doors open once again before the sound of expensive basilisk-leather soles against even more expensive marble fills the air. You don’t need to turn around to guess who has joined you. There weren’t many who would willingly approach you like this, especially without formally announcing themselves. Though, the lack of etiquette wasn’t the reason you knew who this was.
No, you know who this is due to your familiarity with him.
You’d know that oppressive aura of bloodlust anywhere.
Namjoon stalks up to you, and without saying anything, his strong, corded arms wrap around your waist. The broad expanse of his chest presses against your naked back, the low-cut of your dress allowing you to feel the sinewy musculature under the thin material of his shirt. Your head falls back, instinctively finding the groove of his sternum, where the back of your skull rests comfortably between his pecks. His heartbeat is strong under you, the usual rhythmic pumping slightly hastened and just marginally intenser as it pounds against his ribcage.
Pressing his face into the arc of your throat, he runs his nose down the column before burying it into the crook, where your neck meets your collarbones. Harsh breaths fill the air and as the heat of his exhales waft over your skin, a smile curls on your lips. Indolently, your hand rises, and finding his hair, you thread it through his thick, silvery tresses. They flow like silk through your fingers, the soft texture making you hum in pleasure. The affectionate gesture causes his harsh, almost ragged, breaths to soften, and you feel the palpable air of his ferociousness begin to fade. Within seconds, it fully dissipates, your lover turning to putty in your hands.
“Are you really jealous of Killian?” you question, mirth evident in your words.
“When did he become Killian?” Namjoon gruffly murmurs into your throat, and despite being muffled, you clearly hear the sullenness in his voice.
Laughing, “Is there a reason I need to call him Lord Phenex and maintain formalities when it’s just the two of us?” you respond.
It wasn’t as if there was any need for politeness when you were referring to other nobles while you were alone with your lover. Moreover, it wasn’t the first time you’d called someone by their given name—you did it frequently when in Namjoon’s presence, and he never seemed to mind before. Though, you know exactly why he minds this time. Really, he was too much sometimes. Namjoon only buries his face deeper into your neck before mumbling something unintelligible. Lower lip pulled between your teeth, you shake your head in amused exasperation.
“Are you really jealous of Lord Phenex?” you repeat, purposely emphasising his title. He tightens his embrace—almost possessively—causing you to let out a tinkling laugh.
“Should I kill Count Andromalius and Lord Phenex?” he asks. Though, from the contemplative intonation, you know it’s a question more for himself than you. Still, remembering the Count, your features twist into a scowl.
“Count Andromalius... more like Cunt Andromalius,” you mumble in response. That has Namjoon pulling his face away from your neck before he lets out a deep, throaty chuckle.
Plush lips press against the corner of your jaw in a soft kiss, “Just say the word, my love, and I’ll deliver his head to you on a silver platter,” Namjoon offers. You don’t doubt his words. As the Archduke of Astaroth, and the Demon Realm’s greatest swordmaster, Namjoon’s entire role was the ‘Sword of the Empire’—a role that was tasked with ridding any enemy of House Bael.
Of course, for you, he was more a sword for anyone who even mildly inconvenienced you.
“Ha…” you exhale in amusement. “No, it’s fine. I need to be able to handle people like the Count myself,” you murmur. “Besides, no one would take me seriously if you constantly have to fight my battles for me. You know some of them already expect you to rule in my place. Isn’t that the only reason we’re not married yet?” you follow. Namjoon hums lowly and goosebumps prickle at your skin as you feel—more than hear—his chest tremor beneath your back.
Shifting behind you, Namjoon’s arms uncurl from around your frame. Instead, his sword-calloused hands wander down, tracing the curve of your waist until he finds the swell of your hips. Dexterous fingers dig into your flesh before tugging, Namjoon pulling your ass flush against his crotch. Underneath his slacks, you feel his shaft twitch, his cock already hardening as it presses into your plump cheeks—as though it were an innate reflex. Your breath hitches, your pussy clenching in response as you feel heat pool between your thighs once again. Lazily, he presses a kiss to the corner of your jaw, in the sensitive spot just under your earlobe.
“You know I could just kill anyone who opposes you,” he murmurs. The cloying scent of bloodwine taints his breath, sweetening it and causing your eyes to flutter as it fans over your flesh.
“That’s what we call a tyranny,” you answer breathily.
Without an ounce of hesitancy, “Alright, I’ll just kill Lord Phenex then,” he murmurs, a sneer marring the husky baritone of his voice. The severity of his tone causes a peal of laughter to burst from your throat.
You turn in his arms, Namjoon’s hands instinctively moving over your hips and to the small of your back; his palms rest on your exposed skin, the rough pads of his fingertips—calloused from decades of wielding his sword—grazing the tops of your ass. Lifting your arms, you wrap them around the vast hardness of his shoulders before entwining your digits in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Rubious jewels stare back at you, the tumultuous depths lulling into a soft stillness, tender affection emblazoned clearly in his gaze as he looks down at you. Head tilting to the side, you examine him carefully, your eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and disbelief.
“No, seriously? Are you really jealous? It’s completely unlike you,” you point out.
It had been a very long time since Namjoon had displayed an ounce of jealousy, or possessiveness towards you. Over half a century almost. At first, it had been because various noblemen still chased after you, their houses sending you countless proposals for betrothals, despite the fact that you were—unofficially—courting Namjoon. Mainly because, due to the lack of formality, most of them simply thought the two of you were sowing your oats before settling down. Nonetheless, after half a century, they’d finally clued in on the fact that both of you were serious, and the betrothal offers had ceased.
Though, you believe a vast majority of it was due to the fact that there were very few houses that would be brazen enough to purposely incur the wrath of House Astaroth.
Namjoon’s handsome features twist at your remark. “I’m just not used to it,” he mutters. The ample swells of his cheeks puff out slightly, so marginal that if it weren’t for the all-seeing Eyes of Bael you’d inherited, you’d miss it. Voluptuous lips quirk downwards—the sensual lower fold jutting out indiscernibly to the naked eye—before his perfectly manicured eyebrows furrow as he looks away. At his sullen features, your eyes light up with delight.
By the Empire, he’s pouting.
Your hands move to his cheeks and squeezing them so his lips puff out, you direct his head back to face you. “Namjoon. Are you sulking?” you question, incredulity laden in your words. He attempts to look away, his countenance falling into a clear expression of sullenness as his cheeks tinge with vermeil heat. “Oh my Gods, you are. You’re totally pouting,” you cry in glee.
“I’m not,” Namjoon argues. In spite of his words, his lower lip pokes out further, a clear sulk marring his plush lips. Eyes twinkling with mischief, you lean up on your tiptoes and press a soft kiss on his mouth.
“You are,” you grin, your lips brushing against his before you kiss him once again.
For a second time, “I’m not,” he disagrees, and again, you press a kiss against his mouth.
“No, you definitely are,” you quip in a sing-song voice.
“I’m not,” he growls. Nonetheless, despite the harshness of his words, there isn’t a single inkling of anger in his voice. Rolling your eyes at him, you kiss him again. It lasts a little longer this time, your lips flush against his soft ones. When his pout dissipates, his mouth slotting into the seam of yours like two perfect puzzle pieces, you pull away.
“Lord Phenex just moved from the Phenex territory to the Capital. He didn’t know about us. He meant no harm,” you explain. Then, after a brief pause, “Besides, he’ll know about us soon enough,” you add as an afterthought.
Namjoon purses his lips, “I still don’t like it,” he murmurs under his breath. As he speaks, he runs his nose down the length of your jaw, and into the corner where it meets your throat. “You didn’t have to indulge him either, you know,” he complains softly, his hands tightening their hold on your back—as though worried you’d disappear.
You twirl your fingers through his hair, the pads drawing lazy circles into his scalp as you hum in thought. “It was harmless fun,” you respond. As you speak, Namjoon’s sharpened fang grazes your flesh, the stinging sensation causing you to moan in pleasure. Coquettish smile quirking onto your lips, “Why? Are you afraid I’ll leave you for a younger man?” you tease with a purr.
Instantly, Namjoon draws away from you. Shock colours his countenance, his crimson eyes flashing as he gawks at you. “Y-Younger man?” he splutters.
“What? I am almost forty years younger than you, you know,” you respond, your tone ripe with faux innocence. Purposely shrugging your shoulders, “Maybe I’ll grow tired and start wanting a younger, more handsome man,” you jest. There’s no real veracity to your voice—both of you know you’re simply teasing him. You’ve always said there was no one else but him, and you’d always meant it. To you, he was your first, and he’d be your last.
Besides, it wasn't as though that was the only reason he'd be your first, and your last. No, it was more than that. Namjoon is your soulmate—the two of you predestined by the universe to be together. In the demon realm, soulmates weren't a common thing. They were rare—two souls that were made for each other, forged in the very stars and formed from magic long before even their parents, or grandparents were born. Nonetheless, that didn't mean they were completely unheard of either. As a result, every now and then, there were two demons born who were inexplicably drawn together, something deep within them magnetising them to the other.
That was who Namjoon was to you.
When you had first met him, it had been due to pure chance—he'd joined his father, the late Archduke, in visiting the Imperial Palace. During his visit, he'd somehow managed to get lost, and eventually, found himself in the Princess' Palace gardens, where you'd met him wandering around, trying to find his way back. That one meeting had been it. You don't know how you'd know, neither of you did. But it was as if you'd seen each other, and lightning had struck both of your beings. Something simply clicked in place, and suddenly, it felt like you'd found a piece of you that had been missing— a piece you didn't even know you were missing before you'd laid eyes upon him.
Yet, even knowing this, even knowing that you were both made for each other, Namjoon’s lips form a thin line.
Carmine eyes leer at you, the rubious depths turbulent as they smear with unrestricted possessiveness. His gaze is almost predatory, unfathomable currents of coccineous dominance ensnaring you in their undertow and threatening to drag you under. The bulging muscles of his corded arms flex, and in one move, he easily pulls your body flush against his. Head bending down, his lips brush against the soft of your earlobe, the mix of his soft breath and the gentle touch causing your spine to shudder. Nonetheless, you know your love far too well, and you know the tenderness is simply the calm before the storm. True to your expectations, he suddenly bites down on your lobe, the sharp pain causing you to gasp out loud despite expecting it.
“A younger man?” he questions. The deceptively calm intonation, paired with the purposely low rasp to his voice, has a sudden ache blooming between your thighs—your inner core contracting vehemently, wantonly. “Oh darling, that’s not going to be possible,” he continues with a chuckle. Dragging his teeth against the outer shell of your ear, “Because as soon as I can, I’m going to tie you to me. Both in marriage…” Abruptly he bites down, his sharpened fangs cutting into the top cartilage and causing you to hiss. “... And our bed,” he finishes with a growl.
The deep, gravelly sound has both your mouth and throat drying up. Lust splatters across your eyes, your own gaze darkening with licentious need. Digits tightening around his hair, you tug at his roots. “Hmmm. But what if you can’t satisfy me the way I want? Maybe I’ll even have to bring in some concubines to do your job for you. I’m sure Lord Kilian would love the opportunity,” you coo. Your bravado is an act—a mere farce that Namjoon easily sees through.
You feel him smirk against your ear. One of the hands resting on your back moves, his palm wandering over your hip and further down. Easily, he finds the split in your skirt, and fingers creeping under the gossamer material, his indurated digits skim your bare flesh. Mouth falling open, a low groan slips from your throat as he tracks over the curve of your hip and over your ass. Gripping the cheek, he spreads it apart slightly and pushes his fingers between your thighs, the tips of his fingers brushing against your dewy folds. When he feels the bare flesh of your pussy, a low growl of appreciation tremors through the air.
“No panties? Aren’t you a dirty little Princess,” he purrs. His voice cuts through the air, the husky dominance saturating the atmosphere and causing your core to tremble. Desperate for his touch—your cunt aching to be filled—you push your ass further into his hand, your thighs automatically spreading apart. “Oh? Someone’s eager,” he chuckles.
Flexing his fingers, he teasingly massages the outer folds of your pussy, your wetness lubricating the flesh and causing you to hiss in pleasure. As the pads of his middle and pointer finger trace your nether lips—the tips frustratingly close to your aching hole—your head drops to rest on his chest. “Namjoon,” you mewl, his name spilling from your mouth; your lower abdomen flooding with liquid lust as he toys with your cunt.
“Concubine? How could you ever even entertain the notion of a concubine?” Namjoon questions, foreboding glee laden in his voice. “Look at you, already moaning like a bitch in heat for me,” he chuckles.
Suddenly, the pad of his finger dips into your pussy, the shallow intrusion causing a low groan to tear through your throat. Lazily, he circles the finger inside you, his nail tracing around the entrance to your cunt, teasingly stretching it out just enough to drive you mad, but not enough to satiate the desirous ache. Thick, filmy strings of your arousal drip out of you and onto his finger, some of it sliding down the length and onto his palm. Feeling the molten heat of your wetness trickle down his hand, Namjoon purrs.
“See. I’ve barely even touched you, and yet, your cunt is leaking all over me. Do you really think anyone else could get you this fucking desperate? This wet and needy for cock?” he hisses, plunging the rest of his digit hilt-deep into you. The blunt tip of his finger glides through your tight, pulsating walls, stretching out the pliant flesh of your cunt. Instantly, you gasp in pleasure, the sound morphing into a strangled moan as the length stimulates your innermost erogenous zones.
But, it’s not enough.
It’s not nearly enough—not remotely close enough to the way his thick, hard cock would pull you apart.
“N-Namjoon,” you mew, the sound breathier, and higher-pitched, than you’d expected it. The licentious desperation etched in your voice has Namjoon chuckling lowly—the resonant sound echoing through your eardrums and straight to your core, your walls autonomously clenching tighter around his unmoving finger.
“Come on, my sweet hellion," he coos, a rakish, lop-sided smile painting his expression. "Tell me, will a mere concubine satisfy you like I could? Could they put you, the future Empress, the noblest woman in our Empire, on your knees and fill you up—your mouth, your cunt, your ass—until you're nothing but a crying, sobbing mess begging for them to cum inside you?" he questions. The lewdness of his words has your skin tingling in anticipation, the heat of lust pricking at your being as though you were being branded with the hot-iron of his lechery.
"Fuck, Namjoon," you breathe out, your hips reflexively grinding into his hand as you try to ride his stationary finger.
In a flash, Namjoon's hand moves—his finger retreating out of you. Earlier than your brain could even register the loss of his appendage, and before you let out a displeasured sound of complaint, his pointer finger and thumb swiftly ping your swollen clit. Pain coalesces with pleasure, the contrasting sensations jolting across your nerves, and mouth falling open in response, you cry out—your hand shooting to grip his wrist as your long, claret nails dig into his flesh. Your reaction causes Namjoon's smirk to widen, his sharpened canine glinting in the moonlight through the split in the seam of his lips.
In indolent movements, Namjoon circles the outline of your clit with his fingertip, the bud rolling lightly under his ministrations. A soft mew escapes your lips, the gesture causing your empty core to convulse, a gush of wetness flooding out of you and down your thighs. "No, my love," he purrs, his lips brushing against your temple in an affectionate kiss, "That's all for me. You're all for me. Mine to love. Mine to protect," he continues. With each sentiment, he presses a kiss to your face—first onto the apple of your cheek, then to the corner of your jaw—as he makes his way to your mouth. Just when he gets to the corner of lips, however, he stills. Then, pressing a deceptively sweet kiss against the edge, "Mine to fuck," he finishes.
Sucking in a sharp breath, you look up at him through the thick of your eyelashes. "Are you going to fuck me?" you breathily question.
Moving his fingers through your slit, Namjoon grins darkly. Lambent carmine firmly locking onto your gaze, he runs his long, dexterous fingers through your folds and gathers as much of your wetness onto them as he can. Then, when the tips reach the entrance to your slick, heated cunt, "I am," he admits.
Briefly, your flick your eyes over his shoulder and glancing at the doors of the balcony, "Right here? With your guests on the other side— all demon nobility who'll hear us?" you ask. Reflexively, your cunt begins to pulsate, and as the dripping hole twitches around his fingertips, he presses the pads of his pointer and middle finger harder against your entrance—just enough to hone your attention onto the threat of penetration—but not enough to physically plunge into you.
"Isn't that what you want, little hellion? I can feel the way your cunt is twitching, Princess. Don't you want me to slide my thick cock into your little hole and fuck it open? Right here? Where all your subjects can hear you? Where they can bear witness to the way I defile your body—desecrate it in the way you love, in the way only I can?" Your throat tightens at his words, the heat of your desire searing through your being and engulfing you in its ardent blaze.
"Please," you choke out.
Instantly, Namjoon's lips crash down onto yours. The moment you feel the rough of his lips onto yours, you moan in pleasure. His kiss rattles through you like that of a hurricane, the possessiveness of it consuming you whole as he practically devours you. Simultaneously, his pointer and middle finger thrust into you. Easily, you spread open around his digits—the ringed muscles contracting and sucking him deeper into your velvet depths. Your mouth falls open in response, a low keen escaping from deep within your chest when you feel his fingers inside you. Seizing the opportunity, his tongue forcibly pushes between your teeth before roughly gliding over yours. The saccharinity of his own flavour blends with the honeyed taste of the bloodwine he'd consumed—the two blending into an melliferous concoction that has you salivating.
Unrelenting, Namjoon plunges his fingers deeper and deeper into you—his ministrations incredibly deliberate: making you feel every centimetre of his fingers—until he’s pushed them in till the hilt. Hands darting out, you fist them into the collar of his shirt—desperately needing him closer to you—until you feel the rigid musculature of his chest press into the softer curves of your torso. His kiss is bruising, the harsh roughness a juxtaposition to the soft silkiness of his tongue, causing you to whimper into his mouth.
In tandem with his dominating press of his lips, Namjoon thrusts his fingers into you, the digits pulling apart the wet velvet of your inner walls as the pads stimulate your inner nerves—setting your nerves afire with burning pleasure. Your rock your cunt into his hands, your hips swivelling as you try to take them further into your pussy—your slick walls pulsating around his appendages. Between the way he fucks you with his fingers, and the way his mouth devours yours, you lose yourself into the licentious pleasure he lavishes onto your body.
Meanwhile, releasing his collar, your own hands begin wandering down the length of Namjoon's body. Your palms trace over the hard, corded muscles—each and every one of the rigid fibres teeming with unbridled power. Tracking over his defined abs, the musculature trembling under your touch, you glide your fingers over his slim waist and towards the waistband of his trousers—your digits lightly skimming over the belt buckle. Over you, Namjoon pushes his hips into you, and when you feel the hardened bulge of his cock pressing against your hip through his trousers, a ripple of anticipation flits through you.
Not wanting to waste another minute, you quickly unbuckle his belt. Undoing the button and zip of his slacks, you push your hand beneath his boxers and take hold of his cock. As soon as the soft warmth of your hand palms his cock, Namjoon lets out a hiss—his lips breaking away from yours. Ragged breaths fill the air, the both of you gasping from the fervent ardour of your kiss as your lungs burn for oxygen. The veined shaft sits in your hand, pulsating, hot and heavy. Squeezing it lightly from the base, you run your hand along its length, until you reach the tip. Blunt cockhead sitting in your hold you run your thumb over the slit in the crown, relishing in the sticky precum that coats your skin.
Releasing his cock, you remove your hand from his trousers, and instead, bring it up to your mouth. From above, Namjoon leers down at you, his rubious eyes tumultuous with raw, carnal lust. Keeping your gaze locked onto his, you poke your tongue out from between your lips and lick at the precum that stains your palm. The second your tastebuds touch his arousal, your palate is bathed in his headiness—the flavour causing a low groan to escape your throat. Watching you sample his precum, Namjoon's eyes darken—the bright incarnadine tinting into an inky sanguine. He lifts his own hand, he brushes his slick fingertips against your lips, painting them in your own wetness, before pushing the digits into your mouth and onto your tongue.
As a reflex, your mouth automatically wraps around the appendages, your tongue moving to curl around the fingers as you lick off your own arousal. With how thick your essence coats his hand—the length of his fingers practically dripping in your juices—your own laden taste overpowers his, overtaking your palate and bathing it with your taste. You let out a hum, and hollowing out your cheeks, you coquettishly suck on his digits, your eyes never leaving his.
"By the Empire, aren't you the most depraved little slut?" Namjoon rasps. Despite the harshness of his words, his voice is laced with affectionate approval, his eyes sparkling in praise. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he grips your chin between the pad of his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger before angling it up to look up at him further. Softly brushing his lips to yours, "Does my Princess want to suck my cock?" he coos. Unhesitatingly, you nod your head. Your response has the corner of his lips twitching in amusement.
He takes one step away from you before arrogantly glancing at the floor in a silent gesture you know to mean 'get on your knees'. Despite the cockiness of his demeanour, you can't help but obey—your body automatically dropping into a kneeling position. Your obedience causes Namjoon to smirk down at you. A strong eyebrow quirks, and eyes twinkling with mirth, "Well, aren't you eager to swallow my cock," he taunts. While he speaks, his hands move to the waistband of his trousers, before he lowers them slightly.
Promptly, freed from the confines of his trousers, his shaft springs up, bouncing slightly with its own weight. Over the seventy-five years you and Namjoon have been together, you've seen his cock plenty of times. In fact, you've seen it enough that if you closed your eyes and thought about it, you could accurately and perfectly imagine it. Hell, if you were given the opportunity, you're sure you could mould it out of clay, or carve it from marble. Nonetheless, despite the countless of times you've seen it, it never fails to amaze you—or have you salivating.
Thick pearls of translucent precum ooze from his cockhead, the mushroom-shaped, mauve cockhead glistening under the moonlight that rains down upon him. He's incredibly long—the tip reaching way past his navel—and somehow even thicker—your hand barely able to fit around his girth. Vascularised with prominent, bulging veins, his shaft throbs under your gaze, the pulsating blood vessels onto drawing attention to his impossible, and wholly delicious, size. It stands proudly between two thick thighs, the muscles indurated and toned from years of swordsmanship training. Transfixed to the sight of him, you find your throat constricting, your mouth-watering as you imagine the way it'll fill your mouth, and stretch out your oesophagus.
"Go on then, Princess. Take my cock in your mouth," Namjoon goads.
Brazenly, you reach out and grip the base of his cock, its weight a familiar heaviness in your hand. Of course, it barely fits in your small hands, the throbbing length practically dwarfing your fist. Warm lips brush against the crown of his cock, and with your eyes firmly locked on his, you stare up at him through the thick of your lashes. Placing his cockhead against your lips, you run it against the folds of your mouth—as thought it were lipstick—and staining your lips in his precum. The sticky wetness paints your mouth, and responsively, your tongue darts out to lick it off of your own flesh. At the sight of your lewd gesture, Namjoon's pupil's dilate, their murky inkiness overtaking the lucent crimson of his irises.
"Fuck... What an obedient cock-hungry Princess..." your lover hisses, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.
Opening your mouth further, you gently wrap your lips around his head and take it between your teeth, just until his frenulum sits between your lips. Nestled in the balmy wetness of your mouth, his shaft pulsates viciously, the veins throbbing as more blood surges to his member, causing it to swell further. Unable to stop himself, Namjoon's fingers move to curl at the base of your neck, and pressing his fingertips into your flesh, he tugs your head further—a gesture you know to be an attempt to bury his cock deeper into your mouth.
Within the confines of your lips, you flick your tongue out against his slit. Feeling the tip of your velvet appendage against his leaking head, a throat growl rumbles from Namjoon's chest—the sound tremoring through the silent air. Emboldened by the sound, you wrap your tongue around the head before suckling at the weeping cockhead—teasing him and causing to hiss in pleasure. Then, all of a sudden, you release it. Instead, picking up his shaft, you lick at the underside, from the base, all the way to his tip—your tongue curling around and lightly massaging his frenulum.
"It's all for you, Archduke," you purr, using his title rather than his name.
The fingers around your neck flex, and uncurling from the column, they move to thread into your tresses instead—the digits knotting in the unruly mess of curls that is your hair. Affectionately, he strokes your head. With a hum, "This is exactly why you won't need a concubine, my sweet hellion," he coos. Then, gripping at your roots, he tugs your hair harshly, a blunt pain stinging at your scalp. "Because no one else could make the Crown Princess beg for a cock like you beg for mine," he continues, dark dominance heavy in the husk of his voice.
A smirk tugs at your own lips, and pressing a chaste kiss to the side of his cock, "I'm the Crown Princess, my love. I don't beg for anyone," you purr in response, your eyes twinkling with mischief. Low chuckle resounding from his throat, Namjoon's eyes glint fiendishly.
"As far as I'm aware, the Crown Princess doesn't kneel either. Yet, here you are. On your knees. Eager for me to fuck your throat," comes his derisive gibe. His words has a surge of insolence coursing through you. Sensing your rising petulance, Namjoon pulls your hair once again. "However, you're right. You don't beg for just anyone... but you'll beg for me, won't you, my sweet?" he responds. The guttural lowness of his voice has your already drenched cunt clenching, the prominent emptiness causing you to whimper.
Still, despite your own aching desire, you coyly smile up at him, "We'll see about that... After all, it may just be me who makes you beg," you respond cheekily. Namjoon quirks an eyebrow at your taunt.
"We'll see about that," he replies ominously, his eyes nebulous with sanguine lust.
Spurred by his reply, your stomach somersaults with your own desire. Responsively, you take his cock deeper into the hollow of your mouth, until the crown of his cock hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag. A strained sound resounds through the air, a mix between a groan and a hiss, as Namjoon's fingers tighten around your head. Spit pools around your mouth, spilling through the cock-plugged seam of your lips and all over his shaft, soaking the length in your saliva. The silken warmth of your mouth rhythmically pulsates around his hardness, and Namjoon's jaw clenches—the corner muscle clenching—as he relishes in the pleasurable sensation.
With your jaw split wide open around his tremendous girth, Namjoon leers down at you through dark, taunting eyes. "Gods, aren't you desperate to fit me in your mouth? Do you want to swallow my cock so much that you're already drooling all over it?" he taunts, his eyes luminous with provocation.
Insolence floods through you, and narrowing your eyes slightly, you force your throat to relax and swallow. The muscles of your oesophagus immediately turn pliant, and yielding to his length, you feel his crown press against the opening to your throat. Your sudden gesture has Namjoon jerking, the feel of his sensitive cockhead pressed against the heated flesh of the back of your throat causing him to inadvertently buck his hip. The motion of his hips presses him further into the opening of your oesophagus, and reflexively, your muscles clench, causing you to choke around him as more spit spills out of your mouth and down his shaft.
As the sound of you gagging fills the air, "Fuck— You're really going to try and swallow it whole, aren't you, Princess?" Namjoon coos. Your mouth twitches in response, and Namjoon knows that if it weren't stuffed full with his girth, you'd be smirking. Own lips forming a lop-sided, cocky grin, he releases his hands from your hair. Instead, he uses them to unwrap your own fists from his cock and curl them around your wrist—until they're each confined in his hold. Pinning them to the railing behind her, he sneers down at you. "Alas, that's too bad, Princess. Because I'd rather fuck your throat myself," he admits, a playful tilt to his voice. Your eyes widen at his words, your pupils dilating with salacious want. Staring up from your position on your knees, you look at him with a mix of challenge and imploration.
"Oh? Do you want me to fuck your throat, sweet hellion?" he hums. You nod your head in reply, the movement causing his cock to shift inside you, the head threatening to push further past your pharynx and into your oesophagus. "Really. Does the Crown Princess really want me to use your throat as my personal cocksleeve?" he questions. Again you nod, a soft mewl spilling from your throat—the vibrations reverberating over Namjoon's cock. A sly smirk forming on his lips, his eyes glint mischievously down at you. "Then... are you begging for me to fuck your throat?" he mocks derisively.
The dark, domineering inflexion in his voice causes your skin to flash with heat, white-hot lust prickling at your being as your aching pussy releases another trickle of wetness. As a result, the musky heat between your legs deepens, growing near uncomfortable, and causing you to shift. Wincing slightly, you feel your knees slide across the cold, hard marble—your joints growing sore from your own weight. Still, as you spread your legs wider, the cool midnight air skims across your heated cunt. Nonetheless, the reprieve is only slight, and within moments, its overshadows by the prominent emptiness between your thighs, causing you to squeeze them shut.
Despite your own aching desire, however, "No," you respond petulantly—your reply stifled by his girth lodged in your throat. Namjoon's lips twitch at your defiance, amusement colouring his expression.
Exhaling mirthfully, "Don't worry, Princess. Even if you're not begging for me now, I'll have you begging for me long before I fuck you," he coos in response, unaffected by your disobedience. Then, gripping your wrists tighter in each of his hands, "Relax your throat, my love. I'm going to fuck it until it's raw," Namjoon commands. The authoritative dominance in his demeanour strokes your hunger, and once again, you forcibly will your muscles to slacken—longing for his immense girth to pull them apart.
Abruptly, Namjoon's hips retreat, only to buck forward just as swiftly—his cock surging into your mouth as quick and as deep as he can—only to be stopped by the unyielding muscles of your pharynx. Eyes widening, you choke around his length, your throat contracting violently in an effort to bar Namjoon's cock entrance. Nonetheless Namjoon pays the response no mind. Rather, he drags his cock out, only to plunge forward again—fucking your mouth as his crown forces itself against the opening to your oesophagus. His brutal pace has tears stinging at your eyes, and your fingers digging into the flesh of your palms. The wet sounds of gagging fill the air with each thrust, spit dribbling out of your mouth relentless and trickling down his shaft as he sinks his cock into your cheeks over and over again.
“F-Fuck, Princess. Relax,” Namjoon hisses in command, his voice broken up by hollow groans and choked pants.
More than used to his ferocious pace from the years of rough fucking, you quickly adapt to his rhythm. Thus, the next time his cockhead rams against your pharynx, you forcible swallow. Immediately, the thick mushroom-tip of Namjoon's cock pushes past the tight flesh and into your oesophagus. Moreover, with how drenched his shaft is—copious amounts of your spit lubricating his length—he easily slides further into your throat, your muscles eagerly—and willingly—accepting his girth. As the velvet warmth of your flex encases his cock, the pulsating, wet heat gripping each inch of his cock, Namjoon hisses in pleasure, and responsively, thrusts his hips harder —until he's buried hilt-deep in your mouth.
With his cock deep within the confines of your throat, you will yourself to breathe through your nose—ragged inhales and shallow exhales filling the silent night—even as you choke around his unrelenting hardness. Above you, Namjoon basks in the feel of your throat, your silken flesh erratically convulsing around his shaft as it attempts to force out the intrusion. Nonetheless, with the way his hips are pressed flush against your mouth, your nose buried in his pubic bone, all the action does is surreptitiously caress his stiff length as he forcibly spreads the tight passage open around his girth. Namjoon groans at the sensation of your silken walls massaging his sensitive shaft, his cock throbbing in tandem.
Swallowing thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing under the ministration, he opens his eyes and looks down at you once again. The sight of you—tear-stained face, spit-soaked mouth, and lust-filled eyes—has his cock jolting in your throat, the immense hardness capriciously twitching within your throat. The sensation has you keening in wanton need, your hips squirming and your knees pressing further into the marble as the ache between your thighs practically overwhelms you.
"Fucking hell... You take it so well, don't you, Princess? You swallow cock as though you're so... fucking...greedy... for it," Namjoon praises, each word emphasised by a light thrust.
With his cock stuffed within your oesophagus, and the underside of his length flat against the hollow of your tongue, it's all you can do but to moan out—the sound coming out slightly garbled. Encouraged by the strained sound, Namjoon retreats his length from your throat—your eyes fluttering at the sensation of his blunt seam of his frenulum dragging against the soft of your silken passage—before he thrusts back inside. Pinning your wrists harder against the railing, the back of your head pressed flat against the marble balustrade, he begins fucking your throat.
Lewd sounds of you choking and gagging around Namjoon's cock resound through the silent air, intertwining with the wet slapping of Namjoon's hips and balls slapping against your face, as he uses your through and mouth for his own personal pleasure. Spit trickles out of your mouth, the flood of saliva dribbling from the seal of your lips around his shaft and down your chin before dripping onto his balls. Eyes slipping shut, you relish in the motion of his thick girth roughly pumping into you, your skin tingling with pleasure as your oesophagus turns raw from his ministrations—Namjoon using the sloppy wetness to effortlessly easing his cock in and out of your throat.
"Tell me, Princess, do you think a concubine could use your throat like this?" Namjoon hisses. The sudden question has your eyes snapping wide open before you look up at him through the thick of your lashes. Tear-filled eyes meet luminous ones, and with your gazes fixated on each other, Namjoon's chest trembles in a low growl. One of his fists releases your wrist, his other hand restraining them both instead, before he uses his now free hand to grip at your hair, tugging your head back to further look up at him. "Hmm, little hellion? Do you think a fucking mere concubine could stuff your throat? Fuck it until it's bruised? Until your knees are raw? Until you're sloppy with spit and cum?" he continues, each sentiment emphasised by a particularly harsh thrust, the rigid, blunt head of his cock pushing further and further into you.
Out of the blue, he gently caresses your head, your eyes fluttering shut—causing tears to track down your cheeks—as you relish in the way his fingers stroke your hair in tender affection. "Do you really think anyone but me could do this to you, Princess?" he asks, his voice dropping by a couple of decibels. The low, guttural sound, paired with his words, has your skin flushing with ardent heat. Goaded by his lascivious sentiments, you deliberately move your tongue to lave at the sensitive underside of his cock—your muscle straining under the weightiness of his shaft pressing it down.
A strangled groan rips from deep within his throat at your ministration, the sudden pleasure of your wet, velvet appendage rhythmically massaging his cock growing to be too much—especially combined with the way the silken heat of your throat convulses around the rest of his shaft. His cock twitches inside of you, the bulging veins swelling even further as more of his blood pumps towards his member, until he swells impossible inside of you. Mentally, you brace yourself for the impending deluge of his cum to erupt out of his head and flood your throat. Nonetheless, before he can spill himself directly into your oesophagus, he's quickly dislodging himself from your throat.
The abruptness of his ministration has you choking, your face twisting into a grimace as you feel his cockhead scrape against your inner flesh before popping out of your pharynx as he retreats from your throat. Once he's back within your mouth, the heaviness of his head flush against the back of your tongue—Namjoon breathing heavily over you—you look up at him in confusion. Nonetheless, Namjoon ignores you—choosing to inhale deeply. Once he's caught his breath, he looks down at you once again. Heavy eyes take in the sight of you, a tremor of appreciation rumbling from deep within his chest.
Knelt on the floor and head staring up at him, you're a complete mess. Desire laces your half-lidded, heavy eyes and tear-tracks stain your cheeks, while your lips are swollen and bruised, a mix of precum and spit dripping from them. Large hand dropping from your head, the other continuing to bind your wrists against the balustrade, Namjoon moves to swipe his thumb against your lips. Gathering the residual concoction that paints your mouth onto the pad, he pushes it between your puffy petals. Instinctively, your lops wrap around his thumb, and keeping your gaze on him, you suckle deliberately.
"By the Empire, I love you," he breathes out, the affection of his words juxtaposed by the gruffness in his voice. Releasing his thumb with a pop, you nibble on the tip coyly.
"Why did you pull out?" you ask, a grimace colouring your features as your throat—raw from his rough thrusts—protest the sounds. Taking his thumb out of your mouth, Namjoon tenderly strokes your tumescent lips.
"Because, my love, the only place I want to cum tonight, is deep within your cunt—so that I can bathe your womb in my seed," he responds without hesitation.
His words have your eyes darkening, and involuntarily, your lips part, "Please," you implore—the sound raspy, and wanton.
At your behest, and before you can even construe his actions, Namjoon is leaning down and picking you up. Strong arms—the muscles lean, and corded, each tissue boasting robust power—wrap around your waist, and after picking you up off of the ground in one fell swoop, he gently sits you on the balcony ledge. Once you're safely on the railing, Namjoon's hands slip under the slit of your skirt and onto your knees, pushing the material onto either side of your body as he bears your bear legs, and naked folds, to the night. Automatically your legs move, spread further apart in order to accommodate him, as his hips slot between your thighs. Spit-soaked, indurated cock pressing into your arousal-slicked, tumescent pussy, your head falls back as you let out a ragged moan.
"Mmm, fuck me," you mewl, your hips bucking as you attempt to press your cunt further against his cock. A husky laugh fills the night air, Namjoon's head dropping to the arc of your throat, his teeth raking up the column and causing you to hiss. When he gets to the sensitive spot just under your earlobe, he harshly bites down on the supple flesh—hard enough for his teeth to almost penetrate your skin.
"Are you begging already?" he laughs with a mirthful inflexion. Hands dropping to his chest, you trace your hands over the hardened muscles.
"Fuck off. I don't beg," you scowl, your words cavalier and prideful. Still, Namjoon chuckles. Lifting his face away from your neck, he instead drops his lips to bite at your tumid lips.
"You're awfully defiant for someone with bruised knees and cock-swollen lips," he responds, his hands slipping up your knees and to the top of your thighs whilst simultaneously nipping at your mouth. When his hands get to the top of your thigh, Namjoon wastes no time in spreading your legs further before running two fingers across your slit. Warm, indurated fingers drag over your nether lips, the sensation causing a fervent cry of pleasure to spill from your lips.
"Fuck me," you urge once again, your hands fisting around his shirt as you attempt to push your cunt further into his hand—desperate for something, anything. Ignoring your plea, Namjoon indolently circles his pointer finger around your slit, revelling in the way it throbs viciously under his touch.
"Ah, Princess, I can feel the way your clit throbs... and the way your cunt leaks for me," he remarks, his finger dropping from your clit, down your slit, and towards your dripping entrance.
"Gods, just fuck me. Make me cum," you respond—the ache between your thighs making you delirious with need as it becomes unbearable.
"Are you begging?" Namjoon repeats. You don't even have to look at him to know that he's smirking down at you.
Incensed, "No, I'm not begging. As your Crown Princess, I'm ordering you to make me cum," you reply contemptuously. All of a sudden, Namjoon's fingers move to your clit, and without a warning, he pinches the swollen bud—twisting it between the pad of his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger. Pain mixing with pleasure, your mouth falls open as you cry out his name.
"I don't think you're in a position to be ordering me around, Princess," Namjoon spits out, heavy dominance thick in his voice. Then, gently stroking your clit—the action a stark contrast to his earlier, harsher ministration—"How long do you think you'll be a disobedient, bratty little Princes? Don't you want to beg for me, sweet hellion?" he coos derisively.
A smirk twists onto your lips. "As long as I need to be." Pressing to the underside of his jaw, just at the corner, "And no... not yet," you continue.
"Hmm. I'll just have to make you beg, then, won't I?" Namjoon responds. All of a sudden, Namjoon drops to his knees in front of you, his hands spreading your legs wider as your own drop to brace themselves on the marble ledge.
Face-level with your cunt, Namjoon unabashedly stares at your bared pussy; lambent rubious eyes casting over every inch of your soaked, swollen folds. He takes you in, his eyes roving over your tumescent, pulsating clit, your dewy, arousal-slicked slit, and your trembling entrance, leaking with thin rivers of filmy wetness. A finger drags through your lips, the tip dipping into your pleated petals as he strokes through them. The motion causes your slick to coat his length in a thick, filmy sheen.
"So fucking wet," Namjoon voices.
Molten heat crawls up the length of your throat, the muscles tightening as you feel him tease your aching cunt. Whining in need, you buck your hips into his face, your fingers curling tighter around the balustrade—until your knuckles pale under the force. Underneath you, Namjoon presses two fingers flat onto either side of your lips, then, spreading his fingers in a v-shape, he splays you open for him—your cunt moving in tandem with his digits. Completely exposed for him, he takes a movement to stare at the entrance to your pussy, the ring of muscles erratically clenching and unclenching around nothing—the sight beckoning him.
Unable to stop himself, Namjoon dips his head forward and presses the flat of his tongue against the leaking hole, before whorling his appendage around the entrance. The sensation of him swirling his tongue against your cunt has you crying out in pleasure, heat flashing through your being as you feel another wave of wetness flood out of you and directly onto the hollow of his tastebuds. Bathed in your heady essence, Namjoon hisses in pleasure, his velvet muscle pressing further against the pulsing opening as he drinks your arousal.
"Oh fuck," you mew, the sound breathy, and low-pitched.
"Do you like that, Princess? Do you like the way I eat your pretty cunt?" Namjoon questions, his tongue laving around the opening to your cunt.
"Gods, yeah. Yeah. Please," you moan—unsure of what you're begging for as licentious pleasure addles your mind.
A small coo falls from his lips before he presses forward. Wrapping his lips around your cunt, he suckles at them. The action elicits a croaked cry from your lips, and emboldened by the sound, Namjoon presses the flat of his tongue against your pussy once again—laving it in one broad lick. Then, releasing your folds with a wet pop, he nibbles on your pleated slit lightly. With his sharpened incisor grazing over your soft flesh, you can't help but groan—the rough pleasure causing your blood to bubble with lustful delight.
"By the Empire, you taste so fucking good," Namjoon praises, his face burying deeper into your thighs as he relishes in the redolent scent of your cunt, the heady aroma only causing your flavour to deepen on his palate.
Words reverberating through your cunt, your head falls back once again, your eyes fluttering with euphoria. Shifting under you, Namjoon suddenly thrusts his tongue into your honeyed entrance, the stiffened appendage filling you up abruptly. A choked moan spills from your lips, your hips rolling against his face as you attempt to ride his tongue—the muscle writhing and wriggling inside you as it samples the thick juices that coat your inner walls. Feeling the way you grind against his mouth, Namjoon smirks.
"Go on, Princess, ride my face," he urges, his voice darkened with lust.
Namjoon whorls his tongue inside of you, the silken appendage gliding effortlessly through your cunt as he thrusts it in an out of you. Liquid lust swirls within your abdomen, the molten heat causing your stomach to knot and tighten with each and every one of his movement. His tongue isn't as long as his fingers, and certainly not as lengthy—nor thick—as his cock. Yet, with how prominent the ache had been, you find some of it alleviated just by the agile appendage moving inside you. One hand releasing the railing, you card it through his silver tresses instead.
"N-Namjoon," you stutteringly moan.
Out of the blue, Namjoon pulls his tongue out of you. Before you can moan in protest, however, he's suddenly forcing two fingers inside of you—the digits moving from splaying you open to sinking hilt-deep into your pulsating cunt. The unexpected intrusion has you howling his name, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as your hips undulate faster—riding his face as you chase your pleasure. Your cunt convulses around his digits, the calloused fingertips stroking through your innermost nerves and setting them afire with ecstasy.
With his fingers replacing his tongue, Namjoon instead moves his tongue languidly lave through your folds—the pointed tip tracing over your slit and around your clit. Though, even through your pleasure, you can't help but note that way he purposely ignore your clit. The telltale signs of your impeding orgasm begin stirring through you; the dull heat of euphoria gradually growing to a blistering sea with each and every one of Namjoon's ministrations. Nonetheless, with your lover deliberately neglecting your swollen bud, you know you have no chance of cumming.
"Namjoon—fuck— stop teasing," you complain, your fingers twisting around his roots as you tug at his hair in an attempt to move his tongue towards your clit—where you need him most.
"No," Namjoon laconically refutes, a smirk twisting onto his plush lips. Intentionally, Namjoon splays his fingers inside of you—spread the pliant walls further. There's a pleasurable burn to the stretch, and you can't help but whine his name into the still night. "So fucking tight... So fucking wet," Namjoon comments, enjoying the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting in and out of you, even as he continues keeping his digits spanned out in a v-shape. "Gods, I can't wait to fuck this tiny little hole open... spread it apart with my cock and cum deep into you," Namjoon groans, his own cock twitching at his words.
"Fuck, Namjoon. Stop teasing, wanna cum," you respond, your words beginning to slur from your peaking ecstasy.
"Not until you beg," comes your lover's reply. Lips twisting into a scowl, you pull your lip between your teeth.
"N-No," you refuse. "I d-don't beg," you continue. Though, conviction lacks in your voice, your own desperate need beginning to overshadow your pride—something Namjoon hears clearly.
In response, your lover rapidly begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, stroking each and every one of your nerves inside you. With every plunge of his digits inside of you, Namjoon laps at your folds while deliberately ignoring your clit. Blissful ecstasy burns through your bloodstream, causing your body to flash with heat as the dull ache within your stomach ignites viciously. Fingers flexing over the railing, as well as Namjoon's hair, your pussy clamps around Namjoon's fingers—the rippling of your walls turning erratic.
"Come on, Princess, don't you want to cum?" Namjoon taunts, his digits curling inside you as he expertly finds the spongy sweet-spot inside of you. Flexing his fingers, he presses the tips right against the bundle of tissues, before purposely stroking them. Back contorting in pleasure, your thighs begin shaking. Still, it's not enough. Tears blur your vision, desperation beginning to cloud your being as the need to cum grows unbearable. Words stifled by your sensitive sex, the low rumbling of his voice causes your folds to reverberate and intensify your pleasure. Electric ecstasy jolts up your spine, your mouth and throat drying up.
"F-Fuck... N-Namjoon," you moan with a stammer, the sound coming out ragged, and harsh.
"Beg," Namjoon commands. As he speaks, the fingertips against your g-spot press harder against the bundle of nerves, before he furiously thrusts his fingers in and out of you—so that his digits constantly and viciously stroke the sensitive tissue. Jaw slackening with pleasure, you wail out at the sensation, the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks as your clit begs for attention. You teeter on the edge of euphoria, your impending orgasm so close you can almost taste it. Just a little more. If he just strokes your clit, you know you would unravel and break all over him.
Still, "N-No," you insolently respond. Under you, Namjoon quirks an eyebrow. Then, before you know it, he's ripping his fingers out of you before pulling his mouth away from your folds. Eyes snapping wide open, your shake your head furiously. Hips bucking wildly, you attempt to chase after him. Nonetheless. Namjoon's hands move to your hands instead, and gripping your wrists in his strong hold, he constrains your limbs—preventing you from finishing yourself off.
"N-No, no. Wanna cum. N-Namjoon," you cry, the tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you sob.
Furiously, you shake your head, your hips desperately grinding against the air in an attempt to push your cunt back into Namjoon's face. Nonetheless, despite your best efforts, Namjoon keeps himself far away from your pussy, and swiftly, you find your orgasm begin to dissipate, ebbing into nothingness. The burning sear of your euphoria returns to a dull heat within your abdomen, and unable to stop yourself, you find yourself breaking down into a fit of frantic, needy cries. Heaving raggedly for air, you sob out his name. The tears that once misted your eyes trail down your cheeks, your orgasm ruined and far out of reach.
Standing up, Namjoon draws to his full height before stepping between your spread thighs once again. He gathers your trembling body in his arms before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "You know, if you want to cum, you just need to beg, Princess" he taunts wryly.
Unable to bear the desperation any longer, "Please. Please, fuck me. Namjoon, please. Wanna cum. Please," you finally plead, your words broken by thick sobs.
"That's my good Princess," Namjoon purrs in praise, his tongue flicking out to lick at one of the tear tracks on your cheeks before pressing a kiss to your temple. Then, shifting above you, he grips the base of his cock before smacking it against your cunt.
Loud, wet smacks resound through the air—his heavy girth slapping against your dripping, aching entrance—before the sounds of squelching replace them—Namjoon's cockhead rubbing through your sodden, tumescent folds. With each impact, more and more of your wetness clings to his cock, the filmy strings sticking to his shaft until his length is drenched, and glistening in your arousal. Namjoon watches the lewd sight with dark, rubious eyes, his gaze turning turbulent with lust. All of a sudden, you feel him angle his length through your pussy—before he begins running it directly onto your clit. Head falling forward, your forehead rests against his chest as your hands move to wrap around his shoulders; a guttural moan spilling from your lips as his blunt crown strokes your engorge clit.
"Please," you whimper, your head burying further into his chest as you cling onto him.
Not wasting another moment, Namjoon moves his head down from your clit and towards your pulsating entrance. Pressing the crown firmly against your leaking hole, he moves his other hand to your clit, and pressing the pad of his thumb flush against the tumid bud, he begins stroking in swift, vicious movement. "Come on then, Princess, cum on my cock," Namjoon orders.
Then, the next thing you know, Namjoon in thrusting his cock into your rippling entrance in one, swift motion. The force of his thrust impales his thick cockhead into you, and nails raking across his shoulders, you howl his name in a mix of pain and pleasure—your entrance forcibly made to stretch around his immense girth. Continuously, Namjoon slides into you, and with every inch that penetrates you, you feel him pull apart your inner walls further and further apart. The plunge of his cock, paired with the furious drag of his thumb against your sensitive clit, has you immediately careening off of the edge and straight into your orgasm.
Violently, your back contorts—your spine arching and forcing your chest flush against his—as you cry out his name. Your orgasm which had once dissipated flares to life, igniting into a molten sear that rattles through your being, flooding the entirety of your body in mindless, unbridled pleasure. Wave after wave of blissful ecstasy ricochets through you, your thighs quivering erratically as your cunt clenches in a vice-like grip around the blunt-head of Namjoon's cock.
Amidst your orgasm, you feel a stinging ache ripple through your cunt—Namjoon struggling against the frantic, uncontrollable clamping of your walls as he feeds his cock further and further into your depths. Tears of pleasure and pain blur your eyesight, the pleasurable burn of Namjoon's cock stretching you out mixing with the euphoric sensation of your climax rocking through you. Inch by thick, brutal inch, Namjoon's indurated cock spears into you—the vascularised, unrelenting hardness dragging against your rippling, velvet passage.
Gradually, his immense girth pulls your cunt apart—spreading your innermost walls and moulding them to the shape of his cock. With how often Namjoon has fucked you through the years, you'd think you'd grow use to how he fucks your cunt open. Nonetheless, with how absurdly thick he is, and considering you're still within the throes of your orgasm—making you much tighter than you'd normally be—you're much more sensitive to the stretch. As he continues sliding into you, impaling his cock further and further into the depths of your pussy, you let out a small mew—relishing in the way he fills you up. Until, all of a sudden, the blunt crown of his head bumps against your cervix. With his cock buried hilt-deep into you, his cockhead pressed flush into the back walls of your pussy, an intense pressure forms inside your stomach—a choked cry emanating from your throat.
"H-Huge," you breathlessly keen, your recent orgasm only making you more sensitive to his size.
"By the Empire, how are you always this tight?" Namjoon grunts in response, almost undone by the feel of your clenching cunt. Hands trailing down your curves, Namjoon's palms move to rest on your hips. Then, fingers digging into your flesh, "Hold on, Princess. I'm going to ruin your cunt," Namjoon promises.
That's the only warning you get.
Because, the next thing you know, Namjoon is sliding his cock out of you—until only his head is buried into you—before thrusting back into your cunt.
"N-Namjoon!" you shriek as he begins to pound into you. Dropping his head, Namjoon buries his face into your neck before suckling and biting at your flesh—hard enough to bloom mauve bruises all over your skin.
"That's it, Princess. Scream my name. Let everyone hear whose cock is fucking you this good," Namjoon urges. Then, biting down particularly harshly on your neck, the sensation causing you to keen in pleasure, "Let Killian know whose fucking you this good," he continues—dark possession thick in his raspy voice.
With each and every one of his thrusts, the velvet shaft drags against your innermost erogenous zones, setting your nerves afire with pleasure as you feel his thick length open you up. Ragged sobs of pleasure spilling from your throat with each vehement surge of his lips, you moan his name over and over again—just as Namjoon had commanded. Under the force of his thrusts, you bounce on his cock, your ass shifting over the bannister and further off the ledge. Nonetheless, between the way Namjoon grips your hips, and the pleasure that addles your mind, you don't care about falling off of the edge. Besides, you know Namjoon would never let any harm befall you.
Thus, despite the danger, you find yourself wrapping your legs around his waist, and using the leverage, you pick yourself up and down, fucking back onto him as you follow his rhythm. Feeling the way you begin to ride him, Namjoon drops his face from your neck down to your shoulders, and growling, he bites down on your exposed flesh—leaving the imprint of his teeth into your flesh. Once again, he nips and suckles at your skin—his teeth scraping harshly against the surface as he bruises your flesh in his marks. The rough ministrations draw mewls and croons of pleasure from your lips, and you have no doubt that by the end of the night, he'd have marked you as his.
Soon, a throbbing pain forms deep within your stomach, Namjoon's cock continuously battering the soft flesh of your cervix with each thrust. As the blunt pain intensifies, your nails dig deeper into Namjoon's shoulders, your lover hissing at the sensation. "F-Fuck, you're so deep," you stammer with a moan.
Namjoon chuckles. "You love it when I'm this deep, don't you, my love?" Namjoon growls, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust. His words have you undulating your hips faster as you both chase your pleasure. Feeling him surge deeper into your depths, you sob in pleasure; tears of bliss welling in your eyes as you feel unadulterated euphoria cloud your being. "Fuck, you're so tight. Your cunt won't stop clenching around my cock," Namjoon hisses. Hands moving from your hips to the back of your ass, Namjoon pulls you further into him. "Tell me how much you love this, Princess. Tell me how much you love when I fuck you. How much you love the way I ruin your sweet little cunt?" Namjoon provokes, his voice laden with honeyed sin.
"N-Namjoon," you whimper in response. Immediately, Namjoon halts. With his thrusts coming to a sudden stop, you cry out his name. Lifting your head from his chest, you look up at him imploringly. "W-Why?" you question.
"Tell me, sweet hellion. I want you to tell me how much you love me fucking you—say it loud enough that everyone will hear and know who fucks you this good," Namjoon answers. As he speaks, he begins fucking you once again. Nonetheless, his pace is excruciatingly slow—each and every ridge and vein that mars his cock prominent as he moves inside you.
Hips grinding against him, "I love when you fuck me. Gods, Namjoon, no one else could fuck me like you. No one else could ruin me like you," you reply. Grinning against your throat, Namjoon presses an affectionate kiss to the supple flesh.
"Hmm... What about your concubines? Do you think a concubine could fuck you like me? Huh, my love?" Namjoon asks, his words reverberating across your skin.
"N-No. No one but you," comes your response. Namjoon chuckles darkly.
"That's what I thought. Now... scream for me," he orders. Then, the next thing you know, Namjoon begins rutting into you once again.
Furiously, Namjoon thrusts his cock into you—the mushroom-tip of his cockhead pulling your silken depths open with each thrust before he batters it into your cervix. True to his word, with each of his harsh plunges, you scream out his name; your cries only aggravating your throat—the flesh still raw from when he'd fucked it. Nonetheless, even as your voice breaks, turning hoarse, you continue wailing and sobbing out his name, Namjoon smirking against your neck as he mouths at it.
For a second time that night, pleasure ripples through your body, your blood bubbling with the pleasure Namjoon lavishes upon you. Feeling the heat of your second orgasm stir within the pits of your abdomen, your cunt begins to clench around his cock. Walls of your pussy beginning to spasm around his length, Namjoon lets out a hiss. Suddenly, Namjoon's back straightens, and drawing to his full height, he looms over you. One hand releases your ass, and instead, he moves it to gently cup the side of your neck, his thumb pressing against the hollow of your throat.
"Are you cumming, Princess?" he questions, a teasing inflexion evident in his voice. Namjoon knows your body as thought it were the back of his hand, so of course, he already knew you were close to your end. Nevertheless, he still loved to tease you. Dry sob emanating from your throat, you nod your head, your stomach twisting and tightening.
Reverently, he caresses your neck, his fingers skimming over the column as he traces the curves and contours. "Who do you belong to, my love? Who do you belong to?" Namjoon questions.
"Y-Yours," you autonomously reply, your eyes fluttering in pleasure. Through half-lidded, lust-obscured eyes, you gaze at your lover. "Namjoon, please," you hoarsely plead.
At your response, Namjoon rolls his hips. The motion causes him to shift angles, and as a result, with each thrust, you let out a low moan of pleasure—his cockhead dragging against your sweet-spot with each plunge. Suddenly, the fingers around your throat tighten. Eyes snapping wide open, your gaze immediately fixates onto him—your lover grinning rakishly down at you. The pads of his fingertips dig into your flesh, on either side of your oesophagus, before he begins squeezing in a rhythmic fashion—not enough to hurt, but just enough to expertly constrain your breath. Mouth falling open, you inhale sharply as your cunt inadvertently clenches in pleasure.
Head dropping forward, Namjoon presses his nose into your hair. Then, inhaling deeply, he allows your scent to wash over him, before he presses a kiss to your temple. "Hold onto me, Princess. I can't have you falling off," Namjoon softly commands. Obediently, you do as he says, the arms wrapped around his shoulders moving to wrap around the base of his neck as your hands cling to him desperately. Once he's sure you're not going to fall off the ledge, Namjoon moves his other hand from your ass, and instead, pushes it between your thighs. Muscles of your throat tightening, and in a bid to lubricate them, you swallow thickly.
Pleasure tinges at the seams of your being, each of Namjoon's rough thrusts causing his rigid head to drag against the sensitive tissues inside of you, before pressing deep against the back walls of your cervix. Teetering on the edge of your orgasm, you croon his name. The hand pressed between your thighs easily finds your pulsating, needy, clit, and pressing his fingers against the bundle of nerves, Namjoon begins toying at it with his thumb and forefinger—rolling and pinching the bud between the two appendages. With your neglected clit stimulated, you let out a strained howl of pleasure—the additional stimulation sending you careening off of the precipice of pleasure and hurtling you straight into your second orgasm.
Nails raking over his neck, "N-Namjoon," you screech, the raw muscles of your throat protesting the howl as they force out the sound. Diving straight into the unbridled euphoria that is your orgasm, your entire body violently trembles, your cunt clenching and unclenching uncontrollable around Namjoon's pulsing hardness. Eyes stinging for a third time that night, your vision blurs with a mix of your tears, as well as pleasure; white-spots of intense ecstasy clouding your line of sight as you sob in pleasure. Cunt clamping around his cock in a vice-like grip, Namjoon feels your cum gush out of your pussy and over his shaft, drenching the length in your orgasm as he continues fucking you.
"Fuck. Oh fuck. That's it, Princess. That's my good girl. Fuck, yes. Cum on me. That's right, my love, milk my cock," Namjoon urges with a groan, his own breath turning ragged. The brutal rhythm of his pace falters, and hips moving in an erratic fashion, he continues impaling you with his cock—revelling in the way your velvet walls contract around him. When you clench particularly hard, Namjoon hisses in pleasure. "Fuck, I'm cumming," he rasps.
"C-Cum in me," you sob, somehow managing to form a coherent sentence through the haze of your rapture. Even if the words come out slurred, and slightly inarticulate.
Suddenly, Namjoon buries his cock as deep into your cunt as possible—the head pressing into the groove of your cervix. Toes curling in response, your eyes roll into the back of your skull, your thighs shaking uncontrollably. Shaft swelling inside of you, Namjoon lets out a low, carnal growl before cumming. A torrent of his seed spills deep inside of you, Namjoon bathing your inner walls white with his essence. The warmth of his cum fills you up from within, the sensation causing you to mew in pleasure as you begin to float down from your high.
Sheathed deep within you, your erratically convulsing walls milk Namjoon's cock—draining each and every last drop of his cum from his cock and against the entrance to your womb. The two of you stay still for a few more moments, harsh, ragged breaths filling the air as you both attempt to catch your breaths while coming down from your high. Bonelessly, you fall forward—Namjoon immediately wrapping his arms around your limp body in order to steady you. Shifting above you, Namjoon drops his face to bury into the top of your head, his nose ruffling through your hair as he takes in a deep breath.
"Gods, I love you so much," Namjoon whispers. His voice is low, and quiet. But, in the dead of the night, you hear him clearly—the affection in his voice causing your heart to flutter.
Angling your head up, you press a lazily kiss to his neck, "I love you too," you respond.
You have no idea how long you stay in that position, simply basking in the thrumming pleasure of your post-orgasmic haze, as well as the comfort of each other's arms. Nonetheless, eventually, Namjoon shifts—the first to move out of the two of you. Carefully, he pulls his flaccid cock out of you, your face twisting into a grimace as you feel your sensitive walls ache from the movement. As soon as his cock retreats from your depths, Namjoon's cum begins dripping out of your pussy and down your body.
Nose crinkling at the sensation, "Where's your handkerchief? I need to clean myself up," you ask, your back straightening as your energy replenishes itself. It was in moments like this that you were thankful for your demonic stamina and recovery.
Namjoon hums noncommittally. Then, without saying anything, Namjoon pushes his hand between your thighs once again. Fingers pressing against your sensitive folds, your lover gathers the spilling cum onto his digits before pushing it back into you. Indolently, he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, his ministrations causing you to let out a soft mew. "Hmmm... No. I want you to walk in just like this... with my cum dripping out of you and down your thighs," Namjoon responds.
You quirk an eyebrow. "Why?" you question, your head cocking to the side.
"So that everyone knows you're mine," Namjoon mumbles. An airy laugh bubbles out of your throat at his response, and looking at him incredulously, you shake your head.
"So you really were jealous of Lord Phenex?" you ask, your eyes glinting with mirth. Once more, Namjoon pouts, before avoiding your gaze. Shaking your head, you cup Namjoon's face in your hands before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. "You know you have nothing to worry about right? I was only joking about the concubines. I love you. You're the only one I love and you're the only one I want," you reassure. Above you, Namjoon's face softens, and turning to you, you watch as he gazes at you tenderly.
"I know, my love. I love you too," Namjoon responds before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The two of you stay like that for a few more minutes, simply revelling in each other's presence. Nonetheless, before long, you let out a sigh.
"We have to go back. Your guests are waiting," you mumble reluctantly.
"We don't have to do anything. Let's just say our goodbyes and leave. I want to take you to bed," Namjoon mutters. Cocking your eyebrow, you look at him in amazement.
"Already?" you ask, your eyes glancing down at his already hardening cock. Namjoon shrugs before looking at you with a wolfish grin.
"What can I say? I'm insatiable for you," he responds. "Besides, it's my birthday. I'm going to have you till dawn," he continues.
Snickering, you look at him in mischief, "Just dawn?" you reply. Namjoon growls before bending down and nipping your lip.
"Mhm. Maybe even longer... if I don't tire you out," he responds huskily. Pushing him away from you, you gracefully  hop off the balcony railing. Grimacing at the uncomfortable messiness between your thighs, you fix your dress back in place and make sure you're presentable—or well, as presentable as you could be—before walking towards the doors. Before you can enter the ballroom, however, you pause and look over your shoulders.
"Hmm, I'll take that challenge," you smirk. Namjoon's lips tug into a grin. Swiftly, he pushes his cock back into his trousers before buttoning himself up. Though, he leaves his shirt untucked—unbothered by how unkept it looked. After all, with how loud you'd been—something he had made sure off—there was no way his guests didn't know what the two of you had been up to. Once he's more presentable, he quickly jogs towards you. Then, wrapping his arm around your waist, he opens the doors and leads you back inside.
The moment the two of you step inside the ballroom, the air shifts. Some of the demon nobility look at the two of you in exasperation, other's faithfully looking away, their cheeks vermeil with embarrassment. Other's, the bolder and more lecherous ones, look at you two with barely concealed prurience, knowing grins on their face. Despite the mix of looks, you hold your head up high and walk into, your heels clicking against the marble floor. Whether they knew or not, it mattered not. If they knew what was good for them, they would keep their mouths shut. Lest they wanted to find themselves on the opposite end of Namjoon's blade, or your magic. Not that they would even dare to utter a word, of course. After all, you and Namjoon made up the biggest powers of the Bael Empire.
Beside you, Namjoon clears his throat. "I have to thank you all for coming to celebrate my two-hundred-and-seventieth birthday," Namjoon begins, drawing the attention of everyone as the ballroom falls to silence. Then, skimming the crowd, he easily finds Killian Phenex. Triumphant smirk crossing his face, Namjoon levels his steady gaze onto the man—the cerise-haired man looking back at him with a mixture of fear, shock and embarrassment. Curling his hand around your hip, he splays it possessively over the curve. "Unfortunately, however, the Crown Princess and I have to bid you a goodnight now as we have some more... private matters to attend to," he continues. At his words, Killian's cheeks flush with heat before he quickly looks away—avoiding Namjoon's dominant gaze.
"Namjoon," you admonish lightly. Your lover turns to you, his eyes twinkling with delight as he looks down at you.
Then, dipping his head, he presses a soft kiss to your neck, "What? I just wanted to make it clear that you'd rejected his pathetic courting attempts," Namjoon replies. Rolling your eyes, you playfully smack his chest.
"Alright, whatever you say. Now, come on, Archduke. I believe there were promises to have me till dawn?" you taunt, a coquettish smile on your lip. Namjoon's reaction is instantaneous.
Gripping your hip tighter, he growls in your ear, "And longer," he reminds you. And with that, he leads you out of the ballroom and towards his bedroom.
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a/n: ahhh i hope you enjoyed that!! sorry this took so long, work has been so hectic and i’ve been so tired but i sincerely hope this was worth the wait!!
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bratkook · a month ago
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switch up! (m) jjk.
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banner by @dee-ehn
pairing. bass player!jk x reader  genre. fluff, smut word count. 18k warnings. lotsa kissing, oral sex (m. & f.), sooome spit bc why not, protected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cockwarming?? summary. you would have never expected your shy, innocent art partner to be the man on stage covered in tattoos note. the tags are janky as fuck so if u read and enjoy, pls reblog ! let me refer you to this post of mine that birthed this hannah montana/double life jungkook. he is sweet and lowkey filthy and i love him sm & hope u will too <3, this fic is half plot and half smut to get myself back into writing filth and also to finally give jk a bassist story on my page lol, i’ve been working on this idea since january...writers block has been gnarly as fuck...so please let me know what you think of it hehe ty ilysm (also pls dont ask me for a part two, if i decide to write more for them ill let u guys know<3) taglist. @parkdatjimin , @jimilogy , @cheekychoca , @jjk301 , @marcoazz2 , @girlsforgloss , @fancycollectormoon , @aurevoir-le-bitches , @redbabie17 , @tomotae​ , @heartykoo ,
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The gentle breeze of the wind flows around you, trees rustling above, leaves fluttering down and landing on the blanket you had just meticulously spread out. The red and yellow leaves stand out against the light material, and you’re tempted to just leave them there but your desire to make this perfect has you crawling forward instantly, plucking the leaves and tossing them aside before smoothing out the fabric once more and settling back onto your butt. 
There, that’s better. 
The set up you currently had looked more like a picnic than the original drawing ‘date’ you had arranged. A wooden wicker basket was to your left, full of a variety of snacks and treats for you to munch on while you worked, your art supplies nestled to the side of it. You had almost forgotten them in your haste to leave, too excited about spending time with your art partner outside of class to remember what the actual premise of this was. It doesn’t stand out too much, the giant quad in the middle of your campus was occupied by other couples having similar picnics all around you, so hopefully you can pass this off as no big deal. 
Jungkook definitely doesn’t mind it though. When he approaches the set up you have, dark bag slung over his shoulder and his arms tucked into the pockets of his coat, he smiles as he sees you fidgeting with the edges of the blanket that flutter up with the wind. There's a small pep in his step as he gets closer, the small jitters he always felt while around you creeping up his spine and mixing with excitement. It's the same cocktail of emotions he has swirling in his gut anytime you were near. 
The crunching of leaves grabs your attention, looking up as you rest your bag on a corner to prevent it from flying up again. He eyes the curve of your legs peeking out underneath the plaid skirt you wear, covered in sheer black tights in an attempt to shield yourself from the cooler weather. A blush dusts his cheeks when he meets your gaze and realizes he’s been caught gawking at you like he normally does. 
The smile on your lips as you wave him over only makes him hurry up, taking longer strides until the chunky black shoes on his feet are sticking out against the creme colored blanket. 
“Sorry, am I late?” he wonders, lowering his bag beside yours before slowly sitting down. His all black ensemble swallows him up, the only form fitting article being the turtle neck peeking through his coat. When he adjusts his glasses, looking up at you with a small grimace, you snap out of it and clear your throat. 
“No, I got here a little earlier to set this all up.” You reach for the wicker basket, flipping it open and sliding it in between you so he could get a glimpse of what was inside. “I hope you like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
Jungkook smiles down at the basket before locking eyes with you once more. “I love them actually. Thanks.” His fidgety hands waste no time pulling out his art supplies, not knowing how to sit in comfortable silence with you beside him, needing to occupy himself to not say anything without thinking. His mind was always whirling whenever you were within close proximity, it was a miracle he could get work done in class with you inches from him. 
You recognize the nervous ticks he has, how his fingers twirl the pencil in his hand as he flips open his sketch pad, how his eyes bounce from your knees back to the paper—too nervous to look up at you again. His toffee brown strands fall over his brows, tips of them resting on the rim of his glasses as they slide down his nose, his finger coming up to push them back up with a scrunch. It’s adorable—he’s adorable—in that sweet boy next door kind of way. 
His soft spoken demeanor and gentle smile was the first thing you noticed months ago when the semester had just started, mentally cheering yourself on for choosing to sit beside him and becoming self proclaimed partners. Jungkook was definitely artistically gifted, not once complaining when you’d lean over to his side and awe at his work, trying to hide his bashful smile as he shrugged off your praise. It was the main reason you weren’t shy to compliment his art, or his outfits, or him in general, just wanting to see the cute way his nose scrunches up and his lips curl into a grin. 
“You look cute and cozy,” you breathe out, staring right at him and smiling when his eyes peer up at you through his glasses. Jungkook has since learned to not expect you to look away, you were far too comfortable with yourself to be embarrassed or bashful. Instead, you continue to give him a once over, small smile on your face when his cheeks blush slightly in a way that can’t be attributed to the cool breeze. 
You can already tell his mind is trying to unscramble a response to your casual compliment but you save him from it with a small sigh, your eyes falling onto his sketch pad instead. “So, how do you want me?”
Jungkook can’t hide his look of shock, his own thoughts taking over before he realizes what you truly meant. His fingers grip the edges of his sketchpad as he clears his throat, smoothing over the paper and looking up at how you were positioned. “Like that’s fine, but however you’re comfortable. I’ll try to work fast so you’re not stuck in this position for long.”
You merely shrug at his comment, delicately placing your hands on your knees and readjusting your legs to the side. “Honestly take your time. I know it’ll look amazing.”
“Yeah, thanks to you,” he mumbles quietly, a sheepish smile on his lips that only makes you smile widely in return. He quickly tries to deflect it by reaching for his pencil and beginning the sketch but you’re having none of that. 
“Was that your way of saying I look amazing?” Your voice is soft, a small fluttering in your stomach at his compliment. Throughout the weeks of knowing each other, in between your harmless flirting, Jungkook had only had the courage to reciprocate it a few times. Each time he did, whether it was saying your hair looked pretty, or you smelled nice, it stuck with you and continued to fuel the gentle crush you have. 
“You always look amazing,” he adds, eyes focused on the light strokes of his pencil, outlining your silhouette in the exact position you were in. Jungkook knew the second you set your sights on him you’d push his train of thought right off the tracks every time you spoke to him, turning him into the shy, stuttering boy he was in highschool. 
He’s grateful that you never push it too far, not knowing if he’d be able to keep up the teasing and compliments while attempting to focus on the project at the same time. Instead you try your best to fight back the smile on your lips, not wanting to mess up what he was currently drawing. 
It really didn’t matter to you how long this took, you’d be more than happy to sit here for hours if it meant you’d be able to have his full attention. It gives you all the time in the world to admire your view, your eyes tracing down the slope of his nose, the outline of his lips when he purses them in concentration, the fluttering of his lashes as his eyes bounce up from the page to glance at you before looking back down to capture any detail he might have missed. 
Jungkook is a silent worker, his style of choice relying too much on intricacy and detail to allow him to focus on anything else. His hands move smoothly across the page, the gentle scraping of his pencil blending in with the rustling of leaves and soft hums he’d let out as he analyzes his work. It’s only when he finishes the general sketch of your face that he looks up at you fully, a proud smile on his lips as he holds up the sketchpad for you to see the progress. 
“Okay, you’re free to talk now.” He must have sensed your desire to spark a conversation, knowing fully well how chatty you were on a daily basis. Jungkook enjoys it though, finding the random questions you’d ask or the simple stories you’d tell him very endearing. Everytime he spoke to you felt like he was flipping the page into another chapter of your life, knowing just a little bit more about you in a way that left him eagerly anticipating the next. 
“Oh that looks amazing already,” you gasp, inching forward a bit to get a better look. It was the bare bones of what would be another one of his masterpieces but what he currently had was still enough to leave you in awe. 
“I still need to add all the heavy details and shading but we’d probably be stuck here all night if I did it now.” 
“We have until next week to turn this in so we can always meet up again in between classes to finish up anything.” The eagerness laced in your words makes him smile, the thought of seeing you once again before today’s date was even over leaving him just as giddy. A shy nod in confirmation is all he gives you before he’s jumping back into the drawing. 
This time however you don’t sit in silence, able to chat away now that the attention was off your face. It lets the time fly by, giggling together as you casually bring up the fact that the campus goose had chased you down earlier and you’d have to find a new route down here because the experience had been slightly traumatic. Your favorite moment however was munching on the sandwiches you brought and carefully feeding him some so his messy fingers wouldn’t ruin his work, his eyes crinkling up in thanks after every bite. 
His boyish laugh makes your cheeks hurt from smiling, something he takes note of as he looks up at you fondly, eyes locking together for a brief moment before the vibration of your phone grabs your attention. It buzzes against your leg, a slew of messages coming in from your best friend, all in varying degrees of distress as she contemplates her outfit choices for tonight. That's when you take note of the time, realizing you were supposed to be on your way to her place already. A quick response saying you’d be there soon is all you send before locking the device entirely. 
“Are you busy tomorrow?” you wonder, peering over to see how much more he had finished of his drawing. 
“I’m free in the morning. Why? Do you have to leave right now?” His doe eyes stare at you in curiosity, twirling the pencil in his grasp while you inch even closer to admire his work once more. He can smell your perfume, the earthy scent of amber warming him up, it reminds him of a rainstorm and he tries his best not to not make it obvious how much he enjoys your close proximity. 
“Yeah, I didn’t realize what time it was. I’m supposed to meet up with a friend right now, but we can finish up our drawings tomorrow.” 
Jungkook fishes his own phone out of his pocket, the bright white numbers letting him know he was also running late to his plans, quickly packing up his supplies as he nods his head. “Do you want to meet here again?”
Despite his rush, he helps you fold up your blanket as you pack up the rest of your things as well, gently tucking it into the wicker basket you brought and handing it over with a cute smile. 
“Yeah, just text me what time and I’ll be here. Bye Jungkook,” you sing out, wrapping an arm around him in a swift hug that makes his heart skip. His own arms envelop you easily, squeezing you tight before pulling away, the two of you going your separate ways with excitement weighing heavy in your chest.
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“He sounds geeky,” Chungha jokes when you finally bring him up to her later that night, your turtleneck, glasses wearing, art loving description painting him in a nerdy light that was very much Jungkook. 
“Shut up, he’s nice.”
“That's always code for ugly.”
You roll your eyes at her jab, but it’s not like she sees it, too focused on lining her lips as she stares at herself in the mirror. A huff escapes you as you fall back onto her bed, arms spread out and your heart still feeling light from the time spent with him. Your lips roll together as you hold in the small squeal you want to release when you remember the way his cheeks had bulged out while you fed him the sandwich, how his tongue would peek out to swipe at any of the jelly on his lips. Jeon Jungkook was the definition of cute, Chungha had no idea what she was talking about. 
“He’s actually really cute Chungha,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you sit back up, watching as she fluffs her hair out before turning to look at you with an unconvinced stare. 
“Yeah, I’m sure he’s adorable. Hurry up and put some lip gloss on or something.” She reaches forward, grabbing a tube of gloss and tossing it at you with a chuckle. 
“Where are you dragging me to tonight?” you wonder, hauling yourself up to approach her brightly lit mirror. She has a prideful smile on her wine colored lips when she sees you doing exactly what she said, shooting you a thumbs up when you set the lipgloss into your bag once complete. 
“This club downtown. Cherin told me they play good music, and I’m in the mood to dance and make questionable decisions with cute boys.” You know she’s being serious too, the mischievous glint in her eyes and the way she adjusts her boobs in her top show you that much. When her finger comes up to poke at your own boobs you gasp and swat her hand away, cupping your tits with a glare. “Bring the girls out!”
“No, this top is cute.” She pokes at them once more, an evil laugh filling the air when you lift up your shirt to cover the small bit of cleavage showing. Thanks to your poor time management skills, it's the same outfit you wore earlier with Jungkook. Perfect for a cute day time drawing date, apparently not perfect for Chungha’s nightly activities. 
“At least take the tights off to show some skin.” She claps when you grumble under your breath as you once again do what she says, toeing off your heeled shoes and yanking the sheer material off your legs, balling it up before tossing it at her face. 
“Happy?”
“Partially, but I’ll manage. C’mon let’s go.” You know she desperately wants to force you to wear something a tad more revealing but she bites her tongue, keeping any more comments to herself the entire way to the club. And once you step into the crowded space, she’s too focused on trying to score free drinks to even think of saying anything else. 
You follow close behind her, eyes scanning the interior, trying to make everything out in the dim lighting. This isn’t like the usual places you go to on your nights out, the atmosphere differs greatly from the typical clubs where the bass was heavy and the flashing lights were blinding. Instead a stage was placed in the far end, low to the ground with a good crowd of people surrounding it as a group in rhinestone covered shirts played music. Suddenly, you’re grateful you had kept your earlier outfit on, the atmosphere in here being more laid back than you had anticipated. 
“Did Cherin tell you this was a music venue?” you speak into Chungha’s ear with a laugh, grabbing the shot glass she passes your way. The boy beside her looks a little offended when she completely turns away from him to talk to you, deeming him unnecessary after he bought you both drinks. 
“No, but I like the vibe. Plus, look around, there's plenty of options for you to choose from.” Her elbow nudges into your side obnoxiously before she throws back her shot, eyes screwed up as she makes a face at the taste. You mimic her actions, licking your lips as you look around at all of the options you apparently have. The two of you were pros at this, jumping from club to club, getting free drinks and a handful of new numbers added to your phone before the night was over and you were taking someone home. It’s what you did best, it was harmless fun that made for great stories, but as you analyze the crowd around you, no one catches your eye, your flirtatious abilities having been drained after the day spent with Jungkook. The only thing you want to do tonight is loosen up and enjoy the music filling the space up. 
“Go work your magic and get us more drinks,” you deflect her suggestion, laughing when her eyes switch back over to predator mode as she searches for the next sucker to buy her alcohol. 
You’ve learned a long time ago to never underestimate your best friend’s ability to get what she wants, only further proven when she manages to get you comfortably buzzed without ever taking her wallet out. By now the crowd of people have begun to move around as the band starts to play covers of popular songs, you and Chungha nestled in between them as you dance along to the music. It's a mess of limbs and raspy voices as a huddle of drunk girls joins you both, horribly singing along to the 80’s pop cover filling up the space. 
It’s not until she sneaks away once more to grab yet another drink that your bladder finally throws up a white flag in surrender for you to take a break. The pout on her face makes you giggle as you slowly leave her in her spot, sliding between people and following the glowing neon sign that leads you to the bathroom. Stumbling into the surprisingly vacant restroom and into a stall has you realizing you’re a little past buzzed. The checkered floor seems to fuzz together and the dark green stall doors begin to sway as you rest your elbows on your thighs and laugh to yourself. 
“Oh god,” you groan with a smile, rubbing your cheeks with your cold fingers. “No more drinks.” It’s honestly in your best interest, you and Jungkook were set to get together tomorrow morning to finish up your projects and there's no way you could allow a hangover to put a damper on it. 
With a lot of fumbling, you exit from the stall, catching sight of your reflection on the mirror above the sinks. The gloss coating your lips has long since wiped off on the glass of the drinks Chungha was feeding you, and that just wouldn’t do. Reaching into your side bag, you pull out the cherry scented gloss you had swiped from your best friend's counter, uncapping it and giving your lips a generous swipe before deeming yourself ready to re-enter the scene outside the bathroom doors. 
“What took you so long?” Chungha groans, manicured hand gripping your arm as she pulls you back into the crowd of people. “You almost missed the babes on stage.”
“Babes?” you snort. “I don’t think the men in bedazzled shirts count as babes.”
“Not them! Them.” She points up at the stage now, your eyes following her finger and spotting the new group that had taken over, just barely setting themselves up. The dreamy sound of her voice has you turning back at her before you get a good look at the members, gripping her cheeks to get her to look at you instead of drooling over them. 
“Nuh uh, you made me promise to never let you mess around with any band guys again after the last one!”
“But c’mon, look at them. The lead singer looks like he can slap me and call me a good girl.” That compels you to take a look for yourself, spotting the man gripping the microphone as he smiled into the crowd, a black striped shirt loosely buttoned down his chest. He was totally her type, which meant you had to drag her out of here asap before she was somehow shimmying her way to the front and tossing her bra at him. 
“I gotta get to the front. Its fate,” she announces, already attempting to slip her way past the tightly packed crowd. 
“That’s not fate, Chungha,” you laugh, gripping her arm tighter to prevent her from moving. The last time Chungha had gotten involved with a self proclaimed rockstar she went on a downward spiral and was fully convinced she needed to shave her hair, so really you’re doing her a favor here. 
“Why not?” she huffs, eyes squinting up at the stage to see the rest of the members. “Take your pick of the rest of the band, the drummer’s cute!” 
A quick glance lets you see the bright orange haired man sitting behind the drums, twirling the sticks around with a giant smile as he spoke to the singer. He was cute, but not enough for you to aid your best friend on her quest. “Not my type.” 
“Fine. The guitarist has big hands, I know your ass likes that.” The man stood to the right had a dangerously unbuttoned shirt just barely clinging on, long black hair framing his face perfectly. But the sharp look in his eyes as he scans the crowd makes you avert your sight immediately. 
“I’m pretty sure he would ruin my life, like instantly.” 
“What about the bass player?” She continues on, going down her list until hopefully one of them sticks enough for you to loosen your grip on her arm. 
“Oh my god Chungha, drop it,” you scoff, but your curiosity has already been piqued, wondering if he was just as attractive as the other members. The man in question has his back to the crowd now as he adjusts the straps of his bass before beginning to fiddle with the instrument. 
As he wanders to the left side of the stage your eyes follow him, dark strands of hair covering his face as he stares down at his fingers. Thick silver chains hang off his wrist, veiny hands curling around the neck of his bass, bold lines of ink trailing up from the silver bracelets before getting cut off by the cuffed sleeve of his dark patterned button up. 
He was definitely your type. 
And as you follow the trail up his arms, to the chains around his neck, tracing the dark lines that barely touch the edge of his throat, and the soft curve of his lips when he finally looks up, you can’t help but feel like he looks oddly familiar. Until suddenly, the similarities are a little too strong to chalk up to pure coincidence. 
“Oh my god,” you whisper out, blinking harshly when you don’t believe your eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol sloshing in your stomach and making your vision all wonky, but the man who has the bass hanging low on his hips looks far too much like your art partner. The similar shade of brown hair on his head is swooped back instead of covering his forehead the way it always did, but that adorable bucktooth smile you had a soft spot for is the clear indicator that it was him. If that didn’t tell you as much, the wide doe eyed look on his face as he faces the crowd is the giant sign that lets you know Jeon Jungkook from art class has a double life. 
Did he really have a double life? Not likely. But the stark contrast in his appearance had you thinking this was some Hannah Montana moment and you would have to take this secret to the grave. 
“Oh you liked the bassist huh?” Chungha cackles, success coursing through her veins when she realizes she might get her chance tonight. 
Okay maybe you could tell Chungha the secret too. 
“Shut up, that's him!”
“Who?” 
“Jungkook, the geek from my art class.” When she snorts in disbelief you slap her arm with force, ignoring her wince of pain. “On bass, the one covered in tattoos.”
“Oh shut the hell up.”
“I’m serious,” you whine.
“You said he was cute, not fucking sexy! He’s in a band?!” she shouts in a fit, ready to bombard you with questions before you cut her off with a plea. 
“We gotta go, I’m not sober enough to not make a fool out of myself in front of him.” Put Jungkook beside you in class, with his turtleneck and glasses, and you could flirt with him until his cheeks were red. But put him on stage where he's glowing, covered in ink, with an aura of confidence surrounding him, and you will go down way too fast for your dignity to survive. 
“What no, why?”
“Because—“
“Because what? You already told me you think he’s cute, how he gets all nervous around you, and now that you see him up there looking all fucking glorious you wanna run? No, babe this is fate.”
“This is not fate!” 
It’s uncharacteristically chicken for you to want to scram before you’re spotted, almost as if you were doing something you should be ashamed of instead of just enjoying a night out with your best friend. But your mind could not get itself out of the gutter, and all your thoughts were scrambled together to form some lewd visual of your cute art partner—who was currently chugging water like his life depended on it—spitting that exact water onto you. You had to go. Now. 
“You know the band, so I have a way in. Seems like fate to me.” Chungha sports a sly smile on her face, eyebrows wiggling at you as she tries to pry your hand off her arm a final time, giggling when you loosen your grip. 
“Oh you bitch, you’re pushing this for your own benefit.”
“Of course I am, but who are we to deny fate. Now we gotta get closer so you can get his attention and go fuck him in the bathroom!” 
You have absolutely no intention of fucking your art partner in the bathroom of this venue, but this version of Jungkook on the stage has you second guessing yourself. That’s not something you admit to Chungha though, because she will hold on to that and use it to guide every reckless decision she chooses to make tonight. Instead, you allow her to shimmy her way to the front with her free hand clasped to yours, no apologies sent to the girls she shoves out of the way. 
The band must have a good name for themselves judging by the people surrounding you, popular in this scene of music because the second the drums kickstart the first song everyone surges forward and screams in excitement. Chungha doesn’t care that she doesn’t know a single song, her eyes peering right up at the singer, just wishing and waiting for the right interaction to hook him. You were doing a slightly better attempt at pretending like you knew the music, bobbing your head along to the beat, but your own eyes were locked onto Jungkook. 
The loose fabric of his shirt flows around as he plays, slightly falling off his shoulder and revealing more of his tattoos to you, only making your brain short circuit some more. Why was it so hard for your mind to morph the cute and bashful Jungkook you were with earlier with the one you were currently staring at. This definitely had to be a sick dream, or maybe you were blackout drunk still in the bathroom stall you had walked into earlier. That had to be the only explanation to this. 
It’s something you believe, and sort of make peace with, until Jungkook scans the crowd with a smile and his eyes land on you. It’s a brief second before he moves on, but then the realization hits him and he’s double taking, the smile never leaving his face while he tries to make out that it's really you underneath the occasional flash of light. There’s a curious tilt to his head, his fingers never missing their spot on his instrument as the band goes through their songs, but he edges closer. 
He doesn’t look off put at seeing you—which makes you feel less guilty about discovering his double life—instead he looks proud, the twinkle in his eye sparkling when you finally smile back at him. That small interaction is just one of many, his eyes naturally gravitating to you throughout the set, almost as if he was double checking that you were actually there and weren’t just a figment of his imagination. 
As the band takes their first break, the singer panting into the microphone as he scans the crowd with a smile, Jungkook crouches down to grab his water. Your eyes are glued to him as he throws his head back and tilts the bottle, letting the liquid pour into his open mouth before he’s capping it once more, long fingers swiping at his lips to catch the stray drops. 
“It’s always nice to see a full house here On the Rox.” The crowd cheers at that, Chungha doing the most as she screams louder, successfully catching his attention as his eyes drop down to her. Your hands have to clasp around her shoulders to prevent her knees from giving out on her as he smirks. “I see a lot of pretty faces here tonight.”
Damn Chungha and her love of fate. 
“A lot of new faces here too,” another voice cuts into the space, and you recognize this one. Your eyes gravitate towards the left side of stage once more, locking onto Jungkook’s stare as he smiles at you before looking at the rest of the crowd. “If this is your first time seeing us tonight, I hope you enjoy it.”
“And if you’ve seen us before, make sure you give the newcomers some love.” The guitarist speaks now, his wavy black hair being raked off his face as he runs his fingers through it. The pick in his hand glides across his guitar with ease, a random chord playing through the speakers. “We got a couple songs left, are you ready?” 
The crowd cheers in response, Jungkook chuckling into the mic as he grips it, the silver chains dangling off his wrist. “You can do better than that. Are you ready?” His voice is strong, booming through the amps and getting the reaction they craved, everyone screaming as loud as they could. His lips spread out into a proud smile, and it’s impossible to look away from him. You’d never seen him like this before, but you can’t deny that confidence suits him, bathes him in this light that has your palms going clammy as he stares at you again. 
The sound of the next song rolling through barely registers within you as you snap out of it, pressing your forehead against your friend to collect yourself slightly before you’re able to look back up. It’s a blur of sounds and lights as their set progresses, you and Chungha loosening up enough to move around with the crowd as they play with their hearts. Jungkook continues to creep closer to you, never close enough to make it obvious but it makes your heart race each time he inched forward before wandering to the opposite side to interact with the crowd. 
You don’t even realize it’s coming to an end until the last note fades out and the lights dim, the low lighting in the place just barely showing you their silhouettes as they make their way off the stage. Chungha’s sighing dramatically the second the lights come back up, turning around to face you now that her eye candy was missing. 
“God they’re hot and talented. Do you have his number?” 
“Yeah, I do,” you mumble out, still in a daze as you slowly make your way through the huddle of people, eagerly anticipating the next group to take over and keep the party going. You needed a drink, maybe some water to quench the thirst you had growing inside of you. 
“Text him then, let him know you’re here.”
Jungkook definitely knew you were here, but maybe texting him wouldn’t be so bad. As you both get to the bar, Chungha ordering some water while you pull your phone out, someone settles in beside you in a haste. You don’t notice them at first, their palm resting on the bar top inches away from you, but when they tap their finger onto your shoulder they grab your attention. A quick glance to the side has you locking your phone instantly, forgetting the half written text meant to be sent to the man beside you. 
“Jungkook,” you breathe out, eyes wide and mouth drying up. Seeing him this close like that was so much harder than it was on stage. He’s still catching his breath from playing, ordering himself water to cool down. The tips of his hair have curled up, raked away from his face as he swipes it back, but when his nose scrunches up into a smile it brings you back to the earlier date today and the way he’d laugh at your stories. 
“I knew that was you, I just had to come make sure.” Jungkook chuckles, looking down at you with crinkled eyes. It's the first time you’ve seen him without his signature frames on, their absence opens up his face more, and you find yourself not able to maintain the normal eye contact you have with him without them on. 
“I was just about to text you to make sure you didn’t have a twin or something,” you laugh, hands fidgeting on the countertop, reaching for your water and taking a gulp. Chungha gently nudges your side, not able to contain herself as she sips her own water, trying her best to not look like she's eavesdropping. 
“No, I definitely don’t.” His voice blends in with the starting music of the next group that takes the stage. “We play On the Rox pretty often. I didn’t know you came here.”
“It’s my first time here actually. Our friend told us about this place.” You point at Chungha, holding in a laugh when she quickly inserts herself into the conversation, reaching her arm across to greet Jungkook with a handshake and a charming smile. 
“Hi, I’m Chungha. Is your lead singer single by any chance?” A snort escapes you at how forward she is, your hand coming up to cover the growing smile on your face when you notice the way Jungkook’s eyes widen at how unexpected her question is. 
He recovers quickly with a small laugh, his eyes looking over the both of you to scan the room, trying to find the blonde man in question. Jungkook spots him easily, waving him over with a knowing smile. “He is actually.”
“Score,” Chungha whispers low enough for you to hear, fluffing up her hair and adjusting her tits in her shirt before her eye candy approaches, the both of you turning around to face him. 
“Hey Yoongi, just wanted to introduce you to some people.” Jungkook rests his hand on your shoulder gently as he speaks to the singer, a soft smile on his face as he stands close. “This is Y/N.”
At the mention of your name Yoongi’s smile widens, his eyes looking up at Jungkook for a moment before locking onto you as he extends his hand out in greeting. “So you’re Y/N. Glad he finally invited you to a show.”
Jungkook clears his throat loudly, the two of them having a mental conversation that leaves Yoongi looking a little sheepish as he presses his lips together. It doesn’t take much guessing to know that he said something he shouldn’t have, exposing the fact that Jungkook obviously talked about you enough to have his friends hassle him into inviting you to a show. 
You hold back any teasing comment you might have as you nod along, barely able to say that it was nice to meet him before Chungha was swooping in for the kill and introducing herself. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Kim Chungha buying someone a drink, with her own money? She was down bad. 
With Yoongi’s attention gravitating towards your friend, it leaves you and Jungkook seemingly alone. His hand still rests on your shoulder, something he seems to realize as he slowly slides it down your arm before it comes to rest by his side. You grow to miss his touch instantly, subtly stepping a bit closer to him to close the small distance until your arm is gently pressed against his own.  
Jungkook smiles as he stares at you, noticing the uncharacteristically shy smile on your lips, how you can’t maintain eye contact, choosing to trace the petals crawling up his shoulder towards his neck instead. For the first time, he feels like he has the upper hand and he takes slight advantage of it, slyly tugging at his shirt to expose more of the tattoos he had somehow managed to keep under wraps this whole time, enjoying the way your lips press together as you avert your gaze when you know you’ve been caught staring. 
“Do you want a drink?” Jungkook breaks the silence, leaning back onto the bar top. 
“No, I'm trying to sober up, I don’t want a hangover tomorrow morning,” you laugh out, pressing your palm to your warming cheeks as you smile. If you added more alcohol to your system you could only imagine what your unfiltered self would blurt out in front of him. Your slightly buzzed self was already struggling to keep yourself together around him, you know all it would take was another shot for you to bring up how good he looked all sweaty on stage. 
“Were you guys planning on staying here all night?” he wonders, absentmindedly playing with the thick chains around his wrist. 
At his question you glance over at your friend and hum, seeing her and Yoongi huddled close as they spoke. The plan of action was usually hopping around clubs and bars until one stuck, but judging by the way she’s playing with the singer’s hair, it's safe to say she wouldn’t be going anywhere without him tonight. 
“We were but I think Yoongi hooked her already,” you chuckle, setting down your empty glass with a smile. “Do you usually stay here all night after you play?”
“Sometimes, but for the most part I end up at the convenience store down the street to stuff my face with ramen.”
“Oh that sounds good,” you hum, hands coming to pat at your stomach as you smile. The thought of slurping down warm ramen at the end of the night was enough to excite you, add Jungkook to the mix and it would be the perfect scenario to wrap up your night. 
“Do you wanna go, or do you think your friend will miss you?” he jokes, flicking his head in her direction, a smirk spreading on his face when he sees the way Yoongi’s staring at Chungha. 
“Definitely not. I’ll bet you a packet of cosmic brownies that she won’t even notice if I leave right now.” 
Jungkook does in fact get you a packet of cosmic brownies the minute you step into the convenience store, the two of you able to leave and walk all the way here without Chungha sending you a frazzled text. You know she’ll be beyond occupied with Yoongi until tomorrow morning, but Jungkook was good company so you’re not exactly opposed to the direction this night has gone in. In all honesty, being across from him as he slurps up steaming ramen, sitting on squeaky plastic chairs, illuminated by the light that filters out of the window a few feet away, beats stumbling drunk from bar to bar—for tonight at least. 
“It’s kind of alarming that neither of our friends noticed we left,” Jungkook laughs, wiping his mouth with a napkin before he's scooping up more noodles. 
You join in with his laughter, finally deeming your own noodles ready, opening up the flap to let all the steam billow out into the cool night. “Yeah, I’m gonna turn this into a life lesson for her tomorrow, but I'll let her enjoy her night.”
Jungkook hums suddenly as his phone vibrates on the table, eyes narrowing slightly as he reads the message he just recieved, his lips pulling into a smile until he’s laughing again and shaking his head. “My other bandmates just noticed my disappearing act, but only because I left before we packed up our things.”
“Oh,” you sit up straighter, “do you need to head back to help them?” You’re already gathering your things, ready to abandon your warm meal to leave. It’s not until Jungkook reaches across the table, his large palm coming to rest over your own, that you come to a pause, curious eyes looking at him and seeing the spark of humor written on his features. 
“No, it's fine. Taehyung, our guitarist, owes me for the amount of times I’ve loaded up his gear. They’ll be okay without me.” His voice is laced with reassurance, the weight of his hand lingering on top of yours for a moment longer. A smile spreads on his face as you turn your hand over in his grasp to gently wrap your fingers around his palm, thumb softly running over his knuckles before pulling away to allow yourself to eat your meal once more. 
“So, when did you guys start this band?” you ask with a small clear of your throat, leaning closer over the table to scoop some noodles into your mouth. Jungkook chuckles as you slurp them up, quickly sliding over a napkin when he spots the lingering noodle on the corner of your mouth. 
“They started the group a few years ago but I didn’t join until last year. I was roommates with Yoongi at the time and their original bass player quit so I filled in for a few shows as a favor until they found a replacement.” He stops for a moment to slurp up his own noodles, eyes staring off into the empty street as he chews before they fall onto you again, seeing the look of endearment clear on your face. “I never really wanted to be in a band, but once I joined them on stage and got to feel the rush of playing somewhere other than my bedroom, I was hooked.”
“So did they even try to find a replacement or was that just their way of luring you in?” 
Jungkook playfully scoffs at that, tongue prodding at his cheek as he straightens up in his seat, eyebrows cocking up in a way that makes you giggle. “My raw talent was all they needed to see for them to forget about trying to get a replacement.” He can barely finish his sentence before he’s laughing, the small burst of confidence morphing into the same bashfulness he’d have when you’d gush over his art pieces. The small slivers of his personality, the one you’re familiar with, help ease your silly nerves from earlier, replacing the jitters of the unknown with the airy feeling that came from being around him. 
“I mean, am I wrong? We have to be sort of talented if you actually stayed and watched.”
“Can I be honest?” you mumble out, a wry smile on your face that instantly makes his expression drop. 
“Oh god, did we really suck?”
“No!” you laugh, cheeks warming up when you see the way he’s looking at you, eyes wide with worry. “You guys were great, honestly, but I sort of panicked when I saw you up there and almost left before you could spot me.”
His laugh fills the air now, teasing and playful, not being able to fathom you doing that. “What, why?”
Without the earlier alcohol clouding your thinking, you’re able to feel the tinge of embarrassment creep up on you. Jungkook only laughs louder when you pick up your chopsticks and try to hide your shame by stuffing your face with more noodles. It doesn’t work, he’s as patient as ever as he sits back with his arms crossed, staring you down until you have no choice but to give him an answer. 
“Look, I was a little tipsy so when I saw you on stage looking like that, I kinda just chickened out and wanted to leave because I thought I would embarrass myself if you saw me.” 
Jungkook is a little too humble to know what you mean, not realizing that seeing him on stage in all his glory compared to the version of him you were used to had given you whiplash. He also can’t imagine a situation where you’d be the one embarrassing yourself, the amount of times he’s been caught in the act of admiring you, having your voice snap him out of his daydreams was enough to make him nervous about being around you. But you being on the opposite end wasn’t even a thought for him. 
“Is that why you’ve been acting like this?” A smile tugs on his lips when you look down at your empty bowl, no longer able to use your food as a distraction. He finds it endearing, deciding to pick up one of the steamed bun cakes he got and passes it your way, a soft smile pushing out his doughy cheeks when you accept it. 
“Like what?” You’re feigning ignorance now, hating that he had been able to detect your change, no matter how small. 
“Quiet, looking all shy. I’m used to being the flustered one,” he admits, recalling all the moments he would stumble over his words. The way you couldn’t make eye contact earlier, how wide your eyes were when he approached you at the bar, it seemed like your brain was fumbling as you tried to respond to him. It’s a stark contrast to the way you’d interact with him in class, confident gaze never failing in making his heart stutter in his chest. The tables have turned slightly, evening out the playing field because he can see the effect he has on you so clearly now. “Who knew all it would take was me holding a bass to have you switch up on me.”
“It’s not you playing the bass that got me like this,” you chuckle, smiling when he takes a bite of his bun, one side of his cheek bulging as he chews it. “I was just a little surprised by all of this.” Your hand motions to his arms and neck, giggling when he extends both arms out and flips them over like he has no idea what you’re talking about, playful frown on his lips when he stares at the dark ink on his arms. 
“These? They’re temporary tattoos, don’t let them fool you. I did them right before the show so they’d look fresh.” He’s full of shit, you can tell by the way he rubs his arms, the ink settled into skin, no sheen or obscene brightness that came with fake tattoos. The smirk he wears doesn’t let you believe it for a second, his hand coming up to tug at his shirt like he had earlier, sneakily showing you the tattoo you had seen crawling up his neck, being able to make out the lines more clearly outside of the dim club. 
“Oh really?” you laugh, nudging his leg under the table with your foot as he snickers, nose scrunched up while he adjusts his shirt once more and settles his arms on the table. He reaches across to give your curious eyes a better view, palms outstretched until his fingers meet yours. A small shiver racks his body as your fingers trace along his skin, eyes looking up at him for permission, and when he softly nods you slowly inch up past his wrist to make out the art on his body. Each piece is connected, woven into the next so intricately you could tell he had properly planned it out. Whether they had meaning or not, it was clear Jungkook had put a lot of thought behind it all. The proud smile on his lips never falls as you make your way up his arm, tracing flower petals, the intricate scales of a snake, the billowing clouds that get cut off when his shirt sleeve tightens around his arm too much for you to push up. 
“Why do you hide them?” you question softly, feeling the need to whisper as you continue to analyze the art of his other arm, the continuity of his previous sleeve was missing here, each piece being its individual work of art instead of telling a story, thick lines of traditional flash being easier to trace with your finger. 
Jungkook visibly shivers as you pass his elbow ditch, moving on to the reaper he had on his forearm. “I don’t hide them on purpose,” he mumbles, growing to enjoy the slight ticklish feeling of your fingers on his skin, hoping you continue to admire his tattoos to keep the contact with you. “I only ever wear short sleeve shirts during the summer, or on stage because it gets hot up there. But the weather has been cold lately and I enjoy layering up. I promise I’m not trying to disguise myself.”
That much was true, Jungkook was always wearing hoodies or oversized long sleeves that concealed his arms and considering the tattoo on his neck was barely creeping over his collar it’s not a shock you never noticed it before. 
“Are you sure? Seems like you’re trying to live a double life to me. I kinda dig it tho,” you giggle, smiling when he looks over at you with raised eyebrows, a spark evident in his eyes as he perks up. You’re fiddling with his bracelet now, slowly making your way down to his palms when Jungkook lifts them up and intertwines your fingers together. 
“Oh yeah?” His smile widens when you give his palm a gentle squeeze, the warmth of his skin making your stomach flip as you stare into his eyes. 
“Yeah,” you sigh. “Adorable artist by day, sexy rockstar by night.”
“I’m not a rockstar,” he snorts, his thumb softly rubbing your knuckles. 
“But you agree, you think you’re sexy?” And there it was, the familiar words and confident gaze Jungkook was accustomed to seeing from you. You inch closer, head tilted slightly with a teasing smile on your lips, playfulness written all over your features. 
“I thought I was cute,” he shoots back, eyes crinkling as he recalls all the times you’d call him that, playfully pinching the strands of his hair in class when they’d cover his eyes, muttering the compliment each time he’d smile at you, just loud enough for him to hear and blush at but you had yet to call him sexy until tonight. 
“You’re both, it’s the best of both worlds.”
“I’ll take it,” he laughs, wanting to get even closer to you, scooch his chair over or flip the table out of the way entirely but he decides that's a little too much, content sitting here despite the dropping temperature. The chill of autumn is more noticeable now as you sit here, no longer warmed up by the meal you had earlier, it's evident in the goosebumps that trail up Jungkook’s arms and the shiver you release with a small laugh. 
“Do you live far from here?” It’s an innocent question in theory, exactly the way Jungkook takes it as he shakes his head in response. 
“No, my place is pretty close actually. Do you?”
“I don’t live too far either. If you want, we can walk to mine or take a taxi if you’re too cold.”
“I don’t mind walking you home.” He smiles and you can’t find it in yourself to be upset that he hadn’t caught on to the fact that you were inviting him over. You wanted to spend more time with him, preferably outside of the cold, but the additional minutes spent on your walk would be good enough until you could see him tomorrow morning. 
The innocent question of yours doesn’t fully register as he cleans up the table, not even as you share bites of your cosmic brownie with him before leaving. The gears in Jungkook’s head finally click a few minutes into the walk, hands laced together as you make your way up the sidewalk, making soft conversation. It’s not like he wasn’t well versed with girls, but more often than not he needed a little more straightforwardness to get himself to kick into action. So as you near his block, shoulders brushing together in an attempt to keep warm while you share hushed laughter, Jungkook decides it’s his chance to make a move. 
It’s not until your body shivers and you jokingly say you should have taken a taxi that Jungkook speaks up. “My place is down the street.” He slows his pace, pointing down the road with his thumb when you stare up at him. “Do you want to come over to warm up?”
Your place isn’t much further, and you know that going over to his would only mean you’d be walking home later in even colder weather, but you were not going to turn this down. As Chungha so kindly put it, this is fate, and you don’t fuck with fate. 
Jungkook stares down at you with his top teeth nibbling on his lip, looking a little nervous for asking, hoping he hadn’t come across as sleazy when that wasn’t his intention. But he tries to keep cool, knowing that just because you come in doesn’t mean anything would happen. But what if something did? It makes his skin tingle and his heart hiccup, moreso when your thumb gently rubs against his knuckles, squeezing his palm in reassurance. And then you’re muttering out a response with a sweet smile on your lips, “Sure, I’d love to.”
He hears the giggle you let out as he freezes momentarily, snapping out of it with a smile before turning down the street and leading you towards his place. There's a subtle pep in his step that you take note of, biting back a smile as you hold his hand a little tighter, walking a little faster to get out of the cold as his building approaches. Jungkook doesn’t release your hand as he enters his code, not even as you step into the elevator, riding up to his floor in comfortable silence. He only lets go once you step foot into his actual place, mainly because you start to step away, your curiosity making you want to take his place in. 
It’s a cozy studio apartment, walls covered like a gallery full of different pieces of art mixed in with music posters in differing sizes. His bed is pushed towards the corner by a window, enough space to allow a nightstand on one side and his desk on the other, overflowing with his art supplies. His sketchpad is laid out on it, opened on the drawing of you he had started earlier today, a little more detail on it than before, letting you know he had come home and worked on it some more before going out. 
“Do you want something to drink? I can make coffee, or anything warm.” His voice grabs your attention, turning to see him approaching his kitchen counter, a soft smile on his face as he allows you to snoop. 
“Coffee would be great.” It’s warmer in his apartment, his heater slowly filling up the space to a comfortable temperature, but you could never deny caffeine. 
He occupies himself by filling up the kettle, turning his head to glance over his shoulder and see the way you make your way over to the other corner of his place. He has a full set up in this corner, a record player with speakers on either side placed on top of a storage unit that holds records and CDs, his bass resting on a stand beside it. It’s different from the one he wore on stage, this one was a shade of blue and white with a few stickers placed on the back of it, a little rough around the edges from use, not the shiny black one he had on earlier. When he catches you staring at it he makes his way over to you, watching how your fingers gently trace the neck of it with a smile. 
“This is the first bass I bought as a teenager so I keep it safe here.” 
“So you won’t be smashing this on stage anytime soon then?” you joke, staring back at him with a smirk as you step away from the instrument and move closer to him. 
“I’ll save that for when I’m an actual rockstar, and definitely with a bass that’s not as cherished as that one.”
“Is that what you want to do?” you wonder, curious to know where Jungkook ranked his love for music and being on stage. He was so very clearly gifted with artistic ability, being able to transform simple images on paper into something astounding, but maybe that wasn’t what he actually craved from life. 
“Nah, I don’t think so,” he sighs, his eyes staring at the walls surrounding you, bouncing from the works of art to the bands he had tacked around. “If that's how it plays out I’m not against it because I really do enjoy it, but it's more of a hobby for me. Making a career out of my art is all I’ve ever thought about doing since I was young and my heart has never strayed from it. What about you?”
“I don’t know,” you sigh. “I love art, but I don’t think I’d love it if I had to use it to make money. Maybe if I thought I had more potential with it I’d pursue it more seriously. Until then, I’m okay with filling my units up with art labs, I mean it landed me with you as a partner so I think it's going pretty well.” 
Jungkook doesn’t even try to hide his smile at your words, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck as he laughs softly. His eyes never leave yours as you step closer to him, fingers reaching out to toy with the material of his shirt, tracing the pattern of it before fiddling with the buttons. The beating of his heart is felt in his throat as he swallows, rattling in his chest so loud he wonders if you could hear it, decides to speak to mask it just in case. 
“You have potential,” he chokes out in a whisper, hands clenching at his sides when you slide your palms up, smoothing over his shirt until you reach the collar. A shaky breath is exhaled into the air when your fingers gently touch the tattoo on his neck, finally able to admire it up close, appreciating the detail put into the petals of the chrysanthemum. Jungkook cranes his neck out to give you more space, enjoying the soft touches too much to pull away. 
“Pretty,” you murmur, too lost in your thoughts to realize you had uttered it outloud but Jungkook hears it perfectly thanks to your close proximity and it makes his skin warm up. 
“You’re the one with potential.” You inch back a bit to stare up at him, the earlier effect he had on you long gone now that you were comfortable, your eyes fluttering to each of his before landing on his lips and coming back up. “I’d pay to have any of your art on display at my place.”
“Really?” he wonders, voice quiet but laced with elation at the idea of you thinking his art was worthy of money. 
“Yeah, whatever your favorite thing to draw is, I’d love to put it on my wall.”
Jungkook’s eyes scan your face, following the slope of your nose before landing on your lips, seeing the small smile etched onto them. He’s only ever been quiet and reserved around you, allowing you to have your fun as you teased and flirted with him, but now that you’re in his place, staring up at him with eyes full of want, he feels the confidence brewing up within him. It starts slow at first, slight nerves tingling his skin as he takes a breath, morphing into a simmering heat as he feels a confession settling onto his tongue. 
“You know what my favorite feature of yours to draw is?” It’s a low rasp, a quiet question that leaves you desperate for an answer.
“What?” 
“Your lips,” he mumbles, his hand slowly coming up to cup your jaw gently. His palm is cool against your skin, thumb tracing the bottom of your lower lip, pulling the flesh down before letting it bounce back. “I know you catch me staring at them all the time but I can’t help it.” 
That much was true, Jungkook’s tendency to be caught in a day dream trance was not new to you, sometimes he’d be staring at your legs but more often than not he was transfixed on your lips. “The curve of your cupid’s bow, the way they shine in the light when you wear that pretty lipgloss. I could spend hours trying to perfect them on paper but I don’t think I’d do them justice. You’re a work of art Y/N.” He whispers the last part of it and you feel it deep within you, drying out your throat as you find yourself at a loss for words. Maybe it was a blessing that Jungkook never reciprocated your flirting before because if he ever came at you with these words during class, you’d melt into a puddle and stare at him with googly eyes the entire lesson. 
A small smirk pulls his lips up when he sees how his words have affected you, his half lidded eyes staring down at you in a way you’ve never seen before and it leaves you weak once more. “I wanna know what they taste like,” he breathes out softly, inching closer ever so slightly, his thumb once again tracing your bottom lip. “Can I?”
At his question the kettle sounds off, the bubbling of water and beeping letting you know the water for coffee was done but you’re not ready for him to pull away yet. Your hands tighten around his shirt, urging him to not walk away. You’ve been wanting this to happen since the moment you met him and you’d be damned if coffee would be what ruined it all for you. 
“Kiss me, please.”
Jungkook doesn’t know how many times he’s dreamt of you uttering those words, and now having it become reality, he wastes no time closing the narrow distance between you. His lips are tender against yours, gently pressing into you as his hand remains cradling your jaw, finger softly caressing the skin as you kiss him back. It’s a slow smack of your lips together, pulling back briefly as you stare up at him through hooded eyes, but now that you’ve had a taste you don’t want to pull away again. 
His free hand grips onto your waist as you reconnect your lips, fingers digging into your skin when he senses the urgency flowing off you, your own hands slipping up and around his neck until you’re carding your fingers through his hair. That’s when you hear the first sound from him, a low groan against your mouth that shoots straight to your core, and you want to hear it again. 
It becomes clear that although Jungkook was quiet in day to day life, he was not shy about being vocal in these situations. The hiss he releases as you yank on his hair, the subtle groan into your mouth when he feels your tongue tracing the seam of his lips, to the soft curse words spoken into the air as you bite down on his lower lip and let the flesh snap back. 
“Well,” you mumble, pecking his lips once more as you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger. “How do I taste?”
His hands tighten their grip on you at your words, lips shiny as he slowly licks them over with a slight tilt to his head. “Sweet,” he murmurs, nudging your noses together, his lips ghosting over yours in a teasing touch. “I bet the rest of you is sweet too.”
You choke down a gasp, caught in your throat, not expecting the bold words to come from Jungkook’s mouth or the effect they’d have on you. It makes your stomach flip and your mind spin as you imagine it. “Why don’t you find out?” There’s an underlying challenge lacing your words, urging him to do something about it, to do anything he wanted because you were more than willing, and Jungkook is never the type to back down from a challenge. 
He chuckles softly, kissing you once more as he begins leading you towards his bed a few feet away, the coffee now long forgotten, no longer needed as you warm each other up with roaming hands and shared gasps. You can feel the way his lips curl into a smile against you when you squeal in surprise as his hands grip your waist, lifting you onto his bed properly. The soft sheets are felt against your legs as you slide up, resting against the pillows he has set up against his headboard while he hovers over you. When he pulls away from you he takes a moment to take the scene in, seeing you nestled into his sheets like you belonged there, looking up at him with lust filled eyes and swollen lips.
“God, you have no idea what you do to me,” he groans softly, large palm gently touching your neck and feeling the racing pulse of your heart against his thumb. His knees are slotted in between your own, bunching up the material of your skirt until he can see the small sliver of your red underwear beneath it. With a quiet giggle you’re lifting your leg up, nudging against his thigh until you feel the slowly growing bulge in his jeans.
“Hm, I think I have some idea.” 
His eyes playfully narrow at you, jaw ticking out as he huffs out a teasing laugh, enjoying the way you join in, morphing into a breathless sigh of his name when he kisses down your neck. Your hands meet in his hair once again, scratching at his scalp in a way that makes him shiver against you, distracts him momentarily as he licks and nips at your sensitive skin. 
The turn of events that lead to this moment is not what he expected, ever, so as his hands reach the hem of your shirt, he hesitates for a moment. You notice it when his lips pause their downward descent, craning your head back slightly to see the unsure look on his eyes. But you want this, so your hands pull away from his hair and meet his on your stomach, slowly pulling your shirt up for him and smiling when he looks up at you with curious eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Jungkook. I’m sure.”
That reassurance was all he needed to kick back into action, pulling your shirt off of you and revealing the matching red bra you had underneath, the swells of your chest rising and falling with each breath as you lay there and let him admire you. You bite down on your lower lip while you lift yourself up slightly, gripping his own shirt and slowly tugging it up until he got the hint and helped you yank it off fully, revealing his golden skin and a mixture of more tattoos you had never seen before. Your fingers curl around his ribs as you marvel at the rich black shading the large moth across his sternum, following the curve of its wings before moving on to the following pieces in similar styles.
“I think you’re the work of art here Jungkook,” you sigh, leaning forward to kiss his skin, smiling against it when he rakes his fingers through your hair at the action. Your hands fall to the buckle of his belt, fiddling with the metal until you’re able to undo it, his button and zipper following suit and he laughs at your eagerness. 
“Wanna make you feel good.” His cock jumps at your statement, pushing against the denim and you feel it beneath your palm, looking up at him with a teasing smirk. “Can I?” you repeat his question from earlier, batting your eyes at him as if you weren’t asking for permission to do something sinful.
“Hm, I still want to get a proper taste of you first babe.” Still, he allows you to tug his jeans down, helping you slide them off his thighs until he’s left in his black briefs, kneeling in front of you with a cocky smile on his lips when he sees the way you focus on his cock tenting the fabric. “Lean back for me.”
He doesn’t need to tell you twice, settling back onto the pillows once more as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your skirt, pulling the flimsy article of clothing off of you entirely, groaning under his breath when he spots the small wet patch on the front of your thong. His mind was currently whirling at the visual, only worsening when you reach behind yourself to unhook your bra, the straps sliding off your arms as you slowly peel it off and let it drop onto the floor beside the bed. Any teasing comment you were about to say gets swallowed down with a kiss as he closes the distance, large palm sliding up your torso until he has a handful of your tits in them, giving them a squeeze that leaves you moaning into his mouth.
“Ah, Jungkook,” you whine out when his fingers pinch your nipple, gently tugging at the hardened bud. He smirks against your skin as he trails kisses down your neck, messy smacks of his lips as he passes your collar bone and slides further down your body, his warm breath fanning across your other breast.
“Sensitive?” he teases, cocking up an eyebrow at you before he’s kissing around your neglected nipple until finally wrapping his lips around it and humming. The warmth of his mouth makes you keen, jutting your chest forward for more as you place your palm over his head, groaning when he pops off and flicks his tongue across the pebbled nub. “Are you this sensitive anywhere else?”
“M-maybe,” you gasp, looking down at him as he continues down your torso. He was your living wet dream, from the charming smile on his lips when you stare at him dazed, to the way his fingers dig into your thighs to pull you further down the bed, you want to remember this moment forever. 
He’s just the right mix of rough and loving, fingers kneading your flesh after he slides your soaked panties off, groaning at the sight of your sodden folds on display for him, dripping and begging for him to get a taste. Jungkook settles between your thighs, staring at your pussy with lust filled eyes, it catches you by surprise when he leans forward and presses a firm kiss against your bundle of nerves, chuckling slightly when you gasp as the feeling. 
“I think you are,” he teases, slowly flicking the top of his tongue across your clit, reveling in the shuddering breath you release as your back relaxes against the bed. His hands slowly rub against your thighs as he takes his time, wanting to get to know every inch of you from this perspective. The way you roll your hips up for more, how your hands glide down your own body to tangle into his hair, the breathless moans of his name; he wants to store this memory under lock and key in his brain forever. 
Jungkook hums against your folds, loving the taste of you on his tongue, heart fluttering when your hand releases his hair to lace your hand with his as you moan at the pleasure. 
“Wanna leave you messy,” he mumbles as he pulls away, lips shiny with your arousal, glistening in the light of his room. A curious hum escapes your lips as you lift your head to stare at him, seeing his free hand spreading your lips apart before he’s spitting onto them, smirking when you gasp at the lewd action. The contrast of his spit on your warm skin sends a tingle up your spine, mouth dropping in awe when he digs back in, eating you out with more determination. 
His nose presses against your skin as he sucks on your clit, finding the perfect rhythm that leaves you mewling on his sheets. He smirks against you when your fingers tighten around his hand, eyes looking up at you, focused on the way your boobs jiggle as you pant from his ministrations. He can feel the way his chin gets wet as another gush of arousal spills out of you and when his finger comes up to circle your entrance he lets out a satisfied sound as the slick coats his digit. With no resistance, his fingers slip into you, the warmth of your walls wrapping around him as he slowly pumps his fingers, leaving him softly rutting into the sheets as he imagines how you’ll feel wrapped around his cock. 
The waves of pleasure wash over you quickly, rolling in with each tantalizing flick of his tongue and when he adds a second finger into the mix the delicious stretch fills you with excitement. The tips of his fingers curve up just right, nudging against the rough patch inside of you until you’re gasping again. A deep groan vibrates against your skin when your walls tighten around his fingers as he adds a third, your body eagerly inviting him in as you arch your back at the sensation. Jungkook takes great enjoyment in watching you fall apart, feeling you melt at his touch, that much is made clear as he moans like he was the one being pleasured, and it further fuels your approaching climax.
“Gonna cum,” you choke out, gasping as you stare down at him between your legs. Maybe it was because you’ve been wanting this—or some version of it—for so long but you can’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed by how quickly he was able to break you down into a whimpering mess with his mouth. 
Jungkook’s finger’s quicken up their pace at your words, determination set in his brows as he pulls back, lips shiny as he smirks up at you. “C’mon, be a good girl and let me taste you.” The way he says it, eyes piercing into you as he latches back onto your clit, it makes your eyes roll back into your skull, the wet squelch of his fingers pumping into you mixing with the sinful sounds of your desperate moans. You’d never expect those words to come tumbling out of him, the need to do as he asks taking over, wanting to be as good as he says, and how could you ever deny him? 
A shout of his name is all you can say before you’re cumming, a flash of white displayed against your lids as you squeeze your eyes shut, hips unable to wiggle away from him when he pins you down with your connected hands, forcing you to ride out your orgasm completely until you’re whimpering and gasping on the bed. 
“So sweet,” he mumbles, pulling away from your messy folds with a look of awe on his face. His eyes are still focused on his fingers lazily pumping into you, admiring the way they shine with your slick coating them, feeling the pulsing of your sensitive walls around him as he gives your pussy a final lick before slowly crawling up your trembling body to stare down at you. “Have a taste.”
His wet lips reconnect with yours instantly, slowly creeping his tongue into your mouth while you hum in surprise, moaning into it as his tongue tangles with yours, passing the lingering taste in his mouth to you in an intimate display that left your sensitive core aching for more. Without pulling apart, your hands trail up his sides, gliding across his skin before venturing down his front. You can feel the way his muscles tense at the ticklish sensation, your fingertips ghosting across his skin until you’re toying with the hem of his briefs before slowly slipping your palm inside. He grunts against you, finally pulling away with a pant just as you wrap your hand around his length, thick and heavy in your palm while you slide it up, feeling the oozing beads of precum coating your skin as you circle his head with the flat of your thumb. 
“Wanna taste you too,” you mumble, still breathless from it all but the flicker of excitement is evident in you as you begin kissing his jaw, down his neck to suck a small blossom of purple into his skin. The ache makes him hiss, eyes fluttering shut when your palm squeezes around him slightly as you slide up. 
“Fuck,” he groans. “Y-yeah, okay.”
His agreement is all you need to pull your hands out of his briefs, pressing them flat against his chest to flip him over, letting him rest his back onto the pillows against the headboard as you settle between his thighs with hunger swirling in your eyes. Jungkook looks pretty like this, strands of his hair framing his face as he stares at you, head tilted with a small smile tugging at his lips while he contemplates your next move. His head falls back slightly as you let your hands trail down his skin once more, feeling the twitch of his stomach when you run your finger along his length over the material of his briefs. There’s clear enjoyment on his face as he allows you to take your time because it gives him a chance to admire you, to see the way your eyes widen slightly when you finally tug down his underwear, his cock springing out at no longer being restrained.
“Of course you have a big dick,” you huff, tip of your tongue running along the bottom of your teeth while you take it in. The prominent veins trailing up the body of it only accentuate his size, guiding your eyes up to the bulbous pink tip, pearls of precum dripping and begging for your attention.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he laughs out, biting down on his lower lips when you lift your palm up to your mouth and spit into it.
“It means,” you start, reaching forward with your messy hand and wrapping it around his base. “That you’re the perfect package, so why wouldn’t you have the perfect cock?” If Jungkook had a response to that, it dies in his throat the minute you start pumping his length, the slick of your saliva aiding the glide. Jungkook’s hands fist the sheets beside him when your thumb rubs the underside of his cock, jaw dropping open in a gasp while you lean forward in your kneeled position, mouth just inches away from his head. The warmth of your breath tickles his skin, a tender kiss pressed to his mushroom tip before you’re slowly opening up your lips and taking him in.
“S-shit,” he rasps, fighting the urge to thrust up into your mouth as your tongue curves underneath his cock, sliding deeper into your mouth. You repeat the motion, sliding down a bit before coming back up, collecting enough spit in your mouth to coat his length each time until it was pooling around the base of his cock, dripping down the side and leaving it as messy as he had left you earlier.
“Feel good?” you breathe as you pop off his length, giving him a sinful smile while your hands continue their movements, twisting in tandem in the perfect rhythm that left him feeling like he was floating. 
“Yeah, so good.” You feel the spark of pride in your chest when his voice trembles, leaning back over to wrap your lips around his tip only, giving it your undivided attention while your palm tightens its grip slightly. His thighs tense on either side of you as he slowly ruts up, no longer able to fight back his urges when you were making him feel this good. He groans at the visual in front of him, the slurps of your mouth sucking him in, how your lashes flutter while you sink down onto his length, the mess of drool on your chin and before he knows it he’s lifting a hand up and coming to place it behind your head. There’s no pressure behind it, simply his fingers resting on your hair, but you can feel the temptation he has by the way his fingertips briefly tighten around your strands. With a flicker of your gaze, you’re staring up at him through your lashes, giving him a quick nod with a mouthful of his cock as confirmation for him to do what he wanted.
Jungkook lets out a shuttered breath as his fingers grip your hair with confidence, yanking at it slightly and smirking when you hum around his length at the sting to your scalp. Your hand falls from his cock, settling over his thigh to let him have full control, taking in a slow breath when you feel him begin to push you down. He takes in every sensation, the pull of your lips pulled taut around him, the glide of your tongue alongside him, the way your nails dig into his thigh just as his tip nudges your throat, your muscles spasming around him for a moment before he’s pulling you off and allowing you to gasp in a wet breath. There’s a smirk on your lips that lets him know you enjoy it, the slow simmer he feels inside spreading when you allow him to do it again, and again, enjoying the messy way you choke on his cock too much to stop.
“God,” he groans out, thick with desire. “Who knew all it would take to have you acting like this was me on stage showing off my tattoos.” The confidence at the change of it all was swirling within him, never imagining the same eyes that would stare at him until his cheeks were red would be looking up at him full of tears while you gave him a blowjob. Seeing you so pliant in his grasp, the fiery, flirty version of you broken apart to reveal this image, it makes him chuckle darkly at how clear it is that the both of you were hiding aspects of yourself without knowing it.
His hands pull you off his cock when he starts to feel his orgasm beginning to spark inside of him, not wanting to cum in your mouth before he gets to feel your walls around his cock. Your lips are swollen and shiny as you sit back up, biting down on your lower l