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#bts fluff
jungkxook · 6 months ago
Text
—hot boy bummer. (m)
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⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 
⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut  
⟶ words: 14,633
⟶ rating: 18+ 
⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?
⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink
⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook​ and @onherwings​ for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛
( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )
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Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.
Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.
College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.
But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.
“What if we, like, had sex?”
Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.
After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”
“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”
“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.
Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”
You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”
“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”
“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”
“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”
“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”
“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”
“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”
The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.
Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.
“But it’s not like you’re any better.”
This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”
“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”
Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.
“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”
A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”
“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”
A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.
“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”
“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”
You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.
The cons? He’s your best friend.
The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.
Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.
“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”
“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”
“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”
“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”
Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”
“It’s true though.”
“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”
“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”
But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”
As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”
“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”
“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”
“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”
Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?
You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.
“Y/N…”
The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.
“Touch me?”
Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.
Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.
“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. “Too sentimental.”
But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”
“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”
“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.
You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.
“Like this?” You rasp.
“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”
“No. Do you?”
“No.”
“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”
“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.
“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”
He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?  
He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.
“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.
The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.
“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”
And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.
But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.
So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.
Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.
A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?
Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.
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“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”
Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.
Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.
You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.
“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”
More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”
“Want a minute?”
“Maybe.”
Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.
“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”
Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”
“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.
“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”
“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”
“Rules.”
“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”
Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”
“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”
“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”
“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”
“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”
“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”
Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.
“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”
Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”
He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”
Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”
“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”
“Yup.”
“Who have sex from time to time.”
“Yeah.”
He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”
“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.
“We might?”
“No, we definitely won’t.”
Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.
After all, what are best friends for?
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So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.
A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.
It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).
But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.
It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.
Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.
Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”
There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).
But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.
As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.
“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”
“You know him?”
“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”
“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”
You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”
At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”
“You’re not jealous, are you?”
“No, why would I be jealous?”
You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.
So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?
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“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”
Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”
“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”
Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.
It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.
“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”
“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”
Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”
Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.
“Jungkook━!”
He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.
“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”
The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.
Fuck it, you cave.
You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.
“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”
That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.
“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”
Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.
“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.
You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.  
“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”
Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.
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From: Jungkook Sent: 1:05 a.m.
bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??
You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.
That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.
Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.
Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.
“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”
The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.
“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”
The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”
“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.
From: Jungkook Sent: 2:35 p.m.
send n00ds?
miss ur tits :(
Typical Jungkook.
The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”
“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”
“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”
You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?
You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.
But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.
You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”
“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”
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“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”
Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.
It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.
“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.
Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.
“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”
“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.
“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.
“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”
He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.
“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.
At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.
“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”
Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”
“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”
“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”
“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”
“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”
You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.
“Nngh, Jungkook━”
Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.
God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.
And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.
You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”
“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”
In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.
A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”
You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”
“Well…?”
“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”
That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.
“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”
“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”
A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”
It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.
Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.
That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.
And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.
He smiles.
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The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.
But that’s neither here nor there.
Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.
For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.
“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”
Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”
“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.
You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━
It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.
“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.
“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”
“What?”
“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”
The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”
But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”
You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”
You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”
“Jungkook…”
“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”
“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”
“But you wanna.”
“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”
He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.
“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.
He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.
“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”
He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.
You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?
A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.
Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”
“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.
So then why does it feel like he is?
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When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.
A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?
You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.
Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”
“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”
You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.
“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”
“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”
You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.
You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”
“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”
“And you said you didn’t want to.”
“Maybe I changed my mind.”
“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”
“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”
A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”
Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”
“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”
“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”
Jungkook flinches. “I know.”
“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”
“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.
“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”
“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.
“Why?”
“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”
The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”
“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”
Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━
“No.”
“What?”
“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”
The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”
“Me?”
The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.
Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.
It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.
Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.
Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”
Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”
Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”
Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”
You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.
“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”
“Oh, Koo…”
A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.
He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”
“Don’t say that,” You whine.
“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”
“You already have.”
“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”
“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”
“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.
“Yeah,” You mewl.
“What do you want from me?”
“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”
He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.
“Oh, fuck,” he growls.
You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.
“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.
He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.
“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”
You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.
So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.
“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”
He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.
“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”
With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.
A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”
“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”
A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.
“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”
“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”
Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”
“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”
“No,” You croak.
You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.
“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”
“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”
“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”
His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.
Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”
You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”
“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”
You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.
Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”
“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”
“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”
Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”
Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.
“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”
As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”
You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.
When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.
It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.
“Jungkook.”
He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”
A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”
“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”
It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”
Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”
His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”
“But?”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”
So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.
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It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.
Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━
“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”
The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.
“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”
He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”
You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”
“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”
“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.
A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”
Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.
Because he wants it all with you.
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junghelioseok · 7 months ago
Text
it takes two.
↳ struggling with the idea of your ex-boyfriend moving on, you enlist the help of your quiet roommate in a scheme that quickly spirals out of control.
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◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fake dating!au | roommate!au  ◇ 29.8k [1/1]
⇢ full (and by full, i mean less vague) summary: you don’t need retrospect to tell you that dating a coworker was a bad idea. two months after your breakup, he seems to have moved on to someone new—and quite happily, if his social media is to be believed. meanwhile, the only new thing in your life is your roommate, jungkook, who seems nice enough. just nice enough to coax into coming to your company’s annual holiday party, and more than handsome enough to show off a little bit. or, as it turns out, a lot.
notes: my contribution to the once upon a holiday... collab with the lovely @underthejoon​, @fantasybangtan​, @kpopfanfictrash​, @lamourche​, @hobidreams​, and @suga-kookiemonster​! shoutout to @bendthekneetobangtan​ as well, who is the best cheerleader of all time 💕
warnings: this fic is just 3 (dozen) tropes in a trenchcoat, aNd ThEy WeRe RoOmAtEs, slow burn, one (1) awkward boner, tatted!kook, long-haired!kook, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, jk’s big dick, squirting. not as edited as i would like but oh well 🤷🏻‍♀️
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You feel sick.
Your heart stutters in your chest, missing two whole beats before taking off into a strident gallop that hammers dangerously against the slats of your ribcage. Warmth rushes to your cheeks, unbidden, and spreads through your veins like wildfire. Sour bile rises up in your throat, and no matter how you try to swallow it down, it refuses to dissipate—just like the photograph lighting up your phone screen.
The photograph of your ex-boyfriend, his face creased into that familiar dimpled smile and his arm wrapped snugly around his new girlfriend.
Maybe you’re being dramatic, but you imagine that this is what it feels like to witness a car accident or watch a building go up in flames. The sight is horrific, your heart twisting painfully in on itself, and yet you can’t tear yourself away. It’s only when your phone begins to buzz in your hand, the sound loud as a gunshot in the silence, that you break out of your trance. Your best friend’s grinning face eclipses that of your ex-boyfriend and his companion, and you take a moment to gather yourself before swiping to answer.
“Hi, Minnie,” you sigh into the receiver. “What’s up?”
Your best friend, as always, forgoes all preamble. “Did you see it?”
Resignedly, you plop down in one of the chairs in the dining room, propping your chin in your palm. “I saw,” you confirm, your voice small.
Jimin grunts. “Good, because I have thoughts,” he declares bluntly. “She’s not even as pretty as you. And her fashion sense? Atrocious. A crime against humanity. Probably a violation of the Geneva Convention, too. And if not, it should be.”
He’s trying to make you feel better, and you know it. Throughout your years of friendship, Jimin has always been the one to pull you out of the dark places you occasionally find yourself lost in, dragging you out of your spiraling misery and keeping you sane. But today, you’re unwilling to let him drag you out.
Today, you want to wallow.
“She looks nice,” you mumble, putting him on speaker and thumbing back over to the photograph. “Cute, too. I guess it was just a matter of time before he moved on, huh?”
On the other end of the line, Jimin clicks his tongue. “It’s been, what, two months? I say good riddance. Throw the whole man away.”
You snort. “Pretty hard to do when you work with the guy. And please—don’t lecture me again. I know dating a coworker was a bad idea, okay?”
Jimin sighs, and even without seeing him, you know he’s running a frazzled hand through his hair. “Fine, fine. I won’t. But what are you gonna do about the party?”
There it is—the question you’ve been dreading. Every year, your company throws a lavish holiday party, renting out space in one of the fanciest hotels in the city and filling it full of drinks, food, and general merriment. You, like the rest of your colleagues, look forward to it all year, and this Christmas marks your fourth company party. But now that Namjoon won’t be by your side for the festivities, your heart sinks down to somewhere around your toes. “I don’t know yet,” you admit. “Do you think he’ll bring her?”
“Probably,” Jimin answers honestly. “Will you be okay if he does?”
You exhale heavily and wake your phone screen, staring wistfully down at Namjoon’s smiling face. “I don’t know,” you repeat. “Maybe I should just skip.”
Jimin snorts. “What, and wallow in your own misery all night? Absolutely not. You still have a few weeks, right? That’s enough time to secure a hot date to the stupid thing. Show him that you’re not the only one who’s moved on.”
It’s your turn to snort. “You know I’m not ready to start dating again,” you tell him bluntly. “Or have you forgotten about my plan to move to the forest and live with a dozen cats? Why don’t you just come to the party with me instead?”
He hums thoughtfully. “Namjoon knows me, though. You need to go with someone he doesn’t know—someone that will make him wonder. Someone like—”
The front door opens with a bang, cutting Jimin off mid-sentence and revealing your roommate standing in the entryway with flushed cheeks and a sheepish grin. “Hi,” he says, checking the wall behind the door to make sure it hasn’t been dented. “Sorry about that. It’s really windy outside.”
“Is that Jungkook?” Jimin’s voice filters through the speaker. “Hey, Jungkook!”
Jungkook looks at you and mouths, Jimin? When you nod, he chuckles and pulls off his black beanie, raking a tattooed hand through his tousled hair. He’s clearly just returned from a run, his cheeks flushed from exertion and cold, and you flash him a small smile as he grabs a clean glass from the cabinet and fills it to the brim with water from the sink. “Hey, Jimin,” he says after he takes a long gulp. “What are you two up to?”
“Dastardly schemes, among other things,” Jimin says breezily, the smile evident in his voice. “We were just talking about you, actually.”
You frown, confused. Jungkook’s brows disappear behind the shaggy fringe falling across his forehead, and you meet his curious gaze and shrug before looking back at the device in your hand. “We were?”
Even through the phone, you can sense the smugness radiating off of your best friend. “Of course we were. Namjoon might know me, but he sure as hell doesn’t know Jungkook. It’s perfect.”
There’s a beat of silence as the meaning behind his words sinks in, and then your jaw drops. “Jimin, no! Are you insane?”
“Only a little bit,” Jimin replies. “But I’m also right. It’s a good idea, and you know it.”
“It’s a terrible idea, and you know it,” you retort, slapping a hand to your forehead.
From his spot in the kitchen, Jungkook raises his hand, looking thoroughly perturbed and still holding half a glass of water. “Um, hello? Does someone want to fill me in here?”
“Sure, dude,” Jimin replies. “{Name} wants you to be her fake date to a party. You in?”
You nearly fall out of your chair. “That’s not—! You can’t just—oh my god, Jimin.” Spluttering helplessly, you cast your roommate a beseeching look. “Jungkook. You went to college with Jimin, so I don’t have to apologize for his insane behavior, right? Please. Please don’t listen to him.”
“Au contraire, you should listen to me,” Jimin cuts in, sounding affronted. “I don’t see you coming up with a better idea.”
You throw your hands up in the air. “I was just going to skip!”
“Lame,” Jimin snorts. “Not to mention cowardly. Don’t you want to get back at Namjoon?”
“It’s not high on my list of priorities, no!”
“Huh. Well then. Jungkook, how would you like a free dinner two Saturdays from now?”
Jungkook, who has been following your conversation with an expression caught somewhere between bemusement and amusement, visibly perks up at the mention of food. “Dinner?”
“Okay, no.” Dropping your phone down onto the kitchen counter, you wave your hands in protest. “Everyone needs to hang on and take a big fucking step backwards. This is an insane idea. Actually, it’s barely even an idea. It’s terrible, and I’m not doing it.”
When Jimin speaks again, you’re positive that he’s rolling his eyes. “Why not? Give me one good reason. The two of you live together, anyway, so you’re either going to get drunk at the house with Jungkook, or you’re going to go to a super fun party and get drunk with Jungkook. Why wouldn’t you choose the free party?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because my ex-boyfriend is going to be at the free party?” You huff. “Besides, I’m sure Jungkook doesn’t want to come. He probably has way better things to do.”
“Um.” Jungkook raises his hand again. “I’m still here, you know.”
Emboldened, Jimin starts addressing him directly. “Free dinner and free booze, Jungkook,” he says. “And {Name}’ll do all the dishes for a month.”
“I am absolutely not going to do that,” you cut in, but your best friend pays you no mind.
“So? Whaddaya think?”
Jungkook shrugs, his gaze flitting over to you tentatively. “I don’t really have anything else going on that day,” he admits slowly. “So, sure. Why not?”
It’s a wonder your jaw hasn’t detached entirely by the end of his casual acquiescence. “Jungkook—” you begin, but the words to finish your sentence prove evasive. Your roommate is painfully handsome—you’d have to be blind not to see that. The sweatshirt he’s wearing runs about three sizes too big, but his black joggers leave very little to the imagination and it’s near impossible not to notice the definition of his thighs beneath the fleecy material. Jungkook takes tall, dark, and handsome to a whole new level—and his inky tattoos and obvious athleticism are the bright ribbon that ties the whole package together.
And it would be so easy to instill jealousy in your ex by bringing Jungkook to the holiday party. It would be the easiest thing in the world.
“Are you sure?” you finally croak.
Jungkook offers you a crooked little smile—one that shows off his adorably prominent front teeth and dimples one of his cheeks. “I’m not really one to turn down free food and booze.”
On the other end of the line, Jimin claps his hands in delight. “It’s settled, then,” he crows. “Should we seal the deal with a kiss, or—?”
You jab at the screen of your phone, missing the end call button several times before finally finding your mark. “Goodbye, Jimin.”
The line goes dead, and in the absence of your best friend’s laughter, the silence that falls over you and Jungkook is deafening. “I can’t believe you want to come to this party,” you say at last, breaking the lull when it finally becomes too much. “It’s not too late to back out, you know. Jimin will never know.”
Jungkook shrugs—his shoulders shifting beneath his baggy black sweatshirt. “Like I said, I don’t have anything else going on. Besides, Jimin’s actually right for once. You should go. Just because your ex will be there doesn’t mean you have to miss out on a fancy work perk.” Then he grins. “Plus, I’m pretty sure I can nail this fake date thing. I’ll hold your hand and laugh at all your jokes.”
His grin is infectious, you realize, as your lips begin tugging upward at the corners. “Well consider me sold,” you tell him. “You’re hired, Jeon.” Reaching out, you extend a hand for him to shake.
Jungkook laughs and takes it, his warm fingers curling around yours. “Then it’s a date.”
///
“So, I think we should lay down some ground rules.”
It’s barely ten in the morning, and Jungkook has clearly just woken up if his drooping lids and petulant frown are any indication. He’s seated at the tall counter that divides the kitchen from the living room, midway through a bowl of cereal, and you watch him blink blearily in your direction as you enter the kitchen and open the fridge. “Mmm,” he hums.
A little over a month into cohabitating with Jeon Jungkook, and you’ve slowly grown more adept at deciphering the half-coherent mumbles he makes before he’s fully cognizant in the mornings. Taking this one as a sign that he is, in fact, listening to what you have to say, you continue. “First off, you’re sworn to secrecy, got it? Jimin’s enough of a blabbermouth as it is, and while I don’t think he’ll tell anyone, I just—” You sigh. “I want to make sure it looks like we’re actually… dating. Namjoon’s on Instagram a lot, so we might want to take a few photos together and post some stuff about each other. And maybe we should… actually go on a date?”
Jungkook looks up from his bowl so quickly you fear he might have snapped his neck, and you immediately backtrack. “It’s totally cool if you don’t want to!” you amend, sticking your head into the fridge and rooting around for some orange juice so you don’t have to look him in the eye. “We can just… I don’t know. Snap a photo every now and then on the way to the grocery store or something. No big deal.”
“Mmmph,” Jungkook says. He swallows his mouthful of cereal, his upper lip painted white, and you silently grab a paper towel from the roll and hand it to him. “Thanks,” he grunts, wiping at his mouth.
“Sure.”
There’s a pause—one that lasts several beats until Jungkook breaks it. “We do have to go to the grocery store soon,” he says, jabbing a thumb at the admittedly sad state of your refrigerator. “There’s a park on the way there—you know the one I’m talking about? The one with the fountain?” At your nod, his lips quirk up. “Maybe we can have our fake date there. Take photos, and all that.”
You blink. “Really? You’re willing to do it?”
He shrugs and drops his spoon back into his bowl with a clatter. “Sure. You wanna go today? I still have to shower and get dressed—” he gestures down at his baggy flannel pants and oversized t-shirt, “—but I can be quick.”
“I’ll eat fast,” you agree, grabbing the loaf of bread off the counter and shoving two slices into the toaster. “Leave in an hour?”
Jungkook nods and stands up, rinsing out his bowl and dropping it into the dishwasher. You plop down into his abandoned seat with your breakfast, watching as he masks a yawn with his hand before shuffling back down the hallway to his bedroom and shutting the door behind him. Taking a bite out of your toast, you pull your phone out of your pocket with your free hand and thumb through your latest notifications. Your heart sinks when you see an update from one kimdaily, but you click it open nonetheless, steeling your nerves for what you might see.
The photograph, when it loads, is of Namjoon standing in front of a row of pine trees, his ashy silver hair tucked beneath a black beanie. You barely make it through the caption—something about Christmas tree shopping with his best friend and the love of his life, and how lucky he is that they’re one and the same—before slapping your phone back down onto the counter and willing your racing heart to calm. The bubble of emotion welling up in your chest threatens to burst forth from your throat, and you quickly drain the glass of juice at your elbow before standing up to pour yourself another.
That’s how Jungkook finds you three minutes later—standing at the sink with your glass in hand. His hair is still dripping from the shower, a red towel draped around his neck to catch any stray water droplets, and when he approaches you can smell the vague scent of bergamot wafting your way. He’s dressed in ripped jeans and a blue and gray sweater, and it’s all you can do to return the smile he flashes you as he fishes his black Timberlands out of the hall closet.
“Ready to go?” he asks.
You take a deep breath and set down your glass, nodding. Grabbing your purse from its spot near the door, you shove two reusable canvas grocery bags inside before slipping into your jacket. Jungkook shrugs on his own coat, patting his pockets to check for his wallet and keys, and, upon verifying both, gestures for you to exit first so he can lock the door behind the two of you.
There’s a noticeable chill in the air as you step out onto the front steps of your townhouse—a hint of impending winter in every breath you take. The streets aren’t too crowded yet, and you’re grateful for that as you and Jungkook set off in the direction of the grocery store. Inhaling deeply, you let your feet carry you on autopilot as your mind wanders.
“{Name}?” Jungkook’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “We’re here.”
Startled, you glance up—first at him, and then at your surroundings. “This isn’t the store.”
He chuckles. “We’re stopping at the park, remember?” And instead of teasing or making you feel like an idiot, he simply veers off the main sidewalk and onto the meandering cobblestone path that winds through the entirety of the park, cutting through the fading grass and weaving in and out of a grove of trees desperately clinging on to the last of their browning leaves.
For a few minutes, the two of you stroll in silence. Jungkook—though you’ve only known him for a month and a half—is a comfortable presence to be around, and is an exceedingly considerate roommate on top of that. You’d had your qualms back when Jimin introduced him to you as the friend of a friend from university, but your last roommate had just moved out and you were sadly lacking the resources to cover rent by yourself. Jungkook moved in mere weeks after your breakup with Namjoon, and never so much as blinked when you brought a pint of ice cream to bed three nights in a row. And while you aren’t sure that you’d consider him a friend just yet, the potential is certainly there.
Putting aside the current boyfriend ruse, of course.
“Hey,” you murmur as the two of you reach a particularly picturesque curve in the path. “Stand still for a second.”
Jungkook obligingly pauses mid-step, blinking against the morning sunlight before looking up at the phone you’ve angled in his direction. “Picture for the ‘gram?” he asks, and you nod.
It takes a few moments for the camera to focus, but when it does, you snap the photo and zoom in to take a closer look. Jungkook joins you, peering curiously over your shoulder, and you tilt the screen so he can see better. “What do you think? Not bad, right?”
“Not bad,” he replies, and you take that as approval to make your post. Opening up Instagram, you worry your bottom lip for a moment before tapping a few keys.
“How’s that?” you ask once you’ve posted the photo, showing him your screen. Simultaneously, Jungkook’s own phone buzzes in his pocket with a notification.
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“Nice hashtag,” he remarks, chuckling. “Can we talk about how terrible the last season of that show was, though?”
“Oh my god, yes,” you reply, throwing your hands up into the air. “Shall I start? What was up with Jon and Dany, anyway?”
Ten minutes later, you arrive at the grocery store, still fuming about the Lannister siblings’ nonsensical demise as you enter through the sliding automatic doors. Jungkook grabs a cart, and you follow after him as he pushes it past the display of bananas right at the entrance. “Need any fruit?” he asks.
You nod, picking out a few apples from a nearby pile and placing them gingerly in a bag. “We’re running low on onions and garlic; can you grab those? I’ll meet up with you in the dairy aisle once I’m done here.”
Obediently, Jungkook trots off, leaving you with the cart. You take your time perusing the remainder of the fruit section, carefully picking out what you want, and you’re just about to move on to the vegetables when your phone buzzes.
[11:21am] Jungkook: almost forgot, can you grab a few oranges and some spinach for me?
You text back in the affirmative and tuck your phone back into your pocket. By the time you finally make it to the dairy aisle, Jungkook is already there, holding a full gallon of milk and touting a half-filled basket that has significantly more in it than just onions and garlic.
“What else did you get?” you ask curiously.
He shrugs. “Bread, cheese. Some cold brew.”
You wouldn’t have pinned your dark-haired, dark-clothed, and tattooed roommate as a french vanilla kind of guy, but the little blue label on the bottle is impossible to dispute. The sight has your lips curling up at the edges, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow when he spots your expression.
“What?”
Still smiling, you shake your head. “It’s nothing.”
///
Several days pass before your next excursion—as you’ve taken to calling them—with Jungkook. The weather forecast predicted overcast skies and scattered showers this morning, but neither of those matter where you’re currently standing, waiting in line to get your shoes. Behind you, a raucous cheer goes up as a mess of bowling pins crashes to the ground.
When you return to your designated lane, Jungkook has already slipped out of his black Timberlands and is waiting for you in socked feet, wiggling his toes in the pinstriped wool. They’re a stark contrast to the rest of his black ensemble, a matching black baseball cap perched atop his wavy hair, and you raise an eyebrow at the sight. “Are those candy cane socks?” you ask in amazement, and Jungkook grins and nods in affirmation.
A burst of laughter escapes you, high and bright in the neon air. The bowling alley rings with the sounds of clattering pins, the entire room smelling of pizza grease and whatever wax they use on the lanes, but all of that fades into the background as you and Jungkook lace up your shoes and pick out your bowling balls. “So, how good are you at bowling, anyway?” you ask, settling on a deep blue ball that’s marbled through with white and silver like a tiny galaxy.
Jungkook hefts his own ball—hot bubblegum pink flecked with varying shades of the same color—and flashes you a mischievous grin. “Why don’t we start playing and find out?”
Suspiciously, you narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t like the sound of that.” Nonetheless, you take your spot at the top of the lane, turning around to watch as Jungkook inputs your names into the computer that monitors your score. “Ready?”
Jungkook gives you a double thumbs-up. “Ready.”
It’s been many years since you’ve last gone bowling. Your fingers feel awkward in the holes, and the weight of the ball is unwieldy against your open palm. Steeling yourself, you take a few steps forward before releasing the ball, watching as it rolls laboriously down the lane. It veers off course halfway down, and you shake your head as it takes out a single pin at the very corner of the formation.
“Well,” you remark, turning back to face your companion, “at least I didn’t embarrass myself completely with a gutter ball.”
Jungkook laughs. “Hey, look on the bright side. Maybe you’ll get a spare.”
“Maybe that’s wishful thinking,” you retort, reclaiming your ball from the machine and rolling it down the lane once more. This time, it stays on course, knocking over four more pins, and you sigh as you plop down onto the chair next to Jungkook. “In my defense, I was probably fourteen the last time I went bowling.” you tell him. “Your turn.”
Jungkook is already halfway out of his seat. He grabs his pink ball and comes to a stop in the center of the lane, and you watch as he rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath, standing deathly still for one long, lingering moment. Then he’s stepping off, his strides as quick as they are smooth, throwing his leg and arm out to one side just before he rears back and releases his bowling ball.
And all the pins at the end of the lane come crashing down, because of course they do.
“Guess that’s a strike,” Jungkook says, glancing back at you. He’s fighting a smile, his lips twitching at the corners, and you fix him with a mock glare as he takes a seat beside you once more.
“So this is why you suggested bowling. You’re some kind of pro.”
“Hey, that’s not true,” he protests, the irrepressible smile finally breaking across his face. “I’ll teach you, if you want. It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”
“Easy for you to say,” you grumble, just loud enough so that he can hear you over the raucous bowling alley noise. Still, you follow after him as he stands up to retrieve your ball, and accept it when he hands it over. He grabs his own ball as well, and motions for you to watch closely as he slowly mimes out the motions of his step and release method.
“Make sense?” he asks once he’s finished, straightening back up to his full height.
You frown. “I’m not sure, honestly. I still don’t really understand how your leg ends up where it does.”
“You mean this?” Jungkook crouches down and sweeps his leg backward again, throwing his arm out for balance as well. When you nod, he hums in understanding and sets his ball down. “Here, maybe it’ll help if I walk you through it. May I?”
His palm is mere inches from your shoulder, and you realize, with a start, that he’s asking for permission to touch you. The thoughtfulness of the gesture has your heart pounding, skipping several beats before racing to catch up.
“Sure,” you say once your heartbeat has settled back into an even cadence. “I guess you can try to make me a better bowler. Don’t think you’ll have much luck, though.”
That earns you a chuckle, his breath hot against the nape of your neck as he steps behind you and gently taps your arm. “Can’t fault a guy for trying,” he says. “Here, step off on this side, okay? You can hold the ball with both hands right now, but you’ll want to start pulling it back around the second step or so.”
You take one step forward and raise your opposite foot to take a second. “Like this?”
“Yeah,” he confirms, his voice soft. He’s close enough to prickle your skin with gooseflesh by this point, moving with you to guide each of your motions, and your breath hitches when he reaches around you to grasp your hand in his larger one. “Now pull your arm back, like this. You want all the momentum you can get.”
“Right,” you whisper, letting him take the lead. His chest is nearly flush with your back, his lips at your ear, and your cheeks warm as he gently urges your arm back, his fingers winding around your wrist until the pad of his thumb presses against your pulsepoint. His free hand finds the elbow of your other arm, nudging it outward to help you maintain your balance as you swing forward to release the ball. Vaguely, you wonder if he can feel the sudden uptick in your heart rate.
“Here’s where the leg comes in,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, drawing you out of your thoughts. “Sweep it back and to the side like—yeah, exactly like that! Nice.”
Without warning, Jungkook steps back, and you very nearly lose your balance when the warmth of his body disappears. Luckily, you’ve already let go of the bowling ball by then, and its trajectory remains unimpacted by your stumble. Eight pins tumble to the ground, and you let out a delighted cheer as your ball disappears into the depths and begins its unseen journey back to you. “Did you see that?” you ask, whirling around to look at Jungkook. “Eight!”
Jungkook is already on his way over to give you a congratulatory high-five, his eyes sparkling in the neon glow of the bowling alley and his face lit up with a grin. “That was awesome,” he says. “Now, why don’t we see if you can get those other two pins?”
///
If picking up spares is an art form, then Jeon Jungkook is Pablo Picasso. No matter how many pins he knocks down in the first frame, he always manages to get the rest in the second, and you watch on in amazement as his score crawls ever higher, aided by two strikes in a row. “One forty-six,” you sigh, shaking your head at him as he plops down into his chair and throws back a giant sip of soda. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Eighty isn’t a bad score,” Jungkook replies, trying and failing to hide a satisfied grin as he recaps his bottle. “Really.”
“Easy for you to say when you scored sixty-six more points than me,” you retort, sticking out your tongue at him. “Honestly. Who just bowls a one forty-six like it’s nothing?”
Jungkook shrugs and bends down to unlace his shoes. “Three hundred is a perfect score.”
“You say that like you’ve done it before.”
“God, no.” He snorts. “That’s league-level stuff, and even then, it’s hard as fuck. The highest I’ve ever bowled is a one eighty-five.”
Laughing, you reach down to loosen your own laces. “I’d be over the moon if I ever got a score that high. Hell, I’d be happy breaking a hundred.”
“Hey, you were getting pretty good by the end,” he points out, toeing off his bowling shoes and slipping his feet back into his trustworthy Timberlands. “We can come back sometime. Practice a little more.”
“You’re talking about coming back, but I don’t think I can even leave.” Exasperated, you lean back in your seat and stare down at the laces on your shoes, which have somehow gotten tangled up into an enormous knot. The harder you tug, the more it seems to tighten, and you groan when trying to pry the shoe off only results in an ache in your heel. “Ow, goddammit. How does this even happen?”
“It would probably help if you stopped pulling so hard, for starters,” Jungkook says dryly. Dropping down to his knees, he nudges your hands away and replaces them with his own. “Here, quit doing that and let me help. I’m pretty good with knots.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Do I want to know why?”
Jungkook glances up at you with a crooked little smile and a twinkle in his eye. “I was a Boy Scout. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Mmhmm. Sure you were,” you tease.
Thirty seconds later, Jungkook lets out a triumphant little exclamation. The knot in your laces is gone, and you gratefully slip out of the uncomfortable bowling shoes and back into your own boots. Together, the two of you return your footwear to the counter before heading for the exit, the fresh air a welcome change from the smell of frying oil and spilled soda. The sky outside is steadily darkening into evening, a light drizzle dampening the sidewalk at your feet, and you wordlessly pull out your umbrella. Beside you, Jungkook does the same.
The soft pitter-patter of raindrops fills the hush that’s fallen between you as you walk past the myriad maze of downtown shops, a soothing overhead melody as you head back toward your shared home.
///
A week passes, and after a stressful workday and several forced interactions with your ex-boyfriend, you and Jungkook find yourselves at a rooftop restaurant just a few blocks away from your home. You’re seated beneath a crisscross of string lights that have yet to be turned on, the glass bulbs reflecting the light of the setting sun, and much like your fellow diners, you are looking forward to enjoying the final warm day of the season. Sounds of laughter and chatter fill the open air, intermingling with the soft clink of silverware against plates and backed by the muted hum of traffic from below.
Today marks your third and final excursion with Jungkook, and you fully intend to treat him to a nice dinner as a thank you for the last couple of weeks. He’s been nothing but amenable since agreeing to go along with your scheme, and you’re beyond grateful for his support. You have no doubt that your ex has seen all the photographs you’ve been posting, and wonder what—if anything—Namjoon is thinking.
Then again, you suppose you’ll find out all about that tomorrow. In the meantime, you’ll enjoy a nice meal with your roommate, and maybe a cocktail or two. But first—
“Ready?” you ask, pulling out your phone and thumbing over to the camera.
Jungkook nods. He’s wearing what you recognize as his nice jeans—a faded pair with only one small rip per knee—and coupled them with a collared shirt in deep navy. The first few buttons are undone, a striped tie sitting loosely at the hollow of his throat, and every time he shifts in his seat you’re afforded a glimpse of the black ink that trails along the right side of his clavicle.
“Can you move to the left a little bit?” you ask. “I can barely see your face right now—it’s all shadowy.”
Jungkook complies, leaning slightly and turning his head toward the light. The setting sun illuminates him in hazy gold, lending him an almost ethereal glow, and you snap several photos before you realize you’ve taken way more than you need.
“Good,” you tell him, swallowing thickly. “That’s good. Here, take a look.”
Jungkook peers curiously at your phone, swiping through the photos you’ve taken, and you take the opportunity to sip at your water and gather your wits about you once more.
“So? What do you think?”
“I like this one,” Jungkook says, tapping your screen. You lean over to see the photograph he’s selected, and nod your agreement as he zooms in on it. Opening up Instagram, you create a new post, mulling briefly over the caption before deciding on something simple and hitting post.
You’re forced to put your phone away when your server stops by to take your drink order. Jungkook requests a pint of whatever beer they have on tap, and you decide on the house red—a mild pinot noir. By the time the server departs, your post already has several likes, as well as a comment from Jimin that simply reads: date night? 👉🏻👌🏻👀
You respond with a string of eye roll emojis. Jungkook has pulled out his own phone by this point, and you raise a curious eyebrow when he snorts out a laugh.
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“Jimin?” you ask.
“Jimin,” he confirms with a nod. “I’m half-tempted to respond, but I’m not sure that I’ll come out unscathed.”
“You probably won’t, which means you really shouldn’t. That guy has emoji use down to a science, and it’s usually best to just ignore him—that’s what I do.” Laughing, you pick up your menu and scan the seasonal offerings. “Besides, we have way more important things to talk about, like appetizers. Do you want to share something?”
“Sure,” Jungkook says agreeably, flipping open his own menu and scanning the first page. “What were you thinking?”
“Everything they serve here is delicious, and I’m not even exaggerating,” you tell him as you grab the bottle of water the server left in the middle of the table and reach over to fill his glass. “Dinner’s on me tonight, so pick whatever you want. I’ll even waive my usual two-drink limit.”
Jungkook laughs. “Wow, really? I’m honored.”
“As you should be,” you tell him with a grin.
By the time your drinks arrive, the two of you have decided on your food as well. You take a sip of wine as the server departs again, leaning back in your chair, and let your gaze rove across the surrounding tables for a moment before speaking again.
“So. About tomorrow.”
Jungkook sets his beer down, the glass thumping gently against the wood. “The big day,” he agrees. “What do you need from me?”
His question gives you pause. You’ve known that he was going to act as your party date for weeks now, but you haven’t actually put much consideration into what that would actually entail. Thinking back to past years, you can safely assume that there will be live music, though you can’t remember the name of the band that was listed on your email invitation now. “Can you dance?” you blurt.
Jungkook doesn’t seem fazed by the sudden question. “A little bit,” he answers with a shrug. “Nothing fancy, but I can usually pull off a decent waltz if the occasion calls for it.”
“Even if the occasion calls for you to waltz to a questionable band cover of Despacito?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. Amusement etches its way across Jungkook’s face, his face creasing into a grin, and you suddenly notice that he has a freckle just beneath his bottom lip, just off from the center.
“You’re kidding.”
“I most certainly am not,” you reply, tearing your gaze away from his mouth. “The lead singer didn’t speak a word of Spanish, and the pronunciation was atrocious. I wish you’d heard it.”
“Me too.” Jungkook chuckles. “Any chance they’ll be back this year? Do you think they take requests?”
“Doesn’t hurt to ask,” you reply with a giggle, picking up your wine glass and taking another sip.
The last few rays of golden sunlight disappear beyond the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange and red that slowly settle into dusky purples and cloudy blues. Overhead, the string lights turn on, illuminating the table in soft, warm light. Your appetizers arrive, and the server comes around to refill your drinks and bring you a fresh bottle of water.
“Well?” you ask as Jungkook takes his first bite.
“Mmmph,” he replies, his cheeks bulging. You grin, waiting for him to swallow, and he hides his laughter behind his palm as he washes everything down with a swig of water. “You weren’t kidding,” he says, already eyeing the plate for his next mouthful. “That might be the most delicious thing I’ve ever had.”
Pleased, you pick out a morsel of your own and pop it into your mouth. “Told you.”
“I never doubted you for a second,” he replies, picking up his fork in earnest and digging in again.
Comfortable silence settles over the two of you as the meal progresses. You’re halfway through your entrees, having just started a conversation about the merits of toe socks, when your phone buzzes against the wooden table and rattles your silverware against the ceramic of your plate. Picking it up reveals that kimdaily has once again made a post, and your heart does a backflip as you swipe open the notification.
They’re at an arcade. You recognize the venue immediately, having been there once before when you were still the subject of his photographs and social media posts. He’s grinning that dimpled grin that used to warm you from the inside out, his face occupying the entire left side of the photo. In the background, his girlfriend poses with a basketball, the scoreboard above the hoop lit with what must be a new high score.
Jungkook must sense the shift in your mood, because he stops mid-bite to glance up at you with round eyes. “What’s up?”
You let your phone screen go dark, dropping it back onto the table. “It’s nothing,” you tell him, and know you’ve been caught in a lie when his brow immediately furrows.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asks, setting his fork down and wiping at his mouth with a napkin. “Come on, {Name}. What did he post now?”
Wordlessly, you unlock your phone and push it across the table. He scans the photograph quietly, his lips tugging down at the corners, and when he looks up again his expression is solemn.
“I kick ass at that game, you know.”
Taken aback, you blink. “What?”
He nods at the photo. “That basketball game. I’m fucking awesome. The secret is climbing over the divider and getting up close so you make every shot.”
A startled laugh leaves your lips, half amusement and half disbelief. “Are you admitting that you cheat?”
Jungkook shakes his head and taps his temple. “Of course not. I’m saying that I like to think outside the bun.”
Still laughing, you take your phone back and tuck it back into your pocket. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Maybe.” He picks up his abandoned fork to polish off the last of his meal, noisily scraping the plate clean of any lingering sauces. “But at least you’re not sad anymore.”
And he’s right. The realization hits you like a freight train, knocking the air out of your lungs for the span of several heartbeats and then a couple more. You’re sure that you’re gaping a little bit, lips parted to let out words that you haven’t yet formulated, but you’re thankfully spared from responding when the server returns to your table.
“Here’s your dessert,” she says, carefully setting an immaculately decorated plate down in the middle of the table.
Jungkook blinks dumbly as she sets down two clean forks, one on either side. “When did you order pie?”
You blink back, equally confused. “I didn’t. I think this might be a mistake.”
Your server smiles, shaking her head. “Nope, not a mistake. This is from the couple over there in the corner. They asked me to bring you a slice of our apple pie on them, and to wish you a very happy holiday season.”
Curiously, you glance at the indicated couple, as does Jungkook. They’re a man and woman well into their seventies, seated near the edge of the rooftop between a silvery heat lamp and a leafy green plant. Under the glow of the string lights, their gray hair shines like silver, and you can’t help but smile when you see that they’re holding hands across the table. Both of them smile when they catch your eye, and the woman waves cheerily. The man mimes bringing a fork to his mouth—a universal indicator for you to try the dessert they’ve so kindly bought—and you turn back to Jungkook and the sweet cinnamon aroma wafting off of the pie on the table.
“I guess we should eat,” you tell Jungkook, who’s already picked up his fork.
“Guess so,” he agrees, sizing up the slice. “Should we cut it in half? My knife is still clean, I think.”
You hesitate. “I don’t know. We’re supposed to be a couple, and that might look weird. Maybe we should both just try and stick to one side?”
He nods. “Fine by me.” Carefully, he slices through a crusty edge and brings it to his mouth, his eyes going wide before fluttering shut in appreciation. “Oh, wow. That’s incredible.”
Delicately, you bring a forkful to your mouth, savoring the sweetness that coats your tongue. “I told you that everything on the menu is good, didn’t I?”
“You sure did.” Jungkook takes another bite, making sure to stick to his designated half of the pie. “And now, you’ve set a really high bar for tomorrow. I seriously don’t know if this can be topped.”
“The caterers are good, but they aren’t this good,” you tell him. “You’d honestly have a much better meal if you just ditched and came back here instead.”
Jungkook chortles. “Are you trying to talk me out of going to the party the night before it starts? I’m starting to think that you really don’t want me there.”
“It’s not that,” you assure him, picking up your glass of water and taking a sip. “I’m just not looking forward to seeing him. It’s bad enough walking past his cubicle at work, and now I have to socialize? And then there’s his girlfriend, which…” You trail off. “Ugh. I’m pretty sure that meeting your ex’s new partner is one of the circles of hell.”
“It definitely should be, if it isn’t,” Jungkook agrees. Then he jabs a thumb into his chest. “But hey, I’ve got your back, remember? Boyfriend for hire, at your service. I accept payment in all manner of snacks.”
“This dinner should more than cover your fee, then,” you remark with a smile. “So what do you think we should tell everyone tomorrow? What’s our big romantic backstory?”
“Hmm.” Jungkook rubs his chin thoughtfully, staring off into the distance. “We met… at a bowling alley. I’m a league champion, you see, and when I saw you throw three gutter balls in a row, I knew you were a woman after my own heart.”
“Very romantic,” you tell him, laughing. “But you forgot the part where you gallantly fetched an ice pack when I dropped the ball on my toe.”
He slaps a hand to his heart. “How could I? Nursing you back to full health—that was when I fell in love.”
“And then you bowled a perfect three hundred, thanks to me cheering you on,” you add, grinning. “Won a big gold trophy shaped like a bowling pin, and everything.”
He grins back. “Of course. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Nighttime has well and truly fallen now. Far above the glow of the string lights, the moon takes her lofty throne—a silvery crescent bathing the city in pale luminescence. The first stars begin poking through the dark sky—diamond pinpricks against deep velvet—and your breath catches when you meet Jungkook’s gaze and see them all reflected there, as if the very constellations live in his eyes.
“We—” You glance away and clear your throat awkwardly. “We should probably come up with something a little more realistic.”
Jungkook hums in agreement, lingering amusement still creasing his face. “You’re right, they’ll never believe that I bowled a three hundred. Maybe I only bowled a two-ninety.”
Laughing, you reach across the table and thwack him on the forearm. “That’s not what I meant!”
“No?” He flashes you an impish grin. “My bad.”
In the end, you and Jungkook settle on telling people that you met in college—a lie that’s both easy to remember and doesn’t invite too many other questions. “Let’s say that we were in the same writing class,” you tell him, signing the check with a flourish and putting your credit card back into your wallet. “That would make sense, right? Everyone had to take a writing class in my school.”
“Same here,” Jungkook agrees. “There were some pretty fun topics, though. Some focused on pop culture, some focused on theology—I actually took one about writing satire. It was neat.”
You pull a face. “Lucky. I spent a semester analyzing political punditry. It was depressing.”
Jungkook mirrors your expression. “Nothing quite like watching a bunch of men in a room talking over each other,” he remarks, and you nod as he rises to his feet and grabs his black leather jacket off the back of his chair.
“Exactly.”
Standing up, you slip into your own coat, not even bothering to fasten the buttons. The temperature has dropped since the sun set, but it’s still far from being cold. Jungkook doesn’t zip up his jacket either, and the combination of the black leather layered over his loosely knotted tie and collared shirt does something funny to your insides.
“We should go thank that couple for the dessert,” you mumble, suddenly feeling shy, when someone lays a gentle hand on your forearm.
“Sorry to startle you, dear.” The gray-haired woman is standing there with a kind smile, her eyes twinkling behind gold-rimmed glasses. She casts a glance back at her husband, who’s seated at the table and in the process of paying their bill. “I do hope you enjoyed the pie tonight. It’s always been our favorite thing here.”
You lay your hand atop hers, returning her smile with one of your own. “It was delicious, thank you so much. You really shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble.”
The woman laughs. “Oh, nonsense, dear—we wanted to do it. You two make a lovely couple. In fact, you remind me a little bit of us, back when we were young.”
Cheeks warming, you glance over at Jungkook, whose ears have turned pink. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “You’re too kind.”
She just smiles again, taking his tattooed hand in both of hers and giving it a squeeze. Then she turns back to you and pulls you close, lowering her voice so that only you are privy to her next words.
“There’s nothing quite like a man who can make you laugh,” she whispers. “Hang on tight to this one, dear. He’s one of the good ones.”
You don’t get a chance to answer, or ask her for clarification. She turns on her heel and returns to her husband before you can even stammer out a single syllable, leaving you alone with a curious Jungkook and a small horde of butterflies fluttering in your belly.
“What was that all about?” he asks.
You take him in—his wavy hair parted across his forehead, his silver hoop earrings peeking out from amongst the dark strands. You take in the black leather of his jacket and the messy knot of the tie at his throat.
“It was nothing,” you tell him, laying a hand on his shoulder and giving him a soft push toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go back home.”
///
In the two months that you’ve now lived with Jeon Jungkook, you’ve come to several realizations. The first is that he’s near impossible to wake up when he really puts his mind to it—something you’re grateful for when you’re making a racket in your rush to get to work on time in the mornings. The second is that he’s a very mediocre cook, and subsists mostly on ramen, cereal, and the occasional pizza delivery.
And the third—which is completely unfair, considering his aforementioned diet—is that he is insanely, almost painfully attractive.
Jungkook cuts a striking figure, even amidst the dozens of formally dressed people lingering in and around the entrance to the hotel. He’s wearing all black as he so often does, but he’s exchanged his favorite baggy sweats for a fitted turtleneck and a tailored suit that you’d watched him dig out of the very back of his closet just a few hours prior. A silver belt buckle breaks his monochrome silhouette, matching the silver hoops and the single dangling chain in his ears. His dark hair, normally loose and shaggy or gathered up at his crown, has been swept back and slicked with gel to expose his undercut. Already, your entrance has garnered a few stares from your nosier colleagues, and you tighten your grip on Jungkook’s arm as you pass through the garland-wrapped doorway that leads into the ballroom.
Crystal chandeliers glimmer overhead like diamonds, suffusing the room in warm, effervescent light. Round tables draped in white linen are scattered throughout, the cutlery and glassware sparkling. A low stage rises up at the opposite end of the room, atop which the band is playing an upbeat holiday medley. Just beside the entrance sits a long rectangular table draped in the same linen as the rest, and Jungkook peers curiously at the little silver bags lining it in neat rows.
“Are these goody bags?” he asks, reaching out to peek inside the nearest one.
“Don’t,” you advise him before he can pick it up. “Unless you want a shitty water bottle and a keychain that unintentionally looks like a penis.”
Jungkook laughs and retracts his hand. “I’ve been on the lookout for a penis keychain, as a matter of fact.”
“Guess I know what to get you for Christmas, then.”
He chuckles. “Can’t wait. But in the meantime—” Jungkook glances left and right, before grabbing one of the silver bags and emptying its contents into its neighbor. Then he grabs a fistful of assorted candy from the crystal bowl at the very end of the table, filling up the bag to the brim and leaving you giggling in dumbfounded amazement.
Gradually, the two of you pick your way over to the open bar. People stop to greet you and chat, casting curious looks at the man beside you, but Jungkook plays the role of new boyfriend perfectly and his friendly smile never once wavers. News of your breakup with Namjoon has no doubt made it down, up, and through the grapevine, but everyone seems to be wise enough not to press the matter. Well wishes are exchanged, and you and Jungkook move on, getting your drinks and seeking about for an empty table.
“Looking for somewhere to sit?”
The voice comes from behind you, as deep as it is familiar, and you freeze midway through sipping your wine. Jungkook seems to sense your sudden apprehension as well, his arm tensing up in yours, and you instinctively pull him closer as you turn to face the speaker.
“Namjoon,” you murmur, thanking all your lucky stars that your voice comes out steady. “Hi.”
Your ex-boyfriend stands there, just as tall and handsome as you remember with his ashy hair swept back and off his forehead. He’s wearing a steely blue waistcoat and a matching jacket, paired with black slacks and a deep navy tie that you’re certain he didn’t knot himself. And though the sight of him is devastating, when he grins his trademark dimpled grin, your poorly mended heart does a backflip and flops straight into your churning stomach.
Jungkook, thankfully, is much more articulate than you are in your current state. Stepping forward, he extends a hand for Namjoon to shake, a genial smile creasing his face. “I’m Jungkook,” he says, his gaze flitting over to you for a brief second before he levels it up at Namjoon once again. “{Name}’s told me a lot about you.”
Namjoon’s grin fades into a polite smile as he accepts the proffered handshake, sizing the other man up. “All good things, I hope,” he says at last. “It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”
“The pleasure’s mine,” Jungkook replies evenly, before pulling back and looking at you. “But we really should be finding somewhere to sit. It looks like the party’s gonna get started soon, babe.”
Your throat goes dry at the term of endearment. “Right,” you manage, swallowing down what little saliva is in your mouth. “We should.”
“Hey, why don’t you come sit with us?” Namjoon gestures at the table behind him where a young woman is seated with her back to you, chatting animatedly with a waiter. “We’ve got plenty of room.” And before you can even open your mouth to protest, he’s ushering both of you toward a pair of empty chairs, clapping Jungkook on the back when he gracefully steps between you to take the seat next to your ex-boyfriend.
“Yo, {Name}!” Another familiar voice sounds from behind you—this one much more welcome. You turn to see your favorite work friend, Taehyung, approaching you with his longtime girlfriend—the two of them dressed in color coordinated outfits and wearing matching necklaces that look and twinkle like strings of multicolored holiday lights.
“Tae!” you exclaim, rising to your feet to give him a hug. “And Allie—hi! It’s been way too long!”
“No kidding!” Allie glares playfully at her boyfriend. “Tae’s trying to keep you all to himself, but I’m not going to let that happen. When are you free? We should grab coffee sometime.”
“Absolutely,” you promise. “As soon as all the holiday craziness is over, I’ll be sure to text you. Have you tried the new place on 17th and Main yet?”
“No, but I’ve been dying to!” Allie exclaims. “That settles it—we’re going. No boys allowed.”
“Deal,” you laugh.
With Taehyung and Allie, your table is now full. Namjoon introduces everyone to his girlfriend, Mia—a curly-haired brunette who is just as bubbly and warm as the photos make her seem, and is completely impossible not to like. You, likewise, introduce Jungkook to the table, doing your best to avoid Namjoon’s gaze as you lay a hand on Jungkook’s arm.
“Gosh, you guys are cute,” Mia gushes. “How did you meet?”
Your rehearsed answer comes easily. “We met our freshman year of college.”
“We were in the same writing class our sophomore year,” Jungkook says at the same time, wincing when he realizes what just happened. “I mean—“
“We met freshman year, but we didn’t really get to know each other until later,” you clarify quickly, kicking his foot underneath the table. “A few months ago, we reconnected, and, well…” You glance over at him, mustering up the most genuine smile you can. “Here we are.”
Mia smiles and takes Namjoon’s hand, her fingers twining with his. “That sounds a lot like our story,” she says, nudging him playfully. “We’ve known each other for ages too—since we were kids, actually. But we hadn’t seen each other in years.”
“Then we ran into each other at the grocery store,” Namjoon recalls with a smile, his cheeks dimpling. “Imagine that—something so innocuous. But I guess fate works in mysterious ways.”
Any additional conversation is interrupted by the metallic clinking of a fork against glass, the sound amplified by the microphone set up onstage. The chief executive officer of your company stands there with a gaudy Santa hat perched atop his head, and the room quiets down to listen to him give his welcome speech and wish everyone a happy holiday season. After a toast to a happy, fruitful new year, he beckons you all to raise a glass, and as you do, the waitstaff begin filing out with appetizers.
“Soup and salad?” Jungkook asks, watching one of the waiters walk by with a tray before leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “Damn, they really do pull out all the stops.”
You grin. “I thought you’d be more excited about the open bar.”
“Oh, I am,” he replies, raising his glass and throwing back the remaining whiskey inside. “I’m about to go up there again, actually—you want anything?”
Nodding, you tell him your drink order. Jungkook rises to his feet and asks the rest of the table if he can grab any other drinks, and departs a few seconds later with a promise to Allie that he’ll bring her another glass of chardonnay. A waiter arrives with your food, and you gratefully seize upon the opportunity to avoid further conversation by picking up your fork and shoving some romaine and an herbed crouton into your mouth.
Jungkook returns about five minutes later with drinks in hand, handing Allie her wine before setting your glass in front of you and plopping back down into his seat. “How’s the food?”
Taehyung chuckles. “Don’t bother asking Joon,” he says with a nod at your ex-boyfriend, who’s fiddling with his phone’s camera and angling it strategically above his plate. “He’s still trying to take the perfect photo of his food instead of eating it.”
“Photographs are forever,” Namjoon counters without looking up, his chin jutting out in the way it always does when he’s focused. Then he looks up, a glimmer of mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Speaking of which—everyone, smile!”
You follow the movement of his arm and the subsequent raising of his camera. “That’s really not necessa—” you begin, but you’re cut off by the robotic click of the shutter. “Okay, you’ve already taken it. Great.” Namjoon opens up the photo so he can zoom in and take a closer look, and you turn to Jungkook and offer him a helpless shrug.
You’ve only just swallowed your first spoonful of soup when Namjoon raises his phone again. “Sorry,” he says, sheepish. “Tae blinked, and it looks like you’re talking, {Name}. Mind if we try again?”
“Does it matter if we say no?” you grumble under your breath, just loud enough so that Jungkook overhears and nearly inhales his wine. The six of you settle in for the photo, and you’re immediately drawn to the way Namjoon wraps his free arm around Mia, careful not to weigh on the brown curls cascading down her back.
Jungkook seems to notice your stare, too. Slowly, his arm settles around your shoulders, his palm warm even through the velvety material of your dress. Instinctively, you lean a little closer, a smile curling your lips as you gaze up at the camera lens.
“Nice,” Namjoon declares, checking the photo he’s taken. He shows it to Mia before holding it up so everyone can see, and you have to admit that he’s right—it is nice. The warm golden glow of the brightly lit Christmas tree provides a perfect backdrop, and your smile—no matter how forced it felt—translates on camera as genuine. Beside you, Jungkook is grinning a grin that makes his upper lip disappear, his eyes crinkled into cheery crescents and his arm curled around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The sight is enough to warm your cheeks, and both your heart and lungs suddenly feel far too big for your chest.
The rest of the meal passes in a flurry of conversation and laughter. You’re in the middle of showing off the pockets on your dress when someone taps their fork against a glass once more, clearing their throat for attention.
“That’s our CFO,” you whisper to Jungkook as you twist in your seat. “There’s about a fifty-fifty chance that she’s already drunk off her ass.”
Jungkook follows the trajectory of your gaze to the woman onstage, her hair dyed the color of straw. “If that’s the case, I really need to step up my game. I’m way behind.”
You hide your smile behind your wine glass. “Really? I thought it was your responsibility to make sure I get home safe tonight.”
He winks. “Who says I can’t do both?”
The chief financial officer of your company starts talking, and you and Jungkook settle in to listen. A few more higher-ups follow, giving speeches of their own, before the CEO steps up and declares that the real party can now begin. Overhead, the chandeliers dim. An array of spotlights illuminate the band onstage, and they strike a merry opening chord before bursting into a brassy rendition of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”.
Beside you, Allie lets out an excited whoop and grabs Taehyung by the hand. Together, they whirl off onto the dance floor, their light-up necklaces twin kaleidoscopes of color, leaving you and Jungkook alone at the table with Namjoon and Mia. There’s a brief beat of awkward silence, filled only by the crooning of the lead singer and a jazzy keyboard riff.
And then Jungkook rises to his feet and offers you his palm in an open invitation. “Wanna dance?”
You take his proffered hand and let him pull you out of your chair. “Yeah. I’d love to.”
Hand in hand, the two of you meander through the throng of swaying bodies and find an open spot. Jungkook’s palm finds the curve of your waist, pulling you close, and you settle your hand onto the broad expanse of his shoulder. He’s warm and solid beneath your fingertips, his strong build unmistakable, and when he twines his fingers with yours, you smile.
“This is going much better than I thought it would,” you tell him. “You make a good fake boyfriend.”
Jungkook guides you into a spin, the skirt of your long, burgundy dress billowing outward. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“Good, because it was supposed to be.”
He flashes you a grin. The music changes—slowing to something softer and more intimate—and you let him pull you closer as his palm finds its way to the small of your back. Jungkook gazes down at you like you’re the only thing in the world, and for the briefest of moments, it’s all too easy to forget that this is all just a front—a show to sell to an unwitting audience of one.
“Do… do you think he’s watching?” you ask, tearing your gaze away from the freckle beneath his lip at last and twisting around to look for your ex-boyfriend and his companion. “I don’t see them at the table anymore.”
Jungkook frowns. “I’ll keep an eye out for him,” he promises. “Mia, too.”
You sigh at the mention of her name, equal parts annoyance and resignation. “God, Mia. She’s so fucking nice. I wish I could bring myself to hate her, but I can’t. I mean, you heard their story too, right? Childhood friends? Bumping into each other at the store? It’s straight out of a Hallmark movie. Not to mention all that talk about fate.”
Jungkook shrugs—his shoulder rising and falling beneath your palm. “I dunno—I kinda like the idea of fate. Knowing that you’re on the right path, and that you’re with the right person? It sounds really reassuring.”
You reach out and bat at his dangly silver earring playfully. “The right person? Wow, I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”
Jungkook grabs your hand and fixes you with a mock glare. “Hey, I get a little sentimental during the holidays. Sue me.”
Giggling, you pull out of his grasp and lay your hand back on his shoulder. The night continues, and a few more songs pass—the rhythms quickening and the volume swelling until conversation becomes impossible. Jungkook coaxes you into several more twirls, laughingly steadying you when you almost stumble into a neighboring couple, and you scowl at him mischievously before urging him into a spin of his own.
Eventually, your feet begin to ache in your heels. “Bar?” you ask, leaning in close so that Jungkook can hear you over the music. “My feet need a break.”
“Let’s go,” Jungkook agrees, releasing his grip on your waist. His other hand remains twined with yours, and you readily follow his lead as he weaves a path through the crowd and to the open bar in the corner.
You spend the rest of the evening at the table, chatting and drinking with your dark-haired roommate. The two of you delve into his bag of purloined candy, chocolate and artificial fruit flavors mingling with the alcohol on your tongue, and wine eventually turns into shots of hard liquor. By the time the party begins to wind down, Taehyung has to actively talk you into putting your shoes back on, having already gone through the hard work of retrieving them from under the table where you’d kicked them an hour earlier.
“Quit whining, you big baby,” Taehyung grunts, hauling you to your feet as an amused Allie watches on. “Jeez, I forgot how messy you get when you drink. Jungkook, are you sure you two are okay to get home?”
Jungkook has switched over to drinking water in the last hour, and nods as he knocks back the rest of his glass. “I’m good, don’t worry. I’ll get us back in one piece.”
“Thank god one of you is responsible,” Taehyung grumbles under his breath. You thwack him weakly on the shoulder in retaliation, stumbling slightly in the process, and Taehyung is all too happy to step aside when Jungkook winds a firm arm around your waist to keep you upright.
“Come on, babe,” he says, the words sounding almost affectionate to your inebriated mind. “Let’s get you home.”
Bidding Taehyung and Allie goodbye, Jungkook guides you back through the dance floor and to the entrance of the ballroom, chortling when you blindly grab a silver goody bag off the table. At the coat check, he provides both of your numbers to the attendant, never once relinquishing his grip on you as he waits for her to return. Sluggishly, you let your head fall against his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment’s reprieve from the bright lobby lights.
And then your muddled brain registers what you’d seen just before everything went dark. Jungkook jolts in surprise when you straighten up abruptly, your eyes blinking open, and he quickly follows your gaze over to the far end of the lobby where Namjoon and Mia are slowly making their way toward you.
There’s no doubt that they’re on their way to retrieve their own jackets. Mia already has both plastic cards in her hand, chattering away to her much taller companion, and you watch as he stoops down to hear her better over the hubbub of the other party guests. His cheeks dimple as he smiles at whatever it is she’s said, and your heart lurches unsteadily in your chest.
They’re at the counter of the coat check now, where you can just barely overhear Mia teasing Namjoon about his tendency to misplace things. She hands over their numbered cards before reaching up and poking gently at one of his dimples, and Namjoon bellows out a laugh and catches her by the wrist to tug her close. His fingers trail down and twine with her smaller ones, and when your gaze drops to their interlaced hands, you don’t even notice Jungkook slipping away.
Almost as if he senses your stare, Namjoon suddenly looks up and locks eyes with you. His expression is steady—calm, even—but your heart stutters to a halt at the look all the same. It’s as if someone has drenched you in ice water, and the chill sobers you up in an instant. Jungkook returns to your side, but you don’t pay him any mind, not even when he holds up your coat and tries to help you into it. Namjoon looks away and starts fiddling with his phone, but you don’t miss the way his gaze flits over to you every few seconds, as if checking on something. He’s always been dangerously perceptive, and you, unable to look at him anymore, turn instead to Jungkook and bury your face in his shoulder.
“Jungkook,” you mumble into the fabric of his turtleneck. “He’s watching us. Can you pretend I said something funny?”
Strong hands settle gently on your back, urging you to stand up straight so he can slip your arms into the sleeves of your overcoat. “I’ll do you one better,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin and igniting gooseflesh in its wake.
And then he’s winding his arms around your waist and pulling you in, until your back is flush against his chest and you can feel every breath he takes rising and falling in time to the rhythm of his heart.
If Namjoon glances your way again, you don’t notice. You’re too caught up in Jungkook—the warmth radiating from his skin, the steady beat of his heart, the soft floral scent of the fabric softener that lingers on his clothes. He holds you in his arms until his number is finally called, and when he releases you from his embrace to go fetch his jacket, you’re taken aback by how quickly the cold settles back into your bones.
There’s already a car waiting when you and Jungkook finally exit the hotel, its engine a low hum as it idles at the curb. Jungkook gallantly ushers you into the backseat first before clambering in afterward, and you do your best to ignore the way his thigh brushes repeatedly against yours every time the car turns a corner. For his part, Jungkook seems completely oblivious to the contact—apparently perfectly content to stare out the window at the passing city nightlife. “We made it through,” he remarks, his gaze never once wavering from the outside where snowflakes are beginning to drift down from the velvety black sky.
“Yeah. We did,” you murmur back.
So why, then, does your heart feel like it’s about to hammer its way out of your chest?
///
“Oh, fuck.”
Even after a night of sleep, your feet still ache. There’s a smudge of mascara on your pillowcase from where you didn’t wash off your makeup properly, and you’re fairly certain there’s a stray bobby pin or two lost somewhere in your hair, prodding harshly at your scalp every time you move. On top of all that, you’re hungover. Your head pounds as you blink against the sunlight filtering in through the crack in the blinds, your mouth as dry as the Sahara and your tongue feeling like sandpaper.
And yet, all of that fades away when you wake your phone screen once more, just to see that nothing has changed. Two new notifications still sit there, taunting you. Both are from your mother, and both, you’ve read and reread six times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming.
[10:45am] Mom: Young lady, just when were you going to mention the new boyfriend?
And:
[10:46am] Mom: Invite him to Christmas, we want to meet him!
For a few long minutes, you can only lay in bed, staring up at the white stucco ceiling and wondering what you can possibly do to remedy the situation. There’s the obvious solution, of course—but you would no doubt face a barrage of questions from your parents about the suddenness of your breakup. As well-meaning as your mother is, she’s never been one for tact, and your father is only the slightest bit more restrained. They’d only just stopped asking about Namjoon a few weeks ago, after all, and that was after you decided to lie and say the breakup was four months ago instead of a mere two.
And then there’s the alternative—bringing Jungkook home to meet your parents over the holidays. Already, you can imagine the prying questions your great aunt will barrage you with, not to mention all the ways your family will compare him—either silently or aloud—to Namjoon. After all, your ex had accompanied you to last year’s festivities, and you aren’t sure whether the sudden nausea bubbling up in your stomach is due to the memories or the hangover relentlessly pounding its erratic drumbeat against your skull.
Wincing, you reluctantly extricate yourself from your tangle of blankets, throwing your legs over the edge of the bed and rising to your feet. The throbbing ache at your temples dulls somewhat when you fix the crack in your blinds, and you pad wearily over to your en suite bathroom, forgoing the light switch and relying on the dimmed daylight that filters in from your bedroom.
It takes a generous swish of mouthwash and several layers of chapstick for you to feel somewhat human again. Pulling on some leggings and an old oversized sweatshirt, you open up your bedroom door and head across the living area to Jungkook’s bedroom, listening outside his door for a few seconds before giving it a tentative knock. You wonder if he’s awake yet.
Your question is answered a moment later, when Jungkook’s voice calls out from within, perfectly clear and lucid. “Come in!”
The first thing you notice when you enter his bedroom is how tidy everything is. Since you started living together, you’ve caught the occasional glimpse inside, but Jungkook tends to keep his door shut for the most part and you haven’t had much reason to enter before now. His bed is perhaps the one thing that stands out, his sheets messily strewn across the mattress, but you take a second to admire the immaculately folded laundry on the ottoman in the corner and the row of neatly hung clothes peeking out from his closet. Then you wander across the room to the desk where your roommate is currently hunched, peering intently at his computer monitor from behind round wire-rimmed glasses that you’ve only seen him don once before.
“Morning,” he says as you come to a stop beside him. “Sorry if I woke you up—my headset broke.”
It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about his video game, which, upon closer inspection, he has turned to the lowest possible volume setting on his computer. “No, that wasn’t it,” you reassure, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “My phone woke me up. That’s why I’m here, actually.”
Jungkook reaches into the pocket of his gray sweatpants, his eyes going wide as he fumbles for his phone. “Oh, shit. I didn’t buttdial you, did I?”
“Nothing like that,” you tell him, chuckling before the seriousness of the situation settles back in. Clearing your throat, you wake your phone screen and read the two messages there for the seventh time before looking up at him again. “It’s, uh. It’s my mom. She saw the photos I’ve been posting of you lately, and… she sorta invited you over. For Christmas.”
Jungkook freezes, his hand still in his pocket. His lips part but no words come out, and you quickly rush to fill the awkward silence with anything and everything that pops into your head.
“You don’t have to come, obviously! It’s honestly a huge ordeal, and even I don’t want to spend an entire weekend with my entire extended family. You know how families can be, right? They’ve all got their own brand of crazy. We can have a messy, public breakup and put this whole thing behind us.” You pause to take a breath, and slap a hand to your forehead in realization. “Wait, what am I even saying? You’re probably visiting your own family over the holidays. Wow. Okay. Just ignore me and forget I said anything. I’ll tell my mom you can’t come.”
Jungkook clears his throat. “Actually, that’s not true. My parents are celebrating their thirty-year anniversary in Bora Bora. They won’t be back until New Year’s, so that’s when I’m going to visit.”
You blink. “Wait, really? Were you planning on spending Christmas alone?”
Jungkook shrugs. “It’s just another day, isn’t it? No big deal.”
“Still.” You shake your head, and wince when the movement only serves to worsen your headache. “You shouldn’t have to spend the holidays alone. If you don’t have anything else going on, well… just know that you have an open invitation to my place. My parents are fantastic cooks, and I don’t want you eating ramen for Christmas dinner.”
Jungkook leans back in his chair and huffs out a chuckle. “You make it sound so depressing.”
“That’s because it is depressing.”
“Fair point.”
You smile at his easy admission, and wave your phone. “So? What do you think? Weekend with my crazy family?”
“Weekend with your crazy family,” Jungkook confirms, and you grin.
“Guess our messy breakup will have to wait, then.”
“Guess so,” he agrees quietly.
Turning on your heel, you exit Jungkook’s bedroom, texting your mom back and confirming your additional guest. Your phone buzzes again just as you hit send, and you curiously navigate over to the new notification to open it.
[11:01am] Jiminnie 🐭: r u alive?
Barely, you write back, rubbing your temples.
[11:02am] Jiminnie 🐭: lmao. k then. brunch in 20? the usual place?
[11:02am] You: yes please.
///
Two days before the drive to your parents’ house, you finally finish buying all of your Christmas presents. Sprawled out in the middle of the living room floor, you stare beseechingly at the array of gifts, surrounded by a graveyard of unusable wrapping paper shreds. Wrapping presents has never been a strong suit of yours, and you’re teetering on the verge of giving up entirely when your phone begins buzzing insistently from within your pocket.
“Jimin,” you sigh when you see his grinning contact photo filling your screen, swiping to answer the call. “What’s up?”
“Did you get my text?” Jimin asks, not even bothering with a hello.
Confused, you put him on speaker and thumb over to your messages. “Uh, no? I don’t even think my phone went off.”
Jimin curses, and you hear him fumble for a moment before his voice comes through the receiver again. “What about now?”
Your phone vibrates, and you quickly open up the text. “What is this? Are you in a dressing room?” you ask, taking in the attached photographs. The first is of your best friend in a sharp black suit, the black shirt underneath billowy and barely opaque. In the second, he’s wearing dangerously tight jeans and an embellished black leather jacket, layered over a white t-shirt with a familiar brand name boldly emblazoned across the front. “Is that Gucci?”
“Yes and yes,” Jimin answers. “I have that stupid fucking high school reunion over the holidays, remember? Which outfit screams, I’m sexier and more successful than you now? I need a second opinion.”
“A second opinion on which outfit makes your dick look best, you mean,” you grumble. Nonetheless, you open up the first photo again, zooming in on the more intricate details of the outfit and avoiding the bulge near his crotch at all costs. You’re about to switch over to the second when the front door flies open, letting in a blast of icy air and a disheveled looking Jungkook, struggling under the weight of an armful of shopping bags that looks to be about twice his size.
Apparently, you’ve been quiet too long for Jimin’s liking, because his voice filters through the speaker in a petulant whine. “Hello? I sent you my dick. Please respond.”
You’re already halfway to your feet, dropping your phone on the couch in your rush to shut the door. “Stop trying to sext me right now, I don’t need this!” you throw over your shoulder as you relieve your windswept roommate of two shopping bags and set them safely on the ground. Jungkook lowers the rest to the carpeted floor with a heavy sigh, pulling off his beanie and shaking out his hair, and you lock the front door before turning to face him again. “Are you okay?” you ask.
Jungkook nods and offers you a crooked, sheepish grin. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s freezing outside, so I really wanted to get everything inside in one trip.” Then he glances back at where your phone has fallen between the couch cushions, his brows furrowing in concern. “I, uh, didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”
You laugh, walking back over to the couch to fish your phone out. “You’re not interrupting anything, trust me. Jimin’s just trying to decide what to wear to his high school reunion.”
“Really?” Jungkook lugs four bags into the kitchen, leaving them on the counter before picking up the other three and joining you in the living room. “You’re actually going to yours?”
“That’s what I said!” you exclaim. “Why are you even bothering with the whole reunion thing? Do you really want to see these people?”
“I have my reasons,” Jimin sniffs defensively. “Now, are you gonna tell me which outfit you like better or not?”
Several minutes later and after some very careful inspection of the two photos, both you and Jungkook give Jimin your final verdict. “The suit makes you look like you’re trying too hard,” you tell him, holding the phone between you and Jungkook so he can pipe in if he wants to. “The dick-hugging jeans, on the other hand, are pretty much perfect for what you’re going for.”
“I like the jeans too,” Jungkook says. “Not that I was really paying attention to how your dick looked in them, but if {Name} says so, then I believe her.”
You laugh. “Get the jeans, Minnie. And hurry up, while you’re at it. Don’t you have a plane to catch?”
“I have plenty of time,” Jimin says dismissively. Nonetheless, he bids you both goodbye and hangs up, leaving you alone with Jungkook, six tubes of messily shredded wrapping paper, and the haphazard stack of shopping bags he’s left in the middle of the floor next to yours.
“So… what exactly happened here?” Jungkook asks dryly, picking up a spool of bright red ribbon and ripping off the tape dispenser that’s somehow adhered itself to one side. “It looks like a war zone, and clearly, you lost.”
“Things may have gotten away from me a little bit,” you admit. Disbelief etches across your roommate’s face, and you sigh and quickly amend your statement. “Okay, fine. A lot a bit.”
“{Name}, it looks like something died in here.”
“It does not! Stop exaggerating, you big meanie.”
Jungkook snorts out a loud laugh. Plopping down on the floor, he clears out a space beside him and gestures for you to sit down. “I can’t believe you just called me a meanie,” he says, still chuckling. “Are we in elementary school?”
You sit down in the spot he indicated, crossing your legs and picking up a rather mangled looking bow. “No, but maybe I need to go back. Art class clearly didn’t stick.”
“Funny, art class was always my favorite. That, and music. Speaking of which—” Jungkook whips out his phone and taps at the screen, until the first strains of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” filter through the speakers on either side of the television. “To set the mood,” he explains, tucking his phone away again.
“Very festive,” you remark, bobbing your head along to the addictive melody.
Together, the two of you start wrapping your presents, passing the tape dispenser back and forth. Jungkook is the first one to start humming under his breath, drumming his fingers quietly against his knee, and it isn’t long before you’re both belting along to the music. Grabbing an empty wrapping paper tube, you cut it in half and throw him one end, holding yours up to your mouth like a makeshift microphone. Deftly, he catches it, spinning it between his fingers before closing his eyes for his dramatic, crooning rendition of “Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire”.
Jungkook has a pleasant singing voice. You’ve heard him singing in the shower more than a dozen times by this point, but it still sometimes catches you unawares. A soothing, mellow tenor, his voice is one that melds perfectly with every track and every genre, and you gradually trail off in your own singing to listen to him, uninterrupted. Every so often, he adds a little embellishment or harmony, and you’re so caught up in his performance of “Silent Night” that you forget about the task at hand.
That is, until the task at hand makes itself known again—in the form of a piece of wrapping paper slicing the pad of your index finger open. “Ow!” you exclaim, jerking away from the offending material, and Jungkook stops mid-verse with worry creasing his expression.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, scooting closer when he sees the way you’re clutching your finger. “Did you cut yourself?”
You nod, and wince when a drop of bright red blood wells up in the thin wound. “Yeah, but it’s just a papercut, no biggie. I’m just gonna go grab a band-aid real quick, and—”
Jungkook hops to his feet before you can even finish your sentence and heads for the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with the first-aid kit that you keep stowed beneath the sink. “Give me your hand,” he says, and when you hesitate, he kneels down beside you and lifts your hand himself, his palm engulfing you as he examines the tip of your finger.
“Huh,” he says after a few seconds. “This probably doesn’t need to be disinfected, but better safe than sorry.” Uncapping a tube of antibiotic ointment, he carefully dabs some on with a cotton pad. He winds a band-aid around your finger once he’s finished, and you try and fail to quell the sudden uptick in your heart rate at his delicate care.
“I-I could’ve taken care of it,” you mumble, looking anywhere but at him.
Jungkook shrugs and stands back up to return the first-aid kit to its proper place. “It’s no big deal,” he says. “I was gonna go grab some water, anyway. You want anything while I’m up?”
Silently, you shake your head, and he hums out a soft okay before returning to the kitchen. The cabinet under the sink opens, the faulty bottom hinge that you haven’t gotten around to fixing squeaking in protest, before the faucet turns on. And when he rejoins you in the living room, you see that he has two glasses of water, watching as he sets one down on the coffee table beside you.
“Just in case you get thirsty,” he says simply.
Touched by his thoughtfulness, you raise the glass to your lips and take a sip. “Thanks.”
For the next few minutes, the two of you wrap presents in relative silence, the rustling of paper and ribbon backed by Jungkook’s holiday playlist. It isn’t until Jungkook clears his throat that you look up from where you’re trying in vain to cover a stuffed elephant plushie in wrapping paper, tilting your head in silent inquiry.
Jungkook clears his throat again, hiding both hands behind his back. “You can’t see this last one,” he says. “It’s yours.”
“Oh!” Immediately, you cover your eyes. “Do you want me to turn around?”
He laughs. “Only if you’re going to try and peek.”
“Hey now, your present’s been in my room for days. How do I know you haven’t snuck a look at it?”
“Maybe I did,” he teases. “Maybe I was wondering about how you managed to wrap it without my help.”
You huff, your hands still slapped over your eyes. “Okay, first of all? Rude. And second of all, now I know you didn’t peek. I put your present in a gift bag.”
Jungkook bursts into laughter—high and bright. A few more seconds of rustling later, he tells you that you can open your eyes again, and you immediately spot the little package sitting atop his pile of gifts, wrapped neatly in shiny gold paper.
“We should put these under the tree,” you remark softly, gesturing at the fake plastic monstrosity that you’d gotten on sale two years ago. Between the five strings of lights and all the ornaments, you’ve managed to get it looking decent enough, and with the addition of both your and Jungkook’s gifts beneath the evergreen branches, it makes for a lovely sight.
Whether it’s a lovelier sight than your roommate, though—his honeyed skin glowing in the illumination of the string lights and his dark hair haloed in gold—you cannot quite say.
///
“You know, it’s not too late to turn around.”
Jungkook chuckles and makes the turn into your parents’ neighborhood, guided by your reluctant directions and the monotone voice of his phone’s GPS. “Really? You want me to turn around right now and drive an hour back to our place?”
“Fifty minutes,” you grumble under your breath. Nonetheless, you sink back into your seat and watch as the house you grew up in comes into view, the rooftop and the tree out front laden with accumulated snow and strung with multicolored lights. Jungkook pulls smoothly into the driveway, and you turn to face him as he puts his car into park and turns off the engine. “Remember—they think we’ve been together for two months.”
He nods. “Yep.”
“And you remember our story, right?”
Jungkook huffs out a laugh. “Are you going to keep delaying the inevitable? Come on, let’s hurry and get inside. It's freezing out here.”
You suck in a deep breath. “Fine,” you relent, climbing out of his beat-up sedan and pulling open the backseat door to fetch the two bags of presents that you’ve brought. Jungkook, for his part, has three bottles of wine tucked safely into a colorful paper bag, as well as a potted poinsettia that he’d picked up from the grocery store yesterday.
“You bought pinot grigio for my mom, right? And white zinfandel for Great Aunt Martha?”
“Yes, and yes. I also have a cabernet sauvignon for any red wine drinkers.” Jungkook nods at the bag swinging from his hand. “Quit worrying, seriously. You’re gonna go prematurely gray.”
“The last few weeks have already cut five years off my lifespan,” you grouse under your breath. Nonetheless, you lead him up the walkway to the front door, and Jungkook chuckles when you ram the doorbell with your elbow, your hands too full to lift a finger.
Not two seconds later, the door flies open, revealing both of your parents standing there. “You’re early!” your mother exclaims, ushering you and Jungkook inside. “Come in, come in—it’s cold out there! Don’t forget to wipe off your feet. And this must be Jungkook!”
You swallow and nod. “Yeah, this is Jungkook. Jungkook—this is my mom and dad.”
Politely, Jungkook inclines his head, the strands of hair that have come loose from his ponytail falling across his forehead. “It’s very nice to finally meet you,” he says. “Thank you for having me.”
“Nonsense,” your dad says, clapping him on the back. “We’re excited to have you. Come on in—you can leave your shoes and coat over here.” Turning to you, he takes the presents off your hands. “I’ll go ahead and put these under the tree for you, honey.”
You smile at him. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You brought gifts?” Your mom steps closer, glancing into your bags before looking over at Jungkook again. Silently, she sizes him up before peering into the bag he’s holding, a slow smile curving her lips as she takes in its contents. “This is very sweet of you, dear. You shouldn’t have.”
Jungkook smiles shyly and tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “It’s no problem,” he says. “Just something small to thank you for your hospitality.”
Your mom laughs and relieves him of the bag, ushering both of you into the kitchen. “We’re happy to have you, believe me.” Removing the poinsettia plant, she sets it on the windowsill above the sink and adds the wine to the impressive display already lining the countertop. You follow her to the sink to wash your hands, and Jungkook trails after you like a shadow.
“So, how’s dinner coming along? you ask as you lather the lemon-scented soap between your palms. “Can we help with anything?”
Your mother nods, pulling two aprons off of a nearby chair and handing one over to each of you. Yours is a decades-old one that you’ve had since you were a child, tie-dyed rainbow with the help of your parents and embroidered with your name in orange thread. The other is pastel pink with white daisies, and you stifle a giggle as Jungkook pulls it over his all-black ensemble and ties the ribbons behind his back. He’s dressed a little less casually than you’re used to—a billowy collared shirt tucked into slim black jeans—but the Timberlands and the swirling ink coiling around his right wrist remain the same as ever and contrast starkly with the bright floral pattern of the apron. Jungkook catches your eye and arches a brow, as if daring you to comment, and you stick your tongue out at him playfully before turning to a nearby drawer and selecting a knife from within.
“I’ll start dicing these potatoes,” you say, gesturing at the pile on the counter.
“I can do the onions,” Jungkook volunteers immediately, following your lead and grabbing a knife of his own. “Is there a bowl I can put them in?”
“They should be right there,” you tell him, pointing at the cabinet he’s standing in front of, and you’re proven correct when he opens it and lets out a satisfied aha! The kitchen quickly fills with the rhythmic sound of chopping, pausing every now and then when your parents request help with something else.
Cooking with Jungkook isn’t new. The two of you cook together more often than not, having quickly realized that it saves both time and money, especially when you make enough dinner to have leftovers for lunch the next day. It’s been about five weeks since you started sharing meals and grocery lists, but you’ve developed a certain level of comfort and ease in that time, a certain ebb and flow in the way you move about the kitchen.
But here in your parents’ home, everything feels different. The kitchen is more spacious, and all of the utensils are in different places. And that’s not even factoring in the fact that you can feel your parents staring when they think you aren’t paying attention, their gazes lingering too long and too often.
It’s a welcome relief, then, when the doorbell rings. Your father heads off to answer it, but the front door swings open before he can even lay a hand on the knob, letting in a gust of chilly air and a small horde of cousins ranging from ages four to thirteen. “Oh god, they’re all here,” you lament under your breath. Tossing a quick prayer up to whatever deities may exist, you take Jungkook by the hand and lead him into the foyer to meet the rest of your family.
“So this is the new boyfriend,” your Great Aunt Martha declares upon your arrival, looking Jungkook up and down. “He’s handsome, I’ll give him that. Not sure about all those tattoos, though.” Then she squints, her eyes narrowing behind the tortoiseshell pattern of her horn-rimmed glasses. “How long did you say you two have been together?”
Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. “Just about two months, now.”
Great Aunt Martha harrumphs. “And how did you meet? Was it that Timber website?”
“Tinder,” you correct. “And, no. We met through Jimin, actually. They went to school together.”
That seems to satisfy her for the time being. Gradually, your family members disperse around the house—some coming to the kitchen to help while others head off to the living room where the television is playing reruns of A Christmas Story. Your grandparents—who live a block away from your parents—brew some tea and take a seat on the couch to rest. All of your cousins disappear somewhere, intent on wreaking the sort of havoc that only children can. If there’s one benefit to a massive family gathering, it’s that the focus is no longer squarely on you and Jungkook. Relief floods through your system as you finally let go of Jungkook’s hand, the two of you now standing alone in the foyer.
“That went well, I think.”
He nods. “No way I’m going to remember all those names, though.”
“Luckily, I don’t think anyone’s expecting you to,” you tell him with a grin. “But I’ll whisper in your ear or send you a text if I have to.”
By the time you return to the kitchen, dinner is nearly ready. Your mother is carefully slicing the roast while your father arranges side dishes in their respective platters. Great Aunt Martha paces around barking orders like a drill sergeant, which are ignored for the most part and halt entirely when your dad brings her a large glass of chilled white zinfandel.
“She always puts a single ice cube in her wine,” you whisper to Jungkook, who snorts out a loud laugh and has to disguise it as a cough. “I don’t know why.”
“It must be an aunt thing,” he whispers back. “Mine does the same thing with merlot.”
With the help of a few aunts and uncles, as well as some of the older cousins, the table in the dining room is set. A smaller table in the adjoining living room is designated for the kids, laid out with a plastic tablecloth and a stack of shatter-proof plates and cutlery. Your Aunt Donna calls for the cousins to come and get their food, and immediately from somewhere upstairs come the pitter-patter of running footsteps. The kids jostle each other as they pick out their plates, and a minor squabble breaks out between the two youngest, Molly and Sadie, when they both want the pink one.
Eventually, everyone picks out their food and takes it back to their table, leaving room for the adults to sit down. Your seat ends up being between Jungkook and your Gram Gram, who smiles and pats your cheek fondly as you pull out her chair for her.
“So, Jungkook!” your father says as he takes the seat opposite you. “Tell us about yourself. What do you do for a living?”
Jungkook nearly chokes on his wine when all eyes turn to him, but he recovers quickly and wipes at his mouth with a festive red and green napkin. “I work in IT,” he says. “I’ve always been good with computers, so it was the natural choice.”
“Did I hear you say that you went to school with the Park boy?” your dad asks. “Bill went there too, didn’t you, Bill?”
Your Uncle Bill nods. “That’s right—class of ‘89. How’d you like it?”
As the two begin talking about their alma mater, you tune out of the conversation. Jungkook seems to be winning everyone over with ease, and the anxiety that’s been gnawing at your ribcage since you arrived slowly begins to wane. Maybe this weekend won’t be so bad, after all, you reason as you pour yourself another glass of wine.
“Enough of all that nonsense!” Great Aunt Martha interrupts Jungkook’s conversation with your uncle mid-sentence and snaps her fingers as if summoning a dog. “When are you two kids getting hitched?”
The entire room goes silent. Even the dull hum of the television and the chatter from the kids’ table seems to fade. Mortified, you open your mouth to chastise your great aunt, but no words come out and you’re left gaping like a fish out of water, your cheeks aflame.
Much to your surprise, Jungkook just laughs. Gently, he reaches over to take your hand, his touch warm and reassuring as his fingers settle into the spaces between your own, and you glance up at him tentatively as he answers. “I think it’s a little too early for that,” he says, his smile soft and lingering. “But I’d like to get married one day.”
Great Aunt Martha settles back into her chair and takes a swig of her wine, the half-melted ice cube inside bobbing. “The sooner the better, I say.”
“That’s hardly up to you, Martha,” your mother cuts in, much to your relief. “They’ve only been dating a few months. You’re going to scare the poor boy off.”
With that, the conversation veers off in a different direction, and thankfully away from the topic of your and Jungkook’s supposedly pending nuptials. The evening wears on, dessert is brought out, and your father goes around the table topping off everyone’s glass as you help your mother load up the dishwasher.
By the time your relatives decide to call it a night, it’s nearly ten o’clock. The cousins are playing board games in the living room, a few of the younger ones stealing not-so-surreptitious glances at the sizable pile of presents beneath the Christmas tree in the corner. It’s tradition for the children to sleep over at your house, as the host of this year’s Christmas festivities, and already they’ve laid out their sleeping bags and pillows in preparation for a long night of staying up late to catch Santa in action. Upstairs, your parents have prepared the guest room for Aunt Donna and Uncle Bill to spend the night as well, since they flew in from the other side of the country. The rest of your relatives, however, live within a five-minute radius and can get home easily enough. Already, your Gram Gram is pulling on her thick wool coat in preparation for the short trek down the block, her husband rushing to her aid when the sleeves get tangled.
“Your bedroom is all set up, honey,” your mother tells you as she puts the last of the leftovers in the refrigerator. “You two can head on up whenever you’d like.”
You glance over at the front door where Jungkook has just come in from unloading your suitcases out of the trunk of his car, your heart rate picking up a notch when you see that he’s rolled his sleeves up to reveal the ink coiling around his right forearm. “Right,” you murmur. “My bedroom. Thanks, Mom.”
She smiles. “Sleep tight, hon.”
“You should really get some rest, too.”
“I will.”
You peck her on the cheek. “You’d better.” Turning, you join Jungkook in the foyer to bid your Gram Gram and Gramps goodbye, hugging each of them in turn and promising that you’ll see them both tomorrow. The rest of your relatives are likewise putting on their coats and shoes, and you say all your farewells before taking your suitcase from Jungkook and lugging it up the stairs.
You’ve only just made it past the first step, Jungkook trailing on your heels, when your father lets out a loud bellow of laughter and calls your name.
Bemused, you turn to face him again. “What is it?”
Your father grins, pointing. “Look up,” he says, and your stomach sinks like a stone as you follow the trajectory of his finger up to the little green sprig dangling from the ceiling just above the stairwell.
“Oh.” You glance at Jungkook, who’s staring up at the mistletoe with an expression that can only be described as a deer caught in headlights of an oncoming truck. He’s standing one step below you, making his head just about level with yours, and you worry your bottom lip anxiously between your teeth as his gaze slides down to meet yours.
“On the cheek?” he suggests softly, and you nod. Gingerly, you lean forward, your lips brushing just above the angle of his jawline.
A chorus of boos rises up from the bottom of the staircase, and you belatedly realize that your cousins have joined the throng of people in the foyer at some point. “Kiss him for real!” Molly trills, stamping her little socked foot against the carpet, her pink pajamas bright as a beacon.
“On the mouth!” Great Aunt Martha agrees, her words slurring together ever so slightly from the full bottle of white zinfandel she’s consumed.
Helplessly, you shrug at Jungkook, who smiles crookedly at you in return. “Guess we don’t have much of a choice, huh?”
“The hyperfixation on watching us kiss is weird, don’t you think?” you ask, trying to make light of the situation even as he leans in.
“Very weird,” he breathes. And then his lips are on yours—warm and soft and just the tiniest bit chapped. He’s applying the gentlest amount of pressure, fainter than a whisper of wind, but it still manages to leave you breathless in a way that has you clutching at his shoulders for support.
All too soon, the kiss comes to an end. Jungkook’s cheeks are flushed when he pulls away, and you’re just about ready to sink through the floorboards when one of your older cousins wolf whistles at the display. “Okay, that’s enough humiliation for one night,” your father decides, taking pity on your embarrassed state and ushering everyone away. “Goodnight, you two.”
“Night,” you croak before making a break for it. Jungkook trails you like a silent shadow as you throw open the door of your childhood bedroom, your face still burning at the memory of his mouth against your own. Letting your suitcase fall to the floor, you flop down onto the edge of the bed, finally working up the nerve to look at your companion.
“This doesn’t have to be weird, right?” you ask, and you wonder if Jungkook can hear the desperation seeping into your voice. “We just have to get through tomorrow, and the morning after that. Then we’ll be on our way home, where everything can go back to normal.”
Jungkook sits down beside you, leaving ample room between you to comfortably seat a third person. “Sure,” he says. “We’re roommates, right? This—” he gestures at the full-sized bed you’re both sitting on, “—doesn’t have to be weird.”
“Right,” you agree. “We’re just… sharing. A room.”
“A bed,” Jungkook says at the same time.
You clear your throat, fiddling nervously with the edge of your sweater. “Right.”
Fortunately, your bedroom has an en suite bathroom, keeping you safe from the prying eyes of your family as you and Jungkook take turns getting ready for bed. You change into your pajamas—an old t-shirt and a pair of soft fabric shorts—and exit the bathroom to see Jungkook sitting awkwardly on the floor at the foot of the bed, his hair now loose and falling across his forehead in loose waves.
“I didn’t know which side of the bed you wanted,” he says, rising to his feet and pocketing his phone. He’s wearing checkered flannel pants and a plain white tee, and you glance down self-consciously at your own bare legs. “Do you have a preference?”
Quickly, you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter,” you tell him. “Pick whatever side you want.”
Jungkook shrugs. “The left, I guess.”
You nod and head for the right side. “Okay.”
Silently, the two of you take a few minutes to organize your suitcases, laying out clothes for tomorrow and plugging in your phones to charge. Finally, when the inevitable can be delayed no longer, you turn toward the bed, carefully lifting up a corner of the blanket and crawling underneath.
“I guess we should get some sleep,” you murmur.
Jungkook joins you under the covers, ensuring that every part of his body remains firmly on his half of the bed. “Probably.”
You swallow, and turn to switch off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight, then.”
The room goes dark, and you feel the mattress shift as Jungkook turns away from you. “Goodnight,” he whispers back.
Minutes pass, and Jungkook’s breathing slowly evens out. Around you, the rest of the house settles into silence, with nary even a peep coming from the little cousins camping downstairs. You remain awake though—painfully aware of the heat radiating from the slumbering body beside you and the erratic tempo of your heart thudding in your ears. Vaguely, you wonder if you’ll have to resort to counting sheep.
After what feels like an eternity, you finally drift off into a fitful slumber. And when you dream, you dream of Jungkook and his lips, warm and sweet against your own.
///
“PRESENTS!”
Your eyes fly open at the piercing shriek, just barely catching a glimpse of bright red pajamas before the perpetrator dashes out of the bedroom and slams the door behind them. Groaning, you flump back against your pillow and cast an apologetic look at Jungkook, who’s slowly beginning to stir awake beside you. “Who was that?” he mumbles blearily, stifling a yawn behind his palm.
“I’m not sure,” you admit. “Mason? Maybe Dakota? It was one of the smaller ones.”
Jungkook hums, both of his eyes falling shut once more. Peace falls over your bedroom once again, lasting for all of three seconds before Jungkook shoots upright and nearly falls off the bed. “I-I—” he stammers, looking utterly horrified. “This isn’t—I mean, I’m not—” He groans. “Fuck. This just happens sometimes, I swear.”
The reason for his awkward stammering and averted gaze is beginning to dawn, your eyes trailing southward. There’s an unmistakable bulge tenting the blanket where Jungkook’s crotch is, and you squeak before slapping both your hands over your eyes as if that will somehow dispel the image that’s now imprinted on your lids. “Oh my god! Can you go, I don’t know, take care of that?”
Jungkook practically flies off the bed, grabbing his pillow and pressing it over his crotch. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m just gonna… I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he stammers, his face crimson as he stumbles over his opened suitcase and strews neatly folded clothing every which way. “Fuck. Shit. Just, uh—can we forget this ever happened?”
“Consider it forgotten,” you tell him, still determinedly looking anywhere but at him. “Can you go now, please?”
You hear him shuffle off, and the bathroom door clicks shut a moment later. Exhaling heavily, you let your head sink back into your pillow, trying to ignore the sound of the shower turning on in the adjoining room and trying even harder to suppress the barrage of unwelcome thoughts infiltrating your brain. The carnal images that flash through your mind are vivid in their obscenity, and it takes every last ounce of willpower to push aside the little voice in your head that croons for you to join him in the shower and drop to your knees to help him out.
You can’t quite look Jungkook in the eye when he exits the bathroom, now fully dressed in faded jeans and an oversized cable-knit sweater the color of fresh cream. Instead, you wordlessly grab the bundle of clothes you’d laid out last night and brush past him to use the bathroom, hoping that a shower of your own will wash away any and all images you’ve managed to conjure of Jungkook’s cock.
Your parents are sitting at the kitchen table with your grandparents by the time you and Jungkook head downstairs for breakfast. In the living room, a few cousins are still stirring awake, batting grumpily at their younger counterparts who keep shaking their shoulders and trying to crawl into their sleeping bags.
“Good morning,” Jungkook greets politely, keeping his voice down, and your mother beams and immediately jumps to her feet to open the refrigerator.
“We have milk and all kinds of juice in here, so help yourself, dear,” she tells him. “Coffee’s in the pot—it’s still hot if you want it. The pancakes and bacon are being kept warm in the oven, plates are over there, and feel free to make some eggs if you want them.”
Jungkook shakes his head, his damp hair flying every which way. “This is more than enough. Thank you so much.”
Your father chooses that moment to speak up. “How did you two kids sleep?”
“Like a log,” Jungkook answers, and you nod your agreement even though it’s a lie.
“Yeah. We slept really well.”
“Good, good.” Your dad stands up and meanders over to the coffeemaker to refill his mug, and you follow after him to grab two plates. Jungkook joins you at the counter as you load them up with pancakes, drenching his in syrup and grabbing a few slices of bacon.
From the other room, you hear the patter of approaching footsteps before Sadie comes zooming in. The five-year-old goes sliding across the tiled floor, trailed by Molly and Dakota a few seconds later, and your father fixes all of them with a stern look as they bounce excitedly on their heels.
“Is it time to open presents?” Sadie asks eagerly, lacing her hands in front of her chest.
Molly gazes up at your parents with wide, pleading eyes. “Pretty, pretty please?”
Your dad scoops the little girl up, easily lifting the four-year-old in her pink unicorn pajamas. “You haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, young lady.”
Molly giggles when he bops her on the nose. “But Uncle, it’s Christmas!”
He chuckles. “You’re right. How about this, then—you can each have one piece of candy from your stocking. But then you have to eat some breakfast, okay?”
All three children cheer. Sadie and Dakota run off again, and Molly follows soon after once your dad sets her back down. “Honey, do me a favor,” he says, and this time, he’s addressing you. “Go and keep an eye on those kids, will you? Try and make sure they don’t eat all their candy in one sitting.”
“On it,” you tell him with a laugh. “Wanna help, Jungkook?”
Your dark-haired companion, who has just taken an enormous bite out of his pancakes, nods and struggles to swallow the food down. Kindly, you pour him a mug of coffee and hand it over, earning yourself a grateful grin from him as he takes a sip. Together, the two of you head into the living room, picking your way through the sea of sleeping bags to an empty spot on the couch and watching as your cousins grab their stockings off the fireplace and fish out the candy from within.
The sun crawls higher in the sky as morning wears on. Breakfast is a messy, chaotic affair, but everyone—the kids included—eventually gets some food into their bellies. All of your relatives have returned to the house, and your father finally gathers everyone around the Christmas tree to take a group photo. You and Jungkook find yourselves seated on the carpeted floor with the rest of the kids as he sets the automatic timer on his camera, having long since given up your spot on the couch to your older family members.
Once the photo is taken, Sadie raises her hand. “Can we open the presents now?”
Her mother, and your Aunt Donna, pretends to consider it. “Oh, I suppose.”
A delighted cheer goes up from the children, and you watch on, amused, as wrapping paper begins to fly in every direction. The cousins with more of a sweet tooth empty the rest of the contents of their stockings, and quickly begin trading for their favorite types of candy. Delighted shouts and laughter pierce the air, and a few minutes into the festivities, little Molly breaks free of the hubbub and approaches the spot where you and Jungkook are seated.
“This is for you,” she says, offering you one of the miniature chocolate bars clutched in her fist. Then she turns to Jungkook shyly, a little smile curling her lips. “And this one’s for you, because {Name} likes you. And that means I like you, too.”
Jungkook looks rather taken aback as he accepts the candy she hands over, his eyes growing wide before he offers her a broad smile and a quiet murmur of thanks. Molly stares at him for a few moments longer, her head tilted, and you’re just about to ask if she needs anything else when she suddenly reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of toffee. “You’re pretty,” she remarks to Jungkook as she unwraps it and shoves it into her mouth. “Just like a prince.”
Great Aunt Martha, who’s seated nearby, overhears her statement and chooses that moment to butt in. “Boys are handsome, dear. Not pretty.”
Jungkook shrugs his shoulders and unwraps his chocolate bar. “I don’t mind being called pretty. Thank you, Molly. You’re very pretty too.”
She giggles. “Do you think {Name}’s pretty?”
You stiffen at the mention of your name, but Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s the prettiest girl in the world,” he says, and the ease with which he says it has your chest feeling dangerously tight. Molly, apparently now done with the conversation, returns to her presents, and you pull out your phone and scroll through your notifications in an attempt to avoid looking at your companion. There’s a few Merry Christmases from your friends, and a selfie from Jimin that depicts him sitting in front of his family’s lit-up tree and drinking straight out of a bottle of champagne. You’re about to open up Instagram to see if kimdaily has posted anything recently, when Jungkook calls your name.
“You should open your presents,” he says when you look up, sliding over a small pile of wrapped packages and gift bags. “Here. I found a few with your name on them.”
Your gaze flits from tag to tag, finally alighting on the little golden one that says To {Name}, From Jungkook. “You should open yours, too,” you tell him, locating the bright purple bag you’d put his gift in and extricating it from beneath the tree. “Here.”
He murmurs a thank you, his face creasing into a smile, and you watch him rifle through the bag for a moment before peeling back the golden paper that he’s wrapped your present in. The box inside is made of nondescript white cardboard, and your jaw drops open when you remove the lid.
“How—how did you know I wanted this?”
Jungkook fiddles with his hair, tucking a few loose strands behind his ear. “I saw you eyeing it a few weeks ago, when we were walking home from the bowling alley. And then again, after we went to dinner. Do you like it?”
You run a fingertip along the ridges of the knit scarf, admiring the pattern and the softness of the yarn. “I love it, Jungkook. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, his smile broadening as he turns his attention back to your gift. The last bits of tissue paper fall away, and his eyes widen like saucers when he reads the label of the box. “Hang on. Did you buy me a new headset?”
You nod. “Yeah. You mentioned that yours broke, right?”
“Yeah, but…” He trails off. “Wow. Thank you, really. These aren’t cheap. I was going to pick up a pair during the summer sale.”
“I found a coupon, don’t worry,” you tell him with a laugh. “I’m just glad I bought the right kind.”
He grins. “And you really like the scarf? Honest? It was kind of hard to tell what you were looking at when we walked by the store.”
“Just the fact that you noticed me staring is already impressive,” you tell him, giggling. “And yes, I love it. It’s perfect.”
Jungkook reaches out and takes it out of the box, the knit material unraveling to its full length. “Not yet,” he says, beckoning you to lean in. And when you do, he settles it around your neck with a quiet tenderness that has your heart skipping several beats before taking a nosedive into your churning stomach.
Maybe he’s doing it for show, you reason. Your entire family is here, and if anyone had any doubts about the truth of your relationship, they’ve surely been allayed now. Jungkook is close enough for you to count each individual eyelash fluttering against his cheeks as he blinks, and you make it all the way to seven before your gaze drops to the little freckle on the tip of his nose, and then even further to the one that sits beneath his bottom lip.
“There. Now it’s perfect,” Jungkook says, pulling one fringed end through the knot he’s created and brushing a few stray yarn fibers off your cheek. The emotion that suffuses your chest at the touch is so overwhelming that you momentarily lose the ability to speak, but luckily, you don’t have to.
“Don’t think we’ve forgotten about you, Jungkook!”
Your mother’s voice jerks you out of your daze, and you tear away from your companion’s touch as if burned. Jungkook glances up, wide-eyed, and you watch the confusion etch across his face when he spots the brightly colored bag dangling from your mom’s hand.
“P-pardon?”
“We got you a little something,” she explains, holding the bag out for him to take. “It isn’t much, I’m afraid. But with any luck, you’ll be able to get some use out of them.”
Jungkook accepts the gift and lowers it into his lap, taking out the items one by one—two pairs of patterned wool socks, a novelty mug that reads This is my bah hum mug!, and a pair of red knit mittens that you recognize as Gram Gram’s handiwork. “These are lovely,” he remarks, fingering the bright yarn. “Thank you so much, Mrs. {Last Name}.”
Your mom waves off his gratitude. “No need to thank me, dear. We’re just happy that you’re here to celebrate with us.”
Molly rises from her spot in the pile of candy wrappers that’s overtaken most of the carpeted floor, a brown headband dangling from her chocolate-stained fingers. “This is for you, too,” she says, marching over to Jungkook and placing the headband crookedly on his head. Jungkook beams and adjusts it so that the end isn’t jabbing into the shell of his ear, and you can’t help but giggle at the sight of the sequined reindeer antlers sticking out from each side, the bells at the tip jingling each time he moves his head.
“Smile,” you tell him, opening up your camera app, and he immediately does as requested, his lips curving up at the edges.
“So?” he asks once you’ve lowered your phone again. “Am I pretty like a prince?”
You glance down at the photograph you’ve just taken, the butterflies in your belly beginning to stir. “Yeah,” you murmur after a second’s hesitation. “Definitely.”
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///
It takes another hour for everyone to finish unwrapping their gifts. The younger children are dutifully trading the last pieces of candy they have for their favorites, and Jungkook has migrated over to the other side of the room to thank your Gram Gram for the mittens. She’s holding his tattooed hand between both of her smaller ones and animatedly saying something that you can’t quite make out over the general commotion, but you have a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with you.
You’re picking up discarded ribbons, gathering them into one of the many empty boxes scattered around the room, when Jungkook returns to your side. “Have you heard?” he asks. “Apparently, we’re going sledding.”
You laugh. “Yeah, it’s an annual tradition. There’s a park with a giant hill about two blocks away, where I used to go every day in the winter as a kid.”
Jungkook raises a dubious brow. “Every day?”
“Every day,” you confirm. “Ask my mom for the photo albums. She’ll show you.”
He chortles. “I’m not sure we have time to sit and look at photo albums. It looks like Molly and Sadie are starting to get impatient.” Pointedly, he inclines his head at the two girls, who have started an impromptu wrapping paper ball fight. You heave a sigh and step in to intervene, and after ten minutes and quite a bit of wrangling, the living room is passably clean and devoid of candy wrappers and ribbon bows.
The sun is shining bright overhead when you open the front door, glinting off of the fresh snow that’s fallen sometime during the night. Walking over to the garage, you enter the door code and step back as it eases open with a rumbling mechanical whirr. “We keep the sleds in the back,” you inform Jungkook, who’s joined you as you begin to make your way around the car parked inside, the reindeer headband still perched proudly atop his head. “Can you grab the three big ones?”
Jungkook complies, easily reaching up to unhook the plastic sleds from where they’re hanging above a shelf of gardening supplies. You grab the other sleds from where they’re leaning against the wall—a few bright orange discs each about the size of a trash can lid—and turn back to where your cousins are waiting near the door. “Remember, you all have to share, okay?” you tell them in the sternest voice you can muster. Dutifully, they nod, and you and Jungkook begin the long task of herding them two blocks in the direction of the park.
There are already a few children there when you arrive, shrieking with laughter as they fly down the hill on multicolored sleds. The older cousins immediately dart off to join them, and you stifle a giggle when one of them bellyflops into the snow and goes spinning sideways before gravity takes hold and drags him down the incline.
“‘Kookie?” Molly is standing at Jungkook’s side, her head of brown curls reaching no higher than his waist as she tugs on the sleeve of his puffy black coat. “Can you ride with me?”
Jungkook kneels down and takes her hand in his mittened ones, and you belatedly realize he’s already putting your Gram Gram’s gift to good use. “Is this your first time sledding, Molly?” he asks.
Tentatively, she nods, and Jungkook smiles and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Come on,” he says, taking the long pink sled she’s pulling behind her. “You sit down first, okay? I’ll be right behind you.”
“I don’t wanna go too fast,” Molly declares, and Jungkook nods in understanding.
“We’ll start here then, okay? The hill isn’t as steep on this side.” Carefully, he sits down behind Molly, his legs on either side of her small frame. He urges her to hang on to the sled’s rope handle, checking to make sure she has a good grip on it before pushing off with his hands. The momentum is just enough to tip the sled over the crest, and physics does the rest. They cruise down the hill smoothly, coming to a gradual stop at the bottom, and you can see from the delighted grin on Molly’s face that she loved every minute.
“That was so fun!” she shrieks, waving at you. “You gotta come down too, {Name}!”
You heft your own sled, swallowing down the dangerous warmth that’s threatening to burst forth from your chest and release the horde of butterflies that have taken up residence there. “I’m coming!” you call, your childhood muscle memory returning full force as you take a short running start before flopping down onto your sled. The added momentum launches you down the hill, the icy wind stinging your cheeks, and by the time you come to a stop at the bottom you’re grinning so wide your entire face hurts.
“Let’s go again!” Sadie and Dakota have joined Molly, and all three of them are now looking expectantly at you and Jungkook. “Can you push us so we go even faster?”
“Sure,” Jungkook says agreeably. “Just give me one sec, okay?”
The kids nod and dart off, racing each other back up the hill with the sled in tow. Jungkook tugs off one of his new mittens with his teeth, reaching into his coat pocket for a hair tie, and you try not to stare as he gathers his wavy hair at his crown and fastens it into a loose little bun that leaves only a few strands to frame his face. “Ready to head back up?” he asks, offering you a hand.
You hesitate before taking it, your fingers curling around his warm palm as he pulls you to your feet. Jungkook puts his mitten back on, and you murmur a thanks when he gallantly volunteers to pull the sled back up the hill in your stead.
The hours fly by—filled with laughter and snow flying every which way when your eleven-year-old cousin, Damien, starts an impromptu snowball fight. Your mother calls you halfway through to check in, and you reassure her that everyone’s doing just fine as you duck behind a nearby tree for cover. A new notification sits on your screen when you end the call, kimdaily’s name emblazoned there like a taunt, but you swipe it away after a moment’s hesitation and rejoin the snowball fight, rushing to Jungkook’s aid as Damien and a few others launch a particularly pointed attack.
“Oh my god!” you cry as Damien hefts up a chunk of snow the size of a basketball. “Jungkook, watch—!”
Your warning comes too late. The snow smashes into Jungkook’s side with a thwump, and he staggers back a few steps before losing his balance and falling to the ground. Damien sprints off, cackling like the maniacal little terror he is, and you dart over to Jungkook with every intention of helping him back to his feet.
The icy patch on the ground throws a wrench in that plan. Your boot skids across the slick surface, and you flail helplessly before gravity brings you down atop Jungkook’s chest and nearly knocks your forehead against his. Your faces are mere centimeters apart, all the air having escaped your lungs at the impact, and your eyes widen in horror when you realize that he’s probably faring no better with almost the entirety of your weight resting atop him. “Oh my god,” you gasp, trying and failing to stand up again. Your feet slip almost immediately, sending you tumbling back down onto Jungkook, your breaths intermingling as you fight to recover the lost oxygen. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
Jungkook’s chest rumbles, and to your surprise, he’s laughing. “You should see the look on your face,” he wheezes. “You’re acting like I died, or something.”
You manage to roll off of him at last, sitting up straight and fixing him with a glare. “I could’ve really hurt you!”
“But you didn’t,” he replies simply, still flat on his back in the snow. “Not really, at least. My sternum hurts a little, but I’ll recover.”
“We should still take a closer look when we get back to the house,” you remark, laying a hand on his shoulder as he sits up. “It’s getting close to dinnertime, anyway. I’m going to start rounding up the kids.”
“I’ll help,” Jungkook says, accepting the hand you offer him as he clambers back to his feet. “Lead the way.”
///
Dinner is a haphazard affair. Half of your family members take up residence in front of the television, watching holiday reruns of The Great British Baking Show, while a smaller group starts a game of poker at the kitchen table, where by the sound of it, Great Aunt Martha is making a killing. A few of your cousins decide they want to bake cookies after the meal, and you and Jungkook end up supervising the entire affair, from the mixing of the dough—which is when you catch Dakota trying to make off with all the chocolate chips before they can be added—to the time it takes the double batch of cookies to bake. You stir up two mugs of hot cocoa as Jungkook carefully transfers the last of the cookies to the cooling rack, handing one over to him as he finishes up and turns off the oven.
“You know, these turned out surprisingly good,” you remark, picking out a warm cookie and taking a bite. “I thought for sure they’d mixed up the sugar and salt earlier.”
“Not to mention all the vanilla extract they poured in,” Jungkook adds, shuddering. “You’re right, though. These are good.”
Loading up a plate with cookies, you and Jungkook take it to the living room alongside your cocoa. The couches are already occupied, so you grab a few discarded throw pillows and a tartan throw from the armchair where your father is sitting. Tossing the pillows on the ground in front of the fireplace, you take a seat and lay the blanket over your lap. Jungkook joins you, and when you offer him a corner of your blanket, he gratefully accepts.
“How’s your sternum feeling?” you ask.
He hums, leaning back against the pillows and taking a sip of his hot cocoa. “It’s fine. Nothing a cookie or two can’t fix.”
He’s eaten well over two cookies by this point—not to mention several balls of raw cookie dough—but you decide not to bring up those particulars. Instead, your gaze drops down to his mouth, where a dollop of whipped cream has made a home along his upper lip.
“Cream!” you blurt.
Jungkook blinks, twice in quick succession. “Huh?”
Cheeks warming, you quickly clarify by gesturing at his mouth. Realization dawns across his face, and you watch as he raises a tattooed hand and swipes his knuckles across his mouth. “Better?”
You nod and bury your face into your mug, hoping that maybe if you drink enough cocoa, you’ll be able to drown the butterflies fluttering in your belly.
The fire crackles cheerily in the fireplace behind you, warming your back. It’s nothing compared to the heat emanating off of Jungkook though—his proximity igniting molten warmth in your veins every time he reaches out to grab a cookie from the plate in your lap or takes a sip from his mug, his lips pursing around the rim. On the other side of the room, an episode of The Great British Baking Show comes to a close, the credits rolling across the screen.
Evidently, Sadie and Molly have no intention of letting that time go to waste. The two little girls trundle over—Sadie wearing the reindeer antlers that Molly gave Jungkook earlier in the day—and plop down at the edge of the tartan throw that you and Jungkook are sharing.
“Are you in love?”
You choke on your cocoa. Next to you, Jungkook stiffens into a statue. “Are we what?”
“In love,” Sadie repeats, oblivious to your sputtering panic. “Like in the movies.”
“We—” You’re at a loss. “We, uh…”
Jungkook recovers his voice and mobility before you can stammer out another garbled syllable. “Yeah. We are,” he says, and you nearly choke again. Sadie and Molly, however, look pleased.
“When did you know?” Molly presses.
“How do you know?” Sadie asks.
Jungkook glances over, locking eyes with you for a split second before his gaze skitters away. “I realized it pretty recently, I guess. The more time I spent with her, the more I liked her.”
The girls turn to you. “What about you, {Name}?” Molly asks. “How do you know you love Kookie?”
You inhale deeply and release it back out again, trying to quell the panic beating at your heart. “I… I guess I just like spending time with him. He makes me laugh.” Out of the corner of your eye, you chance a look at Jungkook, who’s rubbing the back of his neck and staring down at his toes. “And he always tries to cheer me up when I’m sad. It’s… nice.”
Molly sighs and steals a cookie from your plate. “I wanna be in love,” she says in between bites.
Jungkook reaches out to ruffle her brown hair. “It’ll happen one day, kiddo. Just wait and see.”
That seems to satisfy both girls. Cheerfully, they return to their spot in front of the television, leaving you alone with Jungkook and the palpable tension that’s settled in the air like fog.
You break the silence first. “I think I’m done with this,” you say, picking up your nearly empty mug and rising to your feet. “I’m gonna go rinse it out, and then I’m probably going to head upstairs for the night.”
Jungkook fidgets with the edge of the tartan blanket, picking at a loose thread. “I think I’m going to stay until the end of this episode,” he says, inclining his head at the new bakers on the television. “Can’t leave without seeing who wins, and all that.”
You manage the stiffest of nods before turning and fleeing the scene with your mug in hand and your heart in your throat. The butterflies in your belly are in a frenzy, their wings beating against the slats of your ribcage as if trying to break free, and it’s all you can do to throw your cup in the dishwasher before dashing past the ongoing poker game at the kitchen table and taking the stairs two at a time. The relative safety of your childhood bedroom is a welcome relief—a sigh escaping your lips as you close the door and collapse against it. For a few long seconds, you just breathe—feeling the oxygen swell in your lungs before releasing it out again into the open air.
Love. The word echoes in your mind and rattles around your brain, the mantra fraying at the delicate threads of your mended heart. Unbidden, your ex-boyfriend’s face materializes out of the morass of your consciousness, sparking a sharp pang in your chest that catches you by surprise with its ferocity.
It takes a few minutes for you to regain your composure, but when you do, you immediately head into the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Turning on the shower, you make good use of the time it takes for the water to heat up by grabbing your pajamas from your suitcase and brushing your teeth. By the time you’re finished, the water is hot, and you step underneath the spray to scrub your body and mind clean.
When you exit the bathroom, Jungkook is sitting at the edge of his side of the bed, scrolling idly through his phone. At the sound of the door opening, he looks up, his brown eyes locking with yours for a moment before he awkwardly clears his throat and tucks his phone away.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says, staring down at his palms. “I, uh, didn’t really think your cousins were ready for the truth about our relationship, so I figured a white lie wouldn’t hurt. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
You shake your head. “You didn’t upset me,” you tell him, slowly making your way to your side of the bed and rooting around for your charging cable. “You just… took me by surprise. That’s all.”
He huffs out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah. No kidding.”
Finally locating your charger, you plug in your phone. The device buzzes gently, the screen lighting up, and it’s impossible to miss the new notification bearing kimdaily’s name that lies in wait there. “Not again,” you sigh, sitting down and swiping it open.
Jungkook pauses on his way to the bathroom. “Everything okay?”
“It’s just my ex.” You wiggle your phone. “What do you think he’s posted now?”
He frowns. “Now? Did he post something earlier?”
You scroll through Namjoon’s profile for confirmation and nod. “Snowman. Few snow angels. And now he’s watching Love, Actually, apparently.”
“Riveting.”
You snort. “Right?”
Jungkook looks like he wants to say something else—you can see it written all over his face. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, his fingers stilling on the bathroom doorknob, and you raise a questioning brow when he hesitates a moment too long.
“What is it?”
He lets out the breath that he’s apparently been holding, releasing it all at once. “Is it okay if I ask what happened between you two?” he asks softly.
You freeze, and Jungkook immediately backtracks, waving a hand in dismissal as he scurries backward into the bathroom. “Never mind. Forget I asked. I’m being nosy.”
“You really are,” you agree, finding your voice at last. “But, it’s okay. I don’t mind. Honestly, I kinda think you deserve to know after all we’ve been through the past few weeks.”
Step by step, Jungkook ventures back into the bedroom and takes a cautious seat on the mattress beside you, taking care to give you plenty of space. He doesn’t say anything further, just sits silently and stares at his hands as he waits for you to begin. And after a few seconds, you finally do—sucking in a deep breath and exhaling in a flurry of words.
“We started dating in September. We were together for just over a year,” you begin. “And maybe it’s stupid, but that felt really significant for me. It’s why I told you to lie—to say that we’ve been dating since October. My family thinks that Namjoon and I broke up in August, just before our one-year anniversary. But really, we didn’t end things until October. I remember, because it was right after Jimin’s birthday party.”
“You were at a party?” Jungkook gapes. “That’s horrible.”
You shrug. “I know. But it was better than lying to ourselves for any longer.”
Jungkook hesitates, fiddling with one of the holes in his jeans. “Did… did he cheat?” he asks, and you sigh and shake your head.
“No, it was nothing like that. We just… grew apart, I guess. I don’t know how or when, but I woke up one day and it was like we were different people. And we realized we just didn’t make sense together. Not anymore.”
Jungkook shifts—the mattress rising and dipping with his weight. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs after a long beat of silence. “Growing apart from someone you used to be so close to—that’s probably one of the saddest things about growing up."
Your chest is beginning to feel a little too tight, your eyes stinging at the corners. “Yeah. No kidding.”
Jungkook seems to sense your mounting dismay, because he tentatively scoots a little closer. “It’s not all bad, though,” he murmurs, laying a hand on your shoulder. “I like to think it means you’re moving forward, and that you’re on the right path. Sometimes you take a detour, and sometimes you take a wrong turn. But I think that we all end up back on track, one way or another.”
You peer up at him through your lashes. “Are you saying that Namjoon was a wrong turn?”
“Probably,” Jungkook admits quietly. “But we all take the wrong turn sometimes. All that matters is that you’re back on the right path now.”
The tension in your shoulders eases somewhat, the tightness in your chest subsiding. “You really think I’m on the right path?”
He smiles. “Yeah. I do.”
Silence falls again, and Jungkook pats you on the shoulder one last time before slowly rising to his feet. He’s halfway to the bathroom when you call his name, and when he turns around curiously, you can’t quite bring yourself to look him in the eye. “Thank you,” you mumble, addressing your knees instead. “I really needed to hear that, I think. I haven’t really talked to anyone about what happened with Namjoon, and… I’m glad I finally did. So thank you.”
Jungkook hums, and when he answers, his voice is as soft as a breath of wind. “Anytime.”
-
That night, you sleep much easier, finding comfort in Jungkook’s presence beside you instead of disquiet.
///
You open your eyes to sunshine the next morning—a narrow beam shining through the gap in the curtains and illuminating the golden dust motes that float lazily around the otherwise dark bedroom. Contentedly, you let your eyes fall shut again, snuggling back into the cozy cocoon of your covers and relishing the almost stifling warmth pressed against your back. Off in the distance, you can hear the other occupants of the house beginning to stir, mattresses creaking and showers turning on. Already, you can make out the faint scent of coffee wafting upstairs from the kitchen.
Blindly, you reach out and fumble for your phone on the nightstand, your fingers scrabbling across the cardboard edges of a tissue box and the Hello Kitty alarm clock that you never had the heart to get rid of before finally landing on the sleek glass screen. You tug the device toward you to check the time, grunting when the charging cable runs out of slack, and clumsily try to roll closer to the nightstand when the arm around your waist tightens and thwarts your escape.
The realization hits you then—slamming into you like a cargo train. You’re in bed with Jungkook. Jungkook, whose arm is currently wound around your waist—and now that you’re paying attention, whose face is buried in the back of your neck and whose breath you can feel against the delicate skin of your nape. “Oh, shit,” you breathe. “Shit, shit, shit.”
There’s no way you can possibly escape his embrace without waking him, but you try nonetheless, twisting and turning out of his grasp. Jungkook lets out a hoarse groan as you finally squirm free, rolling onto his back, and you eye him warily as he suppresses a yawn behind his palm.
“G’morning,” he rasps, his voice a full octave lower than normal. “What time is it?”
You grab your phone off the nightstand, clutching onto it like it’s a lifeline. “Just after eight.”
“Mm.” Jungkook grunts out something unintelligible, rubbing at his eyes drowsily before pushing himself up into a sitting position. “We just have that breakfast today, right? The sendoff thing?”
You nod. Every year, your family wraps up the holiday weekend with a big breakfast bash—one last hearty meal before everyone has to drive or fly back to their own homes and lives. It’s a disorganized affair at best, but the food is always delicious and you always leave with leftovers that reheat well. “Yeah. Supposedly, it starts at ten, but it really just depends on when everyone decides to show up.”
Jungkook chuckles. “They’ll come when they’re hungry.”
“Exactly.”
The sun rises higher into the sky as you and Jungkook take turns in the bathroom, brushing your teeth and getting dressed. You’re pulling on your favorite pair of fuzzy socks when Jungkook comes out with his hair still damp from the shower, the occasional droplet dripping down and sinking into the fabric of his charcoal crewneck sweatshirt. The sleeves are rolled up to expose the network of branching veins that run along his forearms, and the sizable rip in the left knee of his jeans reveals thigh muscles that you didn’t even know existed, but you determinedly force your gaze back down to your toes as he putters around and puts his silver earrings back into his ears.
As soon as you step into the hallway, you can smell and hear bacon sizzling. Together, you and Jungkook head down to the kitchen where your parents are standing at the stove, each with a pan in front of them and hard at work.
“Morning, kids,” your mother greets, waving her spatula. “We’re running low on coffee—would you mind brewing some more?”
“Sure.” You make your way over to the coffeepot, filling up the machine with fresh water and ground beans. Your father enlists Jungkook’s help with something at the stove, and you can’t help but smile when Jungkook obligingly dons the pastel pink daisy apron from yesterday in preparation.
The morning wears on. Aunt Donna and Uncle Bill join you in the kitchen, helping where they can. One by one, the cousins awaken from their slumber in the living room and begin slinking into the kitchen for something to snack on, and your mother is quick to send them off with little bowls of diced strawberries topped with a dollop of whipped cream.
Right as the clock strikes ten, the doorbell starts ringing—signalling the arrival of the rest of your family. They troop in, raucous as ever even after two days together, and the conversation lasts through the cooking and well into the meal. In fact, you’re positive that they could’ve kept conversing until the new year, but Uncle Bill checks his watch and cuts into a discussion about Christmas tree shortages by loudly dropping his silverware onto his empty plate and clearing his throat.
“Well, I hate to say it, but we’ve got a flight to catch in a couple hours. We should really be heading out.”
And with that catalyst, the rest of your family gradually follows suit. The relatives who live far away start saying their goodbyes, and Great Aunt Martha cites her bad back as all the more reason she should drive back to her house across town now and get some rest. Jungkook gets his fair share of goodbyes and warm wishes as well, and you briefly overhear Great Aunt Martha telling him that he better be back next year with a ring to put on your finger. Several cousins run up to hug him, and Molly and Sadie, in particular, wrap themselves around his legs and refuse to let go. Your heart swells in your chest when he finally extricates himself and crouches down to embrace each of them in turn.
Before long, the time finally arrives for you and Jungkook to make the drive back to the city. You hug your parents and promise to text them once you’re home safe, and your mother hands over a paper bag filled with more containers of leftovers than you can count. “Be sure to add some milk to the mashed potatoes before you reheat them,” she advises. “And don’t you dare put the pie in the microwave!”
“I know, Mom,” you tell her, laughing. “I hate soggy crust as much as you do.”
Smiling, she turns to Jungkook and presses a plastic container into his hands. “These are the leftover cookies, dear. We aren’t going to eat them, but I know you were enjoying them last night.”
Jungkook opens his mouth, no doubt to protest her generosity, but she cuts him off by wrapping him in a tight hug. “Drive safe,” she tells him, and he nods.
“I will.”
“Take care of my little girl,” your father cuts in. “You don’t hurt her now, you hear me?”
Aghast, you turn to him. “Dad!” you begin, but Jungkook just laughs and nods again.
“Yes, sir.”
-
There’s no traffic on your way back to the city, for which you are grateful. You aren’t sure you could stand any more time trapped in a car with your dark-haired roommate, painfully aware of every flex of his arms and every tick in his jaw as he drives. By the time he finally parks the car, you are practically ready to jump out of your skin—your knees jittery and your heart pounding dangerously hard against your ribs.
“Thank you for doing this,” you tell Jungkook as you open the car door and climb out. “Now we can finally go back to normal.”
“Right,” he says. “Normal.” And as you turn and head for the front door, you completely miss the fleeting look that flits across his face.
///
“So, when exactly did you go blind?”
Jimin has you cornered in the bathroom, caging you in with his body, and despite your best friend’s lithe appearance he is in firm possession of a solid frame of dense muscle and all the stubbornness of a mule. “What are you talking about?” you ask, trying to push past him, but he holds his ground and flicks you on the forehead for good measure.
“You heard me,” he says. “Or have you gone deaf, too? Maybe you’re just a bigger idiot than I thought you were. Or are you being stupid on purpose?”
Irritably, you cross your arms over your chest and shift your weight, tapping your socked foot against the tiled floor. “Okay, did I miss a memo? When did we agree to start being needlessly cruel to each other?”
“Since you decided to start being stupid,” Jimin replies bluntly. “Seriously, {Name}. Can’t you see that he really likes you?”
Once again, you try and fail to shove past Jimin. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Jimin huffs out an exasperated sigh. “Jungkook!” he hisses, casting a wary glance at the cracked bathroom door before lowering his voice to a whisper. “Jungkook likes you, you idiot. I’ve never seen him like this, and I’ve known him for going on eight years now. Things are weird between you two—don’t you feel it?”
Your mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words escape. When you regain your voice at last, all you can manage is a weak stammer of protest, one that sounds unconvincing even to your own ears. “Don’t be ridiculous. Jungkook, he… he doesn’t like me. That’s insane.”
Jimin scoffs. “You’re insane, and I’m right. He’s been staring at you all afternoon—did you notice that? I don’t think he even knows what movie we just watched.”
“He was probably just spacing out or something,” you retort. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
That earns you another sigh. “It’s been two days since you came back from your parents’ house, right? Have you two even talked since then?”
“We talk,” you say defensively. “We put together a grocery list yesterday.”
“That doesn’t count, and you know it,” Jimin snaps. “Look, I know something happened over Christmas—it’s written all over your face. And you clearly like him too, so why don’t you go in there and do something about it?”
Your face heats up at the accusation, but you refuse to concede that easily. “Did your sister make brownies again or something? Are you high?”
Jimin, unfortunately, knows you far too well to fall for your deflections, his honey brown eyes narrowing in triumph. “I knew it!” he whispers excitedly, grabbing your shoulders and giving you a shake. “You like him, and he likes you. So, I’m going to make myself scarce now, and you are going to ask that boy out because it’s the twenty-first fucking century and women can make the first move if they want to.”
With that, Jimin turns on his heel and flings open the bathroom door, leaving you no time to protest and no chance to drag him back so you can tell him how wrong he is about everything. So you can tell him that you don’t like Jungkook, and he most certainly doesn’t like you.
You’re roommates. You’d probably even classify him as a friend, now. But to call him anything else? The mere thought sets your face aflame, so you turn on the sink and splash your face with copious amounts of cold water before exiting the bathroom.
“Jimin—” you begin as you enter the living room, only to stop dead in your tracks when you’re greeted by the sight of Jungkook and Jungkook alone.
“He just left,” your roommate says, rising from the couch, and you grit out a curse. “Is something wrong? Did something happen with you guys?”
“No, it’s just—” You sigh. “It’s just Jimin being Jimin. Like usual.”
“It almost sounded like you were fighting,” Jungkook notes, before he blanches and tries to walk back his statement. “Not that I was eavesdropping, or anything! I just, it’s just that I—”
You shake your head, cutting off his rambling. “It’s fine, Jungkook—we weren’t fighting. Jimin’s just being a pain in the ass about something.”
“He’s a pain in the ass about most things,” Jungkook points out with a chuckle, his eyes crinkling into crescents and his upper lip disappearing into his grin. The sun is just beginning to set, painting the walls of your living room with slanting rays of gold and casting his face in an ethereal glow. And though you hate to admit when you’re wrong, you can no longer deny the feelings bubbling up in your chest, warm and ebullient.
“Jungk—” you start, your voice scarcely above a whisper.
“Weshouldgetdinner!” Jungkook blurts suddenly, and you stop, blinking in confusion.
“Huh?”
His cheeks flush, but he presses on nonetheless. “We should get dinner,” he repeats, the syllables dragging from his throat. “Like, as a date. A real one. I… I’ve been meaning to ask for a while now.”
Your mouth opens but no words come out, and Jungkook seems to take the silence as a bad sign. The glimmer of hope in his eyes fades, his shoulders slouching beneath his oversized black sweatshirt. “Sorry,” he mumbles, sinking back down onto the couch. “Forget I said anyth—”
“Yes!”
It’s his turn to blink. “Huh?”
“Yes,” you repeat, taking a few tentative steps forward. “Yes, let’s get dinner, because I… I like you, Jungkook. I think I’ve liked you for a while now.”
A slow grin spreads across his face, as bright as the sun painting golden streaks through the sliver of sky visible from the window. “Sorry, I think I just went temporarily deaf,” he teases, swirling his pinky in his ear. “Could you repeat that?”
You huff, reaching out to smack his arm weakly. “God, you’re so embarrassing.”
“But you like it,” he replies, intercepting your hand and lacing your fingers together. “You like me. Now, where do you want to go for our first real date?”
///
“So,” Jungkook says, leaning back in his chair. “Here we are.”
The two of you are at the same restaurant you took him to just before your company’s holiday party, but this time you’re indoors instead of on the rooftop. The wooden decor is cozy and the lighting is dim, and every table is decorated with a spherical glass bowl that holds three floating candles, their flickering flames reflecting off the water and illuminating your companion’s face in warm, hazy gold.
“Here we are,” you agree with a grin. “Again.”
You both laugh, and the conversation starts from there—flowing so easily that you wonder how you ever lived a life without him in it. You swap silly childhood stories and share the details of your favorite vacations, and it feels like no time has passed at all when Jungkook pulls out his wallet to pay the check.
“My turn,” he says, plopping his credit card down, and his voice leaves no room for argument.
Snow begins falling as you and Jungkook head back in the direction of your shared home—fat white flakes flurrying down to land in your lashes and dust across your shoulders. Jungkook’s hair—loose and falling around his face in wispy waves—looks as if it’s been scattered with icy stars to match the constellations glimmering in his dark irises, and ever so slowly, you reach out to take his hand.
“Kiss me?” you request.
Jungkook’s gaze darkens. “Thought you’d never ask,” he breathes, and your palms fly up to his broad shoulders when he leans in at last and crushes his mouth to yours.
Somehow, the two of you manage to make it home, the snow on your clothes beginning to melt as soon as you step past the threshold. Jungkook kicks the door shut with a booted foot, and you sigh into his mouth as he rids you of your coat and cages you against the wall of the entryway. Soft lips trail from the line of your jaw down to the column of your neck, and you shiver when he finds a particularly sensitive spot near your clavicle and lets his teeth graze across it.
His hands are at your hips now, palming along the ridged corduroy of your skirt as his fingertips dig into the soft curve of your rear. Cupping his cheek, you bring him back into a kiss, relishing the unhurried way his mouth moves against yours even as hardness grows against your lower belly. Deliberately, you slide your palm down his chest, past the toned ridges of his abdomen and all the way down to the growing bulge in his jeans.
Jungkook stops you before you can brush against him, his fingers ironclad around your wrist. “Wait,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Maybe… we shouldn’t do this. Maybe we should take things slow.”
You fall limp in his grasp, and he slowly releases your hand so you can lower it back down to your side. “Slow,” you repeat, trying to hide your disappointment. “Right.”
Gentle fingers find your chin, tilting your face up so he can press a sweet kiss on your mouth. “I just don’t want to fuck this up,” he murmurs, his breath fanning your cheeks with every word. “I like you way too much for that.” Then he glances down to the tent in his jeans, awkwardly pulling his coat closed to obscure it.
The kiss doesn’t stop the disappointment from blooming in your belly, but you nod nonetheless. “Okay,” you whisper, letting your lips graze his once more. “We’re taking things slow, right? So, I guess this is the part where I say goodnight.”
Jungkook’s lips pull up into a tiny grin, his fingers reluctantly loosening their grip on your waist. “Okay,” he breathes. “Goodnight, {Name}.”
“Goodnight, Jungkook,” you reply, committing every last detail of his face to memory before turning and heading for your bedroom. Jungkook’s bedroom door closes behind him, and you stare at it for a moment before shutting your own. Taking a seat on the edge of your bed, you unbutton your skirt and kick it off your legs until it falls flat onto the carpet. Your tights meet the same fate, replaced quickly with flannel pajama pants, but your sweater you decide to keep on for a while longer as you meander into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face.
You’re still thinking of Jungkook when you climb into bed ten minutes later, now braless and dressed in an oversized t-shirt. You wonder if he’s in his pajamas, and whether he’s in bed or if he’s decided to start one of those late night gaming sessions that he seems to favor. You wonder what would happen if you walked across the living room and knocked on his bedroom door right now—if he would sweep you up and continue what you’d started or if he’d push you away. Your feet carry you over to your bedroom door before you even fully realize what you’re doing, your fingers already wrapped around the doorknob.
It takes a second for you to steel your nerves enough to open the door, but when you do, you see that you aren’t alone. Jungkook stands on the other side, his hand raised and poised to knock. Shock flits across his face, his mouth falling into a little ‘o’ of surprise, and you’re certain you’re mirroring his expression.
“H-hi,” you manage.
“Hi,” he replies. “Do you want to hear something stupid?”
Whatever you were expecting him to say, it certainly wasn’t that. “Um. Sure, I guess.”
Jungkook raises his hand, extending his pointer finger before jabbing it into the center of his chest. “It’s me. I’m stupid. I was brushing my teeth a few minutes ago, when I suddenly realized that I missed you. And that’s stupid, because I like you, and you like me, and you literally live on the other side of the living room.” Slowly, he glances up to meet your gaze, an expression of tentative hope painted across his features. “So, fuck taking things slow. Right?”
You’re already pressing to your tiptoes, fisting your hands in the collar of his white t-shirt to tug him down to your level. “Yeah,” you whisper, the butterflies in your belly taking off into celebratory flight. “Fuck taking things slow.”
///
Kissing Jungkook is quickly becoming one of your favorite things to do. His chest is bare beneath your fingertips, a canvas of honeyed skin and strong muscle for you to explore, and you take full advantage as he works your lips apart and licks ardently into your mouth. Wandering hands crawl beneath the hem of your oversized t-shirt, pushing up the material to expose the swell of your breasts. Your nipples pebble at the exposure, and Jungkook groans as he rids you of your shirt entirely before leaning in to envelop one in his warm, wet mouth.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” he rasps, the vibrations of his voice sending a delicious shiver down the length of your spine. “Been thinking about how nice your tits always look—and fuck, this is better than I could’ve ever imagined.”
Breathlessly, you wind your arms around his neck, your fingers delving into his thick hair and tugging until he takes the hint and slants his mouth across yours once again. His hands settle below the swell of your ass, pulling you close, until you’re settled firmly in his lap with your legs on either side of his denim-clad thighs, his name escaping you in a sigh as he deepens the kiss.
Jungkook smiles against your lips. “Pretty girl,” he croons, pulling away just enough to murmur the words as his thumbs dip into the waistband of your panties. A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest when he discovers the growing wetness between your legs, two fingers skimming through the slick before he presses experimentally against your clit. Your hips jump at the pressure, and he smirks in satisfaction.
Ever so slowly, he gathers you up in his arms, shifting until he can lay you back against your mattress. The sheets rumple beneath you as he crawls up your body to plant a sweet kiss on your waiting mouth, before returning his attention to the soft spot on your clavicle that he’s already discovered, lavishing it with attention until you’re gasping.
Jungkook reads your body like it’s his favorite poem, exploring every line and stanza until he’s committed the words to memory and making note of every stutter and hitch in your breath. There’s an art in the way he repeats the motions that make you keen, and something sensual in the way his lips curl every time he pulls out a whimper. You’re trembling by the time he reaches the apex of your thighs, his fingers closing around the elastic of your panties and pulling them down and off your legs. Tossing them aside, he lays his hands on your knees, his gaze locking with yours as he spreads you open and settles into the space he’s created. Instinct has you trying to close your legs and embarrassment has you shying away from his stare, but he presses a fond kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh and soothes you with a soft murmur of your name.
“Don’t hide from me,” he breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”
Then he’s leaning in, and your breath hitches in your throat when he boldly licks a broad stripe up your exposed pussy. Your fingers fly down to his hair, tangling in the silky strands as he finds your clit and gives it an experimental suck. Pleasure flares in your belly, your hips jolting off the mattress, and Jungkook chuckles as he settles himself more comfortably and winds his arms around your legs to keep you spread open for him, the inky tattoos swirling around his right arm only emphasizing the muscle.
“I thought about this, too, y’know” he murmurs, circling your clit with his tongue before dipping down to your slit and lapping up the juices there. “Thought about how good you probably taste, and how pretty you’d look cumming on my tongue.” He inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering shut, and your cheeks warm when you see the slick coating his lips and chin. “And fuck, I was right. You taste fucking divine.”
It should be strange, hearing such filth spewing from your normally mild-mannered roommate’s lips. It should be odd, seeing him nestled between your spread thighs with his long hair in disarray, his eyes hooded and darkened into obsidian. But the strangest thing is that it doesn’t feel strange or odd—it feels good. Right. As if this is where you were meant to be, all along.
Warm palms smooth up your thighs, splaying against your belly. Jungkook leans down to press a soft kiss to your clit, his lips teasing at the sensitive little bundle of nerves, and when your hips jump in his grasp, he lets out a hoarse chuckle that rumbles straight to your core. Slowly, he moves down to your slit, alternating long licks along the length of your pussy with firm suction on your clit. Your body thrums beneath his ministrations, your legs beginning to tremble, and Jungkook doubly renews his efforts when your thighs clench a little tighter around his head. His wet, hot mouth returns to your clit in full force, and you keen out his name when a finger slips into your cunt and curls up in search of the spot that’s sure to unravel you completely.
“Jungkook!”
Said man releases your clit for a split second to coo your name, his hot breath washing against your slick folds. “Come on, baby,” he rasps. “Wanna make you cum. Wanna taste you, so bad.”
And with that, he eases a second finger in with the first. His lips wrap around your clit again, mouthing at it in time with the steady cadence of his fingers, and your breath grows ragged when he finally finds the soft spot he’s been looking for. He focuses his full attention on it, digging deep until you’re quaking, and you gasp again.
“Jungkook, I’m—! Fuck—”
One last swirl of his tongue around your clit proves to be your undoing. You shake apart in his ironclad embrace, your walls clenching around his fingers, and he continues lapping at you even as your vision goes white with pleasure. By the time you come back down from your high, a second wave is already brewing in your belly, coiling tighter and tighter as Jungkook tirelessly sucks your clit back into his mouth.
Your second orgasm is stronger than the first—breaking like a wave and spreading to every vein in your body like wildfire. Jungkook helps you through it, whispering sweet words of praise into the skin of your inner thigh and petting slow, sure circles around your sensitive nub until you fall limp in his arms.
“Good?” he chuckles.
“Good,” you breathe back. “So good, Jungkook. Fuck.”
In any other situation, you’d be tempted to slap the self-satisfied grin off his face, but you decide he’s deserved it in this case. The growing strain in the crotch of his jeans tells you that he deserves something else too, and you sit up slowly, still feeling rather boneless. Jungkook watches raptly as you reach for the button of his jeans and pop it open, swallowing harshly when you brush against his clothed erection. Gently, his hands settle over yours, helping you push his jeans off his hips so he can kick them off entirely, and your mouth goes dry when the entirety of his deliciously thick cock is revealed, bobbing insistently against his lower stomach.
Ever so slowly, Jungkook presses you down into the mattress, your back against the pillows piled along the headboard of your bed. His gaze meets yours as he settles between your legs once more, and you find that you can’t look away as he takes his cock in his tattooed hand and slides the head through the slick gathered in your slit, spreading it up and down the length of your pussy. “Okay?” he whispers, soft as a feather.
“Okay,” you murmur. “Jungkook, please.”
He obliges. Slowly, he rocks forward, the thick head of his cock parting your walls, and your mouth falls open at the sheer size of him. The glide is made easier by the considerable slick from your previous orgasms, but there’s still the slightest pinch of discomfort as he pauses and leans down to press a fond kiss to the soft spot at your collarbone. “Breathe, baby,” he encourages lowly, and you do as he says, sucking in a lungful of air and willing your body to relax.
Little by little, the discomfort ebbs away, replaced by a throbbing ache for more. Your hips rock, another inch of his cock slipping into you, and Jungkook takes it as a sign to continue pressing forward until he’s seated inside your body. The surge of fullness knocks all the air out of your lungs and leaves you floating and breathless, your fingers scrabbling along his back for something to hold onto as you try to find solid ground again. Jungkook waits patiently, nosing along your neck and trailing kisses up your throat, and you sigh when his mouth slants across yours at last. Your lips part to receive him, and he licks into your mouth until you’re arching off the mattress, your curves meshing with his lines.
Nimble fingers drop down to your clit then, tracing slow circles around the sensitive nub. Your hips jolt, the motion unintentionally sending him deeper, and the pleasure that flares in your tummy tears a sharp moan from your throat. Deliberately, you rock against him, encouraging him to move, and Jungkook obliges with a hoarse grunt, his chest heaving as he pulls back until only the head of his cock remains nestled within your walls. His thumb finds your clit again, and you keen out his name when he surges forward at the same time he flicks across the sensitive bundle and sets all your nerves aflame.
Jungkook sets a slow, deliberate pace—one that has you clutching at the broad expanse of his back and gasping when he repeatedly hits the spot that has you seeing stars. The coil in your belly tightens with every thrust, the slick glide of his cock igniting your body and sending electricity dancing along your skin. A particularly hard rock of his hips sends you sliding backward on the mattress, and Jungkook grits out a groan when the motion jiggles the swell of your breasts. Leaning down, he catches a pebbled nipple in his mouth, and your back arches as he lavishes the nub with attention, desperately seeking out more contact.
When Jungkook’s thumb digs into your clit again, it proves to be too much. The sudden burst of pressure is accompanied by a harsh thrust that you practically feel in the back of your throat, and the combination sends you hurtling over the edge of your third orgasm of the night, wave after wave of white hot pleasure searing through your veins. Jungkook’s rhythm stutters as you clench wildly around him, and your name escapes him a hoarse groan as he follows you off the precipice, creamy warmth flooding your walls.
It takes a few long moments for the pleasure to recede, your breath slowing gradually and your eyes blinking open. Jungkook’s grin is wide, a chuckle escaping him as he wipes at the wetness slicking his bare chest, and your muddled brain wonders at the motion before the realization dawns, the horror following soon after.
“Oh my god.” You scramble back, your cheeks aflame, his softened cock slipping out from inside you as you bury your face in your hands. “I can’t believe I just—I mean, that’s never happened—”
Jungkook pulls your hands away and twines his fingers with yours, nosing at your neck until you finally work up the nerve to look at him. “Are you joking?” he asks. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”
You bury your face into the crook of his tattooed shoulder instead, shielding yourself in the inky petals and leaves. “It’s embarrassing, though.”
“No, it’s hot as fuck,” Jungkook corrects, his arms winding around your waist and pulling you close. “So why don’t we see if I can make you do it again?”
///
The sun has only just risen when you stir awake the next morning, roused by something that you can’t quite place. There’s a stifling warmth pressed against your back and a strong arm banded around your waist, and you can’t help but smile as you turn around in the embrace, coming face to face with your dark-haired roommate.
Jungkook is beautiful in this light—his hair like spilled ink against the cream of your pillows, the exposed skin of his neck and shoulders warm and golden. You can just barely make out the beginnings of his tattoos swirling along his right shoulder—a field of flowers curling up around the line of his collarbones. Gently, you reach out to run a fingertip along a delicately inked lily, tracing each petal.
When you pull back, Jungkook’s eyes are open, a slow smile curving across his face. “Hi,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse with sleep.
You smile back. “Hi.”
Beneath the covers, his arm tightens around your waist, his fingers tapping out a silent melody along the slats of your ribcage. “Sleep well?”
“Best night of sleep I’ve had in ages,” you admit, laughing. “You?”
“Honestly? Same.”
Yawning, Jungkook stretches his arms overhead and cranes around to grab his phone off the nightstand. Blearily, he wakes the screen and scans his notifications, his eyes narrowing as he zeroes in on one in particular. “Looks like our friend kimdaily’s back at it,” he says. “Have you seen?”
“No, I haven’t.” You shift a little closer to him and lay your head on his shoulder, relishing the way his arm immediately comes up to secure you in an embrace. “I turned off those notifications days ago.”
Jungkook’s answering grin is bright enough to rival the sun. Turning, he drops his phone back onto the nightstand before tugging you close and brushing a stray hair from your cheek. “So what now?” he asks. “Should we start thinking about breakfast?”
You lean in and press a long, lingering kiss to his mouth, your fingers already beginning to trail down past the ridges of his abdomen.
“Nah. Breakfast can wait.”
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gukyi · 6 months ago
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love me or we both go down | kth
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summary: after going through with an arranged marriage to please his parents and secure his inheritance of the family business, kim taehyung thinks he’s got it all figured out. he doesn’t. apparently just being married to you isn’t enough, not when everybody and their mother can pick up on the fact that the two of you absolutely loathe each other. but taehyung wants his inheritance one way or another, so he decides that desperate times call for desperate measures: the two of you need to fall in love, and you need to fall in love fast.
{enemies to lovers!au, arranged marriage!au, rich kids!au}
pairing: kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, smut (i know, crazy right?) word count: 32k warnings: oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, multiple unprotected sex scenes (they’re married y’all), fat cock tae, tae has a wife kink, lots of praise, alcohol consumption (but they’re safe), minor character death (not explicit), mentions of heart attack, slow burn like there is no tomorrow a/n: hello and welcome to the fic everyone, literally everyone, has been waiting for! i am so, so, so excited to share this with you all, especially because none other than rose @kinktae​ helped me write the smut, and i am literally forever indebted to her. you all better go spam rose with all the love and support you can because this fic would not be here without her and i love her so much. 
also, to all my readers who aren’t comfortable reading smut, please know that the smut in this fic is not imperative to the storyline, and you skipping past it will not affect your reading experience., enjoy!
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Never in your life have wedding bells felt so ominous.
The sound of them is akin to the sound of strings, of a single piano note in a horror movie, right when the film opens and someone random is about to die on screen for the sake of proving to the audience that this is, in fact, a horror movie. Make no mistake about it; these wedding bells spell doom for you, too. And the most horrific part about them is that just like that poor, helpless soul in the movie, there is no way for you to escape your fate either. 
With only seconds left to go before you have no choice but to promise yourself to the man waiting at the other end of the aisle, you desperately try to think of any last-ditch efforts to get out of this. Many, if not all of them, are utterly useless. 
Feigning sudden illness won’t work, because then your parents will just reschedule the wedding to a later date. Running away is fruitless. Where will you go? The parking lot?
If only you had a lover out there in the audience somewhere that could object to the marriage when the officiant says, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.” A knight in shining armor that could whisk you out of the venue and off to a new life, far away from here. Too bad all of the people you’ve dated before hate you now. 
Maybe getting married isn’t such a bad thing after all. Instead of having relationships with multiple people who will eventually despise your existence, you only have to have a relationship with one. And the feeling, as has always been, is mutual. 
You bristle as your assistants do some last-minute prepping, fixing your sleeve and adjusting your necklace and making sure you don’t trip on your enormous train. They flutter around you like a swarm of well-meaning but ignorant butterflies complicit in the agenda of your family. None of them have said a word to you about the wedding ever since you arrived at the venue, choosing to talk more about things like the weather. Not that you were ever under the impression they had been hired to entertain you. Maybe they were told to not engage you, just in case you try to conspire with them.
As if they could be of any use in your wildly unrealistic escape plans. 
The truth is that, unless you were to drop dead on this marble flooring right now, you’re getting married. Whether you like it or not.
The doors open. 
You’ve attended red carpets, galas, award shows, and balls. You’ve had hundreds of cameras flashing in your face, the bright light capturing each and every centimeter of you. You’ve had paparazzi waiting outside the restaurants you eat at, the stores you shop at, desperate to catch a picture of you in sweatpants without a drop of makeup on. You’ve been on dates with ex-lovers that looked at you like you were a piece of meat with a credit card. And yet, for some goddamn reason, walking down the aisle in a white dress the size of Pluto, with the rest of your life waiting for you at the other end, makes you feel fucking transparent. 
Face resolute, you clutch onto your bouquet so tightly the flowers feel like they’re about to pop right out of your grasp. Determined not to look at anybody in the audience, you stare straight ahead, right into the eyes of your future husband.
Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen multiple times drunk off his ass with hickies dotting his neck and jawline, cleans up pretty well. For someone getting married, at least. He dons a simple black tuxedo that still probably costs more than the average car, his caramel brown hair is pushed back off his forehead, and his expression is firm and still. He most certainly has had an equally expensive team prepping him, but they haven’t done too bad a job. The silver lining is that he doesn’t look any more thrilled than you are to be doing this, right here, right now. But to his credit, this is definitely the best he’s ever looked, as far as you’re concerned. 
When you reach him, he offers his hand out to you, a hand that you only accept for the sake of professionalism. The bouquet in your hands is handed off to one of your bridesmaids, and the two of you take your position at the front. Your train drags along the aisle, draping over the few stairs you had to climb to reach the altar, this satin trail behind you that cements you to the floor. It may as well be a ball-and-chain. It’s about as heavy as one, anyway. 
This is the longest you and Taehyung have ever held eye contact. Not that you’re really keeping track of how long the two of you have met each other’s gazes, but if you had to make an educated guess, this would definitely be the victor. Most of the time you end up sneering at each other ten seconds in, but to be fair, those other times you were also not getting married. To one another. In a ceremony attended by hundreds of people. And cameras.
There can be no sneering here. 
“Don’t you look nice?” Taehyung whispers, loud enough so only the two of you can hear. He has that drawling, sickly sweet tone to his voice, the one that you hate because it makes him sound like he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else. “Surprised they were able to makeup that scowl off your face.”
This, of course, brings on a hearty scowl only he can see, your backs both facing the rows of attendees. “How much concealer are you wearing to cover up all of the hickies on your neck?” You quip back easily. It’s not like the two of you are going to pretend he doesn’t waltz around at every club or bar or private venue he can find, looking for his next treat. 
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Taehyung grins, and if you weren’t standing in front of hundreds of people about to get married, there’s no telling what next you would do.
The two of you would probably go on like that for another ten minutes if it’s not for the officiant, who coughs once he’s ready and opens the book in his hands. Next to you, Taehyung straightens, hands clasped together at his front, and lips pressed into a neat line. You do the same. There will be no giggles, no laughter nor smiles, nor any genuine emotion at this wedding. This is a wedding for the sake of politics, for economics, for security, and anyone in attendance would be a fool to think otherwise. Especially you. 
“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, loved ones, and esteemed guests,” the officiant bellows, listing off as many groups of people as he possibly can in an effort to both include and compliment every person in the audience, “We are gathered here to celebrate the wedding, and future life, of Taehyung and Y/N…”
Taehyung turns to you, grinning in that god-awful way, the way he does when he feels like he’s got something over you. And sure, you can’t think of any punishment quite as bad as this, but what’s Taehyung got to smile about? He’s marrying himself off to a woman he hates, kissing goodbye his days as a free-spirited, heartbreaking bachelor, and promising what may very well be the rest of his life to loving you. That is not cause for celebration. 
But perhaps, to him, your suffering is enough to bring a smile to his face. 
Your vows are, to put it simply, total bullshit. Your family hired someone to write yours and there’s not a doubt in your mind that his family did the same thing. This nonsense talk, this complete and utter garbage that spews from your perfectly-glossed lips, shit about how you promise to love each other until the end of your days, how you promise to take care of each other when you’re sick and accompany each other at every event, every gala, every ball. Shit about how you promise to look only at each other, promise to uphold your family traditions and become a dependable spouse. 
The words don’t belong to you. But the thing is that this marriage was never yours anyway. 
When the kiss comes, there’s a part of you that thinks maybe you should have psyched yourself up a little more for this. When Taehyung pulls you in, placing a stiff hand on your lower back as he brings you towards his chest, your stomach turns and shivers run down your spine. The feeling of his hand on your body, the breath from his lips brushing against your own, are enough to keep you frozen in place. 
He smiles at you, almost as if to ask, “Are you ready?”
And you squeeze your eyes shut, almost as if to respond, “Let’s do this.”
When his lips meet yours, there is almost nothing. Nothing runs through you, nothing explodes, nothing strikes. But when he pulls away and cheers and applause rings out throughout the room, there is something. A little heat, a remnant of a flame, left on your lips. A little sting, just to remind you it happened. 
The entire hall is cheering but nothing about this is worth celebrating. The fact of the matter is that you and Taehyung will never love each other the way that you are supposed to. 
“Ugh, finally.”
The elevator doors haven’t even properly opened by the time Taehyung is loosening his tie, tugging it off over his head as he stretches his head back and runs a hand through his perfectly-styled hair. As he rakes his fingers through his caramel locks, the hairspray and gel loosens, strands falling down by the side of his face, framing his temple.
“Don’t sound so relieved,” you huff out, deciding now is as good a time as any to start getting undressed yourself. Reaching down to lift up the hem of your reception dress, you tug off your heels, already feeling lighter on your feet. Who cares if Taehyung is watching you pull off your stilettos like a defeated movie heroine? You don’t think you can walk another step in those shoes. “We still have to live together, you know.”
“Don’t remind me,” Taehyung says gruffly, brushing by you roughly as he stomps out of the elevator. “I’m just glad the fucking night is over. I swear, seeing that fake-ass smile on your face made me want to gouge my eyes out.”
You storm after him, refusing to be the helpless damsel in this situation. “Oh, like you didn’t also have that exact same fake-ass smile on your face. It almost made me think you were actually enjoying yourself tonight.”
“I was only enjoying the fact that I know you hate this just as much as I do.” It’s perhaps the only thing you will ever be able to empathize with him on. Mutually relishing in the other’s destruction. Taehyung fumbles with the keypad to the door to the penthouse for a moment before you hear the lock click, the door sliding open as the entrance lights flicker on. 
The reason Taehyung’s penthouse is so clean is because he’s never lived here before. Neither of you have—Taehyung’s parents bought it just for the two of you. And as much as you absolutely despise the idea of having to live with him, at least it was not you who paid for your place of residence. 
You can tell Taehyung’s never lived here before because it’s actually quite nicely decorated inside. The ceilings are high and the sleek velvet curtains are pulled open, revealing a shimmering skyline. The furniture is modern and functional, and the whole damn place smells brand new. You’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of entering the place Taehyung lived in before now, and it looked nothing like this. The furniture was worn and stained despite the live-in maid, the house reeked of five hundred different spices that wafted from the kitchen to the living room, and the bookshelves were covered with comics, graphic novels, and old textbooks. 
If it weren’t for the fact that you and Taehyung are rich kids in their twenties that hate each other, you might have actually thought the place looked… homey. 
You don’t have time to be impressed by the interior design and architecture skills of whoever designed this place. Right now, all you can think about is tugging yourself out of your airtight reception dress and passing out on the nearest bed. Which, hopefully, will be as far away as possible from Taehyung’s bed of choice. 
“How many bedrooms does this place have?” You ask, shimmying along the floor so you don’t trip over the hem of your dress. From the looks of it, you can see one giant hallway to your right and a massive, double-sided staircase leading up. 
“Enough,” Taehyung grumbles in response. The hazy stupor from all of the fancy champagne is starting to wear off for the both of you, leaving behind two grouchy, begrudgingly-married individuals who want absolutely nothing to do with each other and have no problems making that known. Whatever golden light of the evening that was making Taehyung at least a little bit more attractive than usual has faded, and now you see him for what he really is: an unceremoniously tired man in a suit. “You want upstairs or down?”
You gaze up at the marble staircase in front of you, then back down at your too-long dress. “Down.” The last thing you want is to trip in front of the man you have to see, every day, for the rest of your life. 
“Fine by me.” Taehyung’s halfway up the stairs by the time he turns back around to say something else. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?”
“Yeah.” There’s no point in being hostile now. The both of you are too exhausted to mean anything by it. Besides, what else can you say? Everything to complain about has already been complained about. At least the two of you managed to wrestle out from your parents the stipulation that you would not be going on a honeymoon together. Now that would have been your worst nightmare. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It’s as good of a goodnight either of you are going to get. Taehyung heads up the stairs and disappears around a corner, and you start wandering down the hallway. All the bedrooms look the exact same other than different colors on the walls and bedsheets, but they all look serviceable to you. Clean. Empty. Far away from wherever Taehyung is. 
You pick the one at the very end of the hall just to be as much of a diva as possible, and don’t even bother drawing the curtains before tugging off your dress. It’s past one in the morning, and you’re so high up you don’t think anyone will be able to see you anyway. By the time you’ve stripped naked and are tugging up the too-tight sheets tucked into the mattress, your legs are about to give out beneath you. The bed could be made of rocks for all you care. Anything to lie down on is fine by you. 
Sleep comes fairly easily to you tonight. Once your head hits the pillow you can already feel yourself drifting off, eyelids fluttering shut, but you don’t sleep quite yet. Not before you can think about how this is your life now, sleeping in a foreign bed in a foreign place with a foreign husband upstairs. This is what you will be living in now. Now and forever. 
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Living with Taehyung is, in both the best and worst ways possible, like living with a roommate that doesn’t give a shit about the fact that they live with another person. It’s good, because you and Taehyung hardly see each other and speak even less, which was pretty much the only thing you were asking for when it came to living with him. But it also sucks, because whenever you do happen to cross paths, Taehyung acts like you don’t exist, barely sparing you a hello or even that tight-lipped smile you send to drivers on the road when they let you cross the street. 
Not that the two of you ever engaged in energetic conversation before you got married. But at least the two of you would acknowledge each other, even if only to shoot a glare and a scowl the other’s way from opposite sides of a hotel ballroom. Maybe it’s just because it’s him, but you did always find yourself actually relishing in those little interactions with Taehyung. In this strange, twisted way, it seemed to provide some sort of continuity to your ever-changing life. Like no matter what happened, at least you would know that the two of you would always despise each other. 
To be frank, right now you’re not sure if Taehyung even remembers he got married at all.
Nights have been a lot more sleepless since your wedding day. After two weeks, the reality of it has finally started to settle in. This is your life now. And ever since you realized that, your bed has felt much less comfortable. 
“But the place is nice, right?”
You look around the living room from where you’re sat on the sleek, white suede leather couch, eyes glossing over the bookshelves, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the draping velvet curtains. From here, you can see the entire city skyline, flecks of gold from the windows of skyscrapers against a navy blue background. Slowly, as the moon creeps over the sky and the clock gets later and later, those lights will soon begin to flicker off, one by one. 
“Yeah, it’s not bad.” Nothing to write home about. That is, if home were a place other than here. 
“That’s good. At least you don’t live in, like, a total dump or anything,” Victoria says on the other end of the line. “How’s Taehyung?”
His name alone elicits this deeply-exhausted sigh from your lips, like it’s been ten years since you married and every day has felt worse than the last. “Fine.” You can’t really complain about anything yet, considering that you hardly ever see the man. 
“Just ‘fine’?” Victoria sounds skeptical. 
“Yeah,” you draw out the word, as if trying to convince yourself of its truth. “I mean, it’s like he doesn’t even live here. I barely see him. And when I do, we don’t even speak to each other.”
“That’s good though, isn’t it? You hate him.” Victoria says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And in a sense, it kind of is. 
“I mean…”
“I know that your life hasn’t exactly… gone the way you had planned, but isn’t this your best case scenario when considering everything?” She asks. “If Taehyung is as distant as you say he is, isn’t it almost like you never married him in the first place?”
As if on cue, you hear footsteps coming down the stairs, heels clicking on the marble as they make their way to the entrance. You whip your head around to find Taehyung, all dressed up in loose, flowy slacks and a flowery silk button-down, strolling down the staircase as he scrolls through his phone, paying you zero attention whatsoever. 
He notices you briefly when he reaches the bottom, meeting your eyes with his own. He offers this measly, unenthused half-smile your way before he grabs his wallet and some house keys from the table by the entrance, opens the door, and vanishes off into the night. 
If you hadn’t been in the living room, you probably wouldn’t have even realized he left. Not that you being present as he’s planning on leaving would have stopped him anyway. This is the sixth night he’s done this in the past two weeks. You could stand by the door and stare him down as he emerges from his bedroom, all dressed up for something you’re definitely not invited to, and he would offer you that same goddamn smile and walk out the door without even blinking. Who he was before you got married and who he is now are no different. Not even a ring could change that. 
“I guess,” you tell Victoria. At least Taehyung hasn’t turned into a helicopter husband. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wish that I didn’t have to deal with him at all.”
Wish you could turn back time. Wish you could worm your way out of an arranged marriage before it was too late. Wish you could go back to the way things used to be. 
You and Victoria talk for another couple of minutes before she regretfully has to end the call, citing both her beauty sleep and an 8AM meeting tomorrow morning as her reasons for hanging up. The moment you put the phone down, you sink back into the couch cushions, staring out the windows at the world below you.
Here’s the deal. What Taehyung does in his free time is none of your business. But also, it’s totally your business, because you are his spouse. A spouse who is an equal amount in the public eye as he is. What he does and does not do has a direct impact on what you do and do not do. 
It’s no secret that when you catch Taehyung sauntering down the stairs looking like a Gucci runway model, it’s not because he’s planning on catching a movie with a college friend and then playing video games for four hours on a couch in a basement. He is going out. To clubs, to parties, to exclusive events that he’s been invited to by his equally-rich friends, all of whom are acting like he’s the same bachelor he’s always been. 
And maybe that’s the real problem with your whole marriage—other than the glaringly obvious issue that it’s a marriage wholly unwanted by the two parties involved in it. Despite the ring on his finger, Taehyung is going out and pretending that nothing in his life has changed while you’re trapped at home, desperate to save you and your family’s reputation by keeping as low a profile as possible. You would give anything to march around the city all day, flashing middle fingers at paparazzi as you shop at your favorite high-end stores and frequent your favorite clubs. But you can’t, because your family’s fortune and influence is on the line. 
And apparently, Taehyung’s isn’t. 
It sort of makes you wonder why it was even Taehyung you ended up marrying anyway. His family isn’t any richer or more powerful than yours. Your spheres have always been sufficiently separate. What was it about him, and perhaps more importantly, his family that drew your parent’s eye? And what was it about marrying you that prevented him from saying no? Money? Prestige? Influence?
You suppose you’ll never know. But whatever mystical force that convinced Taehyung to agree to this must not be as important to him as your reasoning is to you, because it’s become exceedingly apparent that Taehyung does not care that he’s married. He doesn’t care about the ring on his finger, he doesn’t care about his public image, and he most certainly doesn’t care about you.
Perhaps you were naive for thinking this, but you actually believed marriage might tone him down a little. Might age him into a real adult with real world obligations. Instead, it’s only given you a firsthand look into who Kim Taehyung has been and always will be: a selfish rich kid.
You don’t bother waiting around in the living room until he gets back, but you are still awake by the time you hear the door creak open. Taehyung makes no efforts to hide his return. You can hear him chattering loudly on the phone as he stumbles up the stairs, can tell from his gait alone that he is most certainly wasted. You don’t want to know what he did tonight. You’ll probably be able to figure it out anyway when you wake up tomorrow morning and check your social media. 
What were you thinking, marrying him? That he would change? That he would suddenly become someone that you could rely on? You had no choice when you said, “I do,” but you were at least hoping that maybe one day, one day in a long, long time, the two of you would finally see eye to eye. Maybe there would even come a time when you would genuinely love him. How foolish. 
You close your eyes and try to imagine a world where you have married someone you love, someone who loves you back.
Not unlike the many nights preceding it, tonight is sleepless. 
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Unlike your marital status and general disposition, one thing that hasn’t changed about you is your love for extravagant events. Call you conceited, but there is something so much fun about putting on a fancy, expensive dress that you love and getting your hair and makeup done before going to an exclusive gala and posing in front of five hundred cameras. 
Actually, now that you think about it, maybe your wedding could have actually been pretty good, considering it let you do all those things. It’s a real shame there happened to be a storm cloud in the form of Kim Taehyung there to ruin it. Otherwise, you think you would have rather enjoyed that day. 
Tonight is the first event since your marriage where you and Taehyung are both required to show up and act like a happy married couple. Which would probably be a lot easier if you and Taehyung had exchanged more than ten words over the past two weeks. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but there was a part of you that thought you could use your arranged marriage to actually cultivate some sort of meaningful relationship between the two of you. So events like these wouldn’t be such a drain on both of you. 
When Kim Taehyung comes down the stairs, he actually doesn’t look too bad. You don’t know why this sort of thing keeps catching you off guard—like you don’t expect him to look that good whenever you see him. The problem is that you can’t even chalk up the surprise to him wearing tailored clothes or having his hair done. He just looks… good. 
Well, you suppose you do have to look at him every day for the rest of your life. It’s a good thing he’s attractive. At least he’s not sore on the eyes. 
Taehyung and his unfortunate attractiveness aside, the two of you don’t say a word to each other as you join up at the entrance, grabbing any last-minute items like house keys, chapstick, and whatever dignity you have left to spare. You send forced smiles and tight nods each other’s way in the elevator, staring straight ahead in the lobby of your building as the car pulls up to the front door.
By the time the two of you sit down in the back of the limousine, the built-up tension between the two of you is so thick you’re almost positive that even the chauffeur can feel it through the closed partition. 
If you were any more idyllic, you’d probably spend the drive over to the gala staring out the window and imagining yourself in a different life, on a train to nowhere, flowers in your hair and a journal in your hands. Or perhaps you’d be the CEO of your family’s company instead of having that responsibility passed down to a husband you don’t even want, sitting in an office at the top of a skyscraper overlooking the city. Anything. Anything but this.
But the idyllic part of you died when you realized that fantasies like that are nothing but distractions and that daydreams are for romantics and optimists and losers. 
“What’s our plan for tonight?”
Taehyung scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘what’s our plan’?”
You frown. “Well, we’re married, so we at least have to act like it, don’t you think?”
“Isn’t standing there and smiling enough?” Taehyung asks, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. 
You bristle. Maybe that sufficed for your wedding, but there was so much going on it was easy to distract yourself from the gravity of it all. But this event is not about you. It’s not even about either of your families. It’s about someone the two of you are, at best, distantly connected to, through work, through fame, through power. Which means that though the focus will not be on you, there will still be eyes looking your way. Eyes watching your every move. 
“Do you think it will be?” You challenge. Doesn’t Taehyung realize that things are different now?
Taehyung’s lips curl downwards. “What do you expect us to do, shower each other in kisses? We don’t even sleep on the same fucking floor.”
“Maybe I just expected you to act less like a stranger and more like a husband!”
Taehyung sighs. “Don’t.” The word is clipped, short. “Don’t tell me you actually want to be married.”
“I don’t.” It’s a response that you hardly have to think twice about. “But we are, and nothing can change that.” Unfortunately. But it’s a fact that you and Taehyung have both had to grapple with over the past few weeks, and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that you are more aware of it than he is. If Taehyung could have his way, he would ignore you for the rest of his life and keep partying with the rest of his bachelor friends until he keeled over and died. 
He huffs next to you, eyes staring straight ahead. You don’t think the two of you have met each other’s eyes in a week. Maybe more. They’re starting to feel as soulless as your marriage itself. “Whatever. What do you want me to do?”
“What do you think?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Just act like you don’t hate me. Can you do that?” The way Taehyung’s behaving right now, you expect that will be a challenge for the both of you.
“Only if you can. I’ll even hold your hand to prove that we love each other.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
The idea of holding Taehyung’s hand makes you want to implode. The mere thought sends shivers down your spine. But it’s better than nothing, and that’s good enough for you. At least you won’t have to kiss. 
The rest of the ride there is silent. You drive to this gorgeous mansion just outside the city, bathed in lights hidden amongst the bushes, illuminating both the architecture and the enormous fountain that sits in front of it. In a house this size, you imagine you could probably go your whole life without ever having to come across Taehyung. It actually makes you consider investing in a home that big. 
Taehyung helps you out of the back of the limousine, a cold hand clasping your own as you rest your palm against his. You can feel the way his fingers hesitate as yours make to intertwine with his as you walk towards the entrance, smiling at whatever camera flashes you encounter on your way. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were holding hands with a ghost. 
The moment you step inside and are ushered out of the door’s view, Taehyung’s grip relaxes on yours. For a moment, you think he’ll actually spend the rest of the night like this, a gentle hand wrapped around yours, but then he pulls it away entirely and shoves it back into his pocket. Oh. You frown quietly to yourself. So that’s how tonight’s going to go. 
You don’t make an effort to reach out towards him again. 
For an event concerning people you don’t know a damn thing about, everyone sure seems to know things about you. Other than greetings, you don’t think anyone’s said anything to you about anything other than your recent marriage to Taehyung. Every conversation is punctuated by a Congratulations! you do not feel that you have at all earned, considering you and Taehyung could barely look at each other on the way here.
Maybe Taehyung was right. All you really can do is stand there and smile.
“Oh, don’t tell me… Y/N, is that you?”
The champagne swirls around in the flute between your fingers as you turn towards the sound of your name, looking up to see a familiar face headed your way. 
Kim Seokjin is nice enough. He’s terribly handsome and got a flawless smile, but you know better than to trust those pearly whites of his. The sight of him alone is enough to make your body tense up. There was a reason you had explicitly told your parents not to invite him to your wedding. 
“Seokjin, what a surprise to see you here,” you say, forcing a smile. “I thought you were supposed to be in Switzerland right now.”
“Change of plans,” Seokjin grins back in that awful, awful way, the kind of grin that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you. “I came back early. It’s a shame, though, I missed your wedding.”
You shrug. “It was a humble affair.” It wasn’t. And you’re positive that Seokjin knows it wasn’t an accident that you didn’t extend an invitation to him or his family. 
“Ah, I see,” Seokjin says, nodding his head. He turns to Taehyung next to you, who is making no effort to hide how wholly uninterested in this conversation he is, and holds out a hand. “You must be Kim Taehyung, then. I’m Kim Seokjin. Congratulations on your wedding.”
Taehyung shakes his hand firmly, the air between the three of you growing unbearably palpable. 
“Seokjin’s father is the VP of News Daily,” You explain, eyebrows raised as you try to signal to Taehyung what exactly it means when Seokjin is speaking to the two of you. “And his mother is a popular journalist for the city’s post.”
Seokjin grew up in the world of media, and it seems he’s picked up his parent’s affinity for sticking their noses in places they don’t belong. You know he’s not talking to the both of you out of the goodness of his heart. 
Seokjin laughs, his hand waving away the mention of his parents. “Oh, please. That’s them. I’m just a bored socialite like the rest of you.”
You resist the urge to scoff. 
“Marriage treating the two of you well?” He changes the subject to what he really wants to talk about: you. 
“Of course,” you say quickly, preventing any hesitation on your end. Your empty hand reaches towards Taehyung’s, fingers searching for his between the two of you. But his refusal to join hands does not go unnoticed by you nor Seokjin, who is eyeing the space between your bodies with an eyebrow raised. “It’s just been—well, it’s just been difficult to adjust to a new life. That’s all.”
If you were to describe the face of a non-believer, it would be the exact expression on Seokjin’s face. “Perfectly understandable,” he says, that same toothy smile lacing his features. “But it must be nice, you know, to marry someone you love.”
“I couldn’t be happier,” you say, almost challenging Seokjin to say something even more inflammatory. He must know that all you’re trying to do at this point is save face. Love? Ha! As if. 
“And Taehyung?” Seokjin motions to your husband. 
You can feel the way Taehyung is stiffening beside you. “I suppose we are both lucky and unlucky in many ways when it comes to who we love.”
It’s enough of an answer to get Seokjin off your tail. For now. He bids the two of you a tense goodbye before sauntering off to go poke his nose in someone else’s business, fish for drama, a thread of a rumor he can pick apart with nimble fingers. You wonder if anybody actually likes him. 
The moment he disappears from earshot, you grab Taehyung’s wrist tightly and pull him close to you. “What the hell was that?” You hiss into his ear. 
“What?” You can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or if he really is that dense. 
“You!” You exclaim. “Kim Seokjin is the one person who could easily expose how fake this marriage is and you pull away from me? Right in front of him? You can’t even hold my hand for two seconds, that’s how much you hate me?”
“Who cares what he thinks?” Taehyung says. “He’s just another media rat. No one will even remember we were here tomorrow.”
“But if you keep acting like this, people will start to notice! Why can’t you just act like you don’t hate me, for one night? Is that so bad? Is it that torturous, to spend one night with me?”
“Do not turn this on me,” Taehyung orders harshly. “You’re making a scene. Come on.”
You don’t have time to shout at him for bossing you around like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum before he drags you out of the venue, the two of you finding a back door to the building that leads outside. The cold air blows against your body, goosebumps popping up against your skin, but you find that the chilly night provides quite the respite after practically overheating indoors. Taehyung makes fire rush through your veins but at least the air can cool you back down. 
Nevertheless, your conversation is not over. It’s just been moved to a more private location.
“You do realize that our marriage isn’t going to suddenly go away, right? That we’re going to have to keep doing this for the rest of our lives?” You remind him, eyebrows raised. There’s a part of you that genuinely thinks he’s completely forgotten that your marriage is permanent.
“Oh, and not holding hands for five minutes for this one event is totally going to change the course of our lives, isn’t it?” Taehyung fights back.
“Don’t act like you did the right thing,” you spit out. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me. I know you don’t give a shit about our marriage.”
“What marriage is there to even give a shit about? Just because we had a wedding and signed some documents does not mean there is a real marriage between us. Look at us,” he motions between the two of you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We hate each other. Is this what you would call marriage?”
“But at least I’m trying to get past that!” You exclaim. “You make it seem like being as miserable as possible is some sort of badge of honor. Do you actually want to spend the rest of your life hating the person you married? Or do you want to grow up and try and move on?”
Taehyung frowns. “What I want is for the person I married to stop acting like they’re doing me such a huge favor by pretending to care about us. Especially when all they really care about is their family’s goddamn reputation.”
“No,” you tell him sternly. You are doing him a favor. He just can’t admit that he actually needs help from you. “You are putting zero effort into this. What am I supposed to do?”
“Let it go!” Taehyung shouts. “Maybe one day we’ll actually start getting along, but right now it’s obvious that neither one of us can stand the other. I don’t need you to do favors for me. I can handle it myself.”
You look away, rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t look like it to me,” you mutter to yourself. 
Taehyung cracks. “Fine. You want me to pretend that I actually care about us? I will.” Thank God. Maybe now the two of you will finally start seeing eye-to-eye. “But make no mistake about how I feel about you,” he spits. “Getting married to you ruined my life.”
You stare straight at him and his eyes are swirling, so obscured in the darkness of the night that you might even think he doesn’t have a soul at all. His pupils bore into yours and for once, for once in your goddamn life, after so many years of staring each other down at debutante balls, so many years of witty refrains and snarky insults hurled each other’s way, it feels like the two of you might actually snap. 
Then, a camera flashes.
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Trouble in Paradise! would be a suitable title for the front page of the city’s biggest tabloid… if anything about your life with Taehyung could be considered paradise. Unfortunately for the both of you, that is not the case. 
You don’t need to keep reading the rest of the trashy article on the front page of the daily tabloid to know how much trouble you’re in, nor do you even have time to scroll beneath the terrible photo of you and Taehyung literally shouting at each other before you hear your phone ring. 
You don’t even bother saying hello to whoever’s on the other end. You know it’ll go in one ear and out the other. 
“I assume you know why I’m calling,” your mother’s harsh tone spits from the other end of the phone. There’s no doubt in your mind that she’s standing in the middle of her office, snapping her fingers at her fifteen secretaries as they partake in the worst damage control your family’s had to deal with since your cousin two years ago was caught with a mistress outside a high-profile restaurant. 
“Can I take a wild guess?” You’re about to be scolded into the next century, so you might as well enjoy your last few moments. 
“Don’t get cheeky with me,” your mother warns. “Care to explain why you and your beloved husband made the front page of the Daily Post today?”
“I know,” you sigh, a hand coming up to rub at your temples. It’s eight in the morning, you’ve barely looked at your phone, and you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet. It feels like you’re still asleep, and most certainly lack the energy to deal with this right now. 
Your mother, on the other hand, thinks otherwise. “You know? You know, and you still go out and do this? For everyone to see?”
“We tried to take our argument outside,” you begin to explain, but your mother isn’t having a single word of it. 
“The fact that you thought it was even appropriate to have an argument in a public setting at all astounds me, Y/N. We raised you better than that.” There’s no need for you to even see her face. You’ve grown so used to that disappointed frown over the years that it’s burned into your brain. 
“Maybe you should have thought about that before marrying me off to a man I barely know so I could be someone else’s problem instead of yours,” you bite. 
“We did this for your own good,” she hisses back. “You are married because we love you, and we want you to succeed outside of this family.”
“Then why do you care what the tabloids print about me?”
“Because being married does not mean you are no longer a part of this family,” your mother informs you sternly, lips smacking together. “Your marriage reflects on all of us, and you know that. What will people think of us when they see how terribly behaved you are?”
“Everyone acts like that, and you know it.” How could your mother preach good behavior when everyone, everyone you know, is just as spoiled and entitled as you? There’s no such thing as being altruistic when it comes to people like you. Being genuine, and good, and pure—that will get you ruined. 
You can hear her breathing into the phone when your mother responds, “But not in public, and that is the point. We expect better from you.”
“If you were so worried about me behaving so badly, then why did you even marry me off anyway? You knew that I didn’t want to. What did you think would happen?” It’s a question you wouldn’t have dared ask three months ago. Hell, even a year ago, when it was first revealed you were to be engaged, you wouldn’t have dared open your lips. But things are different now. You’re married to a man that hates you just as much as you hate him. He is making no effort to improve your relationship and seems hellbent on despising you forever. There is no way to get out of it. And if your parents really foresaw all of that, then what was the point in the first place?
“Your grandmother.”
Your mouth shuts. 
“You know she wanted to see you married before she passed,” your mother says, words clipped and biting and harsh. “She cares about you. She wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of.”
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you mutter to yourself like a petulant child. In a way, you sort of are.
“If you want to stay in her will, I suggest you change that mindset.”
You freeze in your tracks. The will?
“Is that a threat?” You ask, positively dumbfounded. Are you being coerced into staying in this marriage because of your grandmother’s will?
You can hear your mother laugh, that muted, knowing chuckle of hers. “It was the deal all along, remember?”
Vaguely, you do. You remember fighting your parents tooth and nail over getting married until your grandmother revealed it was her dream to see you wed. You remember the look on her old, wrinkled face, that soft, sad smile that said she knew she didn’t have much time left. You remember agreeing, because how could you deny her? You remember her promising to remember what you’re doing for her. 
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“But—”
“That’s the end of this conversation, Y/N. You fix things with your husband or you’re out of her will. She’s made that clear. I expect you’ll make the right choice.”
She hangs up. 
Well. 
There are a lot of ways to describe how you’re currently feeling, and you most certainly had an expensive education that would provide you with plenty of the vocabulary, but you think the most appropriate words for the current situation would be: you’re fucked. 
At least the feeling is mutual. 
Hardly two minutes after your mother’s brutal phone call, Taehyung comes storming down the stairs, hair still mussed from the night prior, his own phone clenched tightly between is fingers. Even from where you stand in the middle of the living room, you can see the way his eyes are glinting with anger, the veins popping out from his skin. 
“I just got off the phone with my parents,” Taehyung begins, not even bothering to spare a ‘good morning’ your way, “and they are fucking furious about last night.”
You shrug. “Join the club,” you mutter, arms crossed in front of you. What, does Taehyung really think you got off scot-free?
“Don’t act like this means nothing to you,” Taehyung says as he approaches you, footsteps calm despite his demeanor being anything but. “You’re the one who’s so obsessed with keeping up their family’s perfect reputation. You’re the reason we’re even in this mess in the first place.”
“What do you mean, ‘I’m the reason’?” You ask, astounded. Like he’s totally absolved of all blame and just an innocent third party. “You are the reason we went outside. You are the reason we had that argument, because you refuse to accept the fact that we’re actually married and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“Right, because holding hands is really gonna show all those people how in love we are. I bet your parents are so thrilled right now.” Taehyung drawls. 
“It’s a start!” You shriek. “God, you’re just so—so infuriating! You can’t accept that this was your fault, too. You just have to turn everything against me and you always, always have to get the last word. It’s like you think you’ll die if you don’t.”
“Like you’re any better,” Taehyung huffs back. “You think I’m the villain because I don’t want to pretend to be in love with someone I’m not in love with. You act like us not holding hands is going to ruin our lives. It was one event! One! It’s obvious we hate each other, so why even try?”
“What, do you expect me to just sit around and do nothing? To act like everything’s fine? Like I’m happy?” As if. This marriage is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. “While you prance around the city with your rich boy friends, going out to clubs and parties and pretending that I don’t exist? Is that what you expect from me?”
Taehyung laughs, this loud, disbelieving sort of noise, like he’s never heard such nonsense before. “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean the rest of my life has to change. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself with my friends? Or are you determined to keep me chained to your side for the rest of our lives?”
“What I want,” you punctuate every word, “is for you to stop acting like you haven’t got stakes in this, too. You think I don’t know how your family works? What being married to me means for you? Because I do. And I know that if we were to divorce, it would be you who would get the short end of the stick. Make no mistake.”
That’s enough to shut Taehyung up for a good few seconds. And it shuts him up, because he knows it’s true. Taehyung’s family may have a little more money, a little more power than yours, but you’ve got a family intimately more connected with the media. One phone call and Taehyung may have a rather messy, rather public breakup to deal with. 
“You wouldn’t,” he says, calling your bluff. 
“Are you sure about that?” You say, sticking your ground. You would never really divorce him, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I am,” Taehyung says firmly. “Don’t think I don’t know what being married to me is in it for you. What is it? Money? Power? Your father’s CEO position?”
“That’s none of your business,” you snap quickly. Maybe you’re more transparent than you thought. Bristling, you straighten your shoulders and turn back to meet his eyes. “Regardless, it seems we both have a reason to stay in this marriage.”
“It seems we do,” Taehyung agrees with a thin, contained smile. “Then I suppose we can reach some sort of agreement.”
“As in…?” Your interest in piqued. 
“I’ll stop going out with my friends if you stop picking fights with me all the time,” he says economically, like he’s killing two birds with one stone. 
“Only if you agree to also act more like my husband when we’re in public,” you tack on, because you just can’t settle for anything less. 
“Public only,” Taehyung specifies. 
You scoff. “Like I’d even want to pretend to be your wife when we’re in private.”
“Good. It seems we’ve come to a deal.”
“What’s in this for you, huh?” You prod, just to be annoying. Taehyung’s right. There’s a reason you’re not divorcing him the second you get the chance. But there must be a reason why he’s not doing the same thing. 
“Does it matter?” He challenges, a single eyebrow raised. “My life is just as awful as yours.”
Fair enough. 
“Do we have a deal?” Taehyung asks, holding out his hand, that sneaky, devilish grin lacing his features. 
Taking his hand in yours and grasping it firmly is the easiest decision in the world. His palm presses against your own, hot hand meeting your cold skin, and it feels like the two of you are finally finding some sort of balance. You look up into his eyes, burn your gaze into his pupils, watch them glint in the white ceiling light of the living room. 
“Deal.”
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For two people raised on the values of reading the fine print and making educated choices when it comes to business deals, you and Taehyung sure haven’t worked out any of the intricacies of the deal the two of you agreed to. Unlike those business deals your parents constantly agreed to, however, knowing all of the stipulations and provisions of your strange, strange agreement with Taehyung may prove more harmful than helpful. 
Like right now. 
“Wait, we don’t have to be by each other’s side the whole night, do we?” Taehyung asks you, eyebrows furrowed in a knot, as you sit in the back of a big, black van on your way to a mutual friend’s twenty-first birthday bash. 
“There are going to be a lot of cameras there,” you respond. 
“Yeah, outside the entrance to the damn club. You know they won’t be allowed in, so who cares?” Taehyung rebukes. 
You huff out a little sigh, not wanting to get into an argument when you’re literally minutes away from your first public appearance since the whole tabloid debacle from three weeks ago. You and Taehyung could both do with being a bit more relaxed than you normally are when you’re around each other. 
“Hasn’t Clarissa invited hundreds of people? They’ll all notice if we aren’t together,” you remind pointedly. The girl whose birthday party you are attending is an heiress who grew up on the money of two people with a monopoly over the current artificial intelligence market and has millions of followers on social media. There will be notable people there. And people will know the two of you, as well. 
Taehyung rolls his eyes. “That’s the point, Y/N. There’ll be so many people, no one will even care. It’s her twenty-first birthday. Do you think people are going to be sober?”
You purse your lips together. He’s got a point. “How about when we are together, we hold hands. But if you see a friend or something then feel free to say hi.” Taehyung can be afforded that luxury. Especially because the chances of him not bumping into someone he knows is exceedingly low anyway. 
Taehyung nods in agreement. “You too. But I won’t leave you unless I know you’re with someone you’re close with.”
“You don’t have to stay, I’ll be fine,” you say with a small chuckle. What, is Taehyung suddenly worried, or something?
“Yeah, but it would be in bad taste if I left you with someone you didn’t know well. Or alone. Just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.” He shrugs nonchalantly, turning back to look out of the window on his side of the car. 
“Okay.” 
You don’t really have anything else to say to that. You’re sure you can handle yourself if you’re left alone for a few minutes while Taehyung says hi, but you actually find yourself rather appreciative of his resolve to look after you. Or, at least, make sure someone else is looking after you. It’s quite… chivalrous. Strikingly out of character for the Taehyung you’ve become well-acquainted with over the past couple of months. 
By the time you arrive, it’s obvious that Taehyung was right about there being so many people you two practically don’t even exist. Other than the herds of camera crews waiting outside the joint, photographing everyone that steps out of a black car to see what they’re wearing and who they’ve come with, no one seems to be paying you any attention. And in a way, that sort of nonexistence, that anonymity, it’s refreshing. Your entire life you’ve felt like all eyes were on you, like there was constantly a spotlight above your head, but here, the party centers around someone else. 
Despite that fact, Taehyung keeps his promise. He keeps himself pressed closely against you when there’s not enough space for you two to stand side by side, and he makes sure to have a hand gently intertwined with your own as you weave your way through the dozens of bodies in the room. He doesn’t say anything, of course, always looking up and forward instead of beside him, where you stand, but you find that you’re actually quite relaxed with his presence. He spots a bit of a clearing near the back of the first floor of the club, where a whole bunch of leather couches are pressed up against the brick walls, where the two of you can take a breather. 
“Damn, Clarissa knows a lot of people,” you say when you finally settle down, happily plucking a martini from a tray held by one of the many caterers wandering through the venue. 
“I doubt she’s even spoken to half of them,” Taehyung comments. “She and I have maybe spoken once… three years ago.”
“It was enough to get you invited, wasn’t it?” You point out with an eyebrow raised. 
Taehyung nods, chuckling a little. “Touché,” he says, clinking his own cocktail glass against yours. 
You take a swig of the drink, letting it wash down your throat. You’re not exactly sure how else you’re supposed to survive the night. “You must enjoy this, huh?” You muse, looking up at Taehyung from where you’re seated on the couch. He’s standing next to you, looking around the room with a distant gaze in his eye. 
“Enjoy what? The drink? It’s nice,” Taehyung says, having another sip. 
“No, I mean this,” you say, motioning toward the crowd. “The clubbing, the dancing, the drinking. I’ll bet that if you could do this every day for the rest of your life, you would.”
“I’m honored that you think so highly of me,” he deadpans. 
“Just making an observation,” you say, holding your hand up in surrender. “I mean, isn’t this what you used to do every weekend before we got married? Get wasted and party? Wake up in someone else’s bed the next morning? Muscle your way through the week just so you could do it all over again?”
Taehyung shakes his head, a knowing grin on his face. “Looks like someone keeps up with her tabloids. Let me guess, you would scroll through all of those trashy articles on your phone whenever you woke up so you could see what your future husband was doing?”
“I could have never even met you and I would know that that’s exactly what you do,” you say, even though you definitely did do those things before your engagement was announced to the public. “You’re a heartbreaker, Kim Taehyung. I don’t need to read a tabloid to know that.”
“Well, you must be quite the lucky girl, then,” Taehyung comments. “You seem to be taking up so much of my energy that I don’t have the time for that anymore.”
You place a sarcastic hand on your heart. “I didn’t know you were always thinking about me. I’m touched.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Taehyung huffs out, making the two of you both shake your heads as you chuckle to yourselves. First civil conversation you’ve had with each other in a long while, even if there may have been a few blows exchanged. 
The privacy doesn’t last long. Soon after, a huge crowd of people that could honestly still pass for teenagers herds towards the back of the club, all of them wanting to take pictures with each other. You and Taehyung do your best to stay out of the way, but one of the girls recognizes him from the Elle photoshoot he did about a year ago and begins to strike up a conversation with the both of you about your recent marriage. If she was paying attention to anything the tabloids leaked three weeks ago, she doesn’t mention it. Taehyung smiles and happily answers all of her questions, and even offers to take a picture of the group for them. The conversation ends before the two of you even catch her name. 
You’re standing by the line of buffet tables laid out against the staircase leading up to the second floor, no doubt as crowded as this one, when the opportunity for you to speak to someone other than Taehyung finally presents itself. 
“Y/N!”
You’d recognize that voice anywhere. You turn around to see Victoria barreling towards the both of you, not even caring when she accidentally spills a bit of her piña colada on the floor as she does. 
“Hey!” You exclaim excitedly. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure Clarissa invited everyone on her, her best friend’s, her best friend’s cousin, and her best friend’s cousin’s dog’s contact list,” Victoria says with a laugh. “It’s nice to see you. I feel like you’ve been holed up in that big ol’ penthouse for weeks.”
“Damage control,” you remind her succinctly. Victoria knows enough that that’s all the explanation she really needs. 
“I don’t know if the two of you have ever met formally,” you say, thinking back to your wedding, where Victoria spent most of her time schmoozing with your parents (who love her) and didn’t even engage with any of the people who Taehyung’s family had invited. “Taehyung, this is Victoria. Victoria, Taehyung.”
“Pleasure,” Victoria says in that loud, unabashedly forward way of hers, holding out a friendly hand. Taehyung smiles back curtly, taking her hand and shaking it gently, so as not to spill any more of her drink. 
“Mine as well. I remember you were at our wedding.” Oh? So he does know her?
“That I was. Oh, I miss that day. The food was excellent. Tonight’s isn’t too bad either. Hope you’re doing well, the two of you. It’s nice to see you getting along,” she says, always the observer. 
Taehyung’s eyes widen a little when he picks up what Victoria is not-so-subtly putting down, but you place a hand on his upper arm to calm him. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “She won’t say anything.”
“My lips are sealed,” Victoria adds. 
“If you wanna go spend time with some of your friends, you can,” you say, giving Taehyung a nudge. He looks positively helpless standing in between the two of you as Victoria out-extroverts him. 
“Alright,” he says hesitantly, even though you know he’s already spotted at least ten people you’re sure he’d want to spend time with over you. “I’ll come find you soon, okay? Don’t go too far.”
You nod, and Taehyung disappears off into the crowd. Not two seconds later, you hear someone else call his name in a familiar tone. 
“I thought you said you hated him,” Victoria points out as the two of you watch his caramel brown hair makes its way throughout the crowd. 
You take another sip of your drink. “I do,” you say. 
Victoria looks at you like you’ve just told her you’ve sworn off custard-filled doughnuts. 
“What?” You ask, feeling suddenly defensive. 
“Nothing,” Victoria singsongs. “It just doesn’t look like that to me.”
“We just need to keep up a good appearance in public, that’s all. You know how mad my parents got when the tabloids leaked all that shit a few weeks ago,” you explain. You’re not sure what all the fuss is about. Taehyung said he would do these things. And he did. That was him upholding his end of the deal. This is you upholding yours. 
“If you say so…” Victoria says, not looking at all convinced. “I guess I’m just surprised that—that you two seem to be getting along so well. Maybe you being married isn’t going to be the worst thing after all.”
You stare back out into the crowd, scanning the top of people’s heads for Taehyung’s familiar locks. In the dim light of the club, you have a difficult time finding his, squinting your eyes slightly as you look around, but eventually you spot him, dancing happily with some old friends of his you recognize. He looks like he’s having a good time. And that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this might end up alright. 
“Yeah,” you say, though with the pounding of the bass and the alcohol already rushing through your veins, it doesn’t really feel like your voice belongs to you. You look back at Taehyung, knowing exactly where he is now, and you smile. Just a little. “I guess he’s not so bad.”
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You never do get a chance to meet Taehyung’s friends that night. By the time he joins back up with you and Victoria he’s by himself, a little more drunk than when he left, and ready to go home. And for once, instead of fighting him, instead of insisting you stay an hour more just to make sure you’ve done all of your rounds, you let him take you home. 
Taehyung has been spending a lot more time at the penthouse lately. Perhaps his family’s business happenings are slow, or perhaps he’s actually starting to get more comfortable with inhabiting the same space as you, but he has definitely found himself quite the rhythm in that house of yours. He even comes down to the first floor rather regularly. 
When he’s home, Taehyung is a lot quieter than you thought he would be. Granted, you don’t exactly know what you were expecting in the first place, but it certainly wasn’t him ruminating in one of the home offices while the Beatles play softly on the stereo, nor was it him reading a book in French in one of those big old grandfather chairs in the living room. If you didn’t know any better, you’d probably think he was still absent in that old way of his, ghostlike and silent, like he was occupying the space instead of truly living in it. 
But you do know better, and even though Taehyung is just as noiseless as he used to be, the house already feels a little bit fuller. 
Perhaps the reason you’ve become so keenly aware of his presence over the past few days is because of the notable fact that Taehyung has indeed held up his end of the deal, and no longer goes out with his friends in the evening. Or at all, for that matter. Which strikes you as rather odd, because he’s the epitome of a social butterfly, a thousand contacts in his phone and a whole group of friends he regularly spends time with. Maybe his parents told him to tone down the public appearances, too. And that’s understandable, but don’t they know Taehyung? Can’t they see how much he thrives on social interaction? It almost makes you feel… bad for him. 
To remedy this, you suggest he invite over his friends. Just for a few hours, you swear you won’t mind. 
“Seriously?” Taehyung looks positively shocked when you tell him he can, standing in the doorway of the office he seems to have designated as his own. 
“Yeah, why not?” You say with a carefree shrug. Besides, you’ve never met his friends anyway, and now seems as good a chance as any to introduce yourself. You are his wife, after all. “Unless your parents say you can’t. But it’s not a problem for me.”
“You… don’t mind if I have my friends over for a bit? Honest to God, we’re probably just going to play FIFA for three hours straight,” Taehyung says like it’s some sort of warning. Like the idea of him and his buddies from college are going to sit in the living room screaming at the television, leaving you alone to do literally anything else, is somehow bad. 
You laugh. “It’s fine, really. Call them. I’d actually quite like to meet them.”
Taehyung picks up his phone almost instantly, as if you’ll change your mind in the next five minutes so he better get them over soon, and already you can see the way his face is lighting up, the way his eyes crinkle as he chats to his friends and the way his lips curl upwards when they crack a joke back. Isn’t it obvious? He feeds off of the energy of others. Who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?
As it turns out, Taehyung’s friends actually end up being quite nice anyway. 
He invites over three, because four people is apparently the perfect number for a hardcore game of FIFA on his Playstation, and they are all very handsome men you have never met before. You suppose like attracts like, after all. 
“You must be Y/N,” says the first one you see when you open the door to let them in. He doesn’t look a day over twenty-one—in fact, he could probably still pass as a college student—and has rather long dark hair that drapes over the sides of his face, covering the edges of his big doe eyes. “I’m Jungkook. This is Jimin and Hoseok.”
“Nice to meet you all,” you say, stepping aside so they can enter.
The shortest one, Jimin, grins in response, and Hoseok, behind him, gives you a wave. It’s refreshing enough as is, not having to exchange formal greetings and shake each other’s hands like you do with everyone else. Hoseok even gives you a bit of a nod, too.“You, too,” he says. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
Oh, have they, now? Interesting. 
“All good things, I hope,” you say awkwardly, forcing a small smile as Taehyung comes bounding into the room, ears perked up at the sound of his friends’ voices. 
“Definitely. Thanks for having us over. We didn’t wanna intrude on the sanctity of your new place,” Jungkook says, gesturing vaguely to the house as a whole. He’s got this excellent, genuine grin on his face, the kind that people who are just happy to be alive always wear. 
Already he’s said enough to charm the shit out of you. Who knew Taehyung’s friends could be so… friendly? “Please, you’re welcome any time. I was just thinking Taehyung was getting a little lonely.”
“There he is!” Jimin shouts excitedly when he spots Taehyung behind the two of you, looking a lot more casual than he normally does when he’s alone with you, having abandoned his usual silky button-down and wide-leg slacks for a loose shirt and some sweatpants. You didn’t even know he had those things in his closet. 
“Hey, everyone’s here!” Taehyung exclaims, just as happy. He squeezes past you to give the three of them a big hug, and it almost makes you feel like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be in. Even though this is literally your house. 
“Nice place you got here,” Hoseok comments, eyes drifting around the living room. “Very minimalist, I like it.”
“Sure hope you don’t spill anything on those nice leather couches of yours,” Jungkook says. 
“Yeah, unlike Kook, who has spilled tomato soup on every shirt he’s ever owned,” Jimin jokes, earning laughs from Taehyung and Hoseok and a punch from Jungkook. 
“Moved after we married,” Taehyung says simply, shrugging his shoulders. It’s an easy enough explanation for why it doesn’t look at all lived in. Here’s hoping none of them realize you sleep in different bedrooms. 
“Yeah, congratulations on that, man,” Hoseok says, giving Taehyung a celebratory nudge in the shoulder. “Who’d have thought, out of the four of us, Kim Taehyung would be the first one to settle down.”
The way Taehyung’s body tenses up at that comment does not go unnoticed by you. 
“Seriously, I would have never guessed,” Jimin adds on. “You’re showing us a new side of yourself, Tae. But I’m happy for you.”
Normally, you’d probably take offense at such blatant insinuations that your husband was a former playboy, especially from his equally noncommittal friends. But truthfully, it’s not like you were blind to Taehyung’s transgressions either. And what matters most is the fact that since it was announced publicly, you are the only woman he’s been seen with since your engagement. 
“Me too. You seem to really like her. I’m glad,” Jungkook pipes up, sending a smile your way. You definitely feel like you don’t belong in this conversation. “I think the two of you will be good for each other.”
“Yeah, I hope so,” Taehyung says with a nervous chuckle. His eyes quickly shoot your way, the two of you meeting gazes, your hesitant expressions matching. At least the two of you are on the same page. “Alright, alright, enough,” Jungkook says. “Who’s ready to get their ass kicked in FIFA?”
“You’re on, Jeon. But when I win, you owe me a five-star dinner,” Hoseok challenges. 
“Deal.”
Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately crowd towards the couch, and you take that as your cue to leave. But before you can disappear down the hallway, you and Taehyung look awkwardly at each other, hands tied. It’s not like you can say anything to them. 
The truth is that, sometimes, it’s easy to forget that not everyone else knows that your marriage is just for business. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that there are still people out there that believe you marry for love. 
Isn’t it crazy to think that you used to be one of those people, too?
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“Hey,” Taehyung says when you meet up at the bottom of the stairs again. 
“Hey,” you respond. 
“You look nice.”
You scoff a little to yourself. What, are you exchanging compliments now? “Thanks,” you say, looking him up and down. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Like he ever is. 
“I knew you had taste,” Taehyung teases, and it’s the sort of comment that would have earned him a melon ball to the face back when the two of you were teenagers at a debutante ball, but today only earns him a roll of your eyes as you join hands. You don’t have anything big tonight—just a small dinner to celebrate some sort of business accomplishment for your family, which means that all you have to manage is not ending up in some sort of food fight by the end of the night. 
“I didn’t have a choice, did I?” You retort easily as you get into the car. 
You don’t normally speak a lot on the way to events. Not that you ever did, but even as your relationship has slowly faded from pure hatred to attempts at compromise, you both seem to relish in being able to stare out of your respective backseat windows and into the city that surrounds you. Just out of curiosity, about halfway through the ride you look towards Taehyung to see what he’s up to, and find yourself genuinely surprised to see him leaning against the window with his eyes closed. Is he sleeping? A couple more minutes of gazing at him tells you he is, because his body has gone lax and his breathing has evened out, soft snores leaving his mouth. This ride can’t be longer than twenty minutes. Has he not been sleeping well? Up in that enormous second-floor bedroom of his?
He’s awake by the time the car parks outside the restaurant, this fancy name brand steak place that was chosen solely because the biggest beneficiaries of your family’s new business deal are two sixty-year-old men whose entire diet consists of beef and beer. No cameras tonight, just a small family affair. You and Taehyung hold hands as you enter the restaurant and are led to the private room in the back anyway. 
You and him are seated on the far end of the long, rectangular table, alongside all of the other adult children dragged along to celebrate something that has no effect on their lives. But it’s nice, because the space alone prevents your parents from actively speaking with you, and you and Taehyung can stay in your own little bubble, only chiming in for a toast when necessary. 
“What are you going to get?” He asks you, the two of you gazing at the menu. No matter how fancy this place is, all the options seem to boil down to steak, steak, steak, steak, and caesar salad. Classic. 
“Oh, so you actually care now?” You counter, an eyebrow raised in amusement. 
Taehyung laughs. “Aren’t I supposed to?”
You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, wise to his usual shenanigans. It’s hard to tell if Taehyung really means what he says, or if it’s all for show. But perhaps he’s asking because he’s genuinely curious, since no one else seems to be paying you any attention. 
“The choices on this menu are simply overwhelming,” you say, motioning to the six options in front of you. 
“I know, I’m so torn,” Taehyung jokes, making you huff out a little giggle. At least he’s still got that same sense of humor. 
You both end up going for a pretty classic steak dinner, which neither of the two of you finish because the damn portions are the size of your head. Dinner is, in and of itself, absolutely mindless, all of your parents talking about things that don’t concern you whatsoever, leaving you and Taehyung to your own devices as you desperately try to make the night go by faster. 
At one point, you notice Taehyung’s foot brushing up against yours, the leather of his loafers brushing against the toe of your patent heel. Thinking someone of it, you push back, foot nudging his back to his own chair. It’s not a second later that Taehyung retaliates, the two of you dancing around each other underneath the table. 
If the two of you were any younger, or perhaps any less resigned to your fate, there’s no doubt in your mind you would be attempting to get Taehyung to fall off his chair in an effort to do the same to you. Footsie means war. But when the both of you know that, at the end of the day, you’ll still be going home to the same place, and waking up the next morning in the same house, it doesn’t feel like this is a battle.
It’s just life. 
Eventually, you meet Taehyung’s eyes with a hesitant smile, shoe pressed against his, stuck in ceasefire. And for once, he doesn’t have that devilish look in his eye, that smug little grin on his face that tells you that he’s going to make you regret whatever it is you just did. He’s just smiling back at you, all pink lips, having found real fun in the little things. 
And that makes you happy. 
The rest of the dinner is uneventful, which, in your book, is about as good as a dinner can go. You cheers to the future of your parents’ relationship with their newfound partners and say a quick goodbye to them both, hurrying out of there before they can ask you any questions on your relationship with your husband. But you don’t spend the car ride in silence on the way back. 
Instead, you say, “Have you been sleeping well?”
The question seems to catch Taehyung off guard. He was already getting in position to take a power nap on the ride home, head pressed up against the window of the car. 
“What?”
“Have you been sleeping well?” You repeat. “I noticed you fell asleep on the way here.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess,” he says, a hand scratching the nape of his neck. “I mean, it’s been hard adjusting, I suppose. But I’ll get over it.”
Hard adjusting? You’ve been together for nearly three months now. Three months worth of sleeping in the same penthouse bedroom, on the same soft-as-a-cloud mattress, underneath the same weighted blanket. And he’s still having trouble? 
“Oh. I mean, I just wanted to ask because you seem really tired lately.”
“I got a lot on my plate, what can I say,” Taehyung says with an empty smile, forcing a chuckle. “I’ll be fine, seriously. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Isn’t that my job?” You remind him. “I am your wife.”
Taehyung doesn’t say anything to that. He just lets out an audible breath, the kind you let out when you’re amused and have something snarky to say, but don’t have the energy to get the words off your tongue. 
The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. 
When you get home, you place your house keys in the bowl by the entrance and take off your shoes, just about ready to take a hot shower and collapse in bed, when Taehyung’s voice stops you. 
“Hey,” he begins, almost hesitantly. You look back at him inquisitively. “I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted, we could start sleeping in the same bed?”
You scrunch your nose up. Not in disgust, but in surprise. In bewilderment. What brought this on, all of a sudden?
“Really?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. “I thought we liked the separate bed thing. Gives us privacy.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung says with a shrug, “but—I don’t know, it’s stupid. I just thought, you know, since we’re married and all. And it’s been three months.” He looks about two seconds away from backtracking, from shaking his head and going upstairs before you can say anything else. 
“Alright,” you say quickly, nodding your assent. Taehyung’s eyes widen when he hears the word, like he had completely expected you to shut him down the moment he made the suggestion. “If that’s what you want. We can try it.”
“You sure?” He asks, that same hesitant smile from earlier lacing his features. It’s strange. He almost looks… sweet. Nervous. 
You grin back at him. “Yeah, I am.”
Taehyung lets you grab some of your toiletries and your pajamas from your designated bedroom before you head up the stairs together, towards the bedroom he’s claimed for himself. Funnily enough, this is the first time you’ve been in his room. Three months of living together and you haven’t dared step foot on the second floor. 
You don’t know what you were expecting when he opens the door to let you inside. Maybe a room that screamed ‘Taehyung’ a little more than this one does. One that looks like an actual human has been living here. But other than one of his classic silk button-downs draped over a chair, there’s not a shred of evidence someone has actually been sleeping here. You could honestly be fooled rather easily that the shirt, too, is just decoration. 
“You can pick a side,” Taehyung says casually. He grabs his own sleepwear—an old t-shirt and some sweats—and heads into the bathroom to change. 
You wonder why Taehyung has had such a difficult time adjusting. This room is about as lavish as a bedroom can get. And yet. 
Sitting down on the left side of the bed, you begin to remove your own clothes, unzipping tonight’s dress and stepping quickly into your pajamas, hurrying to make sure Taehyung doesn’t catch you half-naked. How funny is that, you think to yourself. You’ve been married for three months and you still can’t bear the thought of Taehyung seeing you without a shirt on. 
When Taehyung comes out of the bathroom, hair all messy and clothes all casual, he grins lazily to himself. “I sleep on the right anyway,” he comments mindlessly. 
Within twenty minutes the both of you are about as ready to pass out as you have ever been, the only lights still on the ones on your respective nightstands. 
“Goodnight,” Taehyung says, reaching an arm over to switch his off. 
“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning off yours as well. And all of a sudden, the room is shrouded in darkness. 
You fall asleep instantly. 
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When Taehyung wakes up the next morning, the first thing he says to you is that he hasn’t slept that well in ages. 
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“You slept together?” Victoria shrieks, so loud you actually have to move your phone away from your ear as you punch in the code inside the elevator for access to your floor. 
“We did not sleep together,” you emphasize. “Okay, well, we sleep together, as in, in the same bed. But we are fully clothed. And not the slightest bit interested in doing anything other than sleeping.”
“I thought you said you liked having your own space,” Victoria points out. “When was the first time you—uh…” she pauses to find the right words, “shared a bed?”
“A couple weeks ago. It’s really not so bad, I don’t know why you’re so hung up over it,” you say, lips pursed. You squeeze the phone between the side of your head and your shoulder, hands full of shopping bags, the string of the handles burning your skin. Maybe you should look into getting a personal shopper. 
“I’m hung up over it because, for the longest time, you have sworn off Kim Taehyung. Called him dead to you. Insulted him every chance you get.” 
You scoff. You don’t need reminding of how much you hated him, how much you can’t believe you have to spend the rest of your life with him. “It’s different now. We’re married. And he said he wasn’t sleeping well. I felt bad.”
“He wasn’t?”
“Enough about him,” you say, shutting her up. You don’t feel like talking about him with Victoria anymore. “Word through the grapevine says that your parents are actually thinking of letting you start your own company?”
It’s enough to distract Victoria. For the rest of the ride in the elevator, she talks animatedly about a new streaming service her parents are considering letting her launch, under their parent business, of course, but it’s her own company nonetheless. And you’re proud of her. Proud she could do something your parents would never dream of letting you do. Proud she could make that happen. 
You push open the front door with the side of your hip after entering in the security code, phone still snug between your ear and your shoulder, when you hear Taehyung call out your name. 
He comes into view from the kitchen, which surprises you because you have, on multiple occasions, made fun of how much of a disaster chef he is, especially because he’s admitted to you he’s not a very good cook. 
“I made brownies,” he says, holding out a plate of the chocolate treats in front of you. Instinct has you dropping your bags on the floor by your feet and reaching out, but you eye him first, suspicious. 
“I have to go,” you tell Victoria, hanging up before she even gets a chance to object to your sudden departure. “You made these?”
“Yes, I did,” Taehyung says, rather proud. 
“And the kitchen is… still standing?” You ask, skeptical. 
Taehyung frowns at you, clearly unimpressed. “How bad of a chef do you think I am?”
“Pretty bad,” you admit with a shrug. 
Taehyung pouts sadly to himself for a moment. “These are good, I swear. Nothing weird in them like vegetables or anything either. I used a box mix.”
“No wonder they look so nice,” you comment snidely, hesitant hand reaching out to grab one. They feel like brownies. So that’s good. 
“Hey, I was the one who had to crack the eggs and shit. Three eggs! And not one eggshell in the bowl!” Taehyung says, clearly very pleased with himself. 
You laugh at his enthusiasm, taking a bite. It’s good. And exactly what you needed after a long day of shopping. “I’m proud of you. They taste good.”
“I knew you wouldn’t doubt me.” Taehyung grins.
“They’re really good, actually,” You amend, genuinely surprised. And the best part is that you can count at least ten brownies left on that plate, which means that you get at least five more. Which, if you had any less self-restraint, you would probably eat all at once within the day. 
“I’m glad you like them. They’re all for us, you know. No one else to share them with,” he says.
“Honestly, I’m probably going to finish them by tonight. You’ll have to make more tomorrow,” you say sheepishly. 
“We can make some together,” Taehyung suggests. 
“I’m looking forward to it,” you respond. The words come off your mouth easily, tumbling from your lips without you having to think about it. You aren’t saying them because you have to. You’re saying them because you want to. Because baking with Taehyung doesn’t actually sound too bad. Especially if it means more brownies. 
“You’ve, uh, you’ve got something,” Taehyung says, gesturing vaguely to the side of his lip. 
“Oh, I do? Yikes,” you say, a little embarrassed. Your hand comes up to wipe at the left side of your mouth. “Is it gone?”
“Wait, here, let me do it,” Taehyung says, reaching out towards you. He presses his palm against the side of your face, cradling your cheek and jaw in his enormous hands, and all at once it feels like your skin is on fire. 
Your body freezes up at the touch, at the way his thumb swipes at the corner of your mouth, right against your lips, wiping away nothing but a goddamn brownie crumb. You look at him, look right at him, how can you look anywhere else when he’s right in front of you like this, and it feels like you are caught in his gaze, a rain droplet trapped on a web, a bee stuck in its own honey. His big, brown eyes sparkle from the ceiling lights, a chocolate sky that mirrors the food he just made for you. He looks at you and his eyes are so soft, so open, so happy to be looking right back at you. God. 
“There,” he says, a moment too late. 
“Thanks,” you stammer out, speechless otherwise. 
You both stand there, looking at each other, wordless expressions drawn all over your faces, no idea what to do next. 
After a while, Taehyung breaks the silence. “Do you wanna order takeout tonight?”
“Okay,” you nod, still a little breathless. Taehyung smiles before retreating back to the kitchen, leaving you standing in the entranceway, shopping bags abandoned by your side. 
You look over to where he’s vanished. There’s a part of you that wishes he hadn’t left. A part of you that makes you want to see him again. 
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Phone calls from your mother are never good. The last time she called… well, you know how that went. So when you see her contact information light up your home screen, it’s only instinct that you feel your heart rate spike. 
“Hello?” The voice that comes out doesn’t even sound like yours. 
There’s no good way to put what comes next. Your grandmother has died. Heart attack. The paramedics got there too late. It was over before it even started. 
For a moment, for a split second, it feels like everything is frozen. Like the world has come to standstill. Your mother’s voice echoes in your ears, suspended in time, the words turning into stone as they crash onto the floor. And when they do, it is as if everything comes back to life. 
Truth be told, you don’t know how long you stay there, sitting on the edge of the left side of the bed, your phone resting lifelessly in the palm of your hand. It feels at once like an eternity and only a second in time. You spoke to your grandmother two days ago. You had promised that you and Taehyung would visit her soon. How can this be happening?
Your phone buzzes relentlessly in your hands, condolences pouring in from every person in your contacts, sorry’s and heart emoticons and If you need anything, I’m always here’s filling up your screen. There’s a part of you that vaguely registers your mother, alongside some of the other members of your family, trying to call you. But nothing can seem to shake you. 
Until—
“Y/N? You still up here?”
You hear Taehyung before you see him. Hear his voice, hear his footsteps, hear the door creak open as he enters your bedroom. Slowly, almost sluggishly, you twist around to look at him, the mere act knocking the wind out of you. Or maybe you were already breathless. 
“Hey, you alright?” Taehyung knows instantly that something is wrong. 
“My grandmother died.” The words sit heavy on your tongue. There’s no point in not telling him. He’ll find out soon enough. He’s… he’s family, isn’t he?
“What?” Taehyung freezes in place. “I—I’m so sorry to hear that, Y/N. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you say, voice weak but steady. You blink up at him, once, twice, three times, and then suddenly you feel tears running down your cheeks. 
Taehyung doesn’t say anything else. He rushes to your side and sits himself down on the bed next to you, arms wrapping around your body. And you don’t think about the fact that it’s him, about the fact that this is the closest the two of you have ever been. You just let yourself be engulfed in his frame, let yourself be enveloped in his hold as the tears stream down your skin, little hiccups jolting your throat. You close your eyes and press yourself into his arms, head resting against his chest, and wish so desperately that so many things about your life were just a little bit different. 
It must be at least five minutes before either one of you dares to move. Your phone begins to rattle incessantly, that familiar and insistent buzz that the both of you are hard-pressed to ignore. 
“I think you should answer that,” Taehyung whispers into your skin, lips right by your forehead. 
“Yeah,” you sniffle, sitting up next to him and wiping the remnants of wetness by your eyes. Well, Taehyung’s seen you cry. There’s no going back now. “You’re probably right.” You look down at the phone. It’s your father. 
“I’ll be downstairs, okay? Unless you want me to stay,” he offers, looking hesitant. 
You shake your head. “No, it’s—it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
“Call me if you need me,” he makes you give him a nod of understanding before he finally gets up, hands slowly removing themselves from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. Remnants of warmth. Suddenly, you feel much colder. Hardly a minute later he’s out of the room, and you can hear his distant footsteps as they make their way down the stairs. 
Sighing, blinking, and swallowing all at once, you pick up. 
The call passes by in a blur. Your father says the will will take at least half a year to be executed, but that the funeral is already being planned. Your grandmother had hoped you would eulogize her. You agree, but you have no idea what you will say. He says Taehyung is invited but does not need to come if he cannot make it. He says a lot of other things too, about your mother, about your cousins, about your aunts and uncles and your poor grandfather, who passed five years ago, but you can’t even remember them moments after he’s said them. 
When he hangs up, the tears on your cheeks have dried, patches of them left along your skin. You head to the bathroom, getting off your bed for the first time that day, and try to wash away everything that has stained the morning. A part of you doesn’t even want to bother, just wants to slug downstairs and eat as much sugary cereal as you can get your hands on, but you can’t go down there looking like this. Looking so helpless. 
By the time you reach the kitchen, Taehyung is already standing there, on the opposite side of the counter island, a big stack of pancakes in front of him. They look mouth-watering. 
“Hey,” he says softly. “Thought you might want something to cheer you up.”
“Did you make these?” You ask, a little endeared. That was thoughtful of him. 
“Yeah. They’re still warm,” Taehyung says. He holds out a fork. 
You grin. 
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The funeral is a week later. It sucks in every way that something can suck. But not in the same way your wedding sucked, or even the announcement of your engagement. It sucks because it’s a funeral, because you have to stare down your grandmother’s casket when a part of you still doesn’t even believe that she’s gone. Because everyone there is so sad, so melancholy, dressed in all black and looking down at their feet. Because everyone is so sorry for you, so sorry for your loss, everyone has nothing but condolences to offer you. What will those do? They won’t bring her back. They won’t change things. They won’t make you feel even the slightest bit better. 
Taehyung comes. He comes because he offers, and because you want him to. You want someone whose hand to hold. Want someone to smile at you when you’re speaking in front of your entire extended family and trying not to cry. You want someone who is familiar, and warm, and there for you. 
And most of all, you want someone who won’t keep the conversation going when you get home. 
“Do you wanna order Chinese?” He asks, coming into the living room, where you have been sulking on the couch ever since you stepped foot inside the door. 
“That sounds nice,” you force out. 
“Okay. Your usual?”
“Yes, please.” You don’t bother asking how Taehyung already remembers what you like to order when you’ve only gotten Chinese twice in the last three months. 
“I’ll call them.” He disappears off into the kitchen. 
What you do appreciate about Taehyung is how he has defaulted to food as a comfort measure, and how the thought alone genuinely brightens you up a little bit. You don’t know each other very well—still, after three months, you couldn’t even say his favorite color—but he is doing his best, and he is trying his hardest. In some ways, you were unlucky to marry him. To marry someone you didn’t love. To be forced into a union you had no say in, with someone you had so much antagonistic history with. 
But in some ways, your luck has changed. In some ways, marrying him was perhaps the best thing that could happen to you. Taehyung is snarky, a little devilish, and absolutely full of himself, but he is not thoughtless. He is not heartless. He has proven that he is willing to put in the work. That he can grow to care. To change. To compromise. And isn’t that the luckiest thing you could have gotten?
“I’m sure you’re probably sick of hearing people tell you they’re sorry for your loss.”
His voice breaks your reverie, carrying throughout the wide open space of your living room. He’s grinning honestly where he stands, slowly making his way over to you. 
“Kind of, yeah,” you admit. “It’s not going to bring her back. Most of those people probably don’t even mean it.”
“Don’t say that,” Taehyung says, sitting down next to you. “I’m sure they do.”
You look at him skeptically. 
“I mean, they’re sorry for your loss because that loss is causing you pain. And that sucks,” Taehyung explains, albeit a little less eloquently than you thought he would. “I know it sucks for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t like seeing you sad,” Taehyung says honestly, shrugging to himself. 
You scoff a little to yourself. “I would have thought my downfall would be the exact thing the great Kim Taehyung would wish for himself.”
“Maybe a couple of years ago.”
You narrow your eyes. 
“Okay, maybe even a few months ago,” Taehyung admits with a laugh, making you smile, ever so slightly. “But it’s different now. I like it when you’re happy. When you’re snarky and funny and a little evil. Seeing you like this… I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”
“That’s called empathy,” you point out. 
“I’m trying to tell you that seeing you sad makes me sad, stop being a smartass,” Taehyung chides, and that really makes you grin. “There. There’s that smile I was looking for.”
“You’re so annoying,” you say, even though there’s no malice behind it. You give him a little push, palms of your hand pressing lightly against his shoulder as you roll your eyes. 
“Only for you,” he promises. He manages to grab a hold of your wrist as your hand meets his torso, pulling you into him as he wraps an arm around your torso. You gasp a little at the sensation, head falling against his body, fitting snugly in the crook of his neck. He gives your side a comforting rub. “I’m sorry today was so shitty.”
“It was,” you agree. “But Chinese food will make it a little bit better.”
Taehyung looks positively scandalized. “What? ‘Chinese food will make it better’? But not your loving, doting husband?” 
You pretend to think for a little bit, tilting your head up to the sky as you tap your chin with your finger. “Okay. Maybe that, too,” you cave after a bit of waiting, just to be extra bothersome. 
“That’s what I thought,” Taehyung says proudly, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. You can feel his grip tighten as he presses you against his body, letting you rest your head on his side. It feels like the longest hug ever, like you’re wrapped up in a weighted blanket. Only it’s not a blanket. It’s Taehyung. It’s your husband. 
He’s your husband.
“Tomorrow will be better,” he says, and it sounds a lot like a promise. 
You nod against him, letting your eyes drift shut. Things are pretty awful right now. Your grandmother’s dead. The funeral was the saddest family event you have ever attended. You have no idea what’s supposed to happen next. 
But he’s right. He seems to be right a lot these days, actually. 
Tomorrow will be better.
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Taehyung lets you sleep in for the next few days. Next several days, actually. Every time you wake up it’s close to noon and your husband is nowhere to be seen, the right side of the bed cold to the touch. It’s nothing to be worried about, though, because you can still see the noticeable dip in the bed from where he lies upon it, sinking his weight into the mattress. Taehyung’s an early bird and you’ve been having fitful nights ever since your grandmother passed. 
Today, you pull yourself out from underneath the covers around noon, sluggish and still tired, squinting as the near-afternoon light streams through the enormous windows of the bedroom. Taehyung must have thought to keep the curtains open today. 
You pull on the first casual clothes you see in your shared closet, some wide-leg sweatpants and a drapey t-shirt, and trudge downstairs like a raccoon to a trash can, hoping to fish through the kitchen cabinets to find something to eat. 
Taehyung is, as far as you can tell, nowhere to be seen. You can’t seem to hear him anywhere, and a part of you wonders where he’s at when you stumble upon the note left on the granite counter. 
Had a meeting downtown, be back around 1! There should be smoked salmon and some cream cheese and bagels in the fridge. 
Taehyung.
You chuckle to yourself as you read his flowy handwriting, amused that he thought to let you know of, of all things, the available breakfast foods in the kitchen. You check the clock. It’s nearly noon. Which means you have just over an hour of the house all to yourself. 
Having the house to yourself for five minutes is infrequent enough as it is, let alone for a whole hour. So often is Taehyung around, somewhere, holing himself up in one of the dozens of rooms or mindlessly wandering down the hallways. And for how much Taehyung is present, the funny part is that you still have no idea what he gets up to most of the time. Despite your voluntary abandoning of the separate bedroom rule, the two of you are still firm proponents of the sanctity of your personal spaces. There are rooms in the penthouse Taehyung has never been in, rooms filled with your clothes and makeup and accessories for when stylists come over before an event. A sewing room that you had specifically asked your parents for, because a part of you never let go of that childhood dream of being a fashion designer. 
And there are rooms in the penthouse that you have never been in. Rooms with dark wooden doors that have always been kept closed, that you have never stepped foot in. It’s not that you aren’t curious as to what Taehyung gets up to. He could have a goddamn evil lair in one of those rooms and you would be none the wiser. But you don’t go, because he doesn’t go into your rooms. Because you two, despite all the vows you have broken, promised each other you wouldn’t.
An hour to yourself is almost a good enough excuse for you to head back up to the bedroom and take a nap. Not that you don’t get enough sleep on a regular basis, or that you even had a fitful night last night—hell, you woke up near noon today and already you want to go back to sleep—but what else is there to do when he’s not around? What new freedoms have suddenly been given to you?
You head back upstairs, much less groggy after that delicious bagel of yours, when you catch a whiff of what smells like wet paint coming from down the hallway. It’s potent and immediately invades your senses, prompting you to wonder if that has always been there, or just magically appeared. Maybe you were so sleepy earlier, you didn’t notice it. 
Well, you notice it now. Unable to help yourself, you start to wander down the hallway, towards the source of the smell. God, it stinks. It takes you back to those days in middle school, when you would spray paint projects inside a tiny little classroom, have to step outside for fifteen minutes while you cracked the windows and aired it out. It gets stronger the further down the corridor you go, like a thick, smelly cloud stationed firmly within the walls of the penthouse. And then you realize where it’s coming from. 
It’s an art studio. 
A very messy art studio, you amend to yourself, as you peek inside. The door is wide open, and all of the windows are popped too, but the extra air circulation doesn’t seem to have made a dent in the scent. And all over the floor, the walls, and the tables are canvases covered in paint, denim jackets and pants and shirts with these wide, unafraid brushstrokes. Open cans of spray paint lie discarded on the hardwood floor stained with splotches of red, yellow, and green. 
Is this what Taehyung does in his free time? Is this where he goes, this bright, sunny room at the end of the second floor hallway? Is this what he is making?
You look down in awe at the clothes resting on the floor, splayed out to maximize dry time. Abstract faces, landscapes, and words are painted onto the backs of jackets, the fronts of old white t-shirts. What hasn’t made it onto the clothes has been put on canvases instead, blurs of color mixed together in this purposeful pattern, confidence emanating from every stroke, every dot. It’s not art in the way that the gorgeous landscapes of Monet, the picture-perfect portraits of Kahlo, the messy, unplanned splatters of Pollock are. It’s art in a different way. In a Taehyung way. 
Who knew he loved it so much? 
You almost feel like an invader encroaching on his territory when you lean down to start cleaning up some of the mess, throwing out empty spray-paint cans and tossing out grey paint water. You don’t dare touch any of the work, don’t dare try to move it. You do what you can, washing out the brushes resting in the water and cleaning up the wet splotches of paint on the hardwood. Over time, the thick scent of still-wet paint slowly fades, disappearing out the window as the fresh afternoon air seeps in. And you stand there, in a room full of art, in a room full of pieces that Taehyung has undoubtedly poured his heart into creating, and you smile to yourself. 
That’s how Taehyung finds you ten minutes later, peering into the room after declaring that his meeting had ended early. 
“Thought I’d find you in here,” Taehyung says with a grin as you jump at the sound of his voice, eyes widen when you turn around to see him standing by the door. 
“Oh, hey,” you say sheepishly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Maybe because this is the farthest room in the house from the front door,” Taehyung teases lightly, coming up behind you. “I see you found my studio.”
“I know I’m not allowed in here,” you admit. 
Taehyung scoffs. “Who says?”
“Didn’t we both agree on that?”
He shrugs. “Sort of. I think we just reached an unspoken understanding we wouldn’t invade each other’s personal space. But it was not in the fine print, no.”
“The fine print of what?”
“That deal we made.”
Right. That deal you made, four months ago, That deal, where the two of you agreed to pretend to be in love with each other during public appearances so you wouldn’t get burned at the stake by your families. Where the two of you agreed not to interact with each other otherwise because you hated each other so much. 
“Oh, yeah,” you say distantly, feeling naive for already forgetting about it. It doesn’t seem to have slipped Taehyung’s mind whatsoever. 
“It’s okay, I don’t mind that you’re up here,” Taehyung says, interrupting that piercing little voice in the back of your head that is asking you why on earth you forgot about that deal in the first place.
“Yeah, I—” You scratch at the nape of your neck, trying to find the words to say. “It just smelled like paint, so I wanted to see what you get up too. And it’s this, apparently.” You motion vaguely to the entire room.
“You sound… surprised,” Taehyung muses correctly. 
“I guess I am,” you surmise. “I’m rather impressed, too, actually.”
“Really?” It’s Taehyung’s turn to sound surprised. 
“Yeah,” you tell him honestly, looking into his eyes. “I—you know, I just came in here because the entire hallway smelled like wet paint and I wanted to know why. But I didn’t know you loved art so much.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Taehyung points out. 
You suppose that’s true. You don’t know his favorite color. His favorite song. His favorite book. For a long time, you didn’t know what he got up to on his side of the penthouse. You don’t know how he met his friends. What he studied in university. Who he has loved in the past. Who he loves now. You don’t know why he does the things he does, and why he doesn’t do the things he doesn’t do. 
But you do know his Chinese takeout order. 
And you do know his hobbies. Well, one of them, at least. 
Who’s to say you can’t learn more?
“Well,” you start with a smile. “I’m your wife, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I begin to learn?”
Taehyung picks up what you’re putting down instantly, grinning in response. “Only if you’ll tell me things about you, too,” he requisitions. 
“I will,” you promise. It’s the easiest one you’ve ever had to make. 
His face is light, bright, bathed in the rays of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmer as they meet yours, golden flecks more pronounced like this, in this gorgeous, open space, daylight streaming through the windows. Looking at him makes you feel like you are surrounded by warmth, makes you feel like the sun is opening its arms out to you. He has always been gorgeous. Beautiful. But looking at him like this, standing in the middle of a room filled with all the things he loves, a yellow halo surrounding him—he is ethereal. 
Taehyung smiles. “Then I will, too.”
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The hand-holding comes naturally tonight.
The funny thing is, actually, you don’t need to hold hands at this gathering. It’s not an event. Or a public appearance. It’s not even a business dinner. It’s your aunt’s sixtieth birthday party, reserved exclusively for family. Isn’t that strange? That Taehyung is, technically, family now?
For so long you had vowed to stay as far away from him as possible. Vowed to stick it to him whenever and wherever you could, do anything you could to get on his nerves, rile him up. Vowed that when you, one day, took over your family affairs, you would never, ever invite him. Make it known that he wasn’t to be a part of your life. And yet, here you are. Clinging to him despite being well-acquainted with—loved by, even—every other person in the room. Holding his hand like a goddamn lifeline. 
To be fair, Taehyung doesn’t look a hair out of place here. Dressed relatively casually, a smart sweater with a collared shirt underneath it, he smiles warmly at all of your relatives and presents your aunt with a beautiful and very expensive scarf the two of you had commissioned from a designer in Italy, which she absolutely loves. She pinches his cheek and proceeds to wear it for the rest of the night. 
“Damn,” you murmur to yourself as you wander around your aunt’s house, hand wrapped around his arm. “This place hasn’t changed a bit.”
“When was the last time you were here?” Taehyung asks. 
The question actually makes you think for a moment. “I don’t know, maybe five years ago? Last couple of birthdays I was overseas or in school. Had to send her a card.”
“Bet your parents were real pleased with that,” he jokes, making you both laugh. At least you two will always be able to share your experiences of domineering and influential parents with each other. 
“Oh, I’m sure. Just as pleased as they were when they realized how much we hated each other.” You expect that little jest to elicit a laugh out of Taehyung as well, but he just smiles tightly, huffing out a breath of acknowledgement. 
“Eh, it’s not like that now, is it?” He offers up. 
“I suppose not,” you muse, sitting down together on her ancient grandma couch in the living room. No matter how rich your family gets, she’ll never get rid of this thing, that’s for sure. 
One thing you’ve picked up over time is that, for every second Taehyung spends basking in the spotlight, he spends an equal amount of time lingering by the wall, watching the rest of the world turn without him. He’s an observer. He is one by nature, feeling an irresistible pull to understand humans in a way only artists could ever do. He sits down next to you and watches your family in an environment where they can relax, where they can feel comfortable and be casual with one another. 
Very seldom have you ever brought friends to events like these. Small family affairs. But Taehyung isn’t a friend, is he? No, he’s your husband. He belongs here just as much as you do. 
“My family seems to really like you,” you point out. Not that anybody has ever harbored as much disdain for him as you. Your parents called him respectable and polite when they told you you were to be wed. Your grandmother had said he was a dashing young man. He doesn’t exactly have to reach far to be loved around here. 
“That’s my job, isn’t it?” He replies snidely. 
“Oh, just take the compliment,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Taehyung always has to be so difficult. “I’m surprised you aren’t nervous as hell. Last boyfriend I brought to meet my parents was shaking in his Louis Vuitton shoes.”
“Last boyfriend, huh?” Taehyung’s interest has been sufficiently piqued. “And, uh, how many of those have you had?”
You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, smile twitching on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Heartbreaker.” Pretty rich of Taehyung to be asking you such a question when he’s probably had more girlfriends than you can count on both hands. “Not as many as you’ve had girlfriends, that’s for sure.”
“Guess I’m a lot different than all those trashy guys you’ve dated, aren’t I?” He asks, an eyebrow raised as he looks at you. 
“You are?”
Taehyung nods assertively. “Well, yeah. First of all, I’m your husband. Second of all, your parents love me. Third of all, you love me, too.”
You scoff. “Don’t humble yourself. You don’t know me that well.”
“Speaking of which,” Taehyung says, eyes wide as he points to you knowingly, “how about you tell me a little fact about yourself? It’s my job to learn about you, isn’t it?”
“That is my line, watch it,” you sneer, pointing back at him. You wrack your brain for a fact that you can tell him, something more exciting than your favorite color but less weird than one of those terrible icebreaker exercises you had to do in college seminars. Something that has pertinence to who you are. Who you’ve become. “Alright. I used to want to be a fashion designer when I was little.”
Now that catches Taehyung off guard. “Really?” He says, genuinely intrigued. 
You shrug. “Yeah. I learned to sew when I was really little. Been tailoring and hemming clothes all my life. But I always wanted to design my own stuff.”
“Is that what’s in your room?” Taehyung asks. “A sewing machine?”
“Bingo.”
“Wow,” Taehyung says. “I didn’t know that.”
“Isn’t that the whole point of this exercise?” You say, just to be smart. 
Taehyung shakes his head, eyes rolling. 
“What about you?” You ask. You can’t imagine what he’ll say. Astronaut. Veterinarian. Or, if he really wants to surprise you, a business executive. 
“A museum curator.”
It is an answer that simultaneously surprises and doesn’t surprise you at all. 
“Fitting,” you muse. “You could have put your own art on display.”
“Pretty sure that’s, like, super unethical,” Taehyung reminds you. 
“So? You’re rich. Start your own museum. Put your own art on display. Live your dream,” you amend. “It shouldn’t be holed up in that studio of yours forever. It deserves to be seen.”
Taehyung smiles at you. “You think so?”
You nod. “Of course. You create beautiful things, Tae.” It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that. And that is not lost on Taehyung, either.
“Thank you,” he says softly, blinking as he looks at you. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to.
Later that night, when everyone’s gotten a few drinks into their systems and Bruce Springsteen is playing low on the stereo, Taehyung disappears off towards the bathroom, no doubt because of the excellent soup that was served that night. All by your lonesome, you feel a little stranded, surrounded by your old relatives dancing on the hardwood floor of the dining room, your other cousins too young to actually spend time with. 
In the commotion, your mother comes up to you, swirling a rather large glass of red wine in her hand. 
“Where’s Taehyung?” She asks. 
“Bathroom.”
“No wonder you were alone,” she says with a hearty laugh. “The two of you have been glued to each other’s sides all evening.”
“He’s my husband,” you offer as an explanation. 
“I know, I know,” she says, shaking you off with a smile. Your mother is a lot more casual once she’s had her fill of wine, no doubt her favorite, Bordeaux. A lot more loving, too. “You really made your grandmother proud, you know? She loved you so much.”
“I know,” you say, trying not to get choked up at the mere mention of your grandmother. 
“She was so happy to see you with Taehyung. It made her feel safe that you would be taken care of,” she continues on, barely paying you and your swimming eyes any attention. “She would be so happy to see you with him now, too. How much you love her.”
“I miss her,” you hiccup out, trying to compose yourself. Nothing kills a birthday party like some sad sack crying over her deceased grandmother. 
“I know, darling,” your mother says, calling you by a nickname she has hardly used ever since you turned eighteen. She squeezes you tightly, a small hug of comfort. “I miss her, too.”
Someone calls your mother’s name, distracting her as she wanders off to your uncle, who is asking what the best way to cut the three-tiered cake on the dining room table is. She bids you a goodbye before disappearing towards the kitchen, no doubt ready to make the cutting of the cake an affair all on its own. 
Taehyung comes back soon after, spotting you instantly as you stand around in the living room. 
“Hey,” he says, noticing the wet shimmer of your eyes. “You alright?”
You nod, feeling better already now that he has returned. Now that he is by your side. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“I hope those tears aren’t because you missed me,” he says, wiping away a stray one that has escaped from your eyes. You close them as his thumb brushes against your upper cheek, your eyelashes, opening them only when you’ve felt his touch vanish from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. 
“No,” you say. But the night makes you honest, and a couple of drinks, even more so. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
Taehyung smiles. “Me, too.”
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For all those days you have spent together, never have you and Taehyung had a night in. Which isn’t necessarily completely surprising, considering how many evening events the two of you have had obligations to attend, considering your differing work schedules and meeting times. Considering that, for a very long time, the two of you had no desire to spend any time with each other at all. 
But tonight, there is nothing on your calendar. No galas, no dinners, no meetings, no schedules. There is only Taehyung, who has spent the entire afternoon up in his studio, inhaling spray paint fumes and doing what he loves. And there is only you, who has spent the entire afternoon wondering what the hell you’re going to do tonight when there is nothing else planned. 
You knock on the door to his studio, catching him right as he’s finishing up another piece. This one is a single flower, painted in broad, confident strokes, bright green and red and sunflower yellow decorating the canvas. 
“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, turning around to face you. 
“Wanna order takeout tonight?” You suggest. 
Taehyung grins. 
Thirty minutes and your favorite Chinese food later, you and Taehyung have settled onto the couch, trays of dumplings and noodles and rice in front of you, an unfunny movie playing in the background. 
You can’t remember the last time the two of you sat on this couch together. Maybe that night you had made the deal? Perhaps not even then. It wouldn’t at all surprise you if you found out that this was the very first time you and Taehyung have sat together on your couch, in your living room, in your house. So often is it occupied by others—Victoria, who sometimes comes over to ooh and ahh at your closet, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, who sit on this couch and play FIFA like it’s their job, your mother, when she wants to make herself at home in a place that doesn’t belong to her—but never you. Never you and him. 
“This is kinda nice, isn’t it?” You ask, swallowing a bite of dumpling. 
“Chinese food is always nice,” Taehyung responds over a mouthful of cold noodles. 
“Not that,” you say with a sigh, “this. Sitting together. Watching this shitty movie.”
“It’s not that shitty,” Taehyung tries to reason. On screen, the main character is getting pied in the face during some weird college fundraiser. “Okay, it’s a little shitty. But it’s good background noise, right?”
You nod halfheartedly. “I guess.” Silence. You take another bite of your dumpling, not really sure how to continue the conversation. “We don’t really get to do this a lot, you know? Sit and eat dinner and watch a movie together. Like a date.”
“We’re on a date now, are we?” Taehyung muses, eyeing you snarkily. 
“Isn’t that what this is?” You retort. 
He shrugs. “I suppose it is.”
“Tell me another fact about you,” you request, looking over to him where he sits on the opposite side of the couch. 
“About what?”
“Anything.”
Taehyung pauses, ponders for a moment. But he could never say anything wrong. Not when there is still so much you don’t know about him. Still so much you want to learn, so much you want to commit to memory. For so long you have stared at the planes of his face, the curve of his nose, the twinkle in those dark brown eyes. Those you will always remember. But what about who he is? What he loves? Those are things you still don’t know. 
“The very first time I met you,” Taehyung begins, “I asked Jimin what your name was.”
“When was that?” You ask. Despite you being someone who has spent the better part of the last several years vowing never to give Taehyung the time of day, you sure don’t remember when it all started. 
“That debutante ball,” Taehyung remembers fondly, “when we were fifteen. I asked Jimin what your name was because I wanted to ask you to dance.”
“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you say with a scoff. 
“It’s true. You were standing there in that poofy white dress and I wanted to ask you to dance,” Taehyung points out. The fact that he even remembers what you were wearing is shocking. 
Who knew. Who knew, back then, that you would one day grow up to marry him. 
“And what did I say?” You demand more. 
Taehyung laughs at the memory. “I came up to you, and I asked you if you wanted to dance, and you said, and I quote, ‘Who are you?’”
“No,” you say, aghast at your own behavior. Were those really the first words you ever said to KIm Taehyung?
“You did. Don’t you remember?”
You think back. Think back to every year you have ever known Taehyung, every year you have spent scowling at him from across ballroom floors, making some snide remark as you pass by each other in the hallway. Every year you have spent cursing his existence, willing him away from you so he could bother someone else. Every year you have listened to rumor after rumor of girlfriend after girlfriend. You think back and somewhere, somewhere in there, in those dusty corners of your brain and cobwebbed boxes of your heart, is that first memory of Taehyung, too. 
Of him standing there in some generic black suit, black hair swept over his forehead, shoes too big. Of him coming up to you, trying to be as suave as a fifteen year old could be. Of you saying to him, instead of a hello, or even a what’s your name, “who are you?” 
Of him saying—
“And you said, ‘your dream come true’.” Like a dam bursting open, the memories flood back to you all at once. “I remember that.”
Taehyung laughs out loud at the thought of him saying something so cheesy. “Unsurprisingly, you didn’t want to dance with me.”
“You were so—” you begin, but you don’t have the words. Don’t have the words to express how you felt about him that night. Don’t have the words to express how you feel about him now. Thinking about this, talking about it, it is a bridge. A bridge between what was then and what is now. A bridge between who Taehyung was and who you were and who Taehyung is and who you are. “—so unthinkable. I couldn’t believe you had come up to me and said that. I couldn’t believe you had the audacity. But something about that night made me remember you. Made me remember your name.”
“You thought about me after that?” Taehyung asks. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“There is something about you that is unforgettable,” you say, honest and real and true. What else can you tell him? The truth is that you have always thought about him. Whether you liked him or not. 
You finish your dinner and place your trays on the end tables next to you, stacking your empty bowls and plates on top of one another as the movie rumbles on in the background. 
“It is kind of a shitty movie,” Taehyung admits after a while of being wholly unenthused. 
“Yeah,” you agree. “But it’s good background noise.”
Taehyung laughs at your little mockery, warm and deep and from his belly. You look at him. He feels so far away, on the other side of the couch. Feels like he’s miles apart from you. You have spent countless nights clinging to his harm, hand gripped tight in his. And sitting like this, a full couch cushion of space between the two of you—it isn’t enough anymore. So you inch closer. 
And closer. 
And a little closer. 
Until you’re pressed up against his side, legs touching as they rest neatly in front of you, backs stick straight as you stare at the television. 
Taehyung holds his arm up. An open invitation. 
Without asking, you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, in the space right underneath his jaw. You pull your feet up onto the couch and curl into his frame, pressing yourself against him. He is warm and firm and inescapable. He smells of coffee and paint and Chinese spices. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you in, as if there were any other place you’d rather be. 
You sit like that for a while. Wrapped up in each other. Lazing around on the couch as the stars twinkle above your head. The movie ends and the two of you don’t even bother skipping the credits, letting them and the cheesy 80’s pop song play on, a distant soundtrack. 
“I never thought any of this would happen,” you breathe out. 
Taehyung looks down at you curiously. “What? This?”
“All of it,” you admit. “Us. Getting married. That stupid tabloid picture. My grandmother. This. It’s all so new.”
“New things will happen all the time,” Taehyung muses aloud. “We can’t help when things change.”
“You don’t have any regrets?” You have plenty. Regrets that you’ll never become the CEO you wanted to be in college. Regrets that you’ll never become the fashion designer you wanted to be as a little girl. Regrets that you will come to resent this marriage, resent Taehyung more than you have in years past, all because you had no choice. Regrets that your grandmother couldn’t see you now. Regrets that there were so many things in your life you could have changed, but didn’t.
“I thought I did,” Taehyung tells you. “I wanted to spend more time with my friends. I wanted to major in art in college. I didn’t want to marry you. I know you didn’t want to marry me.” He looks down and you look up at the same time, eyes locking, inches apart. “But looking back on it, I’m happy where I am. With what I have.”
“I never thought it could ever be like this,” you say, words falling off your tongue before you even ask them to.
“What?”
“Us.”
There’s no need to elaborate. Taehyung understands. He understands that, half a year ago, you both would have thrown yourselves into a volcano before holding hands with each other. He understands that getting over your hatred for each other seemed like an absolutely insurmountable task. He understands that you had never wanted to marry each other, that you couldn’t believe you would have to spend the rest of your lives with each other. 
And he understands that now, things are different. 
“I’m glad things happened the way they did,” Taehyung begins. “I’m grateful for us.”
You press yourself impossibly closer to him, feel his grip tighten around you. Like this, you can hear his heartbeat. Hear it thump like a drum, steady and firm and unwavering. His heart beats against his chest and you wonder. 
You wonder if he can hear the way yours beats for him, too.
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There were lots of things that made your night in together special. But one of them is the glaring fact that you don’t get them very often. That their infrequency makes them all the more valuable. 
This has become blatantly obvious to you, because right now you are not spending a night in together. Right now you are stuck at a gala that you have to attend for the sake of business, drinking thin flutes of champagne and mingling with people you barely speak to. 
The one good thing about nights like these is that Taehyung looks positively gorgeous in suits. He sort of always has, but you’d never admit that to his face. At least not until now. And as his wife, you are lucky enough to have a front-row seat. 
“I can feel you staring at me all the way from over here,” Taehyung deadpans as he helps himself to a chocolate-covered strawberry from the buffet table. 
You’re too obvious to have any shame about it. “What can I say, I like the view.”
“Hard to believe I was the once the one being shouted at for being inappropriate in public,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. He bites into the strawberry and eats it all in a single go, tossing the stems into a bin nearby as you join back up in the heart of the crowd. 
“It’s only inappropriate if other people hear,” you tease, letting him guide you, hand intertwined with yours, towards an empty corner where the two of you can snuggle up to one another in (relative) peace. 
“I don’t think the champagne was very good for your filter, Miss Y/N,” Taehyung hisses into your ear, warm breath tickling your skin. 
“Don’t you mean Mrs. Kim?” You pose, an eyebrow raised. 
That seems to do something to Taehyung. It’s not very bright in here, with it being nighttime and all, but even still you can see the way his eyes darken. See the way his lips curl upwards, feel the way his grip on you tightens. It sparks something within you. Something deep in the pit of your belly. 
Something that makes you want more. 
You test the waters. “Mrs. Kim has a nice ring to it, don’t you think, Tae?”
Taehyung looks about a moment away from losing control. But instead of slamming you against the wall in front of all of these people and giving you what you really want, he growls out, low and powerful, “Home. Now.”
He doesn’t need to tell you twice. 
You hail your car outside of the venue and it’s all the both of you can do to not jump on each other right then and there, in the backseat of this giant black van, overcome with want, with need, with everything in between. Taehyung’s leg bounces impatiently the entire ride back, and the feeling of your hand pressed against his doesn’t seem to be calming him down. He pulls you close to him in the backseat of the car, a hand resting on your thigh. You eye him carefully, as if challenging him to be any more daring. He grins. 
Home cannot come soon enough. The two of you tumble out of the backseat and into the elevators, where you mash the top floor button after entering in the security access code, desperate and shameless. The ride seems to take hours, and the heat that surrounds you practically smothers you, covers you, fills up your lungs and chokes you. 
There is nothing left by the time you reach your door. The moment it slams shut behind you Taehyung presses you up against the back of it, pins you against the wood as he hovers over you, eyes tracing your lips. 
“Tell me something,” he demands. 
“What?” 
“A fact. Something I don’t know.”
It doesn’t take much thinking. “I want you,” you breathe out, watch it hit his skin, watch the way his eyes glint in the light of the entranceway. “Please, Tae. I want you.”
It’s enough for him. 
This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed. The first time was nearly five months ago, in a chapel, at an altar, surrounded by hundreds of people. It was so unfun that you seem to have eradicated the mere thought from your memory. But you remember that feeling from that day. That feeling you got when you pressed your lips against his, cemented your marriage with a kiss. That heat. That sting. 
Kissing him now—that feeling has returned tenfold. When his lips meet yours, it feels like fire is rushing through your veins, setting alight every nerve it passes, unforgiving and relentless. His enormous hands come up to cup your jaw, fingers pressing against the skin of your cheeks as they pull you close to him, keep you trapped in his hold. This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed but it feels like it is—it feels like there is a lotus blooming on a lilypad in your heart, it feels like you have been struck by lightning, it feels like nothing else you have ever felt before. It feels brand new. 
Pressing back against him, he slowly releases you from the cage he has created against the door, spinning around so the two of you can tumble up the stairs and into your bedroom, unable to resist sneaking in pecks here and there as you make your way upstairs. Every step you take you stop, giggle as he presses you against the railing just so he can steal another kiss from you, put his hands all over your body. It’s a wonder the two of you even make it into your bedroom at all. 
When you do, however, all bets are off. Taehyung presses you against the still-made bedsheets with a glint in his eye and a growl on his lips, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, at your body.
"Aren't you a sight? Laid out so pretty for me," he purrs, robbing a breath from you.
It's a tone you have yet to hear from him. You find yourself growing impossibly hot under his stare, burning with an uncharted desire.
You can hardly wrap your brain around it. Here you are, craving the man you had spent the better half of your young adult life loathing. Maybe it’s the champagne; maybe it’s the way his fingers are running slowly up the length of your clothed torso. Whatever it is, your stomach does flips, unfamiliar to the way your body preens under his touch.
"Don't let it go to your head," you tease, simply because you could.
Taehyung hums disapprovingly, pressing kisses into your neck as he grabs one of your thighs and wraps it around his waist, riding your dress up in the process.
You sigh, exposing your neck further for him as he paints bruises into your neck. It feels like just yesterday you had called him out at the altar for his habit of sporting the very same marks you were soon to wear.
Perhaps you should have thought twice about letting the man you had married purely under business pretenses press his hips against your clothed center, but as he rolls his into yours, your mind falls blank, silencing any and all reservations you should have.
Whimpering, you beckon his mouth back onto yours, tongue meeting his wantonly. 
You feel his fingers creep up the outside of your bare thigh, thrilling you in the most primal way. Reaching the band of your underwear after what felt like entirely too long, he runs the pad of his thumb against the lacy fabric.
 You could scream. He is doing this on purpose. He must be. Surely he knows how badly you were aching for him? For him to fill you– whatever the manner may be.
You let out a whine before you can help yourself, frowning as Taehyung looks pleased with himself, confirming his knowledge of your prolonged pleasure.
"What's that? Did you say something?" he mocks, looking cruel and yet strikingly gorgeous as he smirks above you.
"God, you're irritating,” you huff, hips jerking up against his as he pulls at the band of your underwear, the elastic snapping back into the flesh of your hip. "Just fuck me already."
He tuts, clearly unimpressed by your impatience, "Now, where is the fun in that?"
Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers suddenly snake their way between your thighs. Mouth falling ajar, you grip his shoulders as he runs his middle finger against your clothed slit, trailing up and down your warmth. To think he was still dressed while he was touching you like this...
"No... I think I'll take my time with you," he says.
You mew against his hand, arousal forming against his long digits' ministrations. You have to hand it to him. Taehyung knows what he’s doing. The life of a bachelor has seemingly served him well.
You aren’t usually vocal in bed, but the way he’s purring words of filth to you, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he tells you how hot and slick your pretty pussy felt against his hand, has you gasping and sputtering, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist.
The fabric of your panties provides a friction that toys the line of pleasure and pain, making you thrust up to meet his motions, your humility slipping from you.
Taehyung watches you intently, cock growing hard under the constraints of his dress pants. You look better than he could've imagined, eyes watering and body shivering under his touch, his fingers soaking with your arousal. He can only imagine what you'd feel like with his fingers fully buried into you, rocking them against your velvety walls.
He lets out a groan of his own, turned on by the idea of you fucking yourself onto his fingers, whimpering out his name in ecstasy.
There’s this part of you that faintly recognizes that Taehyung has done this plenty of times before. Plenty of times with plenty of other lovers. But there is a different part of you, that part that bursts with light and hope, that reminds you that he was never married to those other ones. That his allegiance lies with you. And that thought, knowing that deep within you, he is yours, makes your jaw fall slack, pretty noises tumbling from your lips and your thighs clamping around him.
You were close, closer than you care to admit. Every touch against you is careful yet deliberate as he reads the signs of your body, the way it keens and arches into him, offering you words of encouragement as your climax finally hits.
"That's right. Good girl. Let go for me," Taehyung coos, eyes dark and focused on your writhing form.
You cry out into the familiar space of your shared room, head thrown back as you ride out the high, letting it wrack your body, send jolts throughout your veins.
You barely have time to catch your breath when he presses his mouth back onto yours, kiss still as eager as it was when you both first entered your home. You are alight with satisfaction as he pulls away to press a trail of kisses against your jaw.
"I want—f-fuck," you stutter as he finds your already hypersensitive clit once more, rolling his thumb over your now soaked panties in tantalizing circles, "want to make you feel good, too."
Admittedly, this fantasy had crossed your mind once or twice, brought on by the way he carried himself in a suit and the way his large fingers wrapped around the champagne glass; confident, collected, and entirely charming. Who are you to shy away from a man like him? He certainly has always been rather good-looking. 
He pauses his motions, pulling his hand back to sit on your waist. Your dress is of the finest, most delicate satin, and after tonight's activities, completely wrinkled. You can almost hear your stylist's cries of dismay. Whatever. You have a steamer. And why focus on the dress when it’s obvious the two of you are focused on what lies underneath it?
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." You nod, skin still burning from your past climax.
Helping you back up, Taehyung stands. You lick your lips as you sit back up on the edge of the bed, watching intently as he unbuckles his belt, audibly hissing as his pants fall to his ankles, cock visibly straining against the fabric of his underwear. Thank God you don’t have to stand. With the way your thighs still felt weak and how your husband looks like a goddamn Adonis towering above you? Your legs surely would give out underneath you if you rose.
Brows furrowed, Taehyung palms over himself briefly before pulling down the waistband of his underwear, his painfully hard member slapping against his torso.
Your eyes widened on instinct. While the last thing you wanted to do was help inflate Taehyung's already large ego, you were certainly impressed at his size; thick and girthy, his tip red and shining with precum.
He couldn't help but smirk, thoroughly pleased by the way you stared at him unabashedly, chest rising and falling heavily.
"Open up for me," he orders.
And who are you to deny a request from your dear husband?
Your pretty lips wrap themselves around his engorged tip, all remnants of lipstick long gone by now. Taehyung hisses, a hand finding the side of your jaw as you run your tongue against the underside of his cock.
"Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts, fighting off the urge to grip the back of your head and fuck your throat. As much as he'd love your have you choking and drooling all over his cock – and boy would he – he lets you set your own pace, not wanting to overwhelm you.
It doesn't take long for you to sink your mouth further down, however, clearly set on making Taehyung feel as good as you could.
A low moan erupts from his throat, digits pressing into your jaw in request to take more of him in, which you happily oblige.
You had your eyes trained on him, completely obsessed with the way he panted through pink lips, hissing slightly every time your tongue rolled over his sensitive tip.
Lolling his head to a side, his eyes meet yours, gaze primal and wolfish as he watches the way you worked his cock.
"Doing so good, love. Doing so fucking good for me,” he murmurs.
You hum against his skin at the sound of the sudden pet name, an unfamiliar feeling fluttering in your belly. You push aside the feeling, focusing instead on the way he grunts at the new sensation you had just given him.
Giggling, you pull off his cock, opting instead to press a kiss against his leaking tip, making sure to hold his eyes as you run kitten licks against it.
"God, you're such a tease." He shakes his head in disbelief. 
He looks so good above you, shivering and cursing out praises on how good your mouth feels, how well you take his cock. Running your tongue along the length of his shaft, you become certain that this is a display you can’t imagine yourself ever getting tired of. But you have all the time in the world, right?
"Y/N,” he gasps suddenly, hips jerking towards your face. "Love, I'm gonna-- gonna cum."
"Cum in my mouth, please." Your voice was pleading and desperate. Taehyung had never heard such words spoken more sweetly. 
"Fuck's sake."
You let out a yelp in surprise as his fingers work their way through your hair, bringing your head back down onto his cock. You relax, though, when you feel the hot ropes of his cum hit the back of your throat, your hands finding purchase on his thighs as you do your best to swallow it all down.
Pulling yourself off him, you let out a small cough, eyes watering slightly as you hadn’t managed to prepare yourself with a breath before his release. His large palm runs across the top of your head as you caught your breath, expression flickering with something unfamiliar. Could it be... fondness? 
Your heart stammers at the thought as you stand, slowly stepping out of your dress, letting it drape off of your figure. Taehyung looks absolutely gobsmacked, pupils dark as he gazes at you, eyes unabashedly raking your body. He’s shameless. 
You both are. 
Slowly, you step towards him, fingers reaching out towards his shirt, carefully undoing the buttons as you gaze at each other, expressions unreadable. 
"Tae?” You ask innocently, blinking up at him. “Fuck me?" 
Your polite request makes Taehyung chuckle. 
"Please?" You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes blinking up at him adoringly for good measure. You reach the last button, let his dress shirt drape open. He brushes it off himself, stands there for a few seconds just to let the way you’re ogling his toned chest go to his head. At least he’s good-looking. 
He sighs, probably contemplating some clever rebuttal, but eventually decides against it as his cock is already twitching back to life.
"Alright, love. Turn around. On your knees for me," He orders, making your stomach flip.
To your surprise, you are hardly in place when the warmth of his large hands finds the soft of your tummy, pressing you back into his chest as he pressed a peck to the back of your neck.
You squirm in his hold, whining as that same hand of his grabs hold of your breast, long digit rolling your nipple between their tips. You can’t help but press your ass back into him. His cock feels hot and heavy, pressing against the back of your thigh, making your pussy clench in anticipation. 
You want him.
You want him so bad that you don't know what to do with yourself, shuddering as his free hand runs along the side of your ass, leaving scorching hot trails on your skin wherever he kneads into your flesh. He's touching you everywhere – everywhere but where you need him the most, and the arousal that drips down your thigh mocks you.
"Dammit, please!" You exclaim, running out of patience.
"Please what?" He says, an eyebrow arched.
You shiver, committing the way his middle finger traced your pelvic bone to memory forever.
You puff out a frustrated breath, nearly at your wit's end. "Please fuck me, Tae."
Taehyung pauses, grip on your breast and hip tightening as he lets out a moan. You let one out yourself as you feel him readjust, cock pressing against your slick entrance.
"Fuck, you sound so pretty when you say my name," He grunts. "Okay, baby. I'll fuck you. Begging so nicely for my cock."
You let out a squeak as you're suddenly pushed down onto your hands, back arching as he pushes his fat cock inside your heavenly cunt. He's thick, so thick, that you instinctively grip the sheet underneath you, fingers curled around them tightly as if it means to hold onto your sanity.
Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, angling your hips up so that you could take more of him.
"You feel—feel so good," he admits above you, and suddenly you wish you could see him. See the way his bangs stick to his damp forehead—see the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip wickedly.
You let that thought go, however, as he thrust into you, making your jaw fall slack and eyes flutter shut. Profanities roll off your tongue unabashedly, helpless under the way his thick member pulls out of you, only to slam back into you.
You weren't expecting this. The way he stretches you out further than anyone had before. Your pussy clenches around him, reveling in the sweet, sweet burn.
He digs into the flesh of your hips, holding you steady as you mew and cry out, pushing your hips back in time to his, trying your best to meet his movements.
"Tae... fuck, fuck, fuck—"
He was filling you to the brim. Filling you tight and deep.
God, the way he was panting behind you was music to your ears. His cock pulses every time you call out his name, voice muffled and buried as you had your head pressed into the mattress, hair messy and bouncing with every hard thrust.
"S'good! Fuck... so, ah, big..." you cry out.
You feel drunk. Intoxicated off this beautiful man and the way he makes you feel a way only he can.
You nearly let out a sob as the rough pads of Taehyung's fingertips suddenly reach around you and find your neglected clit, rolling light circles on the soft and swollen bundle of nerves skillfully.
You are a mess, whimpering and drooling into your expensive sheets, and he filled every inch of you, leaving no place undiscovered. Your high nears, stewing on low heat somewhere near the pit of your belly, waiting for a chance to erupt and wash all over you. Taehyung must be close to, you realize, as his thrusts began to slow down, slamming into you roughly as if chasing after his high.
"Gonna take this load? Huh? Gonna let me cum inside your pretty little pussy?" His voice is straining, as if trying to breathe evenly but merely moments from falling apart.
If only you could formulate an intelligent response, but instead, you are a blubbering wreck, thighs shaking as they threatened to give out underneath you. But somehow, Taehyung knew. He had you. Quicking his motions against your delicate pearl, he could tell you were close too, and he was going to make sure you got there.
Suddenly, you're crying out and convulsing, tears brimming at the ends of your eyes as you feel Taehyung empty into you, collapsing onto his hands as well.
You feel his hot breath against the back of your neck as he pants, breath growing more and more even as the two of you regain control of your bodies and minds.
Pulling out of you, he plops down beside you, and for a moment, the two of you hold each other's gazes, eyes speaking in ways words never could.
Finally, after what feels both like an eternity and just a moment, you work up the courage to say something, moving closer to him as you place a hand on his chest, cushioning your chin as you rested on top of it.  
"Psst," you beckon, voice hushed.
"Yeah?" His voice is husky and tired.
"I’m grateful, too."
"Huh?"
"I’m grateful for us, too."
Taehyung's gaze is soft, and it lingers on you for a second before the sides of his mouth curl up tenderly. He grins down at you, eyes drifting shut. You feel him squeeze you closer, pressing you against his skin. And then, you hear his breathing steady, see his lips part slightly. 
You lean into his chest, eyelids fluttering. “Thank you, Tae.”
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Not unlike the many other mornings you have awoken in this bed, when you open your eyes as the morning sunlight streams through the windows, Taehyung is nowhere to be found. The sheets on his side of the bed are flipped aside, revealing that soft outline of his body from the night before left imprinted into the sheets, a dip in the mattress where he slept. You had fallen asleep all wrapped up in each other, tangled up like vines, but must have separated sometime during the night. Distantly, you register Taehyung’s voice outside, notice his phone missing from his bedside table. He must be on an early morning call. 
You check your phone for the time. Ten o’clock. 
A late morning call, then. 
Still basking in the afterglow of the night prior, you slowly inch your way out of bed, shivering as you pull the covers off you and scoot your legs around so they hang over the edge of the bed. You rub at your eyes until you faintly remember you did not take your makeup off last night, and when your hand comes away covered with black streaks and flecks of mascara, you wince to yourself. There goes five hundred dollars worth of a skincare routine. 
After washing yourself up and applying as many serums as you can to your skin, you wrap yourself up in one of his button-up shirts, the torso so wide that it drapes over you. The tips of your fingers peek out from the ends of the sleeves, and you cross your arms lightly over your chest as you make your way to the door, ready to entice your husband back to bed for round two. What? It’s Saturday. 
You peer around the door to find Taehyung standing a few feet away, facing away from you. He’s shirtless, and as his wife you have absolutely no problems ogling him, the toned curves of his back, the muscles in his arms. He’s always been a looker. You just finally have an excuse to look for yourself. 
You approach him quietly, not wanting to interrupt nor broadcast your sex life to anybody on the other side who may be listening. Already, the idea of crawling back in bed together sends goosebumps along your skin, makes you giddy with anticipation. You’re just about to tap him on the shoulder, lips curled upwards in suggestion, when he says—
“And my inheritance? That’s secured now, right? Because I said I would pretend to be in love with her in public—?”
And it is as if Medusa herself appeared in this room, turning you to stone as your heart thuds to the floor, a hollow, empty noise. 
You don’t hear the rest of Taehyung’s conversation. You don’t even hear the sound of your own heartbeat. This terrible, aching sound rings in your ears, silencing everything in its wake, drowning out even the sighs of your own breath. It is as if you have been frozen solid. As if you have been shot in the stomach. You stand there, feeling absolutely nothing, and all you can do is brace yourself for what is to come. Taehyung’s words were the knife but his next actions will be its removal, leaving in its wake an irreparable wound. 
He turns around, casual and cool, voice still hushed. As if you were still asleep. As if you hadn’t heard anything at all. But when he twists his body and sees you standing there, staring back up at him, lips parted in shock. 
“I’ll call you back,” he tells whoever was on the other side of the line, looking more panicked by the second. He opens his mouth so he can explain himself, but you don’t need him to. You’ve heard everything already. 
“I should have known,” you say, feeling angry and betrayed and sad all at once. “I should have known it was all an act.”
“Y/N, wait, let me explain—”
“What is there to tell me, Taehyung? What are you going to say? That you didn’t mean it? That you thought I wouldn’t find out? That last night was just a one-off?” You demand. The heat from your veins hasn’t left. Still, it simmers through your blood, burning you up from the inside out. “That you didn’t want to lie to me?”
“It’s not like that and you know it,” Taehyung says defensively, brows furrowed. “Just give me a chance to explain myself.”
“Explain yourself? How you pretended, every day and every night, just so you could get some more money in your bank account? So you could make sure you would get your father’s business when he died?”
Taehyung bites back easily. “Don’t act like you weren’t also faking it at some point. I know you were almost removed from your grandmother’s will.”
Your tongue is bitter at the mention of your grandmother. As if Taehyung ever even knew her. “My grandmother has nothing to do with this.”
“Really?” Taehyung challenges. “So you wanting to stay in her will was just a little bonus, right?”
“Don’t,” you say sharply. “It’s different.”
“Different how?” Taehyung spits. “Because right now, to me, it looks pretty similar to what I’ve done.”
“My grandmother died months ago,” you remind him. Her will is no longer the question. It has been written, settled, and executed. There was no reason for you to continue playing along once she took her last breath. No reason—unless you wanted to. “Meanwhile you’ve been keeping your inheritance a secret from me this entire time.”
“We made a deal,” Taehyung says. “A deal that said we would both act happy and pretend to be in love because we both had things we needed to worry about. Family things. Money things. You were a part of this, just like I was. You pretended, too.”
“Well, maybe I stopped pretending!” 
You can’t take it anymore. All this anger, all this emptiness, it’s been bubbling up inside you ever since you heard those first words come out of his mouth. It spills out of you all at once, an eruption from your lips, your heart’s doors bursting open. You have held his hand tightly in your own. You have pressed your lips to his. You have laid yourself bare in front of him. What is there left to protect? What part of you has not already been stained by him, by his touch, by the feeling of his fingers against your skin?
The hallway is silent, but you can hear your cry echo down the corridor. Hear the way it bounces along the walls before fading away. 
“Maybe I stopped pretending,” you repeat, softer this time. You blink and already can feel the streaks along your skin, the tears falling from your eyes. “Did you ever think about that?”
“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Taehyung looks like he’s in disbelief. Like he cannot believe the words you are saying to him. 
Well, that makes two of you. 
“Can’t you see, Tae? Can’t you tell?” You ask, the nickname falling from your lips before you can even help it. You must remind yourself to change that, later. “I’m in love with you.”
They are words you have never said to someone before. Not even your old boyfriends. Words that you always knew you would reserve for someone special. Someone who would touch your heart and make it their own, someone who would leave imprints of their fingers against your chest. Someone who would brighten you up from the inside out, leave you bursting with light. 
Ironic, that Taehyung has become that someone. When he is the one person you never thought could. 
When he has proven, time and time again, that you two just cannot mix. Oil and water. Pastel and acrylic. Satin and silk. 
“You don’t have to say anything,” you spit out quickly, before Taehyung has a chance to respond. “I know it doesn’t matter to you.”
“Y/N, yes it does,” Taehyung begins, desperate and pleading. “I know you heard what I said, but I swear, it stopped being an act for me, too. Things are different now, just like you said.”
“Don’t. Please.” You pull away as he reaches out towards you. Faintly, you remember that it is his shirt you are wearing. Remember that no matter what you do, he will always surround you. “Please, Tae.” You have nothing left. You can’t bear to look at him, but where else will you go? You cannot believe the things he’s said, the things he’s done, but where else would you go?
“I love you, too,” Taehyung says, and a part of you wants so badly to believe him. 
A part of you wants so badly to ingrain those words into your head, carve them into your heart, let him wrap his arms around you and promise that everything will be alright. But things are different now. Just like you said. You and Taehyung are not the same people you were six months ago. Or six weeks ago. Or even six minutes ago. You are helpless and he has proven that he does not care. 
“I have to go,” you say, looking away. You don’t think you could handle turning back to him again. “Please, Tae.”
“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, and he reaches out once more but you are not there to meet him halfway. Were you ever?
“I know,” you whisper back.
You duck into your bedroom and pack a suitcase of everything you need. Being here is suffocating. Being with him is like setting yourself alight. 
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Victoria has no questions when you show up at her door later that day, suitcase by your side and this ridiculous bottle of Merlot in your hands. You had picked it up on the way over. You sort of figured you might need it. 
“You don’t wanna talk about it, do you?” Victoria asks. 
“Tell me about your streaming service,” you hiccup in response.
Victoria is happy to oblige. She even tells you that she still hasn’t picked a CFO, and that the position would be open for you if you ever wished to take it. 
Funnily enough, what will become of you once your father retires and passes along the company is the furthest away from your thoughts. 
You remember being so worried about that. Being so worried that, once they married you off like every good daughter should be, you would be absorbed into your husband’s life, cut out of your family’s. Your father would choose a cousin, an uncle, or even a friend to take after the business, bestowing upon you a thoughtful inheritance but nothing more than that. All of those years of schooling, finance in college, your MBA soon after, would be wasted, just so you could hang on the arm of your husband for the rest of your life. 
It’s thoughtful of Victoria to think of you for the position. She knows just as well as anyone else that you would be an excellent fit. And if things were just a little bit different, you would be jumping at the offer. 
But your future career plans are on the backburner, along with the rest of your life. 
All you can really do, right now, at this very moment, is wait for things to change. As they always do. 
“Don’t you have an event tonight?” Victoria asks about three days into your stay. She’s given you her favorite (her words, not yours) guest bedroom and an enormous closet to match, despite you only coming over with a carry-on’s worth of clothes. 
You scoff to yourself. “Like I’d want to go to anything with him.”
“Have you even called your parents?” 
“No,” you say, not even caring about the repercussions. There’s no doubt in your mind that they’ll be ringing you soon. And when they do, maybe then you’ll finally work up the courage to tell them what really happened. Tell them that you can’t go back there. Not yet, at least. 
“I’m sorry that this happened to you,” Victoria says as she hands you a bowl of vegetable soup, homemade from a couple of days ago. You nod to yourself, sniffling as you curl into the couch cushions and wish they would absorb you whole. 
There’s no need to ask her what she means by ‘this’. Everything. From your engagement to the marriage, from those tabloids to the deal, from your grandmother’s death to now. It has all been unfair. Life is unfair. And while you’ve always known that, it has been particularly cruel to you as of late. 
Still, when you wake up sometimes, you can still feel him tracing over your skin. Feel his lips hovering over yours, breath fanning out over your cheeks. You turn over and expect to see him lying there, on the right side of the bed, sheets mussed as they cover his figure. You wake up and for a brief moment, for that split, split second, there is peace. And happiness. And love. 
And then there is nothing. 
“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me, too.”
Maybe he really does love you. Maybe things really did change. But you have always been a pragmatic person, always let your head guide you rather than your heart. The secret’s out. Taehyung had an inheritance he needed to secure. You were his path to doing so. Those things haven’t changed. No matter if his feelings did. 
“Hey, look at this,” Victoria says, brows furrowed as she holds out her phone in front of you, revealing a livestreamed interview from the event tonight. 
You peer over. 
It’s Taehyung. 
Of course it’s Taehyung. Who else would she be showing you?
He stands in a clean-cut gray coat, draping over his figure, black dress shirt and slacks underneath, belt wrapped neatly around his hips. He holds his hand up in a wave and smiles politely to the cameras, to the reporters, letting the flashes wash over him like waves in the ocean. 
“Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim!” Someone calls. “Where’s your wife?”
Oh, God.
Taehyung grimaces a little, pursing his lips. “My wife won’t be joining me tonight.”
“Can you tell us why?” They shout. 
“Sorry, no more questions. Thank you for asking though. She’s well,” he says, quickly ushering himself along, entering the venue so no more reporters can bombard him. When he disappears, the livestream immediately moves on to the next guest, but you hardly pay them any attention. 
“Huh,” Victoria says aloud. 
Indeed. Taehyung’s response strikes you as rather odd. Why would he tell the public that? Why not make up a lie, say you’re sick, or you’re overseas, or you’re just late? Why simply tell them that you won’t be there? Surely, Taehyung is just as aware of the consequences of arriving at an event without you as you are. There’s no doubt that his parents will be in contact with him soon, too. No doubt that this will leave a stain on his family. His image. It might even threaten his inheritance after all.
So why not lie?
You frown to yourself, nose scrunching up in confusion. You don’t like where this train of thought leads.
“You okay?” Victoria asks when she sees the bewildered expression on your face.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you say. Just completely befuddled. It escapes you, why Taehyung wouldn’t just make up some sort of excuse as to reasoning behind your absence. Why he would even show up at the event at all. Certainly, going to the event without you is worse than not going at all. It prompts questions. It spreads rumors. 
Later that night, you get a call from your parents, demanding to know why you weren’t there with him. You say you got sick. You plead with them not to question anything. 
You wonder what happens next. You and Taehyung still have two more events this week. A dinner and a ball. What will you do then?
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Taehyung goes solo for the dinner. You suppose you could have predicted that, considering his apparent willingness to arrive alone for the first event, too. He hasn’t made any efforts to contact you and for once, you’re glad for his silence. Not that you even know what he would say to you, anyway, but at least he isn’t begging you to come back to him. 
The sad truth is that if he did, if he got down on his knees right in front of you and willed you to come back home, you probably would. He has always been impossible to resist. Even when you first met him, when he sauntered up towards you and told you he was your dream come true. You didn’t know it then. But he was. He was everything you would ever want. 
Why would he lie? 
Why would he do that?
You can’t wrap your head around it. What is he getting out of it by telling the truth? By admitting to the paparazzi, to the reporters and the cameramen, that you won’t be there with him. That you will not be joining him. Nothing, certainly. His parents must be furious. His inheritance may be on the rocks. His image might tank. 
So then, why do it at all?
Could it… could it be?
Is it true?
You have loved Taehyung for a long time. Longer than you probably even care to admit. You have always held your head high at events, spoken loudly and without fear, but being with him made you feel safe. Secure. You would hold his hand and know, know that he was holding yours, too. It grounded you. It soothed your worries. 
Does he really love you back?
Taehyung smiles politely and laughs when he needs to at these events, but he doesn’t look the same. Even through the screen you can see those bags under his eyes, that spark that has faded. You hardly recognize him. He looks so lonely, without someone by his side. So distant. 
When you know the dinner has ended, you almost pick up the phone and call him. 
Almost. 
Instead, when the ball rolls around, you ask Victoria if she’s got a spare dress she can lend you.
 Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen covered in paint splotches, wearing old college hoodies, and fresh out of a restless night’s sleep, cleans up pretty well. For a married man, at least. 
You wonder what the past few days must have been like for him. If they have been as empty as your own. Wonder what it was like, riding alone in a big black van to this hotel ballroom, no one to tease, no one to laugh with, no one to hold. No one to poke him awake if he accidentally fell asleep. No one to make sure he’s okay. 
Taehyung stands right outside of the entrance, waving politely to all of the paparazzi, smiling as the cameras flash, giving them the time of day for a moment before he heads inside and muscles his way through another event without you. 
Or so he thinks. 
You spot him just as he opens his mouth, ready to repeat those same lines all over again.
My wife won’t be joining me tonight. She’s well, though.
And maybe it’s just because you haven’t seen him in nearly a week. Maybe it’s just because he is about to lie to those reporters once more, ready to face whatever consequences come his way. 
Or maybe it’s just because you miss him. Miss him terribly, have been missing him terribly. Being away from him was necessary, but that didn’t make it any less unbearable. Not getting to hold his hand, see his smile, meet his eyes. You and Taehyung may not have always liked each other, but you saw him every day regardless. He became a constant in your life. Not an if, but a when. If everything went to shit, you always knew he would still be there. 
And there he is. 
“Wait! Taehyung!”
Taehyung’s eyes widen as he hears your voice, gaze darting around wildly, mouth parted in surprise. He looks around desperately, scanning the crowd, meeting the eyes of every single person in front of him until he finally looks to the left, sees you rushing up towards him, hiking up the skirt of your dress as your heels tap against the sidewalk. 
And when he spots you, sees you running up to him, his body relaxes, a weight lifted from his shoulders as he beams back at you, relieved and thankful and filled with joy, all at once. And you know, then. 
You know that everything will be okay. 
“Sorry I’m late,” you say sheepishly, cheeks burning as he looks at you, takes in every inch of you, breathes you in and lets you fill him up. 
Taehyung doesn’t respond. You reach out to hold his hand but he grabs your wrist and pulls you in, presses you against his body as he presses his hands against your cheeks, palms burning as they meet your skin, and he kisses you. In front of all these people, he kisses you. 
And goddamnit, you will kiss him back. 
It feels like lightning, like a thunderstorm, like the waves of the ocean are crashing against your heart. It feels like fire, like flames are licking at your veins, sending sparks through your blood. It feels like home. 
You and Taehyung ignore the shouts of reporters, the flashes of cameras, the honks of the cars on the other side of the road. When you part, he presses his forehead against yours and lets the tip of your nose meet his. And you smile. 
“Don’t be alone any longer, Mr. Kim,” you whisper, loud enough so only he can hear. 
“When I’m with you, I never am, Mrs. Kim,” he murmurs back. 
You wonder what those tabloids will be saying about you tomorrow. 
The rest of the night finds the two of you pretty much inseparable. You wrap yourself around his arm and for the first time in a long time, he presses his hand against the small of your back, keeping you close. Like he’d ever lose you again. 
One of your least favorite parts about attending balls used to be the dancing. As a young and eligible bachelorette, you would always have to lock hands with another, let him awkwardly guide you along to the music as you made the worst small talk imaginable, forcing laughter and smiles whenever he said something he thought was particularly funny. 
But, like so many others, things have changed. Things are different now. 
The waltz comes on and you and Taehyung are the first to reach the center of the ballroom floor, letting him rest his hand on your waist as you press yours on top of his shoulder. Let him twirl you around the room as the orchestra plays in the background, a soft, sweet, light little melody that carries you along. 
“I missed this,” you say softly. 
“I missed us,” Taehyung corrects. He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry for not telling you about my inheritance.”
“I’m sorry for storming out. I should have listened to you.” you respond easily. You both have plenty to apologize for. But night is darkest right before dawn. 
“I should have said something,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. “But I was just so—so worried that something would go wrong. And I didn’t know how to explain how I felt about you. I acted in the beginning, too, but then things changed.”
“They always do,” you muse with a grin. 
“I couldn’t believe I had you,” Taehyung admits. “I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous. And funny. And true.”
“Go on,” you tease, even though you do nothing to hide the smile inching its way across your face, the heating of your cheeks, the simmering of your skin. 
“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I just—I felt something for you I couldn’t explain. I still can’t.”
You don’t have to prod any further. You know. Deep within your heart, you know. There is love blossoming in his to match the garden that has bloomed in your own. The flowers that have sprouted in the ashes. He has them, too. And when those petals open and the light streams in, he will know. He will know, too. 
“You make me crazy,” you tell him, whispering gently into his skin. “But I’m a better person when I’m with you. I know I am.”
“I meant what I said, that night,” Taehyung says. Makes you wonder which night he’s actually talking about. “That I’m happy that things have changed. That things happened the way they did. I’m grateful for us.”
“I am, too,” you say. And you are. 
You rest your head against his chest as you dance together, swaying back and forth to the beat of the drums, to the strums of the violins, all wrapped up together like ivy, like vines. Those, too, sit in that garden of yours. Keep you tethered to his side, keep him close to yours. He holds you in his arms and he smiles, because he knows, too. Knows that that garden in your heart will soon have a matching one in his. A mirror image of who you are. Who you’ve become. 
Things change. They always will. But so long as he is by your side, and so long as you are by his, you know. Everything will be okay. 
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It's different, this time, when Taehyung presses you into the mattress. 
There is no rush. Because now you know for certain that all the time in the world is yours. He is yours forever. You are his.
The two of you are a mixture of tangled limbs and shared breaths, the feverish, irrepressible need to give yourself to each other nearly tangible. He breaks the kiss suddenly, and you’re about to break out in protest. That is, until you see him unbuttoning his shirt.
Inspired, you wiggle out of your own clothes, eyes locked on Taehyung's soft torso and the idea that you had married such a beautiful man, inside and out.
Looking back, you wonder if that was always inevitable. If you and Taehyung falling into each other had been written in the stars from day one, sealed as your fate from the moment he came up to you at that ball when you were teenagers. He was going to be a part of your life no matter what. Whether or not you ended up marrying him. But having him like this?
It makes it all worth it.
"Do you like what you see?" That old cocky smirk of his makes an appearance.
You raise a brow, choosing to omit a response as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest.
Taehyung swallows.
"Do you?" You tease.
His response comes in the form of bites down your necks and licks down your chest, stealing your breath from you. 
Your clothes are somewhere dispelled beside your passionate bodies, growing cold beside the way your two hot bodies warmed one another.
"You are so beautiful," Taehyung praises, fingers coming up to cup your breast, bringing it up to his mouth.
You mewl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his tongue toys with your pert bud, teeth grazing it ever so often just to hear the broken gasp that'd always follow. 
"And so sensitive too," he giggles, making you pout. His hands are gentle as if every touch means something. As if you mean something—no, everything—to him. And the most wonderful part is that he means everything to you, too. 
"Shut up." You roll your eyes playfully, gasping as his palm comes down the side of your thigh suddenly in warning. You bite down your swollen bottom lip at the gush of arousal that dampened your underwear in response.
"Watch your tone, love. Of both our positions, you are in the most compromising one." He reminds you. It isn't a threat, and while usually, that kind of tone would thrill you, you couldn't help but want his mouth back on yours already.
"You talk too much." You flop back onto the bed with a sigh. Taehyung watches with interest as your pretty tits bounce in consequence. Extending your hands out towards him, you give him a pouty look. "Just wanna kiss you."
"Is that all I am to you? Just a pair of lips for you to mack on? I've got news for you, sweetheart, there's a brain behind these ravishing good looks." He scoffs in feigned offense, sitting back on his heels.
You giggle.
It seems as though even during the most intimate of moments, Taehyung still found a way to be, well, Taehyung. At least that hasn’t changed. 
"Whatever, pretty boy. Why don't you come over here and put that mouth of yours to good use?" You purr, making his eyebrows raise in surprise.
"Oh? I don't remember you being this assertive when I was pounding you into the mattress last time."
“What, I can’t have a little fun as well?” You tease, grinning as you look up at him, raking your eyes over his figure. 
"Wanna have fun, love?," He murmurs into your ears, hands gripping either of your plush thighs. "Then spread those pretty legs for me, and I'll show you exactly how much fun you can have."
God, you love this man.
You oblige eagerly, breath quickening as he helped you press your knees by your chest, leaving the wet patch in your underwear on full display. 
"My pretty little wife." He sighs dreamily, making heat rush to your core.
Taehyung's cock stood loud and proud, a hot reminder of where the night would eventually lead to. Seriously, how did you get so lucky? You must've been a saint in a previous life, you decide right then. Or at least, the stars have chosen to be rather kind to you in this one.
"Gonna take these off," he mutters, mostly to himself, tugging the ruined fabric over your ass and down your legs, with your help, of course.
Despite your usual display of confidence, lying beneath your husband, spread out like this, has you feeling vulnerable and slightly insecure. But that insecurity vanishes, however, as he lets out a soft moan, fingers moving to spread your glossed lips apart.
"So fucking pretty, baby. Gonna make you feel so fucking good," he groans, leaning down to press his face near your most intimate part.
Pressing a tentatively lick against, his eyes flicker up to yourself, curious to see if you’re okay with him proceeding. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to say no, are you?
Embarrassingly, you rut against him, making him laugh as you drown in your own mortification.
"Need it that bad, huh?" He coos.
"Yes, please."
The rest of your plea is lost in a moan as Taehyung finds your clit, wrapping his pink lips around the sensitive muscle and giving it a generous suck. Your hands are in his hair before you can think to stop yourself, tugging at his scalp deliciously as his mouth makes its way with you.
Thank goodness for this apartment belonging to just the two of you as the noises that tumbled from your lips surely would've left a roommate blushing.
You're panting, begging for more even though you aren't sure how you'd even handle more. It comes as a delight and slight surprise as fingers suddenly slip inside, wasting no time to rub against your velvety smooth walls, curling themselves inside you.
"Fuck, Tae!" you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.
It was pure reflex. Up until now, you had been watching Taehyung intently, completely consumed by the way his mouth moves against you. How his tongue flicks against your needy clit cruelly. It just felt too fucking good.
You're so wet, positively dripping down his chin as he runs his hot muscle up and down the length of your pussy, devouring you like he hadn't eaten in months, and you were his first meal.
Taehyung’s nothing short of addicting, completely and utterly intoxicating, and you slip further and further to your demise with every lick he takes, every press of his tongue against your clit.
He has a hand pressed against the lower half of your torso, feeling the way you jerk and squirm as he makes a mess of you. You’re close and you know it, too, if not by the way you’re calling his name over and over again, then by the way your thighs tremble, hardly even strong enough to stay up.
"Let go for me, love. I've got you." He sounds so sweet, so angelic, despite how filthy what he was doing to you was.
His words are the push you need, and, like a rubber band that has been stretched past its limit, you finally snap, back arching off the bed as you come with a cry. White fills your vision, and your mind goes blank, only sounds of blissful static filling your ears.
His fingers hold up your quivering legs, mouth pressing kisses onto your pussy encouragingly until you simply can't bear it any longer, pushing his mouth away as you stutter out words of sensitivity and overstimulation.
“I’m going to have to request more of that throughout this marriage.” You manage to say once your vision and breath come back to you.
Grabbing one of your hands, Taehyung brings it to his mouth.
“All you need do is ask,” he replies, making you laugh as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, always a gentleman
Not long after, you find yourself pressed against Taehyung, tongue running against his as he presses his hips into yours. He isn’t coy about his want for you, rolling his cock against your already sensitive center. Warm precum leaks onto your lower abdomen, and suddenly, all you can think about is having him inside you again.
“Taehyung?”
You don’t even need to ask. Hitching your leg around his thigh, he knows exactly what you’re seeking, lining up his leaking cock with your swollen entrance.
Pressing into you, he buries himself to the hilt, groaning out as your warmth envelopes him. You moan out so prettily for him, feeling tight and full with your first orgasm only minutes ago.
“You okay?” he hums, kissing your cheek.
You nod, ears warm at the intimacy of the moment. In many ways, this is nothing like your first time together. You are face to face, eye to eye, heart to heart. Between your bodies could be found more than just desire, but commitment. Devotion. Love. 
“I love you, Tae.” You gush, sighing out as he begins to rock into you.
He falters slightly at your confession but recovers quickly, intertwining his hand with yours and pressing it by your head.
Faintly, you realize. 
That was the first time you had ever told him that.
You look up at him, expecting some wide eyes or even a bit of a nervous tilt to his lips, but all you are met with is a glow. He beams down at you, and your heart swells. 
“I love you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, but you hear the words in your ears loud and clear.
Soft noises fill the room as the two of you become one—hearts synchronizing with one another in silent promise.
It was a promise unlike the one you had made to each other that day at the altar, for this one was real. This one was true.
You shutter with every thrust of his hips, your abused clit finding itself in the crossfire of Taehyung’s passionate motions.
Whimpering, you cling to him, overwhelmed and emotional, like your heart was about to burst. Taehyung lights a fire in you, sends lightning straight through your core. Every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch, they send shivers down your spine, tingles throughout your skin. It’s like you’re falling in love with him all over whenever you see him, whenever his deep brown eyes meet your own.
You remember being so afraid of love that you broke up with all your old boyfriends because of it. Because you couldn’t commit, because you were worried about your career, because they just didn’t give you that spark. But lying here pressed against him, against your husband, you aren’t afraid. Wrapped up around him, tangled up in him, you know. 
Between messy kisses and words of adoration, you find yourself growing closer and closer to your release. Brows furrowed and neck flushed, you come with a soft whimper of his name, coaxing his own orgasm out of him. He lets go inside you, painting you with his seed in a way that pleases you to no end.
Hand still in yours, he gives it a squeeze, pressing a kiss onto your damp chest, right over where your heart beats for him.
“I love you,” Taehyung says again when you meet his eyes, firmer this time, louder. Like he’s worried you didn’t believe him the first time. 
“I know,” you say with a giggle, the words going straight to your head—and your heart. 
Taehyung scowls. “What, no ‘I love you’ back? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“Well, only because you want one so badly,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his round button nose. “I love you, too, Tae. Always will.”
“I think I knew, then,” Taehyung says with a fond sigh, nostalgia overcoming his expression. “That first time we met. I knew you would be mine, one day.”
“You got lucky,” you scoff slightly. “But I’m glad things happened the way they did.”
“You’re my dream come true, Y/N,” he says. 
“And you are mine,” you murmur.
As the two of you drift off, all twisted up in each other, so mixed up you can’t figure out where you end and he begins, you think back to that night. That ball. 
“Who are you?” You ask, nose scrunched up in distaste. Before you stood a boy you had never met before, wearing shoes that were too big for him and a suit that was a touch too small. 
He grins at you, running a hand through his perfectly-styled hair fringe swiped neatly over his forehead, and he says, “your dream come true.”
And so it was. 
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don’t forget to message me! ~ and don’t forget to message rose!
6K notes · View notes
bratkook · 6 months ago
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concrete king. (m) jjk
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pairing. skaterboy!jk x reader genre. fluff, smut, himbo energy word count. 16.7k ....don’t look at me warnings. sweet summer romance, blonde!jk, brief depictions of drugs (marijuana usage), alcohol, lots of making out, messy car sex, fingering, spit kink !! (duh), light tit play, playful dirty talk, protected sex, overall cute, jungkook is a big fking dork and a softie! summary. when a cute boy in a tacky hawaiian shirt lands a trick in your honor theres no way you could you ever say no to him note. thank you to @cutechim @jungkxook for indulging my thirsty rambles as well as @coepiteamare for beta reading this for me like an absolute angel ❣️ ily babes !! ps. @jjkxla​ come get ur mans ! (i also made a bby playlist for the fic here !)
leave some feedback, send a message, tell me u love me pls u know the drill <3
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The California sun beats high from it’s spot in the sky, zero clouds coming between the harsh rays that bounce off the concrete and warm up Jungkook’s body in an almost uncomfortable way. He can feel the sweat accumulating on the back of his neck, leaving the blonde strands damp with moisture, ends curling up as he ruffles his hands through them. 
Jungkook has been here for a little over an hour now, currently perched on the edge of the smaller bowl as he observes Hoseok from inside, laughing as his friend pops up, bottom of his trucks grinding against the ledge before he’s gliding back down. Hoseok had just picked up skating recently; he’s used to cruising on the streets so he has the basics down, just needs Jungkook’s help when it comes to doing anything at the skatepark. The first hurdle? The frontside carve grind that he had been struggling with. 
“Smoother, right?” he calls out to his friend as he pumps himself back around to repeat it on the opposite side with the same success. He cheers briefly before gripping his deck and climbing out of the bowl, settling his ass right next to him, ignoring the slight burn from the concrete below. 
“Much,” he flips the board over in his grasp, fingers wiggling the trucks with a pleased smile. “Who knew loose trucks would be my saving grace.”
Jungkook hums in confirmation, twirling his own board above his lap. “I don’t know how the hell you were carving before. They were tight as fuck.”
“Rookie mistake,” Hoseok jokes, leaning back on his palms and letting his head hang back, face turned up to the sky with his eyes shut. 
Jungkook chuckles as he hauls himself up, fingers pulling at his shirt, his white tee sticking to his back as he flaps the bright blue printed button up around him for some air. His eyes roam the skate park, seeing who occupied what area: the bikers on the far left side, roller skaters in the middle where the half pipe was, and skate boarders to the far left where the shallow bowl and rails were. 
“Why the hell are you wearing that?” Hoseok grumbles when he opens his eyes and really takes a look at Jungkook’s bright shirt, covered in orange and yellow petals, classic hawaiian print that should only belong on middle aged men on vacation. The ridiculous shade of blue contrasts against the dark ink on his arms, thick bold tattoos in all black that are placed sporadically, almost as if he had slapped stickers onto his skin and called it a day. Like most things in life, Jungkook made it work; this hawaiian shirt however was the very rare occasion where it didn’t work. 
“It’s called fashion, asshole,” Jungkook laughs, nudging his knee against his friend’s shoulder and stumbling when Hoseok shoves him back, almost making his legs buckle underneath him. “Fuck you,” he chortles, smacking Hoseok’s head with a nice whack, jumping out of the way before he can retaliate once again. 
Just as Hoseok is about to get up, presumably to put his younger friend into a headlock, Jungkook drops into the bowl on his board, cackling the whole way down. A dorky smile is on his lips, teeth out as he looks back at his friend, legs acting on their own accord while he carves along the bowl. 
His hair flows in the wind as he picks up speed, knees bent slightly to help pump himself around with practiced ease. He feels at home whenever he’s here, muscle memory guiding him through the motions, letting him ride out of the bowl smoothly. 
Jungkook kicks off with his right foot for speed, a grin on his face as he approaches the upcoming ledge, feet wide and stable on his board. With a push up, he’s hopping onto the ledge with the nose of his board, grinding along the surface for a few seconds before hopping off, wheels clacking against the concrete as he rolls away. 
A group of kids cheer on from the sidelines as they watch, all decked out in protective gear as they stare at him with eyes that make him feel as if he had just done something monumental. He gives them a smile in thanks as he glides by them, remembering the times when he was their age and struggling to stand on his own board. 
It makes him want to show off some more, skating a little way past them to get some distance to catch some speed before eventually attempting to pull a trick after clearing the stairs that lead to the lower part of the park. 
He flips his hair back as he nears the edge of the park, right before the concrete meets the patchy grass, and before he can fully concentrate, he hears the sound of laughter. Jungkook has to blame it on his easily distracted attention span, but his ears focus on it, head turning around in search of it, bouncing off the same kids playing a few feet away before finally landing on you. 
He hops off his board now, cool trick momentarily forgotten, kicking the tail up until his fingers curl around the nose as he holds it by his side. That’s when he hears it again, confirming it actually belonged to you, sitting on the metal bench underneath the shade of a tree with a red popsicle in your hand and a wide smile on your face as your friend tells a story. 
Jungkook is definitely not blind, taking note of how attractive you are, your legs barely covered in a pair of dark blue denim shorts and out in the open due to the summer heat. If there was one thing he would always be weak for, it’s pretty girls like you with laughs as sweet as honey and smiles brighter than the sun. 
He wonders for a moment if the heat has gone to his head and he’s imagining you, like some kind of mirage you see just before you pass out because there’s no way you’re real. Hell, maybe he had attempted the cool trick and busted his head open, and you were coming to him in some coma dream. 
Your friend must sense him staring, her eyes looking at him before she’s mumbling something to you, and you’re turning around to look right at him too. You’re giving him a very clear once over, no doubt judging his shirt choice like Hoseok had, but when you don’t immediately look away, he lifts a hand up and gives you a simple wave. 
Tight, you’re real. 
A confused grin is on your lips as you wave back, briefly wondering if he was an acquaintance you had forgotten about, more so when he speaks loud enough for you to hear, his need to impress a pretty girl taking over. 
“Watch this!”
And you do, turning fully around to observe the blonde boy as he angles his board before getting a head start and hopping onto it with just enough speed to execute his trick. You watch as he crouches low on the board, pushing off the tail until it scoops up under him, front foot rotating it in time with his body in a full 360 before swiftly landing it. 
Jungkook smiles wide at landing the beta flip after having practiced it earlier in the day, wheels crunching over the cracks as he cruises on and comes to a stop right before the stairs. He holds in his cheer as he hops off his board with his shoulders pulled back in pride, only increasing when he realizes you had in fact watched him pull it off. 
“That was for you!” he shouts out, placing his fingertips to his lips to blow you a kiss, not at all phased by the look on your face. It’s a clear display of amusement mixed with confusion, your hand pointing at your chest to confirm he was talking to you. 
“Do I know you?”
That’s the golden ticket he needs, bending down to clutch his board and make his way to you. “Glad you asked,” he laughs, approaching you with that same toothy smile, blonde hair framing his face and flowing through the wind as he speeds up his pace. 
“I’m Jungkook,” he announces, coming to stop right in front of the bench and hunkering down into the spot right next to you. He takes up space comfortably, almost as if he thinks he belongs absolutely everywhere, thighs spread out and back resting along the tabletop casually as he leans onto his elbows. 
“Okay Jungkook, do I know you?” Your friend snickers at your tone, taking note of the way he smirks, hands raking through his hair as he stares at you with doe eyes that you know help him win over the ladies. 
“You do now. What’s your name?” 
There's a small moment where you have an internal battle, wondering if it would be wise to give your name out to the cute skater who had just landed a trick in your honor. It’s not until your friend gives you a look that tells you to do it that you finally respond. 
“Y/N,” you smile, bringing the red ice pop back to your lips for another taste, desperately needing it to ward off the sticky heat surrounding you. His eyes are locked onto the motion, seeing the way your lips wrap around the edge of it until suddenly, you’re biting into the slowly softening treat. 
“Oh man, you bite ice cream? I’m out,” he laughs, going to stand back up as he feigns being alarmed. Your joyous laugh fills the air once more, your palm slapping over your mouth to prevent the chunk from slipping out. “What flavor is that anyways?”
“Watermelon,” you laugh, “and don’t judge me, it’s hot.” Your words are hard to make out as you mumble while chewing, snickering when he slumps back into his spot with a wide smile. He gives you a moment as you finish up your treat, his eyes crinkled up as he stares at you with clear amusement on his sun kissed face, nodding in approval at the flavor of choice. 
“I don’t know. I came over here ‘cause I thought you were cute but you’re clearly–“ his finger circles around near his temple, the slight grimace on his face a clear indication that he was calling you crazy, and it only makes you giggle some more. 
“You think I’m cute?”
Jungkook’s jaw drops, a silent laugh leaving him as he stares at you incredulously. “I also think you’re crazy. Did that slip your mind?”
The popsicle finds its way back into your mouth as you hum in indifference, choosing to suck on it instead of biting it to save him from the absolute agony of watching. He swears he could feel his own brain rattling and teeth aching when you did it. Maybe you are crazy. 
“No, I heard cute, and the rest just got tuned out.”
He laughs fully at this, and you take a second to admire him, getting a good look at his profile as his head drops back, light strands of hair no longer obstructing your view, allowing you to see the way his nose scrunches up and his top teeth push out in an endearing way. 
Your eyes drop to his arms now, the black lines calling your attention as you admire the bold artwork covering the entire expanse of them. Each piece is relatively small, individually placed with a small gap in between the tattoos next to them instead of it being a fully connected sleeve. The one that really catches your eye is the noose tucked into his bicep, right above his elbow with the words 'I'll be cool when I’m dead’ lined around it in all caps. It’s an interesting style that somehow suits him. 
“Alright,” he scoots closer to you smoothly, turning to fully stare at you with his head tilted slightly. “Yeah, you’re cute, for a girl who bites ice cream.”
He pauses for another second as you pull out the popsicle, eyes looking at him with a sly smile on your red coated lips. it doesn’t prepare him for the low blow you’re about to deliver. “You talk a lot of shit for a guy wearing a hawaiian shirt.”
His hand clutches over his chest, fingers gripping onto the fabric of his white tee as he hunches over and winces at the second jab to his fashion sense. “Damn, no need for the personal attack. What brings you to this beautiful park?”
Normally he’d assume you were here to skate, or to just stare at the boys since that’s what a lot of girls did to pass time, but you were lacking in gear and anything that had wheels. You also didn’t seem interested in anything going on in the park. 
This park was on the slightly shittier side of town, covered in graffiti and barely held together by the people who inhabited it, everyone coming together to fix anything that broke in an effort to keep it alive. It was a nice little community, and without it, this place would’ve become a run down skeleton of what it is now. 
Whatever was beyond the concrete, though, was left to its own methods of survival. Grass patchy and half dead, too many crazed squirrels that didn’t fear humans, and the occasional run in with an aggressive stranger made people who weren’t here to ride stay far away. 
You know this: it’s the main reason you never come here, especially when the weather is as nasty as it is today. 
The red treat is now pointed at your friend as you speak. “Her boyfriend is over there by the big bowl. I’m just here to keep her company and help ward off the squirrels.”
Jungkook looks over to the area in question, seeing the same bikers huddled around the deep bowl as someone drops in. “Sick, who is he?”
“Taehyung,” your friend speaks up, chin resting on her palm as she stares dreamily at the boy with the wide smile that catches air on his bike. They had only been dating a few weeks, but it was clear she was absolutely smitten with him. 
“No way,” Jungkook chuckles, raking his hands through his hair again. It’s become a habit ever since he let it grow out, but each time he does it, you’re given the perfect view of his forehead and strong eyebrows, so you’re not complaining. “We go way back. You must be Jia then?”
Her face beams up at that, proud that her boyfriend talks about her to his friends, and when Taehyung comes to a still and stares over at her, she waves at him frantically. Jungkook stifles a laugh when his friend does the same, long arm swinging side to side as he smiles at his girlfriend. 
“Yeah, glad to know he talks about me.”
“Oh, he doesn’t shut up about you,” he playfully rolls his eyes, chuckling when she gets even happier, deciding to stand up and make her way over to Taehyung for a moment. 
“They’re cute,” you sigh, resting your arm on the cool metal table as you stare at the couple, smiling as Jia sits her butt on the handlebars and screams when Taehyung pretends to drop into the bowl. 
“The cutest.” Jungkook humors you, eyes bouncing over to Hoseok and seeing him practicing some simple flat tricks off to the side. That’s when the idea pops into his head, turning back to stare at you with a grin on his lips. “Since you know Taehyung and Jia, are you coming to the kickback?”
“What kickback?”
“My friend Hoseok’s throwing a small get together. His parents are loaded and on this weird hippie retreat, so it’s free real estate for a party. Those two will be there, so I’m just passing along the message.”
Your roll your lips in thought, remembering the brief invitation Jia had given you a while back, an invitation you had turned down because you didn’t know anyone that would be there besides her and the last thing you wanted was to be alone once she disappeared with Taehyung. But if Jungkook would be there, then maybe you’d have a reason to go. 
“Is this a direct invitation?” you wonder, finishing off your treat and setting the stained stick aside. 
“Sure is. There’s also a pool in case my presence isn’t convincing enough.” His thick brows wiggle while he speaks, a quick wink sent your way, and a cute smile spreads onto his lips when you roll your eyes at his antics. 
“I don’t know. Land another trick for me, and I’ll consider it.”
Jungkook never backs down from a challenge, so he nods in thought, bending forward to grab his board from the dry grass, mind whirling as he thinks of the right trick to do to impress you. 
“You’re gonna make me work for it huh?” He stands up fully now, adjusting his atrocious shirt as it sticks to his back once more. There’s a playful smile on his face that only spreads when you nod your head in confirmation. 
“Sure am. Go on and try to impress me with something cute.” Your words poke fun at him, your foot coming out to nudge at his leg for him to get going when he remains by your side. 
“I hope you have an outfit planned for it because I’m totally gonna blow you away with my cute trick.”
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Of course Jungkook lands the trick, making it look like a piece of cake without breaking a sweat as he once again blew a kiss your way, managing to rope you in and get your number as well as a verbal confirmation that you’d be at the party. 
It makes him feel a little jittery as he roams the aisles of the nearby 7-11 with Jimin, in search of drinks and some snacks. He can faintly see his reflection in the glass doors as he eyes the shelves of drinks, blonde hair split down the middle and styled off his face, a look of thought on his features. The rings adorning his fingers rattle against his board leaning on his legs as he taps them along the nose, looking far too conflicted over the choices displayed in front of him. 
“It’s just alcohol Kook. Pick something.” Jimin speaks up from beside him, playfully shoving his shoulder to snap Jungkook out of his deep concentration. 
“Girls like white claws, right?” he wonders outloud, fingers curling around the handle of the fridge before yanking it open. The chill hits him instantly, something he welcomes since the summer heat was still going strong. It sends a shiver through him so he keeps the door propped open, choosing to stare without the glass obstructing his view. 
“Bro, I like white claws.” Jimin huffs, sliding in between Jungkook and grabbing his own case of the mango flavored drink, not wanting to linger in this store longer than necessary.  
“So, yes?” 
Jimin gives his friend a pointed look as he juggles his board and the drink case in his arms. “Yes, grab two of the assorted cases. I’m sure Hoseok has enough alcohol in case they happen to hate great tasting seltzer.”
That’s good enough for Jungkook, grabbing two cases and letting the fridge door slam behind him as he follows after Jimin. The silver haired boy was already at the counter, grabbing a pack of original backwoods and setting it on top of his beloved white claw case, an array of snacks beside it. 
“What if she flakes?” Jungkook wonders as he slides the cases besides Jimin’s junk, grabbing his wallet from his pocket to flash his ID to the cashier before fishing out some bills to pay for it all—something he had promised Jimin after losing a bet yesterday afternoon. 
“Then she flakes,” Jimin shrugs, asking the cashier for extra bags to ensure the plastic wouldn’t give out on their ride to Hoseok’s. 
“Fuck, don’t say that.” Jungkook whines, pocketing the change and smiling in thanks when the cashier triple bags their items. If you flaked on him, he would feel like such a loser, excited at the prospect of getting to see you again only for it to be made clear that you really weren’t interested. 
Jungkook shakes those thoughts out of his head as they exit the store, his leg propping open the door for the next customer. Jimin can see the worry on his younger friend’s face, heaving a sigh as he lets his board fall to the floor. 
“She’s not gonna flake. She’s probably already there.”
That doesn’t seem to make it any better, Jungkook’s eyes bulging out as he adjusts the bags in his grip and drops his own board in a haste. 
“The fuck are we doing here then?” he huffs, hopping onto the deck and pushing himself off in a hurry, not even waiting for Jimin to situate himself as he rolls down the parking lot and onto the sidewalk. 
“Okay, fuck me right?” Jimin shouts out, rolling his eyes as Jungkook doesn’t seem fazed. If anything, he picks up more speed. Jimin knew the way to Hoseok’s: it was only a few blocks away, plus Jungkook was carrying the bulk of the items so he shouldn’t even be complaining. 
The strain of his arms is starting to ache from the weight pulling on them, paired up with the blaze of the late afternoon sun, and Jungkook can already feel the prickling of sweat on his skin. His button up of choice today doesn’t provide him much airflow compared to his favorite hawaiian shirt, something he had forgone in order to not get absolutely roasted from you and his friends again. Instead he picked out a loose fitting red shirt with the depiction of dragons printed on it, tucked into his ripped black jeans to showcase the black belt wrapped around his waist. 
Sure, he had decided to dress up a little. It might be to impress you, or it might be self care, but he reassured himself that he still looked casual because of the dirty converse laced on his feet. 
Balance. 
He smiles a bit as the streets grow wider, rolling onto the smooth pavement instead of the cracked sidewalk. Rich people loved their streets pothole and gravel free, and it made for perfect cruising conditions. It lets him get more speed as he nears Hoseok’s house, blonde strands flowing through the wind, silver earrings dangling in time with each kick he gives until finally, he sees it. 
Both feet rest on his board now and he spares a glance behind him, laughing when he sees Jimin doing his best to catch up with a middle finger aimed right at him. Jungkook juggles the bags in his grasp before throwing the bird back, leaning to the right to turn onto the driveway and hopping off the board altogether. 
He doesn’t even bother grabbing his board, choosing to kick it until it rolled onto the green front lawn. There was no way someone would steal it here anyways, so he feels no guilt as he makes his way inside the air conditioned home. 
“Hobi!” he calls out, not in the mood to try to find his friend wherever he might be in the house. Jungkook just shuffles through the entryway, making a beeline for the kitchen like he always does when he’s here. “Oh, there you are.”
Hoseok hums in confirmation as he pulls out some water from the fridge, fingers pointing at the bags in his friend’s grasp. “What did you get?”
“White claws,” Jungkook grunts, hauling the cases up onto the oversized island and shaking out his arms to get the feeling back into them. 
“Nice, where’s Jimin?”
“He’s coming.” The door opens then, and Jungkook gestures to signify that it must be him. “Anyways, is she here yet?”
“Who?” Hoseok frowns, not even able to conceal his laughter when Jungkook gives him a stone cold look. “Damn I’m kidding. Yeah, she’s here. Everyone’s outside by the pool. Come bring the drinks out.”
Jungkook hops in place for a bit, a goofy smile on his face when Hoseok shoves his shoulder with a laugh. You were here. You didn’t flake, and now his nerves were back to overflowing his mind. 
With a small breath, he contains his smile, trying to keep his face neutral as he grabs the cases and follows behind Hoseok to the backyard, Jimin right behind him. Jungkook doesn’t even react when Jimin kicks his thigh like an annoying brother. No, he’s too focused on finding you in the small group of people lounging under the canopy beside the pool. 
He hears Taehyung instantly once the doors open, his wild laughter kickstarting everyone else's. Jungkook’s eyes roam around, spotting Namjoon standing by the grill as he ensures the burgers and hotdogs don’t burn. Taehyung is currently kneeled on a bright pink floating bed, playing what appears to be a game of chicken with Jin in the pool, the two of them fully clothed and swatting at each other in an effort to have someone topple over. 
“Wait, shit, my phone’s still in my pocket!” Taehyung shouts out as Jin gets his hands around the other’s wrist, fully intent on sending him over. 
“Nice try,” Seokjin calls his bluff, yanking his friend over with full force, wobbling on his own floaty as Taehyung splashes into the water with a scream. 
That’s when he hears your laugh, having it embedded in his mind since last week. It’s easy for him to find you now, seeing you tucked into the cushions of the couch in the shade, snug right between Jia and Yoongi’s girlfriend, Sena. 
He freezes in his spot, making Jimin collide into his back with a curse before he’s pushed out of the way. That same dorky smile spreads across his lips as your eyes move from the scene in the pool to Jungkook, a grin sent his way as you shimmy out of your wedged spot. 
Jungkook tries not to be a typical boy that gawks at pretty girls, but you make it so hard, legs taunting him in another pair of denim shorts and a cropped distressed vintage tee of a band he just so happens to love only makes him swoon just a little more. 
“You look really pretty,” he breathes out as you get close enough, abandoning a typical greeting in favor of a compliment that makes you laugh as you look down at the grass beneath your shoes. 
“Thanks,” you smile, hand reaching out to tug at his shirt, admiring the pattern that covers it, favoring it to the bright blue vacation shirt from before. “You do too.”
He catches your words before you can try to fix them, a teasing smile on his lips as he raises his brows. “You think I look pretty? Thank you.”
You don’t even fight it, grabbing the top case of white claws to ease the weight off of him with a smile, instantly walking towards the outdoor fridge Hoseok had told you was where all the drinks would be. “You’re welcome. Keep wearing shirts like that, and I’ll call you pretty all the time.”
Jungkook whistles as he walks beside you, softly bumping into your shoulder, “How’d you know my love language is words of affirmation?”
“Is it?” you laugh, setting the case on top of the outdoor counter and opening it up, ready to hand them over to Jungkook as he kneels to open the mini fridge. 
“Sure is. Hearing it from you just makes it hit a little different though.”
Your teeth bite down on your lower lip, trying to conceal your smile at his honest flirting, urging the butterflies in your stomach to settle down. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as he stares up at you, and it makes you want to match his energy, so you nod as you crack open the can in your hand and pass it over to him before opening one for yourself. 
“Noted. You’re gonna be sick of my compliments by the time the day is over.”
Jungkook doesn’t think that’s true at all, but he’s not going to stop you from calling him cute or pretty because it makes his cheeks hurt from how hard he tries to keep from smiling. 
As the evening progresses and the sun slowly dips beyond the horizon, the two of you find your way beside the pool with your feet dipped in, and you stay true to your words. Jungkook lets you boost his ego as you compliment his tattoos, allows you to grip his hands while you inspect the chunky rings adorning his fingers and even try to slip a few on to see how they’d look on your own. The final push is when you run your fingers through his hair, nails gently grazing his scalp in an innocent way as you comment on the shade of blonde, sweet voice telling him how nicely it suits him.  
That’s when a shiver wracks through him, and he can’t even attribute it to the soft chill the summer night brings or the cold pool water. No, it was solely because of you. Your soft spoken comments were sending his mind into overdrive, and he desperately needed to mellow out before he made a fool of himself in front of you. 
So he does what he thinks is best, fishes into his deep front pockets and pulls out one of the joints he had stuffed in there this morning. It was his emergency joint and Jungkook wasn’t sure if this classified as an emergency but he was about two minutes from going all heart eyes on you, so he had to calm himself down to not scare you off. 
“Is that weed?” you laugh, your hand coming up to cover your lips as you giggle, his chunky ring still loosely wrapped around your index finger glimmering in the night light. 
“Yeah, wait–do you smoke?” he stutters out, breathing a sigh of relief when you slowly nod. “Jimin has a blunt if you prefer that,” he shrugs, index finger and thumb holding the joint up between you. 
“I hate how blunts taste so, this is fine.” 
Jungkook smiles as he pulls out his lighter, handing you the joint first, hands urging you to press the crutch to your lips as he lights it up for you. The flame casts a soft glow on your face as he holds it at the end, watching as you gently twist it between your fingers, lightly dragging until the cherry glows solid. 
The smell hits you instantly, nose wrinkling as you inhale and pass it over to him, letting your feet gently kick in the water as you slowly exhale, the slight burn in your lungs making you cough. Jungkook can’t even tease you for it, taking too big of a puff he can barely hold in before he’s coughing with you, a cloud of smoke billowing out as he laughs. 
And just like that his jitters are gone, able to calm his racing heart and fully stare at you as you speak, the two of you passing the joint between you until it was all gone. It leaves you feeling warm and floaty, not too high where you want to ball up on the couch and sleep, but comfortable and mellow as you sit pressed to his side. 
Jungkook has now figured out that your love language must be physical touch, your need for smoothing your hands over his shirt, fiddling with his rings and hair, and now gently wrapping your fingers around his bicep as he spoke to you. He enjoys it, scoots even closer to you until your thigh is practically pushed up onto his, but you don’t even mention it. 
You’re too lost in what he’s telling you, the weed making you hang on to his every word. It doesn’t help that Jungkook makes conversation like second nature, knowing just what to say to keep the laughs flowing from you, giving you small peeks of his life in forms of animated stories and rambles. 
Even without the help of drugs, his way with words pulls you in without you realizing. The added daze simply aids in having you cling to him with bright eyes as you follow along to every syllable he says. 
It leaves you wondering for a minute, cloudy brain zoning out as you think of all the loose facts you’ve been presented with since meeting him. Jungkook was hot—that much was obvious—and he had to know it. There was no way he doesn’t know how easy it is for him to wrap anyone he wants around his fingers. At least, that’s what you think with how smooth the words flow from his mouth. 
It fills you with the tiniest bit of uncertainty, wanting to get some clarification before you allow yourself to pursue him the way you desperately wanted to because, right now, he’s ticking off all the boxes at an alarming rate. 
You don’t snap out of that small trance until he’s finishing up his story and shyly excusing himself to go to the bathroom, having chugged three white claws in record time before smoking. It’s no surprise he hauls himself up and scurries inside, ignoring Hoseok’s yells about getting the floor wet. 
That’s when you get your opportunity for clarity, turning to face the canopy and seeing the people who would give you the answers you needed. Seokjin and Yoongi don’t give you a second glance from their spot splashing in the pool, not noticing the way you get up and make your way to Taehyung and Namjoon. 
The two of them are currently stuffing their faces, hair damp and dripping, still shirtless from swimming, but as you approach them they grin at you through the food in their mouths. 
“What’s the catch with him?” you ask instantly, arms crossed over your chest, eyes a little droopy and a small smile on your face when you hear Jia giggle at your interrogation stance. 
“Wow, you’re baked,” she cackles, but you fully ignore her, pointed eyes staring at Taehyung. 
“Catch?” Taehyung mumbles, hotdog mush still stuffed in his cheeks, lips pouty, and Jia takes it upon herself to sit up and wipe the ketchup smeared onto his cheek. 
“Yeah,” you laugh, pointing your finger towards the house. “Is he like a serial heartbreaker? Does he have an extensive criminal record?”
Namjoon just chuckles at your questions, fingers wiping his mouth as he finishes chewing and leans forward, staring at you through the dark strands falling over his eyes. “The only thing Jungkook has broken is his arm two years ago. Also, he doesn’t have a record, unless you count the time he ran from some cops after we snuck into an abandoned property to skate.”
“So he’s not some sweet-talking womanizer?” you tease, only half meaning the questions. He hasn’t given you a definite reason for you to assume anything at all but something about him seemed too good to be true. Maybe you’re just used to the sleazy men who know just how to butter you up, but you need to double check that you’re not missing any obvious red flags that your rose colored glasses are concealing. 
Taehyung finally laughs, a sly smile on his face at the opportunity to tease Jungkook. He’s known him the longest, going back to when they were awkward preteens with side swept hair and chunky DC’s on their feet, so he knew Jungkook’s true personality. He’s charming without realizing it, has the art of playful flirting down to a science. But when it comes to actually pursuing girls, unless you make it glaringly obvious that you’re into him, his nerves get the best of him. 
Just as Tae’s about to clown his friend, Jungkook walks back out from the house, eyes squinty as he wonders where you went, and Taehyung chooses not to embarrass him. 
“If there's anyone I can vouch for, it’s Jungkook. He's a good guy, I promise.” 
“Yeah, and if for whatever reason he’s lying, I’ll make sure to bite his dick off.” Jia threatens, small hand dipping in between her boyfriend’s thighs to grip his junk. It seems to have the opposite effect, Taehyung facing her with wiggling brows, and you’re luckily saved from witnessing the rest when Jungkook sneaks up behind you, fully grabbing your attention as you turn your head to stare at him. 
“You snuck off,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around you as he hunches over, chin resting snugly on your shoulder. 
“Yeah, I came to get the inside scoop from your friends.”
Jungkook hums at that, looking up at the friends in question, neither of whom look particularly guilty, especially not Namjoon who waves his fingers and blows him a kiss. 
He just rolls his eyes at the gesture, head still too floaty to even bother asking his friends what they could have said to embarrass him. The only thing on his mind now is how good you smell, whatever perfume you must have sprayed along your neck filling his senses. It smells sweet, and for some reason, it makes his stomach rumble, something you clearly hear as you turn around and giggle. 
“You know what sounds good?” he questions, standing up straight and looking down at you. “A mcflurry.”
That did actually sound good. “M&M’s or oreo?”
Jungkook scoffs at that, letting a hand trail down until it grasps one of yours, fingers lacing together as he starts to tug you away from his friends. He takes a small detour to grab your discarded shoes to be put on before heading towards the side gate that leads to the front yard. 
“Oreo, duh. I’m not an animal.”
Jungkook keeps his hands interlaced with yours as he bends forward and grabs his skateboard from the same spot he had kicked it to when he first got here, keeping it tucked by his side as he continues pulling you towards the street. 
“Where are we going?” you laugh, not resisting as he leads the way, familiar with the neighborhood and the places around it. 
“To get that damn mcflurry. There’s a Mcdonalds not too far from here.”
That's fine by you, squeezing his palm as you walk down the street, illuminated by the streetlights lining the sidewalks. The small high you felt had slowly faded away, only leaving a light feeling in your chest that lingers the rest of the way. 
The walk only takes about fifteen minutes, easily spent as you joke with each other, your camera roll now full of videos of Jungkook with ridiculous filters on his cute face. It makes you smile like an idiot as you wait for the food you ordered, deciding once you were here that a mcflurry alone wasn’t gonna cut it. 
Before you know it, you're walking out of there with a stuffed bag and a cup holder to keep your precious mcflurries safe as you head down the street once more. Jungkook mentioned a nice park on this side of town that doesn’t come with a warning once the sun went down, so that’s where you were headed to indulge in the fried food. 
“Cheers,” Jungkook mumbles between a mouthful of fries, holding his chunky spoon in the air for you to tap against before taking the first taste of the oreo-vanilla goodness. 
“You know,” you pause to shut your eyes, getting a brain freeze as the ice cream sticks to the roof of your mouth, and Jungkook laughs at the irony of the notorious ice cream biter finally suffering. You can only flip him off before continuing your sentence, “If you would’ve picked M&M’s, whatever this is that we have going on wouldn’t work out.”
Jungkook doesn’t deny it, nodding along enthusiastically as he pulls out the hamburger from the bag, popping open the box and dumping his fries in the opposite flap. “Definitely. I mean, I already turned a blind eye to your crazy tendencies, but M&M’s is a no go.”
He smiles as you cackle, pulling out your own food, and only laughs harder as you flip the bag upside down and an absurd amount of spicy buffalo sauce comes tumbling out. “My crazy tendencies? Jungkook, what the hell.”
“Hey,” he threatens, pointing a finger at you as he chews his burger. “We all have our weaknesses. Yours is watermelon popsicles; mine is spicy buffalo sauce.”
Your hand raises in surrender, as you peel back a sauce for yourself to enjoy your nuggets, pushing the rest towards him with a smile. 
“So, do you bring that thing everywhere you go?” you tease, swatting his hands as he grabs some fries and chooses to dip them in the sauce you just opened instead of getting his own. 
When his wide eyes stare at you in question, you point at the skateboard set beside his feet with the wheels pointed up, letting you see the colorful art underneath that was scratched up from how often he used it. Jungkook has a car for actually getting around this large city, but his favorite method of transportation was his treasured board: it was convenient and he didn’t have to worry about parking. 
“Of course I do. I’m the concrete king, baby. I always have to be prepared.”
His face scrunches up in delight when you laugh. “Concrete king? What does that even mean?”
His tongue prods at his cheek while he wipes his hands, a smile beginning to spread on his lips as he stares at you. There's a similar smile on your own face, teeth shown as you bite into a fry and motion for him to explain. 
“It means I’m the best.”
“Okay,” you agree, scooping out another spoonful of your mcflurry and pointing it at him. “Show me something cool, Concrete King.”
Jungkook leans forward and wraps his lips around the spoon, stealing your dessert with a satisfied smile as he stands up. He just snickers when you call him a thief, savoring the sweetness in his mouth before bending down to grab his board. 
“I’ll do you one better. I'll show you how to do something cool.”
Your brows pinch together as you think it over, eyes focused on the board that he rolls back and forth under his foot. “So what I’m hearing is, you wanna take me to the ER tonight?”
His laughter fills the air at that, mixing in with the sound of the occasional car driving down the street. “C’mon,” he approaches you, large hands reaching for your own and gently tugging you out of your seat. “I won’t let you fall. I promise.”
The small feeling of success blooms in his chest when you reluctantly stand up with him, head hanging back as you stare at the night sky and playfully groan, only leveling back out for you to narrow your eyes at him. “Fine, but you’re not allowed to let go of my hands.”
He looks like a giddy child as he nods, blonde strands falling back around his face while he kicks the board into place. The only smooth area for you to attempt whatever he had planned was the basketball court a few feet away, luckily void of anyone to witness you potentially break a bone. You can already feel the ache in your body as you picture flopping onto the hard, unforgiving pavement. 
“We’ll start easy, get you comfortable with just standing on it, okay?”
The wheels scrape against the ground as he adjusts the deck in front of you, one shoe tucked in front of the wheel to prevent it from moving too much. When you simply stand there, his thumb rubs along your knuckles in an effort to get you to look up at him to see the sweet smile on his lips. His soft eyes are encouraging you to try, and since you trust him, you do. 
With unsteady feet, you cautiously place your left foot onto the board, feeling the slight friction from the grip tape on the bottom of your shoes. You still feel secure with your other foot on the ground, experimentally wiggling it into the spot he tells you to. 
“Okay, now the other one.” 
Your hands grip his even tighter as you do that, body tensing up when the board wobbles slightly under the uneven weight, but Jungkook keeps you steady until you spread your feet wide enough. He doesn’t mind the death grip you have on him, pads of his thumb still rubbing along the back of your palm as you laugh at your feet no longer being on solid ground. 
“Alright. I’m on it, now what?” Your body trembles a little with nerves, the fresh breeze only making your exposed skin break out into goosebumps as you stand with your knees slightly bent. 
“Eager now, huh?” he teases, stepping back a few inches to give you some space to do what he wants to do next. “Alright, all you have to do is jump and land with both feet. I’ll do the rest.”
A tiny squeak leaves your mouth, and he snickers at the panicked expression on your face. “You want me to jump?”
“Yeah, there’s nothing cool about just standing.” The way he rolls his eyes only makes you laugh with him, hesitantly nodding your head, reassuring yourself that you can trust him. 
“Oh god, okay.” 
Jungkook holds back the smile as he stares down at the board, telling you to keep your feet exactly where they were as he takes the top of his shoe and places it right underneath the center of the board. “You’re gonna have to jump a little high, but it’s simple. Ready?”
With a small hum of confirmation, he counts to three, hands holding you tight as you jump up, allowing him to kick the board up from under you and flip it around until it’s landing onto the ground and your feet are reconnecting with the grip tape once more. Your body wobbles from the impact, but the grip he has on you prevents you from toppling over, so you let out a cheer at not wiping out. 
Your hands pull away from his grasp, choosing to wrap your arms around him to pull him in for a hug. “That was so cool,” you boast, hearing the rumble of his laugh as you place your head against his chest, feeling his arms snake around your frame to hold you close. 
“Told you so,” he gives you a squeeze, foot still pressed against the wheels to keep the board from sliding out from under you. “So, what’s my reward for teaching you something cool?”
With a small hum, you’re turning to look up at him, arms snug around his waist and a smile on your lips. “I don’t know. Any suggestions?”
He can feel his heart hammering against his ribs, those same nerves from before slowly creeping up as he builds the courage to unscramble the words in his brain.
“Let me take you out, on a date.” His chest only tightens when you look at him in confusion, the creeping fear of rejection making his stomach twist, hoping that he hadn’t horribly misread all of the signals passed between you. 
“Isn’t tonight a date?”
And just like that, the weight lifts off of him, the familiar toothy smile you’ve grown so fond of being sent your way as he sighs in relief. “It can be, but I want to go on an actual date. Just us. No crazy friends playing chicken in the background.”
“I’d like that,” you whisper as you look up at him, licking over your lips when your eyes flicker down to his. 
Jungkook knows the universal signs before a first kiss, the way you slowly lean your face closer, eyes locked onto the curve of his lips, head angled up just before swooping in. And he makes the first mistake of the night, getting so caught up in the moment he removes his foot to stand closer, the center of balance from you leaning in, making the skateboard fly out right from under you. 
The shriek leaves your mouth instantly as your body rocks to the side, his loosening grip on you unable to keep you up right, but the grip you have on him makes the two of you come tumbling down together. He cushions your fall as best as he can, arms wrapped around your head when your back meets the cold pavement, the weight of him clambering on top of you and pressing onto your chest as you lose yourself in laughter. 
The ache in your butt is felt instantly, but luckily you’re unscathed otherwise, heart thrumming from the scare but mouth wide open as you giggle. When you finally open your eyes, you’re met with a curtain of blonde strands, Jungkook’s hair draped over you as he does his best to not totally crush you under his weight. 
“You broke your promise,” you laugh, loosening your solid grip from his waist as you bring your hands up to push back his hair, letting you see his worried expression. His knees are bruised without a doubt, having hit them on the way down, now slot on either side of your thighs as he slowly kneels, hands slipping out from around your head to press against the pavement. 
“Promise?” he wonders, momentarily having forgotten everything when he thought you were hurt, but then he remembers. He let you fall. 
“Fuck, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you breathe out, the fan of your laughter felt against his cheeks from your close proximity, hands still carding through his hair like you hadn’t just wiped out. You still have that look on your face, the same one you wore before he had let you fall, eyes staring at his lips in anticipation. 
Jungkook lets out a shaky breath with a smile of his own before slowly leaning forward, the small adrenaline rush he felt aiding him in concealing his nerves, allowing him to finally press his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. He tests the water for a second, eyes fluttering shut until you’re putting more pressure into it as you kiss him back. 
The small throb of pain you felt earlier is pushed away as you let your hands tangle in his hair, hearing the way he breathes against you mixing in with the rustling of the trees around you. Jungkook can’t think of anything else as he kisses you harder, bringing one hand up to softly cup your cheek before you’re separating from him. 
“You taste sweet. I like it,” you mumble with a dopey laugh as you lick your lips, the sugar on his lips from the bite of dessert he had stolen from you minutes prior still lingering. His eyebrows raise up at the compliment, heart skipping when you erupt into laughter as he kisses you once more, lips obnoxiously puckered and pressing against yours with a wet smack. 
“Yeah?” he teases, biting down onto his lower lip, thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Did I just blow my chances of that date?”
You let out a soft hum as your fingers trail to the nape of his neck, wrapping a strand of hair around your finger as you twist it in thought. “Definitely not,” you smile. “Kiss me again.”
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In a surprising turn of events, Jungkook sits behind the wheel of his car, right arm casually draped over the center console with his fingers interlocked with yours. A small smile is on his lips as you play with his hand subconsciously, softly muttering along to the song he is playing on the radio, preferring the sound of the Neighbourhood when it’s coming from you. 
The landscape glows with remnants of orange and purple, the sun just about to hide behind the sea while he drives along the coast. Jungkook wanted to hang out with you without the added stress of the summer sun making him sweat through his shirt, and you very eagerly agreed, deciding that the evening would be best. 
It’s an odd day in the middle of the week, allowing for ample parking which saves you both from the headache that usually came with driving to the pier. You had suggested the activity, wanting to beat him to it before he could plan something over the top. At first, Jungkook couldn’t understand why you were so against having a typical dinner date, but something about it just didn’t feel natural to you. Being forced to sit across from each other as you made small conversation in between bites of food, surrounded by a sea of couples and families with someone constantly coming in to check on you seemed like too much for a first official date. 
This though, the smell of the sea salt and sweetness of funnel cakes, the crash of the waves below blending in with the bells of a game just being won a few feet away, felt right for the two of you. Jungkook gets it now, and he’s grateful for your suggestion, knowing his jitters would have been too much for him to handle if he had done what he originally wanted. He’s able to relax in this setting, familiar with the pier, and you are too, easily dragging him along the boardwalk as you approach the ticket stand, wanting to get on all of the rides this place had to offer. 
“Scared?” Jungkook teases, watching as your eyes look at the colorful roller coaster a little further down, the elated screams from riders being heard as they zoom through it. 
“Never. You?”
He lets out a sigh when he leans back onto the metal railing, arm slung casually around your shoulder as you both stare at the rides around you. It’s a little chillier now that the sun is gone, but the fresh breeze is inviting, giving him another reason to keep you snug by his side as the skirt of your dress flutters around.
“Of course not. I’m an adrenaline junkie, babe. I live for this.”
Your laugh makes him look back down at you, catching a glimmer of the necklace you have on. It's the same ring you had taken from him the other night, holding it hostage and looping a dainty chain through it so it could rest against your chest. The chunky ring that had become one of his favorites being a casual accessory for you makes Jungkook’s heart skip, urging him to pull you even closer as he gently presses a kiss to your forehead. 
“Let’s make it interesting then,” you mumble, trying to play off how warm your face feels from his display of affection. 
“Keep talking.” His love for a challenge makes itself known as you creep up the line of people, his eyes boring into yours to try to figure out just what you had in mind. 
“First one to scream has to win the other the most obnoxious prize there is here.” This seemed too easy, the roller coasters on the pier didn’t have intense drops or spins that would make Jungkook scream like Six Flags would, but the sly smile on your face makes him a little wary. 
It doesn’t stop him from agreeing instantly though, hand outstretched to meet yours as he smirks. “Deal.”
With determination set on both your features, you’re starting the challenge, grabbing your wristbands and running off to the first coaster. It looks off into the ocean, painted a bright yellow and definitely not scary looking in the slightest, although the little kid crying as he exits with his parents might think differently. 
“No screaming,” you remind him as you strap into the ride, fingers tapping along the lap bar, feeling the way his thighs bounce from excitement. 
“Easy,” Jungkook huffs, wiggling in his seat as the attendants clear the ride and step back. 
His enthusiasm heightens once the ride is set in motion, and before he knows it, you’re speeding down the tracks at a surprising rate. It catches you both off guard as a sharp turn makes your shoulders ram into his, desperately biting down on your lips to not scream as the wind flows through your hair. 
Jungkook cracks first, not with a scream but a laugh, unable to contain it as he’s sliding across the seat and squishing you against your side at the next turn. 
“That wasn’t a scream!” he defends, only laughing harder as the whiplash continues, entire body vibrating from the rattles of the cart. You agree to it for your own sake, breaking out into belly aching laughter as you’re shaken around on the small coaster. 
That small loophole Jungkook created seems to be his saving grace for the following rides, concealing all of his shrieks with laughter so giddy it makes your cheeks hurt as you join him. 
It’s not until you’re hauling him to some weird single ride called the Gyro Loop that he begins to think he’ll actually lose, and the knowing grin on your face only makes him even more sure. He’s proven right a few seconds after you strap on, blindsided by the controls the riders are in charge of. 
The attendant had instructed you on what to do, saying there was a prize to be won if you completed a certain number of rotations but Jungkook doesn’t catch any of it, so the second the ride swings back and you’re pushing one of the buttons around the harness he gasps as you’re shot up. He’s given no warning, and with another push of a button, the seats flip upside down in a woosh, everything blurring around you. It’s not like Jungkook sees any of it, as you turn to look at him you take note of his eyes squeezed shut, a grimace painted over his usually soft features. 
His fingers grip the metal handles tightly to brace himself, accidentally pressing one of the buttons and making it flip over a second time, so fast it whips his hair back and that's when Jeon Jungkook loses. A shriek of surprise spills past his lips the second his head is upside down and you’re laughing instantly, pushing it further as you continue hitting the controls, finally joining in with his screams now that he lost. 
It’s safe to say you don’t win the prize, too busy laughing at his screams to bother pursuing it and as you step off the ride you can’t help but wipe under your eyes for any stray tears that slipped through your laughter. 
“That was a planned attack,” he accuses, hunching over to rest his palms on his knees, thankful to be on solid ground without the world spinning around him. 
“It was,” you admit, softly rubbing his back as he takes a minute to breathe. “But I saw this cute plushie when we got here and I wanted it, so I did what I had to do.”
He peers up at you, eyes a little glassy from what just happened, but he stands up instantly, a little more life in his face now that his stomach stopped flipping. In theory, if you wanted a plushie, he could have just won it for you instead of enduring the horrible Gyro Loop, but he’s determined to win it for you now. “What prize?”
Your hand reaches over to grab his, fingers lacing together to tug him back towards the game section. His head feels dizzy again, no longer able to blame it on the horrible ride he had just got off. Something about the warmth of your hand as your fingers fit snugly against his, the gentle pull as you lead him with a smile that shows just how much you're enjoying yourself, makes his chest tighten and head spin in the best way. 
He’s too busy staring at your face while you lead the way, tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips as you speak, slowly morphing into a pout that’s aimed at him when you realize he isn’t paying attention. “Sorry, you’re just really beautiful.”
The pout is replaced instantly as your lips press together, internally squealing at the way compliments spill from his mouth, so casual and genuine it's clear he means them. Damn him and his words of affirmation. 
“Thank you,” you mumble, a bashful look on your face as you squeeze his palm before pointing in front of you with your free hand. He follows the invisible line from your fingertips until he’s met with the plushie you want. “That’s the one.”
Jungkook can’t stop himself from chuckling as he gets a good look at the stuffed animal. It’s a medium sized yellow bunny, but the cherry on top comes in the form of an atrocious blue hawaiian shirt with the word ‘cali’ embroidered to the left of the buttons. 
“Is this another jab at my shirt? I haven’t even worn it since I first met you.” He takes a baby step back from you, stretching his arms out to make sure that you didn’t somehow believe he was currently wearing it. The truth is, it’s currently deep in his laundry basket, but he isn’t gonna tell you that. 
“You know, it kinda grew on me,” you shrug, looking at the loose fitting gray shirt he has on now. As obscene as that hawaiian shirt is, it’s also really cute, fitting his personality in a strange way. 
Jungkook looks shocked at your admission, having only been roasted by his friends since the day he bought it, and you, this one comment is going to be the sole reason he goes out and buys even more colors to wear. “Alright, if you want the bunny, I’ll get you that bunny, babe. I got this.”
The teenage boy standing in charge of the Mini Hoops game looks totally uninterested, barely mumbling out the rules after Jungkook hands him some money. The lack of enthusiasm from the boy doesn’t faze Jungkook, simply palming the tiny basketball in his large hands, turning to shoot you a wink before he’s lifting his arms and throwing the ball. 
It swishes into the net with ease, settling into the bottom as he follows it up with three more, a proud smile pushing his cheeks out when you cheer for him. With the final ball in his grasp, he leans over the small distance between you and presses a soft kiss to your lips before standing straight once more and sending it off, a shrill bell going off as it swishes through the net like the ones before.
The boy unhooks the bunny from its spot and gives it to Jungkook before moving on to the next couple ready to play. Jungkook gives it another good look, slightly catching the resemblance now that the fluffy bunny is in his hands, and when he hears you call his name with your phone pointed in his direction, he brings it up beside his face, scrunching up his nose for a picture. It’s the cutest thing, the bright lights shown in the background, face lit up in hues of purple and yellow, and you decide then that it’s becoming his contact photo.
He passes it to you with another kiss, feeling the way your lips curve into a smile against his, stuffed animal held to your chest as his thumb holds your chin when he pulls away, half lidded eyes staring down at you with so much emotion it makes your stomach flip. 
The feeling never settles, only getting stronger with the additional time spent together. The bunny is kept protectively at your side when you eventually make your way onto the sand, funnel cake in between you to share while you look at the night sky. The pier stays illuminated even as the rides and food stands shut down, taking the crowd of people with it until only a few stragglers remain. It gives you a small sense of privacy as you settle beside each other, the cold grains of sand felt against your thighs and making you shiver. 
Jungkook takes note of it as he takes a bite of the funnel cake, and although his legs won’t provide much warmth—jeans having large holes that expose his muscular thighs—he knows it’ll be better than the sand. So when he pats them, giving you a powdered sugar covered smile, you slowly turn to the side and rest your legs over his thighs. 
“Better?” he wonders, picking up the plate and placing it on your shins to cut you a piece. 
“Yeah, thanks.” 
“Sorry if it’s too cold now. I just don’t really want this day to end.” He admits it so quietly you almost don’t hear it through the crash of the waves. 
“Me either,” you agree, letting him feed you the piece of funnel cake he had meticulously cut, enough chocolate syrup and banana on it for you to get a good taste of everything. 
In pure honesty, you had grown to love the light, airy feeling that came with being around Jungkook these last few weeks. His boyish charm brings out your playful side full force: it reminds you of the time spent in school, the second you’re out for summer break when just about anything seems possible. 
Being with Jungkook leaves you looking forward to the next time the sun comes back up, welcoming the heat that comes with it if it means seeing him. It's the bubbling of a crush lit inside of you, makes you feel every soft touch tenfold, makes you want to savor each small moment to treasure forever. You know you’ll one day look back on it and feel nostalgic over the time spent laying on the cold sand, under the night sky with the blonde boy with a charming smile. 
“I had a lot of fun today,” he shyly adds on, feeling the same emotions you have coursing through you. It's been a while since Jungkook has felt like this, simply going through life with his friends and the casual fling that never lasted long, but he desperately hopes this doesn’t become that. He doesn’t want this to burn out once the summer goes, hoping to still have your hand to hold as the season changes, but those damn nerves from before keep him from admitting anything. 
Luckily, you’re not as timid about admitting to anything, giving his palm a squeeze as you reach forward and stare directly at him. “I really like you Jungkook.”
His free hand grips your legs, thumb rubbing against the soft skin as he gives you a look of wonder, needing to make sure he actually heard you right and it wasn’t his ears playing some sick trick on him. But when your smile never fades, eyes crinkling up as you take note of his expression, he snaps back into it. “I really like you too, a lot.”
The waves crash hard to your left, matching the explosion in your heart as you beam at him through the moonlight. That stomach flipping, puppy-love sensation you’ve felt all day spreads throughout you, urging you closer to him in the sand. You’re not satisfied until his face is in your hands, cheeks cold from the sea breeze, lips pulled into a soft smile as you observe him for a minute. 
You take him in like a slow, steady breath, eyes following the strong shape of his eyebrows, the flutter of his lashes as he blinks, the twinkle reflected in his pupils, the slope of his nose topped with an adorable mole on the corner, leading to the matching one beneath his lower lip. And as he smiles at you, you decide that's the one feature of his that you love the most. 
Jungkook knows it’s coming, but even when you finally lean over and press your lips to his, he still lets out a tiny gasp, hand on your legs gripping tighter as he kisses back. With light pressure, he slowly starts to push you back. He’s mindlessly setting the half eaten funnel cake aside to be forgotten, favoring the sweetness of your lips to it, needing to get a better taste. 
The cold sand meets your back as he maneuvers you, easily slotting in between your legs when he kneels over your body. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest with each quiet smack of your lips, and you’re sure Jungkook can feel it too with his hands gliding up your sides, gently sliding up your neck until he’s cupping your jaw. 
Kissing him is intoxicating, your lips desperately chasing his as he pulls back slightly, bringing him back for more and he groans into it. That small sound ignites something within you, fills you with warmth and jittery excitement, thighs gently squeezing around him while you suck on his lower lip. Jungkook must like that too, letting out another breathless moan of your name when you let it snap back against his teeth, leaving it plump and glossy with a coat of saliva on it. 
His breathing mixes in with the sea, eyes glazed over as he stares down at you, desire clear on your features, teeth biting down on your lower lip when your hands slowly slide down his chest. Jungkook wants to remember this forever, the image of you splayed out on the sand with want so evident on your face, want for him. 
Jungkook can only curse under his breath at the sight, lips reconnecting with yours with more fervor, tongue lightly licking at your lips until your mouth is opening up, and when you let out a soft moan at the sensation, he feels his cock stir in his jeans. The hands on his chest start to slide down, gripping his waist, toying with the top of his jeans until you get to where you want to be. 
When you lightly trace over the growing bulge, wandering hands intent on making him lose his mind, he groans into your mouth before he pulls back. His harsh breath fans against your face, lips inches from your own. “Wait, ah fuck–“ he sighs when your lips move to suck on his neck now, gentle licks to his skin that only tease him further. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
You hum into his skin, retracting your hand to stare at him with a genuine smile. “That’s okay. We can stop.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” He shuts his eyes to concentrate, not able to focus when he can see how swollen your lips are from kissing him, only making him want to dive back in. Jungkook didn’t want you to think he had brought you here just for sex, disguising a first date and pulling you onto the sand just to get in your pants—even if you’re the one getting handsy with him. 
“I get it Jungkook. Don’t worry,” you breathe, cold hands cupping his cheeks again when he finally opens his eyes. “I want this. I promise.”
A small moment of confirmation is passed between you before he’s swiftly getting up, dusting the sand off his clothes and extending a hand out for you, smiling when you give him a look of confusion. 
“Not here though.” Jungkook didn’t want to fuck you on the questionable sand on this beach, also too afraid of running into other beach goers as they strolled through.  
He pulls you up, grabbing the plushie before hurrying to the car with you giggling right behind him. With the time of night, the lot he had parked in is practically empty, the nearest car too far away to pay any mind to. It was the best case scenario for you. 
Not wanting to waste anymore time, you yank open the back door, grabbing the bunny from his hands and chucking it inside before pinching his grey shirt and tugging him closer until your lips are slotting between his like the perfect puzzle piece. 
“Here?” he wonders through the kisses, not expecting you to want him to defile you in the parking lot, but you couldn’t help it: getting a taste of him now and having to wait felt like torture. 
“Yeah, I thought you were an adrenaline junkie babe.”
Your teasing words only make him laugh, large hands gripping your waist and pushing you against his car to intensify the kiss. All you can taste is him, sweet with the hint of funnel cake, lips soft and smelling suspiciously familiar, but before you can comment on it, he’s pushing you back onto the seat. 
“Dont wanna fuck you in the car either,” he groans, lips moving to mouth at your neck in sloppy kisses that make you shiver. Each touch feels like electricity, the slide of his hands pushing you further into the back until he’s shutting the door behind him, entirely grateful that he had his windows tinted way beyond the legal limit. 
“No?” It comes out as a sigh, feeling the skirt of your dress bunch up as his knee slots in between your thighs. The denim felt against your bare legs has you spreading your thighs further apart, wanting him to fit perfectly between you, needing him closer. 
“No,” he confirms, sucking on the skin and enjoying the way your hands tangle in his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp, tugging at the strands with enough force to have his cock fully hardening in his jeans. “Wanna fuck you right. The way you deserve.”
“And how's that?”
“Hmm,” he hums before licking at the purple splotch he just made on your neck, soothing the aching feeling that came with it. “I’d make you a late night picnic. Candle lit, you know, for romance—“
“I do love romance,” you giggle as you shimmy further onto the back seat, hands now anchored around his slim waist and urging him to settle above you properly. 
“Then I’d take you home—” another kiss to your skin, wet and sloppy. “Walk you to your front door like a gentleman.”
“Yeah, then what?” you groan as he nips your skin, hips finally slotting in between your thighs, letting you feel the bulge in his jeans pressing into your core. 
“I’d kiss you goodnight, like this.” He pulls away from your neck, one hand cupping your cheek as he stares down at you with a glimmer in his eyes and softly presses his lips to yours. The familiar scent fills your nose once more and you finally pinpoint it, remembering flashes of the watermelon chapstick he had been using all day. He knew it was your favorite flavor, incorporating it in such a minuscule way, knowing you’d love the taste of his lips even more with it.  
It makes you smile in appreciation as he gives you a gentle peck, pulling away a bit with a smile before connecting your lips once more. 
Your hands slide up his sides, gliding up his shirt and over his shoulders until you’re holding onto the sides of his face with equal tenderness. Jungkook groans into the kiss when your tongue peaks out, licking at the seam of his lips and begging to slip inside. You only allow yourself a small taste of it before you’re pulling back, a string of spitting connecting your lips together that breaks when you speak. 
“And if I ask you to come inside for a drink?” you tease, fingers finding their way into his hair and twirling the strands, knowing having his hair played with was a weakness. 
“I’d never say no to that,” he smiles, kissing you once more, peppering them on your cheek, down your jaw, until all you can hear is his jagged breath by your ear. 
“We’ll go inside for a drink, and because you just can’t keep your hands to yourself—“ he teases, gently biting your ear and smiling when you squeal in surprise. “I’ll probably end up bending you over and fucking you in the kitchen.”
“Oh,” you groan dramatically, throwing your head back against the cushion. “That’s so romantic!”
He snickers too, large palm gripping your cheek to get you to stare at him once more, seeing the hunger swirling in his eyes. “Only the best for you baby.”
“Well, until then…just fuck me here once,” you beg, so pretty and sweet, eyes batting at him with such innocence he almost feels bad for how much it turns him on. You have no business making a request that filthy with a saccharine smile coating your lips.
“Fuck baby,” he sighs, eyes trailing over your body, seeing the thin straps of your dress hanging off your shoulders, swells of your chest peaking out over the top of your dress, rising and falling with each breath you take. Your thighs glide along his, rubbing his jeans and bringing his attention further down. That's when he takes note of your dress bunched up, revealing the pale pink of your underwear to him and the small patch of wetness gathering at the front. 
“Give me all that romance later. C’mon Kook.” Your back arches slightly, hips lifting up in search of anything, desperate for him to actually touch you. Slowly, your hands drop down to your hips, fingers dipping into the sides of your underwear and teasingly tugging at it, smiling when Jungkook drops his head back and groans. 
A playful laugh fills the car as he pulls the underwear off of you in a haste, sliding them down your legs and letting the soft fabric drop onto the car floor. Without an ounce of shame, your hands trail up your skin, leading his eyes up your thighs and directly onto your pussy. Any words he wanted to say leave him instantly, taking a moment to admire the view, groaning as your own fingers glide up your slit with a low hum. 
Jungkook can’t take it anymore, bringing a palm up to his mouth to messily spit into it. Your jaw drops at the sight, a soft moan spilling out as he brings his fingers down onto your cunt. He’s gently pushing your hands away as he spreads his spit around your entrance and back up to trail along your slit, tender touches mixing it in with your sticky arousal. 
“Gotta get you ready for me baby,” he sighs, fingertips tapping onto your clit, a mirth laugh reaching your ears as he sees the way your body jolts at the sensation. 
“Fuck, hurry. I wanna feel you,” you whine, hands gripping his shoulders and pulling him closer to you until your lips are on his again. 
Jungkook melts into the kiss, rubbing slow, deliberate circles onto your clit, just enough pressure to have you mewling softly into his mouth. With wet smacks of your lips, he trails his fingers down again, feeling the added wetness of your slick as he circles your entrance, the flutter of your walls felt when he teasingly pushes into you. 
Your walls suck him in easily, and the warmth of your pussy has him kissing you harder, already picturing the way you’d feel wrapped around his cock. A satisfied hum passes between your mouths as he buries his fingers deep inside you, pumping them slowly before a second finger joins in. 
His tongue tangles along yours, swallowing each moan you let out, teasingly pushing and pulling like a dance and once you find the perfect rhythm you can’t pull away. Jungkook soaks it all in: each quiet breath, each tug at his hair, the gentle nips to his lips and the subtle clash of your teeth when you can’t seem to get enough. 
There's just something about sloppy, desperate kisses that spur Jungkook on, the mess born from passion making his skin heat up with each smack of your lips. His need for mess makes him pull back slightly, gently licking at your lips to get you to open up for him, waiting until your eyes are fluttering open to stare at him. A soft tap to your cheek passes the message along, and you’re sticking your tongue out for him before he lets a thick trail of spit dribble out of his mouth and into yours. 
It makes your eyes widen in surprise, more so when his free hand is placed beside your throat with his thumb pressing along your jaw. His eyes focus on the glob of saliva on your tongue, biting onto his lower lip as you groan and bring your tongue back into your mouth. The swallow is felt against his hand, instantly starting a slow simmer within you. Your warm walls tighten around his fingers at the act and he curses when he feels it. 
“More, please,” you plead, lifting your head up to chase his mouth, tongue tracing the outline of his lips sinfully. 
“Mm, I knew you were crazy, but who knew you were filthy too.” His tone is playful, brow cocked up as he looks down at you and winks. A teasing laugh escapes you, blending in with a cry of his name when his thumb presses into your aching clit, working in tandem with his fingers. With a satisfied smirk, he repeats it again, a thick glob of saliva gathered behind his lips, slowly dropping into your mouth while you patiently wait, lids heavy as you watch him intently. 
Jungkook doesn’t even give you time to swallow it this time around before he’s crashing his mouth into yours once more, tongue tickling the roof of your mouth as he picks up the speed of his hands. 
“Shit,” you gasp, pulling back from the kiss, biting down onto your lip when he spreads his fingers apart, stretching you out with each glide against your velvety walls. The wet thump of his palm meeting your skin fills the small car, mixing in with the stuttered breaths you exhale each time his fingers graze the sweet spot inside of you. 
“You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels almost breathlessly, pressing sweet kisses onto your cheek that don’t match the way his fingers fuck into you. He can feel his palm growing sticky with each thrust, folds messy with your arousal, but you’re begging for more, so he quickly slides a third finger in. 
“J-jungkook,” you cry out, fingers tugging his strands in desperation as the lust clouds your mind. The air is getting thick around you, slightly fogging up the windows and getting worse with each choked breath you let out. “Wanna feel you, please.”
You couldn’t take it anymore, needing to feel him beyond his fingers and soft kisses. Jungkook gets it, his cock aching in his jeans so hard it was a shock he hadn’t blown his load from the pretty sounds you make. He wanted to sink into you, see the way your face twists in pleasure when he fills you up. 
“Okay, alright baby.” Reluctantly, he pulls his fingers out of your messy cunt, strings of your arousal coating his digits, popping them into his mouth to lick clean and humming in satisfaction. 
He awkwardly reaches over to the passenger seat, leaning across to open the glove box and pull out the condoms he keeps there for emergencies. Before leaning back he does a double take at the bunny you had thrown onto the seat, button eyes staring at him—judging him—so he hesitantly turns it around to face the window instead. Only then does he settle onto the back seat once more, square packet held between his teeth as he fiddles with the buttons on his jeans. 
“You know, I love your thighs.” Your hand reaches forward to trail your fingernail along his skin, muscles exposed in the distressed jeans he wore. 
“Yeah?” he mumbles out as he unzips them, tugging the material down a bit before pushing his boxers down with them. 
“Mhm, they’re thick...wanna bite em.” He laughs at your horny rambling, pulling his aching cock out with a small hiss, heavy in his hand as he gives it a languid pump. Your lips purse out when you realize how big it is, wide eyes not daring to look away, glued to the way his thumb comes up to roll over the mushroom tip. 
A cocky smile is on his lips, continuing to pump himself purely for your entertainment; you’re transfixed on the grip of his palm, the subtle veins leading to the pink tip. “Like what you see?”
You don’t even care about the tone he uses, knowing damn well you did by the way you’re drooling over him, nodding along like a sex crazed zombie because of course you do. The need to touch him has your small hand reaching for it, and he releases his grip to allow you to wrap your palm around him. A content sigh leaves you when you feel the weight of him in your grasp, warm to the touch, and he groans as your thumb gently presses under his tip before pumping down the shaft. The translucent beads of precum dripping from his tip are spread around his engorged head, leaving it shiny in the dim lighting inside the car. 
“Here, let me.” The square packet is taken from between his teeth, slipped between your own as you tear it open. Jungkook can only watch with bated breath as you pull out the condom and slowly start to roll it on. It’s torture, the subtle squeeze your hand gives on the way down, palm now sticky with lube. His hips have a mind of their own, gently rutting into your fist with a groan when you tighten your grip before pulling away.
Jungkook lets out a breath as you lower yourself back down, resting on your elbows with your head tilted and a sultry smile on your lips. His large hands grip your knees, trailing up your inner thighs to urge you to spread them further apart, palms gently pressing into your skin in a touch that starts a fire inside you. The exhilaration spreads when you see the lust filled look on him, soft doe eyes half lidded and swirling with hunger, only growing as he once again grabs his cock and inches towards your awaiting core. 
“God, always look so fucking pretty,” he whines, head of his cock nudging against your center, slowly pushing into you, feeling the way your walls wrap around him. He means it, always means it too. Jungkook wants to keep a photo of you in his wallet, wants to always remember the sweet sounds of your laugh, the playful scrunch of your nose when he tells a lame joke, the psychotic way you bite into your ice cream. How do you make every single thing you do look like the most effortless, beautiful thing he has ever seen.
A shuddering breath slips past your swollen lips as he sinks further into you, thick cock stretching you apart in the most delicious burn. It has your tummy tensing up, fingernails digging into your own thighs until he spots the indents in your skin and grabs them in his own instead, lacing them together and bringing them to rest by your sides as he leans over you. A shared gasp is passed between you when he finally bottoms out, sinking into the hilt and freezing when your walls tighten around him.
“Fuck, you’re so big,” you mindlessly babble, gripping his hands tighter while you let yourself get used to his size. Jungkook really doesn’t need the ego boost, but it sounds so right coming from you, looking absolutely delectable underneath him, eyes glazed over and the cutest pout on your lips. He wants to hear more of those pretty sounds you make, slowly inching back out, feeling the glide of your walls against his cock before he’s thrusting back into you.
It sends a shock down your spine, sparking up your skin, as he repeats it again, low grunts meeting your ears until he’s fucking into you with fluid hips, skin slapping together each time. A smirk pulls at his lips when your thigh lifts up, hooking over his waist when the head of his cock curves just right inside of you. 
“Feel good baby?” he rasps out, blonde hair swinging around his face in time with his thrusts, jaw tense as the warmth blossoms inside him each time your walls spasm around his cock. 
“Y-yes,” you can barely utter, breathless and stuttering, hips rutting up into his in search of more. Desperation looks good on you, whiny cries spilling from your mouth and bringing him closer to you, brows pinched together as you plead for him to go faster, harder until you’re an absolute mess beneath him.
His lips press against yours once more, swallowing each of your cries when he picks up the pace, pounding into you so hard you have to pry your hands free from his to place behind your head to not get rocked into the car door. A muffled laugh is shared when he takes note, hips not slowing down in the slightest, knowing you were enjoying his roughness by the fluttering of your walls.
“Love your pussy,” he moans, kissing down your neck and licking the previous hickey he had sucked on your skin. A gentle nip of his teeth is delivered to the juncture of your neck before he moves on with a chuckle, fingers gently playing with the straps of your dress, something you don’t take note of due to the intoxicating roll of his hips. You don’t notice what he’s doing until your dress is yanked down and he’s groaning at the sight of your tits, totally bare for him to admire.
“Your tits too,” he adds with a smile, pressing soft kisses around the swell of your chest, puffs of laughter felt on your skin when your hand tangles into his hair and leads him directly where he needs to be. 
“What about my personality?” you joke, back arching as his cock reaches deeper inside of you when you spread your thighs further apart. 
“Mm, it’s top tier babe.” His lips wrap around your nipple as the words leave his mouth, warm tongue flicking against it while his hips never slow, silver charm of his necklace sliding off your chest from the movement. Jungkook loves your personality just as much and he hopes he’s made that obvious, entirely enjoying himself whenever he was with you. This point of view was just a definite plus.
Your eyes fall shut now, fully immersed in the feeling of it all, the pleasure wrapping around you tighter each time he hits the right spots inside of you, grinding into the sweet patch of nerves that leaves you writhing around. With a slight pop he’s lifting his mouth from your nipple, taking a moment to admire the pebbled bud covered in a sheen of his saliva.
“Kookie,” you whimper when you begin to feel the first wave of ecstasy flaring within you, coil tightening up with each deliberate roll of his hips. Jungkook knew what he was doing, practiced thrusts filling you up perfectly with each wet squelch. It makes you realize that you’ll always crave this. Now that you’ve seen Jungkook like this, face slightly sweaty as he pants above you, filthy moans reaching your ears, cock splitting you open just the way you craved, you’ll never want anything else again.
“Shit, you just got so tight.” It comes out as a strained gasp, his own eyes rolling back when you deliver a harsh yank to his hair, other hand clinging onto his shoulder when his pelvis rubs against your sensitive clit. “You gonna cum for me?”
Another mumbled cry of his name sounds like music to his ears, chest arching up until your tits are pressed against the soft fabric of his shirt, hips twitching from the beginning signs of your orgasm creeping up on you. “Fuck, I’m close. Please,” you don’t even know what you’re begging for, heady with pleasure, moans swirling in the thick air surrounding you.
“Don’t worry. I got you.” A tender kiss is placed to your lips, large palm sliding down your body until his fingers meet your swollen clit. The intoxicating warmth of your walls has him groaning into your lips, feeling them tighten around his cock as he rolls your clit between his fingers, jolts of pleasure shooting through you and aiding in pushing you headfirst into a lust-filled daze. He can feel you gush around his length, arousal dripping from your entrance and soaking into the car seat beneath you, leaving a stain in its wake, but it fills Jungkook with pride to know you were this much of a mess because of him.
“Ah, right there,” you cry, gasping lewdly when he repeats it, keeping the same rhythm of his hips, never slowing his teasing fingers with the perfect amount of pressure you swear you forgot how to breathe. Jungkook looks absolutely entranced with you, taking in each trembling breath, analyzing each of your movements to ingrain into his mind forever.
“S-shit,” he chokes out when your walls get impossibly tighter around him, sucking him further into your heat each time he pulls out, thigh hooked around his waist keeping him as close as you could. Your head is thrown back onto the cushion, mouth dropped open in a silent moan as the warmth brews inside of you, finally spilling over with a final flick to your clit, released with a shout of his name.
He doesn’t think his name has ever sounded better, raspy and urgent in the filthiest way as you cum around him, body tensing up briefly before your back is arching up when you cry out. The euphoric sensation of your walls squeezing his cock has his own release speeding towards him, spurred on by each twitch and mewl you let out from sensitivity, eyes glassy and spent as you look up at him. 
His eyes are locked onto yours, feeling how easily he glides into your messy cunt with the obscene amount of wetness that creamed his cock. Your face is giving him a look so tender it makes his heart skip, twisting inside of him as your hands softly cup his cheeks. “Wanna see you cum Jungkook, please.”
The soft touch of your hands has him melting above you, cute bunny teeth biting onto his lower lips as his face scrunches up, hips continuing to piston into you, slowly losing their grace as his need to cum takes over. A needy whine of your name makes you tighten around him, ignoring the slight throb of sensitivity that comes with it, loving how vulnerable he looks above you while he nears his orgasm. His mind is floating now as he gasps, harsh thrusts into you that jostle your body, stuttering for a few seconds before his mouth drops  open with an unabashed moan of your name.
“Fuck, fuck, baby,” he whines out, desperately slotting his lips against yours as he fills up the condom in warm spurts of cum. Your noses knock together in his urgency, harsh pants of breath felt on your skin as he continues to shallowly thrust into you, hips coming to a halt once he’s finally spent, tender lips pecking your mouth once more before slowly pulling back with a dazed smile.
A brief moment is shared between you, dopey smiles on your faces as you take it all in, realizing that you had in fact convinced him to rail you in his back seat. Jungkook places a tenderhearted kiss to the tip of your nose before shyly readjusting your dress to cover your boobs, acting as respectful as he could, as if he hadn’t just made you see stars with the orgasm he gave you. 
With a small breath, he’s sliding out of your warmth, eyes focusing on the absolute mess between your thighs, something he has to look away from to prevent his thoughts from steering back towards inappropriate. Instead, he unrolls the condom and adjusts himself back into his jeans, once again reaching across your body to lean over towards the glove box to grab tissues.
A teasing smile is on your face when he very gently cleans you up before helping you slide back into your adorable pink underwear, pulling your dress back down like nothing ever happened.
“I still want to give you romance. The right way.” His words make you sit up, raking your hands through your hair to tame the hot mess it surely became. Jungkook’s eyes look soft as he stares at you, lips pressed together earnestly as he softly rubs the skin of your thighs.
“I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.” With a small kiss to his cheek he’s relaxing again, a smile spreading on his lips when you speak again. “Not that I didn’t totally enjoy this entire date as it is, but if you wanna wine and dine me, I’m not going to say no.”
He laughs now, that hearty laugh that makes your own smile hurt your cheeks and has your stomach flipping like it has been all day. Then his eyes focus on the windows, wide in awe as he takes note of how fogged up they are, barely able to see the dimly lit parking lot outside. “Oh fuck, if anyone’s outside they definitely know we fucked in here.”
“Yeah, I’m not getting back out,” you decide, choosing to shimmy over the center console and onto the passenger seat. The act of having sex in the backseat of a car in public was definitely hot, but having to step out and potentially face your consequences was a hard no. Jungkook’s car was the safe space so you’d be staying here. 
The yellow bunny comes into view as you navigate your way onto the seat, your hands grabbing the plushie from it’s spot, laughing when you see the way Jungkook had positioned it. “Why is he staring out the window?”
Jungkook follows behind you with a grunt, knee knocking harshly into the steering wheel and setting off the horn briefly as he hunkers into the driver’s seat. “He was staring right at me!”
“Jungkook, it's a stuffed animal.”
He huffs as he turns the car on, instantly cracking the windows and turning on the air conditioner to clear up the fogged windows. “Hell no, I’ve seen Toy Story. I’m not risking it.” Even as he drives off, focused on getting out of the parking lot as quickly as possible, he still joins in as you cackle at him, bunny placed on your lap.
“So, where are you taking me for romance, Concrete King?” His eyebrows wiggle at the title, hand reaching across to rest on your thigh, giving the flesh a soft squeeze.
“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You sigh at his words, settling comfortably into the seat as you stare at him with those same heart shaped eyes. 
Jungkook's own heart is currently somersaulting in his chest when he meets your gaze, desperately wanting to keep you close, experience the rest of the seasons with you before coming back full circle and repeating it all over again in a never ending cycle. But the summer is still young, and you make it feel endless, leave him believing in summer romance so sticky and sweet, clinging to his skin in the best way. He knows only time will tell how this plays out, but his mind hopes for the best, willing to let it unfold the way it’s meant to be.
You feel the same way, and when you sneak your hand under his, tangling your fingers together and having your clasped hands resting on your thighs instead, there’s only one thing you know you’re certain about. Even if by the time the seasons changed and you were somehow no longer holding his hand as the leaves covered the floor in an array of colors, you’ll always cherish the day the blonde boy with too many tattoos and a tacky hawaiian shirt landed a trick in your honor.
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zibermuda · 6 months ago
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ego killer (2) | jjk
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Summary — Jungkook doesn’t like that you’ve stopped sleeping with him to pursue somebody else. He doesn’t respect the fact either, which is exactly why he spends every waking second trying to make you fold. And, fold is exactly what you do.
Genre — smut (fuckboy!jk, nerdy!reader)
Words — 10,255
Warnings — unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving) at a party, deep dicking, missionary, multiple orgasms, body praise, hair pulling, tongue fucking possessive jk, in-love jk, begging, spitting, fingering, cum eating, nipple play, nipple sucking, biting, licking, dirty talk, breath play, overstimulation, crying (almost), jk is freaky and horny as fuck, drug usage, drinking, swearing
one | two | three/final
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masterlist || request
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Things go back to how they had been prior; Jungkook pretends you haven't a clue about his family and their struggles, and he fucks you like you owe him money. He touches you the same, but different. He kisses you the same, but different. The difference is him; he feels something for you and it's not entirely platonic anymore. It’s difficult for him to articulate his feelings, let alone comprehend them in his own mind. All he knows is the feeling of your tongue against his, the goosebumps that form on your skin each time he touches you, the stutter in your breath, and the way you feel so perfect wrapped around him. And, when you look into his eyes, he falls deeper into a trance. You have him wrapped around your finger, but you don't know that.
You see, he doesn't tell you how he feels about you, so you don't feel inclined to tell him how you feel, either. In a perfect world, you two would already be dating and you'd be so loved up without a care in the world. Alas, the world isn't perfect, and for the sake of turning this into a series, you don't date just yet.
You make him vulnerable and that's not okay. To entertain Taehyung’s comparison, Jungkook is like a little puppy, but only in the sense that he feels the urge to follow you around and hang from your every word. You know too much about him and it concerns him. He’s the same guy, but different. In the span of a few months, you’ve learnt that he’s much more than the campus fuck-boy with the thickest thighs and the dirtiest pick-up lines. He’s a stubborn boy who likes childish mobile games, who has an intriguing family, who has such a pretty smile, and a talent for maintaining his physique. He's just trying to get by like any other person.
He wants to get by so badly, and he does a pretty good job at it, but then things become different in an entirely different sense. Suddenly, you're not his to touch anymore and it's considered 'disrespectful' for him to ask what panties you're wearing or if you've touched yourself recently.
Well — you're probably thinking — what the fuck happened here? Taehyung asked you out and you said yes.
How, exactly? Nothing special or romantic, really. You’d been sat in a lecture by your lonesome — this was on a day that Jungkook hadn't shown up to class or in your notifications — and Taehyung pulled up the seat next to you. Being who Taehyung is, he spoke and he spoke until the idea of hanging out was brought up. You’d been morbidly embarrassed about the aquatic centre incident, but it quickly became clear that he couldn’t care less. If anything, he was satisfied that you put Jungkook in his place.
Let’s establish this; you're not the type to cut off all feelings for someone as handsome as Taehyung, so you obviously accepted his offer and met up with him at a dimly lit bowling alley. The date was fine, really, but then Jungkook crossed your mind and made you feel like something you didn't want to be; somebody who breaks hearts for the fuck of it. You then excused yourself to the bathroom to 'break up' with Jungkook. Not really, though. You weren't dating him per se, you were just dating his dick. Jungkook knew that, but he also knew that it was the worst day of his life.
Why? Aside from not having the option to see you naked anymore, his dad was arrested for tackling another man in a vodka-enduced-ninja-rage and his mom made a surprise visit back home. We'll call it what it is; the worst fucking timing. All aspects of his recent life are overstimulating, and whenever his mind races, he finds comfort in touching and being with you. You've made that clear that that’s not an option anymore, but he doesn’t believe that’s what you really want.
You’ve also learnt that he doesn’t listen to basic instruction. You could tell him not to put his hand in boiling water and he’d do it just because he was asked not to. If he wants something (you), he’ll break down obsidian walls to get it. If he put that much effort into his school work, he’d probably be a decent student. But, education-wise, nothing interests him. His dad was the same when he was younger, but never made it into college. He took a carpentry apprenticeship straight out of high school and has been constructing and building flooring, furniture, walls, doorframes, and other fixtures ever since. It’s pretty good work considering how handy it made him. When he’s not shit-faced off beer and vodka, he’s usually pimping out his wooden koi pond, or he’s bent over with his ass hanging out as he inspects the conditions of all the skirting boards.
Like a lot of dads, he makes petty mistakes which ultimately leave a huge impact on his kid. Like a lot of dads, he finds it difficult to apologise. If he ignores it and drinks a lot, maybe it’ll go away.
Jungkook sometimes thinks he’s going to end up like him. That’s his only fear.
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Let's rewind a little.
3:29PM. Wednesday. Jungkook took the bus to campus, decided to skip a forty-minute-long lecture because his attention span was lacking, kicked a soccer ball around the campus green with his friends, grew bored, and then headed back home, only to receive your 'break up' text as soon as his head hit his pillow.
6:11PM [Y/N] Hey! I’m gonna have to cut off our arrangement. Taehyung asked me out (yay) and I wanna see where things go from here :)
What an awful day, indeed.
He calls you, but you don't answer. And, he's never done this before, but he lays there and listens to the full length of your voicemail tone. You have such a pretty voice, even when you’re frustrated and it shifts a few octaves higher. He could probably listen to it for the rest of his life. Maybe. All he knows it that he’d much prefer that over the sound of an economics lecture. Geez, he sounds like a love-sick teenager.
He hasn’t ever been in a meaningful relationship, so he doesn't really know what he's feeling or how he should be acting. Maybe the feeling is something similar to how he felt when his mom flew across the world to live out her dreams without him. ‘Without him’ is the key word here.
You made him feel like he was part of something — something meaningful — and maybe his romantic feelings are a little far-fetched, but he can’t help but feel like you’re leaving him behind/taking something meaningful away. Why do all the best women in his life leave him for better things? He can’t get by without women — not just for sex — but because a handful of them give him the approval he so-secretly desires. He trusts women more than he trusts anybody else, especially if said women are strong and independent. But, on the contrary, women are like a bad religion. He drops to his knees for them, but no matter what he says or does, they won’t ever love him back. Unrequited love and mommy issues are an understatement.
He contemplates calling you for the second time, but a sudden knock on the front-door snaps him from his thoughts. And, as he wanders down the hallway and toward the front door, he frowns at the empty beer cans scattered all over the kitchen counter. His dad must've drank a lot more than usual to get into a fight with someone who wasn't his own kid, or maybe he had a lot of pent-up frustration from seeing a woman who wasn't his ex-wife in his home. Whatever the case, Jungkook isn't a happy bunny. He's 2/4 frustrated, 2/4 pride-less, and completely and utterly alone again.
He expects the knocker to be the mailman ready to complain about the lack of mail box. His dad pulled it from the ground and tossed it into the neighbours pool one night and it was never returned. Alas, the mailman must be fucking incompetent because there's such a thing as 'leaving mail by the front door.'
It’s not the mailman at all.. Not unless his mom took up another occupation.
She stands with dark hair tumbling over her collarbones, sun-kissed skin, and a small rug-sack slung over her shoulder. Her smile grows as she takes in the sight of her only son. And, when she wraps her arms around him and hugs — really hugs him — he smiles too.
“You’re back.” It comes out more like a statement than a question, mainly because he doesn’t want to hear ‘no’ as an answer. ‘No’ would mean temporary and he's had enough of temporary. She’s here right now and he’s just going to accept that the world may be helping him out a little. 
“Just for two weeks, but we can spend it together! We have so much to catch up on! I want to hear all about your studies and your new friends!” She says as she welcomes herself into her ex-husbands home. The house isn’t as tidy as she’d like, so she makes a mental note to spend the rest of the evening giving it make-over and smudging all the rooms with sage. “I have to be back at the sanctuary to see Sheila give birth. I’ll send lots of postcards.”
Temporary. He hates the feeling of temporary. 
Sheila is a three-year-old koala, by the way. There’s nothing else I can say about her. She doesn’t think about anything other than her primal instincts of sitting in a tree, eating eucalyptus, and breeding. She doesn’t know what love is, what quantum physics is, what an Oreo is. Sheila is just a koala and the least complicated character I’ll ever have to write about.
“Please don’t..” Jungkook mutters, mostly to himself, as he locks the front door behind her. “I’ve seen too many koala vaginas..” 
"Well, it's good to see that the house is in order." She says, and as she does, a kitchen cabinet unhinges itself and falls to the floor. "..Most of the house."
His mom scopes out the kitchen and smiles a little once she sees that her mug collection is still present and thriving underneath the kitchen sink. Jungkook's dad didn't change much about the house, not even the items that belong to his ex-wife. He still loves her and sometimes thinks that he can't go on living without having her around. The divorce wasn’t rough or fuelled by arguments like you may think. It was completely silent in a way. Jungkook’s mom simply packed her bags and left. No note, no text, no phone-call. That’s what made it so difficult for his dad and that’s what made him drink so much more than ever before. She kept in contact with her son, though. On most days after high school, Jungkook would take the bus to his mom’s new house and spend the rest of the afternoon playing sports in her garden or taking trips with her to the animal sanctuary. She made it very clear that he was forbidden from telling his dad where her house was or that she had plans of moving to Australia. And, when she eventually did get on that plane, she took away his only friend.
"Where's your father?" His mom finally pops the question as she's gathering empty beer cans into her arms. She’s expecting one of three answers; he’s at work, he’s out getting milk, he’s in the garden. None of those are on the menu, though. 
"Jail."
"What?” Her face drops like she’s just watched the alter boy shank the pope with a sharpened candy-cane during Christmas mass. “Why?"
"Assaulted a bus driver."
“My gosh.. For how long?”
He hopes never, but that would warrant a whole different set of issues. He’d have to find work at the local supermarket and work tirelessly to support himself; electricity bills, water bills, gas bills. Maybe he’d just go back to Australia with his mom and leave everything behind. That sounds easy, but it also sounds like the easy way out. “Long enough for three years of whiskey to drain from his system.”  
Silence. Utter silence, despite how much these two need to catch up. Jungkook’s mom has never been one to keep her feet on the ground and her head out of the clouds. She sees everything way too positively and it’s unbearable at times. It makes it difficult for her to feel anything other than butterflies, sunshine, and vegan ice-cream.
"..I'm supposed to have my friends from the local sanctuary over tonight.” She says, a little conflicted. "For tea and biscuits. Maybe you can invite your girlfriend."
"What girlfriend?" He’s confused about all of those statements. “And you’re gonna throw a tea party in this house?”
“I thought your father wouldn’t mind me staying here.”
You see; she doesn’t think things through. She left him without a word and thinks it’ll be fine to turn up, move back in his house like it’s a holiday home, and treat him like he’s an old friend. It’s a good thing he’s locked up right now, otherwise this house wouldn’t be as quiet as it is right now. 
"The nice girl who wears a lot of floral.” She says. “And, I didn’t think he’d mind.”
Y/N doesn’t wear floral. He thinks to himself. Then again, you’re not his girlfriend and you've never been. Maybe you could be. That would make it okay for him to kiss you in public, hold your hand, and be a bigger nuisance to you than he was before. Maybe the sex would be softer, but he doubts it. Sex is like a game of soccer or a session at the gym; he needs to eat a protein bar beforehand, bring his a-game, and dominate. Besides, we’ve already established that you like it when he handles you like you’re unbreakable. All this thinking is making his skin warm, but his heart colder. 
She notices the unchanged expression on his face and corrects herself. “I suppose it’s been a few years.."
A few years, yeah. Jungkook dated the ‘girl who wears a lot of floral’ when he was eleven years old. Is dated the right word? The two of them mainly avoided eye-contact in the hallways, danced together at the school disco for a record time of twenty seconds, and then moved schools and never spoke again. 
"I'll bring some people, don't worry."
Oh, Jungkook definitely brings some people, but they're not the type of crowd you should ever merge with your saint of a mom. By 9:00PM, the house is full of his outrageous college buddies and their spectacular drug collection. And, by 9:23PM, his mom’s friends are zooted out of their brains and can’t stop giggling at the shape of the vase that’s sat on the coffee table. The vase is normal, really, but these are a bunch of middle-agers who haven’t smelt the musky scent of weed since their time in college. They’re on cloud nine. Let’s leave them be for now and move on to the other attendees.
Kim Taehyung never misses a party, nor does he leave one without hooking up with a chick wearing a tight dress. This is precisely why you’re sitting on the couch with his arm slung over your shoulder and a cup of rum and coke in your hand. Your dress isn’t the tightest, nor is it the hottest one at the party, but Jungkook begs to differ. No matter what you wear, he can get one up. Your voice is enough at times. 
You tried to persuade Taehyung to go to a different party, maybe a club or another house party, but all your efforts were mercilessly torn down. It’s awkward to turn up to your ex-fuck-buddies party on the day you stopped fucking, right? You couldn’t verbalise that as an excuse, but he definitely knows about yours and Jungkook’s sexual history. He probably wants to rub salt in Jungkook’s wounds, too. You really hope they're not too deep, but the way he keeps throwing back shots and glaring at the non-existent gap between you and Taehyung suggests otherwise.
"Y'know, the face you make before sneezing is supposed to be similar to your orgasm face." Taehyung leans closer to mutter the innuendo in your ear, but you're not moved in the slightest. Why do dirty lines sound better coming from Jungkook's mouth? Hearing them come from Taehyung makes you wonder if he was frantically scrolling through pickuplines.com just five minutes prior.
That very thought is backed up once Taehyung drags you to the kitchen for a refill of your red cup. Jungkook has spent most of the night in the kitchen with a shot-glass in one hand and a joint in the other. He looks great tonight, but that means nothing because he always looks good; dark hair that often falls over his eyes, pretty pink lips, thighs to die for, and biceps that you’ve sank your nails into more times than you can count. Taehyung is equally attractive with a broad figure, a perfectly symmetrical face, and golden blonde hair. 
"Nice dress, Hello Kitty." Jungkook leans his lower back on the kitchen counter to steady himself. His world is spinning, and if he doesn't grab a hold of something, he'll fall face first right in-between your tits. "Really brings out your, uh, eyes."
Taehyung agrees with a nod and a leisurely glance toward your chest. Something else has caught his attention, too. He’s heard Jungkook call you ‘Hello Kitty’ more times than he has fingers and he has no idea why. He doesn’t like being on the outside of inside jokes. It makes him feel inferior and not in-control. "Why do you call her that?"
"I hope you never find out." Jungkook says and he means it. He also manoeuvres his way closer to you, but not for any particular reason; just because he can. But then, something crosses his mind and he leans down to mutter it in your ear. “Your boyfriend is a fucking dick.” 
First of all, Taehyung isn’t your boyfriend. Secondly, he’s way too busy browsing the enormous alcohol selection to pay any mind to the insult. He doesn’t even notice when Jungkook leans his cheek on your shoulder like you’re child-hood friends or something. You can smell the alcohol and weed on his person, and feel all 60kg of him slumped against you. He can smell your perfume and he loves it so much. It reminds him of all of those times he’s pulled your shirt over your head and been hit by the sweet scent. 
“Gonna black out. Maybe.” He adds and that’s your cue to be his friend, throw his arm over your shoulder, and drag his deadweight toward the hallway. If he throws up on you or passes out before you make it to his bedroom, you’re gonna rip your own hair out. There’s no way he should be anywhere near a bottle or vodka right now, let alone in the kitchen where he’d probably fall over and impale himself on some sharp object. 
Taehyung eventually notices the pair of you vanishing down the hallway and tuts like it’s the most pathetic thing he’s ever seen in his life. As long as you throw Jungkook in his bedroom and return to the party with a little more hormones coursing through your veins, he’ll be happy. He’s not worried about Jungkook stealing you from him. How could he be? Taehyung is smart, insanely hot, rich, and Jungkook is.. well.. equally attractive. That’s all there is to him. 
Jungkook’s bedroom smells the same as it had before you met his dad; of eucalyptus and a mixture of his cologne. Nothing has changed or moved, not even the stack of important college papers sat atop his desk. That’s a concern, considering how close finals are. What hasn’t changed is his desire to press kisses against the side of your neck as you’re tugging him toward his bed. 
"Jungkook, I'm seeing someone." You remind him with a tilt of your head. Your skin likes the feeling of his lips, but they really shouldn’t. 
"Me?"
"No, not you." You sit him down on the edge of his bed, but he just uses that as an opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist and press his face against your stomach. "Taehyung, remember?"
"That's so mean of you."
"Lay down and get some sleep."
"Can we fuck right now? You smell so nice. Like flowers or something." He doesn't want to let go. He can feel your heartbeat and the soft fabric of your dress against his cheek. He likes himself better when he’s in your presence. That’s the way you make him feel; like he can do no wrong, like he has a voice. "Yeah, like flowers. Very floral."
"I'm here with Taehyung." You're not sure how many more times you'll have to remind him tonight. God forbid it being in the double digits. "I just told you."
“Okay, and? You're not dating." His familiar hands wander from your waist down toward your ass, but you're quick to swat them away. "Wanna fuck you so hard right now. Bet I can make you feel so good."
Ignore it. Come on, woman! It’s barely been a day. He’s as drunk as a sailor and would probably say the same thing to any other woman within a ten-mile radius. That’s what you think, but that’s not entirely true. To him, you’re the only woman in an infinity-mile radius. 
"I have an important rule." He slurs as you guide his back toward the mattress. You can smell the vodka and mint on his breath. "No panties allowed in my bed. You'll have to take them off."
"You're so gross." You scoff, but an amused smile contorts your mouth. He's so fucking unfiltered and it entertains you at the best of times.
“Can you do that again?”
“Do what?” You ask as you pull the bed covers up to his neck and tuck him in like he’s a child and you’re about to read him a bedtime story. He might as well be with the way the alcohol is making him incoherent.
“Smile.” He says. “You look like an angel.”
Should you feel unaffected by that? Because you don’t. Not entirely. It makes you feel a little shy, but he’s far too wasted to read your body language. 
"Why him? I know so much more about you.” He holds up a finger for each point he makes, but grows a little confused at number two. "You like strawberry flavoured water, studying late at night because it’s peaceful, being a bossy-boots, and your favourite writer is Jane Austen."
"Everybody knows that."
"You're ticklish on your hips, so you fight back a smile every time I touch you there. The only game you have in your phone is solitaire because you're so fucking lame." He’s still holding up two fingers because counting is near-impossible for him right now. "Your g-spot is ri—."
"Alright! You’ve made your point.” You silence him with a frantic hand wave, and as you turn your head to let your eyes run over the trinkets sat atop his bed-side table, you notice the Hello Kitty keyring attached to his house keys.
His eyes are already on you when you turn to face him again. They never left. Those big brown eyes are so enticing and doe-like, but that's not the only reason for the quickening of your pulse. There's something hidden within them. Something much more pure than usual. "Can you stay?"
"I have to let Taehyung know that I'm still alive."
"Please? I don’t wanna sleep by myself."
You weigh up the pros and cons, but those eyes play their part in convincing you entirely. The grip he has over you is comedic at times. You still have to come up with an excuse to tell Taehyung. Maybe you’ll say that Jungkook is incredibly ill and you’re the only one who can look after him. Eh.. We’ll work on the excuse. "Okay.. I'll stay."
You stay the night, but not without coming up with that really shitty excuse; because Jungkook’s mom needs help cleaning up the remains of the party in the morning. Pretty lame, right? But, Taehyung seems to accept it with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. And, when you return to Jungkook’s bedroom during the come-down of the party, he’s waiting for you with his hand resting underneath his cheek and those pretty brown eyes. 
You don’t have sex, or kiss, or say much of anything. You just fall asleep next to each-other. And, despite being wrapped up in your little dress, you fall asleep quite easily. He does too, but the slumber he falls into is the best one of his life.
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Jungkook wakes up at 9:21AM the next morning with a hangover almost as awful as the feeling that seeing you with Taehyung warranted. He remembers things pretty vividly, especially you agreeing to stay the night. That must mean something deeper than friendship, right? He really hopes so. He really wants you to feel something deeper for him. 
"Fuck sake." He rubs his eyes with the back of his palm and groans at the throbbing pain, but then sees you sleeping next to him and feels okay.
God, you’re so pretty. Your mascara is a little smudged around your eyes from fidgeting in your sleep, but he swears that he’s never seen anything as pretty. This is the first time you’ve woken up together, which is a little peculiar considering the amount of times you've hooked up. It’s a nice feeling, but it’d probably feel slightly better if you’d actually touched each-other the night before.
Right on cue, his mom waltzes into his bedroom with a mug in each hand. She's wearing her usual attire; an old teeshirt with a koala printed on the front, sneakers, and a pair of old jeans. And, despite the out-of-pocket party Jungkook threw the night before, she doesn't seem angry or irritated in the slightest. Her friends had a pretty good time, so that’s all that matters.
"Good morning, you two." She says with such enthusiasm that it wakes you from your slumber. It's a very weird thing to wake up to; next to Jungkook while his mom stands over you with a mug of hot tea.
Out of respect, you sit yourself up, thank her, and take a leisurely sip. It’s pretty damn good; slightly floral and citrusy like a French tea. You probably look like a complete mess. You can already tell that your hair has seen better days.
"I've cleaned the house." His mom inspects the bookcase full of Australian trinkets as she speaks. They’re all here. Everything she’s ever sent to him has it’s place on the bookcase. "Maybe you shouldn't tell you father that I'm back.."
Jungkook agrees. "Probably not."
"I'm going to stay with your aunt. Come visit later." She nods her head toward you and smiles slightly. "Bring your friend, too."
And then she leaves. She takes her rug-sack and one last look at the house, and then hops on a bus to her sisters house. It's about a twenty minute ride. Nothing too far or crazy. Jungkook knows where it is. He’s been to that house more times than he can count. 
“What’d you tell him?” Jungkook asks as you place your mug on his bed-side table. The strap of your dress falls down your shoulder during the process and he wants nothing more than to see it completely off. Your bare skin is a canvas that he likes to paint (if u know what i’m sayin).
“That I was gonna stay the night. He said it was fine.”
He mutters his response very quietly, but you’re not deaf. You hear him quite clearly. "Some boyfriend." 
“Not my boyfriend.”
“Still a dick.”
"Can you stop?" You frown. You’ve had more than enough of hearing his opinion on Taehyung. Those two boys are like dogs who can’t stop barking whenever they see one-another at the park. It’s ridiculous. "I get that you don't like him, but you don't have to be an asshole about it.”
"You like assholes, though. That's what made you so horny for me. Practically begged me to fuck you in your Hello Kitty panties."
"Drink your tea."
"No, I'm not done." He presses further like a ruthless detective. “Have you fucked him?"
"You’re unbelievable.."
"Answer me."
"No, we haven't slept together yet."
"Yet." He echoes back.
"Yes, yet. We like each-other. I'm allowed to do that."
He doesn’t say much in response and instead leans his head against the headboard and looks at you with those fucking brown eyes. Every time with those eyes. His dark hair is slightly disheveled from his slumber, but still looks fucking fantastic. He must’ve pulled off his shirt during his sleep because it’s definitely not covering those toned pecs or chiseled abs. It’s almost impossible for you not to flick your eyes from his to his abdomen; just to see if everything is in working-order. His lips are a little more fuller than usual, too.
“Are you just gonna argue with me all morning?” You pull the strap back over your shoulder and look around for your shoes. They’re placed neatly by the side of the bed. Your bag is there, too. Thank god. “And stare at me?”
“I can do other things, too.” His eager hand reaches underneath the bed-sheets for your inner thigh. He can’t help himself. He wants to touch you all the time.
“We can’t.” You insist, but you don’t do anything about his hand. Your body knows exactly what it can do. “I stayed the night because I thought you needed a friend.” 
“You’re saying you don’t feel anything for me?”
“I’m saying we’re just friends.”
He hears you, but he doesn’t believe you. You’re not entirely sure if you believe yourself, either. It’s complicated. Everything about this is complicated. He’s so fucking sexy.. Hang on a minute.. Control youself, woman!
He begs to differ because he places a little of his bodyweight into his hand and leans closer to graze his lips against yours, and you don’t pull away. His touch feels so good that your mind draws a complete blank. And, when he drags his mouth along your jaw and presses gentle kisses into your skin, your eyes flutter closed. “Friends who kiss?” 
Your breath stutters slightly as he runs his fingers underneath your dress until the hem of your panties meet his skin. His touch is light and sends goosebumps up your spine. “Friends who turn each-other on?” 
His tongue easily finds its way in your mouth and you kiss him back like a starved woman. It feels so right, but in the wrongest way. His touch never fails to make you weak in the knees, but that's exactly the problem. And, when he breaks for air, it’s hard for you to form a coherent thought. You’re beyond conflicted. He’s way too hot for his own good. “Friends who fuck?” 
"We can’t." You try to find a good reason, but it's lost deep inside of you. Your hands have found refuge hooked around his neck, but you’ve only just noticed.
“We can.” He says with his mouth, but those brown eyes do most of the talking. “Just one more time.”
One more time. His words ring in your ears like an apple alarm. Just one more time and then that’s it, right? Come on, you have the strength to resist him after just one more time. Once. That’s it. Good-bye sex. 
"I’ll do it how you like it." He brings his lips to your earlobe to mutter the explicit offer and his hands do their part in bunching the fabric of your dress at your hips. "Spit on your pussy and fuck you nice and deep.”
Your response sounds a little breathless, but he wouldn’t want to hear it any other way. “Just one more time.” 
It sounds like a pact, but those are just mere words. He already knows that he isn’t going to stop pursuing you and he knows for certain that you won’t stop giving in. Nobody else can make him come quick like you. Nobody else could make him beg for it like you can. He can’t stay away from you. You’re candy and he wants to suck on you until he gets a toothache. 
Without missing a beat, he tugs you further down the mattress and sits himself in-between your thighs. You’re wearing lacy, black panties, which is completely different to those cheeky panties you usually wear. It’s a complete turn on and is quite obvious by the growing out-line of his cock pressing against his sweatpants. His pant of choice is both a blessing and a curse. If he’s not wearing distressed, fitted jeans or vintage plaid plants, he’s wearing grey sweat-fucking-pants.
“You’re so fucking pretty.” He says as he hooks his fingers underneath the lacy fabric and tugs them down your thighs and off at the feet. You drive him insane. Your body may drag him further to hell, but your thighs are the gateway to heaven. 
He’s not entirely sure how you got this dress on, so doesn’t even bother taking it off. Instead, he tugs on the fabric until it bunches just above your bare breasts. No bra. How convenient for his tongue to press against your skin and his mouth to capture your nipples. And, as he sucks on your skin and grazes your nipple with his teeth, he bathes in the feeling of your fingers raking in his hair.
"You're mine." He pulls his mouth away from your now-sensitive nipple and looks into your eyes, and for the first time, you feel afraid. You're not worried that he's going to hurt you — that's the last thing he ever wants to do — you're afraid that he's going to make it his mission to sabotage your chances with Taehyung. You've already had a head start, though, because you've just kissed someone who wasn’t him. "You're so mine and you know it.”
He runs his tongue over his teeth to gather saliva in his mouth before allowing it to dribble from his lips and onto your pussy. His spit runs from your clit to your entrance, where it merges with your own arousal. He knows exactly what he’s doing; he’s done it numerous times. He knows what you like, what makes you come quick, and what makes you sink your nails into his shoulders. 
And, as his mouth finally meets your pussy with just as much confidence as he met your nipples, he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He doesn’t want to miss a single expression, nor does he want to deprive you of the stimulation that something as simple as eye-contact can bring about. His fingers sink into the soft flesh of your thighs as he teases your entrance with the tip of his tongue. He knows the lewd act will make you want to clamp your thighs shut, so he plays his role by holding them wide enough for his face to slot right in-between. 
He fucks you with his tongue until his jaw starts to hurt, but that’s not enough to make him stop. He’d eat you out for hours if you asked him to. No questions asked. He open-mouth kisses your pussy like he’d kiss your mouth, and stimulates your clit with his tongue until your thighs are resisting against his hands. It makes you see a sky of stars, your lips fall ajar, and your fingers tug on his hair with no remorse. The moans falling from your mouth are heavenly. They make him press his hips harder against the mattress for some kind of stimulation to his throbbing cock. 
“Oh my god!” You jerk forward and tighten the grip on his hair, if that’s even possible. A ball of fire has been growing in your lower stomach from the very moment his tongue greeted your clit, but it’s becoming unbearable to the point where your thighs automatically fight harder to resist his hands. Your orgasm is just around the corner. You can practically taste it. He definitely can. “Stop! I’m gonna— fuck!”
“Come.” The vibrations from his voice over-stimulate your clit, as does the way he takes your skin in-between his lips and sucks harshly. “Come for me, baby.” 
You come on his tongue, but not without a whine that sounds a lot like a sob and an unprecedented trembling of your thighs. He licks you clean until there’s no evidence of your orgasm. He licks you like you’re his favourite lolly-pop.
Although slightly breathless, he wastes no time in tugging his sweats down his thighs and running the tip of his cock against your folds. And, when he sinks into you, he watches your eyes roll into the back of your head with his bottom lip caught in-between his teeth. Your arousal coats his tongue, lips, and chin, and glistens in the morning light. 
He fucks you like he owns you, like nobody else is allowed to stretch out your pussy and hear your pretty moans. Nobody else is. He’d probably kill somebody for this.
"Look at me." He demands, but you're way too caught up in the feeling of his cock buried deep inside of you to even register his words. He could say the same. He can’t get enough the feeling of you wrapped around him and the way you tighten your core whenever he does something completely unexpected; like praise you or hold his cock as deep in you as possible. "Fuck, this pussy is so tight. Never wanna get out."
He leans forward to wrap his fingers around your jaw and press his lips against the side of your mouth. And, the strain on your hamstrings is a little painful, but is balanced perfectly with the pleasure. 
"I'm never gonna leave you alone." He mutters, and as he does, he slams his cock into you. The lewd act earns a pitchy whine from your lips and an equally sultry moan from his. "You don’t want me to."
Your voice is tucked way too far back in your throat and you just can't bring it forward right now. All you know is those brown eyes, your stuttering breath, and that filthy tongue of his. He drags it from your jaw to your earlobe, where he bites down on the flesh to make you tighten your cunt around him once again.  
"Tell me you don't want me to." His grip on your jaw tightens at your lack of a response and his breath is hot against your neck. "Tell me."
"D—don't stop!" You’re on the verge of a sob. Your thighs are still shaking from your first orgasm and you can feel that very same ball of fire growing in your lower stomach again. Your head is cloudy and your inner thighs are sore from the harsh slapping of his skin against yours.
You dig your nails into his lower back until you’re almost certain you’ve pierced a few layers of his skin. There are definitely prominent, red scratch-marks cascading from his shoulder blades to the base of his spine, but he doesn’t mind. If anything, that means he’s doing his job right. 
He can feel the pulsating of your pussy and the quick heaving of your chest against his. He wants to make you come again. He’s going to make you come again, whether you think you can handle it or not. 
"You gonna come for me, Kitty?" He tightens his grip around your throat and focuses on pounding into you like he was placed on this earth to do just that. His lips fall ajar as he watches his cock pull out of your cunt and then sink back in where it belongs. There’s nothing better than this. He swears he’s never met a girl with a tighter pussy than yours. He loves how wet you get and how he can make it drip down your thighs without even touching you. "Twice in ten minutes. Don't forget it."
Are you crying now? Maybe you are. You’re definitely having your second orgasm and he’s absolutely fucking you through it nice and slow. His hips stutter not long after and he pulls out, grips the base of his cock, and comes on your pretty stomach. The groan that follows the string of white cum is enough to be embedded in your mind forever. 
"You're such a good girl." He mutters against your trembling lips. His hands run from your throat to your jaw, where he keeps you in place to place gentle kisses on your mouth. "My good girl. My pretty kitty."
You've really gone and done it now. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to respect your boundaries, not push and push until they tumbled down. He knows that he can get what he wants if he pushes hard enough. It's something you need to become immune to. But, it's becoming really fucking difficult with the way he's looking into your eyes. He does this thing; flicking his gaze from your eyes to your lips. And when he leans in to kiss you, he always grins. It makes your heart race, your head hot, and it turns you on beyond belief. No matter how hard you try, you cannot rid yourself of him.
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Taehyung really doesn’t miss a party, which means you haven’t been missing any, either. It becomes way too much of a routine for him to text you the details of latest party with the expectation of you attending with him. It’s definitely a status thing. You’ve met all of his football friends and their equally attractive partners. They’re a little snobby with rolexes on their wrists and access to daddy’s credit card, but they’re nice people. Taehyung is exactly the same, but you’re blinded by your fondness of him. Very few people would pass up the opportunity to be in the position you’re in right now.
The two of you are still in the talking phase. He sometimes pushes it when he gets a little too drunk, but he’s generally been respectful of your boundaries. Boundaries are a funny thing. You tend to put them up for certain people, but completely let them down for others. Jungkook is a prime example. You’re not sure why you trust him so much. Maybe it’s because he hasn't ever shown any sign of judgement or because he’s fond of every woman and their varying body types. He just doesn’t care and that’s super fucking comforting at times.  
Jungkook is at this party, too, but you really need to stop looking at him from across the room. You keep looking for him at places like these and never know why. Maybe you’re just running through the guest list, or maybe having him around makes you feel safer. For someone who doesn’t play in any college sport teams, he sure has a body full of muscle and fists made of iron. He’s bigger than the majority of the football players, including Taehyung. Then again, the gym is his happy place, second to being in-between your thighs. 
Jungkook knows that you’re looking at him. He knows that you haven’t been able to stop looking in his direction since you walked in here and sat down with that dickhead of a guy, Taehyung. So, with no shame whatsoever, he wanders over to you, sits down nice and close, and drapes his arm over the back of the sofa. Taehyung doesn’t care to notice. He’s too busy bantering with his friends and spilling his beer all over his denim jeans. 
"You look nice." Jungkook says with eyes full of mischief. And, as he leans closer to your neck, he whispers something that makes your head hot and your stomach twist. "I wanna eat you out."
That’s not the only thing he whispers in your ear during the length of the party. He tells you how nice you smell, how tight your dress looks, and how hard you’ve made him, but the thing that makes you abruptly stand and head straight for the bathroom to cool off is quite short and simple; do you think he knows that I fucked you so good last week? 
You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror and give yourself a mental pep-talk. What the fuck are you doing? Just tell him to stop. Hit him in the face. Another part of your brain fights and doesn’t want him to. But, he’s so fucking hot and has the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. He fucks you so well, too. What if Taehyung isn’t as good at sex? That’d be a disaster. During all of this debating, you rummage around in your purse for your chapstick and start applying it like it’s armour and will somehow make you stronger. 
"Your ass looks fucking spectacular in that dress." An all-too familiar voice startles you as you’re stuffing it back into your purse. Jeon Jungkook is after you once again like he’s a debt collector and you’re a disagreeable tenant. 
"Jesus Christ!" You clutch your chest as he closes and locks the bathroom door behind himself. That can’t mean anything less than smutty intentions. 
"Not quite." His eyes roam your pretty figure as he wanders over to you. Your dress is tighter than anything he’s ever seen you wear before and it’s really, really turning him on. "I've come to tell you that your little boyfriend has his hand in between someone else's thighs right now."
"Liar." You fend with a roll of your eyes. Again, you’re turning him on. Your attitude was the thing that drew him to you in the first place. He is lying, by the way, but it’s not a very good lie. 
He places his hands on the bathroom counter beside the curves of your hips and holds his face close enough to yours until you can smell the spearmint on his tongue. He hasn’t been drinking at all tonight, which is beyond odd. You haven’t, either, but that’s not a surprise. "Why would I lie to you, Kitty?”
"To get into my pants."
Your response amuses him, but it also makes him a whole lot more smug than he was five seconds ago. And then, he doesn’t that thing with his eyes; alternating between your lips and your eyes. "I'm gonna get in there no matter what."
Fucking hell. Just breathe. Just resist.
"I had a dream about you last night." His fingers migrate from the counter-top to rub against the back of your thighs. He already knows that your panties are dampening. His voice and touch does that to you very easily. 
Your voice is quiet and breathy. "We ca—."
"—Can’t fuck anymore? Aren't you gonna ask me what my dream was about?"
"We can't do this anymore." You get the whole sentence out this time. Good for you. "Last time was the last time."
"No? Then why is your pussy clinging to your panties right now?" He proves his accusation by running his fingers along the hem of your panties. You’re wet and he knows that he’s the reason behind it. "I walk into a room and you don't know what to do with yourself."
"Speak for yourself."
"I know exactly what I wanna do when I see you." He brushes his lips against your earlobe as he speaks. His voice is low, dripping in sex, and driving you completely insane. There’s no way you’re walking out of this bathroom with anything less than damp panties. "Wednesday; I wanted to fuck you against the admin building. Yesterday; I wanted to fuck your throat until you cried."
"Today.." His fingers dip beneath your panties and tease the entrance of your cunt. Your knees are already feeling unstable, but feel like jelly once he pushes a finger deep into your pussy until his palm hits your clit. "Wanna taste your cum on my tongue and fuck you with my fingers."
“Oh my— god..” Your voice sounds pathetic. It’s barely a whisper. 
“Tight.” He says simply. It’s just a statement, but it sounds a whole lot like a compliment. Whatever the case, you take it as one. “Always so tight.” 
Your hands grip the counter-top with such force that your knuckles begin to cramp. And, a breathy moan tumbles from your lips as he adds his middle finger to the party.
“Can’t stop thinking about you.” He says with two fingers pumping in and out of your cunt at a slow, sloppy pace. Your lips remain ajar and your fingers grip onto the marble for dear life. He can fuck you well with anything. Literally anything; fingers, tongue, eyes.. “All the time. What have you done to me?”
He fucks you deep and presses against your g-spot until your thighs automatically clamp themselves shut. Again and again. He slides his fingers inside of you until you really clamp around him and reach an orgasm. 
With his eyes trained on yours, he brings his fingers to his mouth, where he slowly drags his tongue over his skin. He gathers your arousal in his mouth and licks his fingers until there’s no remaining evidence. It leaves a tight knot in your stomach and a painful throbbing between your thighs. And then, he kisses you hard and fervently. You taste your own cum and chapstick on his tongue, and when he breaks the kiss, you take a little longer to re-open your eyes than he does. He already has his back to you and is headed toward the door. 
“If you can’t have me, nobody can, right?” You call out before he leaves entirely.
Jungkook holds back many urges whenever he sees you, but he has to try a little harder to suppress this one; a confession. He wants you so fucking bad. Not physically, although he definitely wants that too, but emotionally. Relationships aren't easy. Sex is. Fucking you, eating you out, and muttering filthy innuendos in your ear. Those are all so easy. Very easy, in-fact, but now isn't the time to brag. Talking about his feelings, opening up about trauma, thinking about those three words. It all seems impossible to him, but then he looks at you and he feels like he can say anything without fear of judgement. Yeah, you're a complete ego killer, but you're entirely in-touch with your emotions and probably vent a healthy amount in a diary or with your lame marketing club friends. You’re a good girl.
"You look so pretty tonight." Is all that his mouth presents. He was going to call you a minx or a vixen, but pretty suits you a lot better. "See you in class."
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You definitely see him in class the following week. He’s just as negligent as you expect him to be, but you don’t expect him to be called back into the lecture theatre to speak personally with the lecturer. That can’t mean anything good. Not unless he somehow turned his grades around in the span of forty five minutes. 
You know it’s none of your business, but you can’t help but linger outside the theatre to eavesdrop on their conversation. The students passing by barely pay you any mind, so you feel like you can do this pretty stealthily. 
“Jungkook, this is the third time you’re taking this unit.” The lecturer starts and your heart instantly sinks. “This unit is compulsory for your degree and I’m worried you won’t graduate at all.”
“Don’t worry about anything, miss.” Jungkook says. You wonder what expression he’s wearing. Maybe he’s forcing a smile or leaning against the desk to come off as nonchalant. “I’ll pass this time. Definitely.”
“Have you thought about, I don’t know, following in your fathers footsteps? Taking an apprenticeship and getting into handiwork?”
Of course, she doesn’t know just how bad home-life is for Jungkook or how much of an asshole his dad has been his entire life. She doesn’t know that he’s completely missed the point and taken her suggestion the wrong way. Follow in his fathers footsteps? He’d rather cover himself in wet cement, wait for it to dry, and have someone tear off the dry cement as well as his own skin. He’d rather die than be anything like his dad. 
“Have you?” His voice grows louder, which could only mean that he’s headed for the door. Quick! Pull out a book and pretend like you weren’t being nosy! “Have you thought about getting into handiwork?”
Jungkook doesn’t expect you to be leaning against the wall with a romance novel covering your face. He’s also not sure why you’re reading it upside down. Maybe you’re just that smart and can read at any angle. “Oh, hi. You have another class in here?”
“No.. I was just..” What’s the point in lying to him? You’re concerned, and as a concerned friend, you should try to find out the issue and do your bit as a friend to help him. “You’re failing?” 
“I’m not failing.” He swipes the loose that’s paper sticking out of your coat pocket and scans over it with his curious eyes. And, even though he doesn’t understand half of the words used, he knows it’s some sort of flyer for your marketing club. “I’m just good at finding out what doesn’t work.”
You nibble on your bottom lip and mentally debate with yourself. Was it selfish of you to stop tutoring him? You’re not obliged to help him, but then again, you’re not obliged to return shopping carts to their respected locations. It’s just about morale. Jungkook is your friend, right..? A friend who licks his fingers before shoving them down your pants. Not the point! He’s a good guy and deserves success and happiness. You might just be the only person on campus who truly believes that, though, and that’s what makes your stomach turn. 
“I gotta go, Kitty.” He returns the flyer back where he found it, but doesn’t leave without saying something that’s always running through his mind whenever he sees you. “You look pretty today, by the way.” 
Jungkook isn’t planning on passing that unit, in fact, he’s not planning on passing any of them. Why? He can’t find the motivation or the willpower, and no matter how hard he tries to concentrate, he just can’t. He doesn’t believe there’s a worthy reward to studying and passing his units. This is exactly why he’s wandering over to the administration building to withdraw from them all. He’ll have to wash cars, walk dogs, or tend to his elderly neighbours’ garden with his shirt off. You’d be surprised how many elderly women would pay him to do just that.
While at college, some students fall in-love with an area of study, some grow fond toward new friends and hobbies. That’s what college is supposed to be about; finding yourself and your passions, pushing your limits, and making meaningful friendships. Jungkook hasn’t done much of any, but he sure has fallen in-love with a girl who has. 
The lady sitting behind the front desk greets him with a small smile. It’s almost like she knows exactly what he’s here to do. She’s quite beautiful with dark hair tumbling over her right shoulder and lips coated in a soft, pink lipstick. She has to be in her early twenties. That or she’s a total MILF. 
“How can I help?” She asks with her pretty and professional voice. 
Jungkook places his hands on the desk and thinks about his decision before verbalising it. He has nothing to lose. He wasn’t getting anywhere with his studies. If anything, they were holding him back from doing something he might actually want to do. “Can I withdraw?” 
“Name and student number?”
“Jeon Jungkook.” He says, and as he does, a boy sitting in the waiting area pulls down his newspaper to scope out the speaker. It’s Taehyung, of course. Who else would it be?
Taehyung doesn’t like Jungkook that much, mainly because he’s a rule-breaker and always finds a way to humiliate him in front of his friends. The pair of them are classic textbook enemies; they’re after the same girl, both incredibly handsome, and are polar opposites. He’s here because he’s waiting for his new student ID card to be printed. He lost it somewhere on campus and nobody has bothered to come forth and report their findings. It’s practically a collectors item.
Jungkook doesn’t like Taehyung either, so when he leans his lower back against the front desk to look around the administrative building, he sighs when he spots him folding up his newspaper and meandering his way over. 
“Be straight with me.” Taehyung wastes no time and jumps straight into his questionnaire. He’s also internally begging that you haven’t been sleeping around behind his back. It would humiliate him beyond belief. He’s supposed to do the sleeping around and you’re supposed to be an all-innocent girl with a GPA that matches his own. Oh, how wrong he was to think that. “Have you been sleeping with Y/N?”
“Be more specific.”
“Jesus Christ. Have you made her come in the last week?” He says a little too loudly. The pretty woman sat behind the front desk pulls her eyes away from the computer screen to scope out the two boys. She’s had to deal with many upset students during her time here, but she’s never heard this route of conversation before.
“Yeah, three times.”
Taehyung pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs deeply like his personal landscaper has just fucked up the garden by trimming the hedges unevenly (that actually happened, by the way). “Fuck, man.. She was such a nice girl.”
“She’s still a nice girl.” Jungkook reassures. You’ve never been a bad girl to him. Well, not in the sense that Taehyung’s implying. You only warrant the bad girl status when you suck on his fingers during sex or sink your teeth into his bottom lip during heated make-out sessions. 
Taehyung suspected that something was still going on between you two. That's so fucking humiliating and that’s definitely not how things are supposed to work for him. How could a girl with the worlds least intimidating face play him for a fool? And with a guy like Jungkook? Humiliating. “She’s never going to see you as anything serious.”
“I don’t get it..” Really, he doesn’t. He thinks can be serious. He thinks can be your type of serious. 
“Your grades are shit, your parents are shit, and you don’t even have your own car."
“Not all of us were born with silver spoons shoved up our ass.”
“Look, I'm gonna give you some life advice. Women are simple.” Taehyung says with such conviction that some might actually believe him. “They wanna be fucked deep, buy a nice house, have a few kids, get their nails done, and be taken out to Olive Garden every Tuesday.”
Jungkook isn’t convinced, though. He knows that the most stressful part of your day is going out for meals because ‘there’s just too much choice.’ “Y/N doesn’t even like eating out.”
“You’re missing the point. Just leave her to me.”
What's the deal with you? Taehyung wonders. Why is it that campus' notorious playboy can't stop sleeping with you? Are you that good in bed? Do you have the sexiest moans? Are you flexible in a way that no other woman is? He needs to find out for himself, but he needs Jungkook to be completely out of the picture for that to happen. There's something going on between you and Jungkook, but he doesn't think it's entirely sexual anymore. Whatever it may be, he needs to put a stop to it. Smart girls like you shouldn't be with muscle-head boys like Jungkook who can't even recite the alphabet without calling a friend.
Taehyung knew you were different from the very moment he saw you being pestered by Jungkook by the edge of the pool. And, he knew you were different when you humiliated him in front of all of those students. It’s a rarity to find somebody like you. He thinks he deserves you more than anybody else. 
Meanwhile, Jungkook has thoughts of his own. Is love completely off the table? It might be, but he's the type to push off all the cutlery and ceramic to make room for something bigger and better. Although, he’s not entirely sure why he’s playing this out to be such a difficult task. He already loves you. He just doesn’t know that love is behind the constant thoughts of you, the smile you put on his face by being nearby, and his unprecedented goal of making you happy. You’re a good girl and that’s what makes you so attractive. It’s not about the clothes you wear, your hairstyle, or the colour of your nails. Those kinds of things are candy for the eye. You’re candy for his mind and he’s entirely addicted to you. 
Thanks for reading!
taglist — @zeharilisharaban @ayumimegami @philostuff @carolsummerlove @piaesthetic @viokook @bangtan-serendipity @kookie-monsteur @codeinebelle @omot7 @jeon-ggukkie @prdshobi @kookoo-kachoo @goldenlilyz @chiminies-noona @callmeyourstarrynight @minbinwhore @jiminxjimout @rjsmochii @waves-and-woods @dayjeons @hip-hop-phile @ggukkieland @hayounnnnngggggggg @drumsofheaven @anoncutiw @sugaslittlekookies @kookiesdoe @anextragreating @preciouschimine @kuuuuroo @boraength @vantesday @shrimpmsg @shameless-army @hcneybees (idk why i can’t tag you) @f4ncyvelvet @sherlynxx @jkthethief​ @ilikestrawberries04​ @lustremyg​ @soulstaes​ @prdshobi​ @jkbangtan7​ @di0rgguk​ @ppangiiroo​ @ephemeralkookie​ @jeonchokoolate​
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jimidol · 5 months ago
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valentine’s date | jjk
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⏤ pairing: reporter!jungkook x female reader
⏤ genre: fake dating au, coworkers to lovers, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, fluff, and smut
⏤ rating: M
⏤ warnings: dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, long-haired!jungkook, alcohol consumption, a lot of making out, oral sex (m receiving), swearing, some teasing, pet names, praising, a bit of jealousy, hickeys, penetrative sex, protected sex and unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, overstimulation, and multiple orgasms
⏤ words: 12,199
⏤ summary: Every year, on the 13th of February, your family gathers together to celebrate love, it’s your own kind of Valentine’s Day before the actual day. This year is going to be different since, for the first time in years, you’re single but your parents pressured you to find someone otherwise they’ll bring someone for you. Although you love your parents, and you know this comes as a caring act, you don’t trust their tastes. So, you propose to your coworker, Jungkook, to come with you to save you from embarrassment. But nothing goes as planned since both of you have feelings for the other.
⏤ author’s note: so in the end, i managed to post it on the 14th! so it makes me truly happy although i wrote this in like three days. i wish you all a happy valentine’s day! 💜 i hope you’ll like this one-shot, love you all 💜 as always, feedback is most definitely appreciated 💜
⏤ part 2: elevator’s date 
MASTERLIST
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As every day you enter the building of the biggest broadcasting company in the country, Jung Broadcasting Corporation, known as JBC. This is where you have been working for the past five years, and you love what you do. But today is not a normal day for several reasons. Reasons that you just don’t want to think about right now.
You quickly run to the elevator whose doors are about to close. Since you’re in a rush, you don’t pay too much attention to the people inside, only noticing how full it is. The only thing you want is to quickly go to your desk and disappear for the entire day like every day. You just want this day to be a normal one although you feel it’s never going to be a normal day at all.  
Readjusting your glasses, you jump when a very familiar voice in the back of the elevator says your name.  
“Hey, Yn.”
Your heart starts pounding hard in your chest while a big bright smile appears on your face. This deep but cute voice is a voice you could recognize everywhere, even in a very crowded room just like right now. This voice comes from the one and only, Jeon Jungkook. Yes, you read it well, Jeon Jungkook.
Not only is he the most famous sports reporter in the country but he’s also the hottest man of the year. Just a quick look at this elevator is a proof of it. All the women inside it are completely mesmerized by him, and all the men are just jealous that he’s inside this small metallic cabin.
But as he raises his voice to speak to you, everybody raises an eyebrow, wondering who he’s even talking to. As cliché as it might sound, you literally look like a nerd girl coming straight out of a crappy romantic movie. You’re very insecure about yourself, you barely put any makeup on, you wear glasses and you work in the IT department of this huge company. Most people here don’t know who you are because you’re invisible.
Never in five years, you’ve done anything to draw any attention. The less people know about who you truly are, the better it is. You’ve grown up in a world where your last name could open all the doors you want, and it definitely helped to be where you are today. But you don’t want everyone here to know who you are because you know that they’ll speak to you by interest.  
But sometimes, some people notice when you speak to Jungkook. Every single employee of this company knows who he is, and when he’s with a girl, everybody sees it. But somehow, they all just figure it out that you two are just friends. You always thought that maybe it’s because a man like him is supposed to date some kind of model and not a girl like you.  
As you turn your head, your smile grows when you see his handsome face. God, you hate him for being so perfect. How can even a man be this perfect? You only see his face at the end of the elevator, and you’re thankful you don’t have a full view of his body, knowing just perfectly how it would drive you completely crazy. His face is enough although you know he’s going to haunt your entire day.  
“Good morning, Jeon.” You answer before looking away.  
You look away to avoid letting everyone know in this room the huge crush you have on this man. You don’t want him or anyone to know about it because you prefer to live in your own bubble, imagining that maybe a tiny little part of him is interested in you. Although you’re convinced that he doesn’t give two shits about you in a romantic way.
The doors of the elevators open on the fifth floor where you work, making you walk as fast as possible. If you disappear under your workload, nobody will notice you. Jungkook watches you walk away with a bright smile on his face. Nothing bad can happen now that he saw you.  
“Today, Jin is coming.” Your coworker, Ha-neul says with excitement.
This is what you’re avoiding today, and one of the reasons why today is going to be different. Jin is non-other than your brother but also a very famous actor that is coming today to your workplace to sign a contract with JBC for a new drama.
From what he told you, he’s going to play the main character in a historical drama. Of course, he didn’t give you more details because he just can’t but the fact that it’s a historical drama makes you want to know more about it.
“I know.” You reply, sitting down on your chair while your computer starts.
Being his sister is one of the things you hide from everyone. Why? Because everyone would suddenly notice you and would want to speak with you just to get somehow closer to him. You don’t want that. You want people to look at you because they’re interested in you.
“That man is just so handsome!” She says, imagining his sweet face.
He’s your brother so you just don’t find him attractive at all. Annoying, for sure but not handsome.  
“We most probably won’t see him.” You add.
You’re sure of that, you’re working in the IT department, a place where an actor would never come. Jin promised you yesterday that he wasn’t going to visit you because he just knows how uncomfortable it would make you feel. Your big brother grew up, watching you blossom in a totally different way than everyone in your family. You’re shy, extremely shy and he respects that although he really wants to show the world how smart you are.
“I know, I was just hoping that in a way, we’d see him.”
As you look up at one of the screens that broadcast the show of Jungkook, you feel completely hypnotized by him. A year ago, you would have never imagined that you’d be single by now and have a huge crush on Jungkook, the coworker that you always saw as a simple friend.
But today everything has changed. Taehwan broke up with you almost a year ago, just a week after Valentine’s Day. That was devastating but you had to turn the page. You simply couldn’t live a life crying over a man that just didn’t care about you anymore. The three years spent with him were amazing but you needed to move on from it. It was easier said than done but eventually, the heartbreak faded away.
Today, just a couple of days prior to Valentine's Day, you’re completely single, something that your parents don’t really seem to accept. They loved Taehwan but your mother insulted him of all the possible names when he broke up with you. All they want now is your happiness and they have seen how miserable you have felt for the past year. So, to help you to find your happiness again, they pressured you to find someone for the annual 13th of February family gathering otherwise they’ll find someone for you.
You desperately need to find someone because you don’t really trust your parents’ tastes. They’ll probably invite the son of their neighbor, Taehyung but you don’t want to be with someone whose name sounds just like your ex’s name. You’re sure that he’s a good boy but you’ll just think about his name.
You growl with frustration before focusing on your work.
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Although you consider that Jungkook doesn’t like you, the truth is that he has a massive crush on you. The man only thinks about you all day long.
Unlike what everyone thinks, Jungkook is not interested in models and other kinds of superficial women. That definitely is not his type. He values more than just the appearance of someone because a woman can be interesting in so many ways. And with you, he talks a lot, making him learn tons of things about you in the past five years.
What he loves is to join you at lunch breaks to hear you talk about what you did the previous day or what you thought about the show he presented the day before. It’s always feedback that he appreciates and that he takes into consideration for the next shows. Sometimes, he feels that he owns a huge part of his success to you because without your honest feedbacks, he wouldn’t have evolved this much.  
“This is Yn, how can I help you?”
Jungkook smiles as he hears your voice, he has been waiting for this moment since the second he saw you entering the elevator in a rush this morning, finding you extremely cute as you were walking fast.
Five years ago, when you were both starting in the company, every time he’d call the IT department, it was always you that would answer him and help him with his IT issues. But now that you’ve both grown inside this huge company, he knows your number by heart and calls it every time he faces an issue, or at least a ‘supposed’ one.  
“Hi, Yn.” He replies. “It’s Jungkook.”
He didn’t need to introduce himself, you already knew it was him. Just like him, you know now his number by heart. Every time it appears on your desk phone’s screen, you smile like an idiot because it makes you truly happy that he chooses you over all the people in the IT department.
The sports reporter knows how lucky he is that he can deal with you when he has an issue. The structure of the company allows him to contact you because you were assigned with the VIP Team, a team that Jungkook is part of since he’s very important in the company. Only a few people of the IT department are assigned to the VIP Team, something that you’re really proud of because you managed by yourself to be assigned to those persons.
It’s not easy every day because some of those important persons are always mean but Jungkook is far from being like that. Seeing his number always warms your little heart because you know that with him, you’ll laugh.
“I know it’s you, Jeon.” You reply.
The simple fact that you admit knowing his number makes his heart swell with happiness.
“Tell me what’s your issue today.”
He takes his time to explain what’s the matter today with his computer, a problem that you easily solve. You always solve his problem quite quickly but you both start talking about some other random things.
“Every girl in the office is fangirling over Jin today, completely ignoring me.” You giggle when he mentions the fact that nobody is paying attention to him today.
“It’s temporary, Jin is just here for today.” You reply. “Tomorrow, everything will be back to normal.”
You desperately want things to go back to normal, you’re just tired of hearing your coworkers talking about your brother. To you, he’s just a regular guy but it seems that everyone in this office finds him extremely handsome, but you’re the first one to admit how talented he is as an actor. You’ve been his first fan and supporter since he has dreamed of becoming an actor.
“I hope so!” He says with a big smile on his face. “I don’t like sharing my fans with someone else.”
You know he’s joking, he doesn’t like to brag about his “hottest man of the year” award because it makes him uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem like it but Jungkook can be very shy, extremely shy even though you’re convinced that he’s not shy at all. The man seems to breathe confidence all the time.
“You should let him know that.” You tease him a little.
“He’ll just tell me to go fuck myself.” He giggles while he quickly looks around, noticing that it’s almost time for him to present his daily sports show but he doesn’t want to leave you.
You desperately want to defend your brother but Jungkook doesn’t know, so you just don’t do it. Maybe one day, you’ll find the courage to tell him the truth and to let him know who you truly are. But it’s probably not going to be anytime soon.
“Maybe not.” You reply. “Maybe he’s a nice person, and he’ll just accept the fact that you don’t want to share your fans.”
Jungkook can’t help but smile even more. He loves that side of you, the side that just sees the good in everyone and everything. That side of you has given him so much hope, making him see also the positive side of life when it gets too hard.
“I have to go, Yn but thanks for your help and time.”
“Don’t worry, Jeon. It’s my job.” You say. “Good luck with your show.”
With your good wishes, he knows everything is going to be fine.
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When you leave your desk and walk to the elevator to go to the restaurant of the building for your lunch break, you find Jungkook waiting for you in front of the elevator. That’s where you both meet before going to the restaurant together. Once there, you usually join Jimin and Yoongi, two other colleagues with whom you get along very well.
You don’t have many friends due to the fact that you’re extremely shy but the few friends you have are literally the best persons on earth. Nothing would ever make sense in your life without them. You simply can’t imagine having your lunch break without those three crackheads.
“I’ve been waiting here for an eternity.” He says with a grin on his face. “I had the time to die and come back to life.”
You laugh, shaking your head. That man is always exaggerating as if he doesn’t know any limits.  
“So now JBC's hottest sports reporter is some kind of phoenix?” You say, raising an eyebrow before bowing to him.
“You’re so slow, Yn.” He bows back to you before pressing the button to call the elevator. “Next time, I’ll let you go by yourself to the restaurant.”
You roll your eyes, knowing perfectly that he’ll come every day. He keeps repeating that every time you take a bit more time than usual but he always waits for you, a fact that warms your fragile little heart. You deeply cherish everything he does for you.  
“Next time, I’ll make sure to take even more time.” You say, making him chuckle at your words. What he likes about you is that you’re not scared to tease him back. He doesn’t do it with a lot of people because he’s not sure how they’ll react but with you, he knows that you won’t hold back.
The elevator arrives, the both of you entering the small cabin. This time around it’s empty, there’s just you and Jungkook inside of it. Weirdly enough, you don’t feel awkward or embarrassed to be just with him. Your phone rings, letting you know that you’ve received a message. You take it from your bag before taking a quick look at it.
Jungkook glances down at you, smiling as he notices your reaction. You scrunch your nose as you sigh before quickly playing with the end of your hair. Without an ounce of hesitation, he’d say that you’re most probably exasperated with what you just saw. You always do it when something bothers you.
In fact, you’ve received several messages from your mother. She sent you pictures of the famous Taehyung, most probably pictures that she asked her friend because she wants to show you how handsome the man is. The pictures are followed by a little description of what he does in life, it seems that he’s working as a saxophonist in the orchestra of Seoul. That’s very prestigious, not everyone can enter that orchestra, only the best of the best can make it.
For a mere moment, you take the time to look at the pictures. For sure the little glasses give him a certain charm but he looks too serious. He isn’t ugly at all but you’re stuck with the Tae, reminding you once again of your ex. It’s not his fault at all but everything would have been better if his name didn’t start with Tae.
Plus, you have a man that is a million times hotter than him just next to you. At least that’s your opinion. But it just makes you laugh how your mother is trying hard to put you with her neighbor’s son. You know it comes with a very good intention, she just wants you to be happy. Although, you’re not sure that this Taehyung can make you happy.
“My mother is terrible.” You roll your eyes for the millionth time today.
“I guess that’s how mothers are.” Jungkook replies. You gaze up at him, biting the inside of your cheek as you take in how beautiful he is.
“My mother is extra terrible.” You add before taking a deep breath to explain to him what is going on. “Every year, my parents organize a Valentine’s Day with all the family on the 13th and basically, we have to bring someone with us. For the past couple of years, I was with Taehwan so he was coming with me but this year, I don’t have anyone.”
You look away, not wanting to stare into his eyes as you admit that you’re completely alone. But as you look in front of you, you just realize that maybe Jungkook can be the one to save you from the embarrassment of having to spend the whole day with Taehyung. Things are for sure going to be awkward with him because you both don’t know each other, and you’ll have to discover him through a very embarrassing dinner with your family.  
“So, if I don’t find anyone, they’ll invite their friends’ son.” You look at the pictures on your phone before shoving it on his face. “That’s him.”  
Jungkook is surprised but glad that you show it to him. His hands rest over yours while he looks at the man in the pictures. He’d be lying if he said that Taehyung is ugly, making him feel kind of jealous. What if you end up liking him?
The elevator’s doors open, announcing that it’s your way out. You walk with Jungkook, your fingers playing together as you wonder how you can even ask him anything.  
“I don’t want my parents to bring someone that I don’t know and that would make me feel deeply uncomfortable.” You start saying, halting in an empty hallway. Jungkook looks down at you, understanding that this has taken a serious and deep turn. “Would you accept to go with me?” You don’t even let him say anything that you’re already explaining why. “We are friends and I trust you a lot,” you’d entrust your life to him without any hesitation, “plus, my parents will leave me alone if I bring someone…”
Jungkook smiles while shaking his head. Even if you hadn’t asked him, he would have probably ended up proposing to save you from your crazy parents. His chest swells with happiness because he feels like a superhero.
“You don’t have to give me any explanations, Yn.” His hand goes to your shoulder before moving down to your arm, caressing it in a comforting way. “I’d love to go with you.”
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Today is finally the 13th of February.
Jungkook should be coming at any minute to drive you both to your parents’ house. For the past three days, you’ve been trying to tell him who your father and brother are. But it has been very difficult, you never knew how to explain that he’ll be sitting in front of the man that stole his fans when he came to the JBC building.  
You take one last look at your figure, checking the blue dress you put on. This dress is the one you bought last year in hopes to wear it this year and impress Taehwan but unfortunately, you won’t impress him this year. For the past three days, you were overthinking if you should still wear the dress, only to make you realize that this day is about celebrating yourself first. So, you decided to wear it no matter what. But you secretly hope that Jungkook will love it.
For the makeup, you decided to go with something very simple, just some foundation and mascara. That’s already a lot for you, you always preferred to not wear any makeup but for special occasions, you love to get pretty. Since your eyes can’t bear contact lenses, you have to put on your glasses otherwise you don’t see anything.
When you announced two days ago to your mother that you were coming with someone, she was a bit disappointed because she really wanted to introduce Taehyung to you. She’s truly convinced that he’s the man for you. So, in the middle of a panic situation, you just told her that you’ve been dating Jungkook for a little while but since it was still the beginning of your relationship, you hide it.
The moment you hang up, you hated yourself for not being able to say the truth to your mother but weirdly enough, Jungkook just agreed to pretend to be with you as if it was totally normal. What you ignored was that he was more than happy to pretend to be your boyfriend and to have an excuse to touch you just the way he has been craving for a couple of months.
Somebody knocks at your door, you’d say that it’s Jungkook since it is already 7 pm. The dinner is supposed to start around 8 pm but your parents asked you to be there around 7.30 pm. Your mother desperately wants to start dinner at 8, so everyone has to arrive at least thirty minutes before.
As you open the door of your apartment, you’re graced with a Jungkook wearing a long black coat that prevents you from seeing what he’s wearing under it although you can see the end of his black skinny jeans with the black classic boots. He’s all handsome. You feel blessed to see him like this but you definitely can’t wait to see his outfit under his long coat.
Jungkook is completely blown away by your beauty. That cute blue dress embraces your body perfectly, revealing your insanely perfect curves to him. Just with this view, he knows it’s going to be hard for him to hide how attracted he is to you.  
“Hey, Jeon.” You say with a bright smile on your face.
His eyes ride up to meet yours. “Hey, Yn.” He says swallowing hard. “You look really pretty.”
Jungkook can count the moments a woman left him speechless, but this right here surpasses everything. He just doesn’t know what to say or what to even think other than you’re fucking sexy and hot. He feels more than lucky to be able to spend the night with you in this blue sexy dress.
“I just need to put on my coat and scarf, and to take my purse.” You inform him before letting him in inside your apartment.
The man from Busan is surprised to see how huge your apartment is, he was expecting something much smaller since you’re not a woman of excess. But he ignores that your mother bought this apartment for you when you decided to leave your parents’ house because she wanted you to still have a very comfortable place to live.
It is too big for you but this makes you think of your mother. This apartment is just a proof of all the love she has for you. A caring love that helps you to sleep at night when you miss her dearly.
Nevertheless, your apartment is decorated just the way he envisioned it. It’s mostly white with just the necessary things to live. Everything is perfectly organized, nothing is out of its place. This apartment is just a material image of who you are, Jungkook sees it which makes him smile.  
Barely a minute later, you appear with your coat, shoes on, and bag in your hand, ready to leave your place to join your family. Your heart is hammering harshly in your chest as you realize that you’re going to pretend to be dating your crush. This is going to be a very intense night, you know it.
“Let’s go!” You tell him with still a smile on your face.
He nods before you both leave your place and walk to his car parked not too far from the building where you live. Unconsciously his right-hand goes to your lower back while you both walk, holding you close and warm against his body.  
“So, just to be sure we have the same version.” Jungkook starts saying, glancing straight in front of him. “We’re working in the same company, JBC, we’ve been friends since we both started there and two months ago, we realized we had feelings for each other and started dating.”
That’s a very simplified version of what you both decided to tell your family. Basically, everything is based on your real relationship, everything will be easier if you keep some truth, but a small part will change. Two months ago, Jungkook wanted to thank you properly for all the help you’ve given him for the past five years and he invited you to go out. That night, you both realized that there was more than friendship between the two of you which led to you trying to date. Apparently, it seems to be working since you’re still together.
“Yes, that’s it.”
Even though it’s a lie, Jungkook knows that he won’t have any problem pretending that he loves you. The feelings are already there, he just needs to finally let them out which makes him kind of nervous because he’s scared that you’ll realize that he truly loves you more than a friend. He’s convinced that it’s not a mutual feeling, that you just don’t like him the way he does. It’d be hard for him.
“Let’s just hope my parents don’t start asking too many questions.” You say.
You know you’re a terrible liar, you won’t be able to invent something more than what you have already elaborated with him. You know that if your parents start asking too many questions, your true feelings for Jungkook will just bloom out, something you don’t want your friend to discover.  
He stops walking in front of his Mercedes GLC. It’s not the first time you see his car but damn, every time you’re impressed by it. You’ve seen much more expensive cars but this car is a hell of a pretty car. Jungkook loves to look that wonder in your eyes, it just makes him realize how life can be precious.
“Always so in love with my car.” He says.
“How can I not love this car?” You reply. “Have you just seen it?” Your eyes look up, locking with his.
“I see it every day, Yn.” He winks at you before opening the passenger door for you, letting you get inside. Your eyes can’t stop looking at it with marvel, it’s like you’re a kid receiving a Christmas gift two months later. The car is even prettier inside.
This is your first time inside his car, and his strong scent completely fills it. It almost feels like you’re hugging Jungkook, his scent being the only thing your nose seems to smell. But it also feels like you’ve invaded his personal space, like you’ve come into Jungkook’s life, and you’re for sure not going to complain about it.
Seconds later, he enters the car and starts driving to your place. As you give him the address, he instantly knows that it’s where the wealthiest people of Korea live. It makes him a bit more nervous because it means that your parents are not just some random Koreans.
During the drive, you both sing along to all the songs, making you giggle when one of you starts singing off key. Jungkook purposely keeps singing off key just to hear you giggle, nothing makes him feel happier than your giggles filling his ears.
After the ten minutes ride, you arrive in front of your parents’ house, Jungkook completely impressed by the huge house. Now, he’s a hundred percent sure that you’re the daughter of someone very important but he doesn’t get why you have never told him anything. He knows you’re very secretive about your private life but you can trust him.
“I just sent a message to my brother to open the portal.” You inform him.
Jungkook only nods, still very confused about the situation. He’s a bit nervous because he knows he’ll be dining with important persons, he just doesn't know who yet. He tries to stay calm, driving the car inside when the portal opens. While you get closer to the house, he feels like it’s even bigger. This is massive.
When he comes closer to the property, your parents appear on the porch. Your mother is smiling widely, more than happy to finally see her daughter again while your father stays there only looking at the car coming closer. Jungkook’s heart almost drops when he sees your father.  
“Your father is Kim Seokwoo?” He stops the car, his eyes looking at you.
You bite your lower lip, your eyes avoiding him at all costs. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for the past days but I was just scared of your reaction.”
Jungkook’s hand rests on yours, trying to reassure you in any way. “You don’t have to be scared with me.” Your eyes finally meet his, only seeing some form of love. “And I admire your father and brother.”
Your father, Kim Seokwoo is the biggest producer in the country, winning tons of awards for all the dramas and movies he produced. All actors dream to work with him because once they work for him, they become a huge name in the industry. Your brother, Seokjin, who goes by simply Jin, has never worked for him because he doesn’t want his career and success to be associated with his father. He has been working hard to make a name for himself, he just doesn’t want people to think that he owes everything to his father. That’s why he’s just known as Jin and not Kim Seokjin.
That’s what you hide from everyone, nobody knows who they are for you. If anybody in the company finds out that you’re Kim Seokwoo’s daughter, they’ll just speak to you just to get to him. His name is huge, and you could have used it to open all the doors you desired but that’s not who you are. Your father taught you to fight hard for what you wish, and he’s more than proud to have raised two amazing persons.
“Now, let’s go before they start wondering why we don’t leave the car.” Jungkooks says as he opens the door.
You mumble a thank you while you squeeze his hand, more than thankful that he didn’t start fangirling over your father and brother. Jungkook only nods before you both leave the car, walking towards your parents. Your father smiles when he sees you, and your mother is more than surprised when she sees Jungkook.
Like everyone, she perfectly knows who the hell Jungkook is. The hottest man of the year along with the best sports reporter of JBC. She for sure wasn’t expecting you to bring him or to even know him.
“Jeon Jungkook.” Your mother says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.” She reaches out her hand to him when he approaches her. “I’ve heard so many amazing things about you and your work.”
You hug your father, happy to finally see him. You’re a family person, always wanting to be around your parents and brother but that only happens on the weekend because you work during the week. Of course, you call them every day after work to at least hear their voices once a day but everything is so much better when you’re around them.
“You could have informed us that he’s your valentine.” Your father whispers in your ear. “Your mother would have directly stopped with Taehyung.”
You step back a bit, looking at the man you love the most on earth. “You know how I am when it comes to my love life.”
Even with your family, you don’t speak much about your love life. It’s something you’re not comfortable with. If it was possible, you wouldn’t speak about it to anyone but it’s nearly impossible with your mother who's always trying to put you with some of her friends’ sons.
You go to your mother that is trying as hard as possible to hide her emotions but it’s crystal clear that she’s a tiny bit mad at you for not telling her that you’re dating Jungkook. But she can understand it because she knows you too well. After all, she birthed you, so she perfectly knows how you always try to hide everything from everyone.
“We’re going to have a very serious conversation, young lady.” She berates you with a small smile.
“Mom, don’t be awkward.” You roll your eyes. “I don’t want you to traumatize Jungkook when he has only arrived now.”
Your mother sighs before you all enter inside since it’s extremely cold outside. Jungkook is smiling while shaking his head, realizing that you’re truly yourself with him. That makes his heart flutter.  
When you’re all inside the house, he takes in how beautiful the house is. The entrance hall is super huge like the houses you see in movies. Everything is perfectly organized and cleaned just like in your apartment but this is just another level. Jungkook feels like he’s in a dream.
He can understand that you don’t want people to know who your family is but he would have loved to know minutes ago that he was going to have dinner with Kim Seokwoo and Jin. Especially, that he’d be in a fucking dreamy house.
“You grew up here?” He whispers in your ear.
“Only a part of my life.” You look up at him with a smile on your face. “We used to live in a much smaller house until I was twelve. My dad was becoming too well-known, it was not safe for any of us to live in a normal house in a normal neighborhood. So, we moved here where it’s much safer, the house has guards, and even the neighborhood is controlled.”
This is the only way to ensure the safety of all the people living here and to ensure your family’s safety. When your father became too famous, he wanted to try to keep living the same simple life he used to have but it was impossible, especially when the fans find out where he was living.
That was scary to go home and see all those people around your safe place. While your parents were looking for a new safer place to live, you and Jin were living with your grandparents but you also changed schools because the other kids were always annoying you and your brother. In less than a week, your parents found a new place, this house and since then, everything has been better.
“This is something else.” He says.
Jungkook lives in a very controlled building because his success has been growing a lot lately. But this house seems to be coming straight from a movie.
“I know.” You don’t stop looking at him, now he’s the one looking like a kid, and you can’t help but find him extremely adorable. His hand grabs yours, holding it tight while you all walk to the living room. You smile like an idiot, loving the fact he unconsciously holds your hand.
“You have a wonderful house, Mr. Kim.” Jungkook says to your father.
Your father looks back at the two of you. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Kim, Seokwoo is enough.” He informs your fake boyfriend. “You’re part of the family now, Jungkook, no need for formalities.”
Your father never loved to be called Mr. Kim outside work, especially by people that date his children. Just as he informed Jungkook now, he did the same with Taehwan and with Soomin, Jin’s girlfriend.
As you enter the huge living room, you notice Jin with his longtime girlfriend. They’ve been together for almost seven years but no marriage seems to be in sight which despairs your mother. She wants to organize a dreamy wedding for her firstborn and she wants him to have children with his lover. She always keeps repeating that at his age, she was already married and a mother but Jin just doesn’t listen to her because he doesn’t feel ready yet to get married.
“This is my older brother, Jin, and his girlfriend, Soomin.” You introduce them to Jungkook. “And that’s my boyfriend, Jungkook.”
It feels incredibly weird to say that but this is all just pretending. In some days, you’ll just announce to them that it’s over with Jungkook and you’ll be back to dreaming about being with him. He’ll just be your crush all over again.
You all take a seat on the couch, Jungkook sitting down next to you and placing his hand over your exposed leg. As time passes, he realizes that this night will most probably end with him confessing his feelings to you. This entire fake situation makes him feel way too comfortable.
Quickly, your father brings an old whiskey that he had in the cellar in the basement. Of course, he gives a glass to everyone to taste his amazing whiskey. Your father has weird collections of wines, whiskeys, and other types of alcohol. The good thing is that when you want to get drunk, you just have to go to the basement and choose whatever you want. That’s what happened when Taehwan broke up with you, your father’s basement became your best friend.
At 8 pm precisely, you all go to the dining room, eating what your parents’ chef prepared for tonight. During the entire dinner, Jungkook keeps being touchy, your heart squeezing with pain every time you realize that he does it to fool your family. In a way, you’d love that every gesture and attention was real but what you ignore is that everything is real. Your ‘fake’ boyfriend is not doing it to fool your family, he’s doing it because he wants to. He wants to enjoy the fact that he can do it without it being weird.
Your parents also explain to Jungkook where this tradition of the 13th comes from. It all started when you were very young. Your parents didn’t want the 14th to be just about romantic love, they wanted to celebrate all sorts of love. They simply wanted to include their children during Valentine’s Day. So, they decided that from now on the 13th would be about celebrating all kinds of love.
Jungkook can’t help but find the gesture absolutely adorable, and even if nothing happens between you two, he’ll make sure that from now on, he’ll celebrate all types of love on the 13th.
The night goes perfectly well, your parents adore Jungkook and they absolutely approve of him which breaks your heart because sooner or later you’ll have to announce to them that this was just a masquerade.
During the entire night, you all drank too much alcohol and after a long discussion, you agreed to sleep here. It’s definitely not a good idea to drive with a lot of alcohol in your system. Jungkook will borrow some clothes from Jin since he doesn’t have anything to wear tomorrow but the stressful part is that he’s going to sleep with you in your old bedroom. You simply can’t ask your parents if he can sleep in a guest room because it’ll raise too much suspicion.
“Your bed is not really big.” Jungkook says when he steps inside your room.
“It was the bed of a single twenty-year-old girl.” You inform him. “I didn’t need a huge bed for myself.”
Jungkook looks around, admiring where you’ve spent a part of your life. Your room is simple but still beautiful, just like you. It doesn’t seem at all that a teenager lived here, it almost looks like you only left two days ago and not some years ago.
“I have a bathroom just there in case you want to undress yourself.” You show him the bathroom.
Jungkook shakes his head because he actually doesn’t mind at all undressing in front of you, this being most probably due to all the alcohol he drank earlier.
“No, it’s okay. You can use it if you want.”
You also shake your head, also being comfortable with undressing in front of your crush. Jungkook is for sure not going to complain to see you in underwear. But although you have drunk a lot, you’re still a bit shy so you turn your back on him and quickly change yourself, putting on your black nightie. You don’t have many clothes left here but you left some sexy pajamas since most of the time, Taehwan was staying with you and it was a reason to tease him a little.
When you turn your back to face Jungkook, the first you see is his insanely perfect body.  He’s on the other side of the bed, so your bed hides his legs but his torso is so damn toned. It’s like he is hand-carved by God himself. You never imagined that Jungkook was hiding such a perfect body under his clothes. You bite your lower lip, your eyes slowly going up to lock with his.
Jungkook is also biting his bottom lip as he glares at you. That nightie barely covers your body. Your cleavage is on full display, revealing the beginning of your breasts but he’s craving to see your legs, more especially if the nightie covers your ass. He’s obsessed with asses.
“Let’s get to sleep.” Jungkook says before you both lay down on your bed. The bed is extremely small for the two of you. That wasn’t the case when you were sleeping here with your ex. Now, with your crush sleeping just next to you, you feel like you’re about to die because he’s way too close to you. You’re looking at the ceiling to avoid looking at the man next to you.
After a little while, you move on the bed, turning your back to him. As Jungkook loves to sleep in the same position that you’re right in now, he also moves his chest pressed against your back. His breathing brushes against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You try to not focus on the fact that your bodies are too close, trying to fall asleep as fast as possible. The sooner you fall asleep, the better it is.  
But of course, your brother needed to start fucking Soomin right when you were about to fall asleep.
Your brother’s bedroom is not too far from yours but Soomin moans like a crazy girl, almost as she’s being tortured or something like that. The creaking bed, Soomin’s moans, and Jin’s low groan are just too much for you.
“Fuck.” You growl as you cover your ears. You hate hearing them fucking, it’s just disgusting.
The fucking session is also too much for Jungkook, his mind keeps imagining that the moans of Soomin are yours as he fucks you. The whole situation is driving him completely crazy, and you feel it. His member is getting hard, his tip touching your uncovered ass. A sudden heat takes over you, making you get wetter as you imagine your crush completely turned on by the fucking session of your brother.
You don’t really know what to do. Do you pretend you don’t feel anything? No, it’s impossible. He must feel that he’s touching your ass. Then, what do you do?
“Sorry.” Jungkook mumbles as he tries to step back a bit, embarrassed that he got turned on by your brother and his girlfriend.
“It’s okay, Jungkook.” You whisper. “My brother can’t keep his cock in his pants.” You add. “I already told him that I hate when he fucks his girlfriend here.”
Jin doesn’t just care about what you think or say but never have you done anything with Taehwan in your parents’ house. It’s just gross, plus none of you wanted your family to hear you having sex.
“It’s a natural thing.” Jungkook says, defending your brother.
“Yeah, but he purposely does it when we’re here because he knows how much I hate it.” You reply, never turning to face him. You’re beyond embarrassed about all this.
Just as Jungkook, the entire situation is turning you on in a way you never expected it. Your panties are completely soaked with your arousal but there’s nothing you can do right now to make it go away.
Jungkook chuckles because he just knows how siblings can be a pain in the ass when they want. His brother also turns his life miserable from time to time, teasing him about his crush on you when they see each other.
“If you want, I can help you with your boner.” You tell him. His cheeks turn red as he was not expecting you to offer him some help but you’ve drunk too much tonight, so you don’t properly filter your thoughts.
“No, it’s okay, Yn.” He replies. “It’s going to go away.”
Now, it’s your turn to chuckle at his words.
“We both know it’s not true.” You tell him, still chuckling. “Plus, I’m also turned on so we could use each other's help.”
The fact that you don’t even filter your words surprises Jungkook because he knows that normally, you’d never say those things.
“Yn, do you even think what you’re saying?” He asks with a trembling voice.
“Of course, I do.”
You finally turn to face him. You want to look him in the eyes as you’re about to confess the feelings you have for him. Now is the moment. You feel it. You’ve been avoiding this for months because you’ve been too scared of rejection.
“Jungkook, I thought it was pretty obvious that I like you.” You cup his face in your hands, locking your eyes with his. “I’ve been having a massive crush on you for a little while but I never came around to tell you anything because I was so scared that you’d simply tell me that the feelings aren’t mutual.” You take a deep breath, your thumbs caressing his cheeks. “Because I’m not the dreamy type of girlfriend.”
Without thinking, Jungkook’s face leans closer to yours, his lips pressing against yours. This right here, he has dreamed of it too many times but never in his dreams, he saw you confess your feelings for him. This is for sure bold coming from you but he loves it. He loves the fact that you blurt out your feelings for him because he knows that he would have never had the courage to take the first step.          
Kissing Jungkook is not at all how you imagined it.
It’s so much more than you pictured it. The kiss is sweet and tender, there’s no rush or anything else in it. You both have been desiring this for so long that there’s no need in rushing things. In fact, you’re actually convinced that if you rush it, it would destroy the magic behind this exact moment.
His lips are so soft on yours, the tenderness of the kiss making your heart melt completely. Never a man has kissed you like that as if you’re made of glass. Your heart is pounding extremely hard on your chest, ready to burst at any moment while the butterflies on your lower stomach are making you feel completely alive.
His hard length brushes against your leg, making you moan in the kiss. By the looks of it, this kiss is for sure going to take a heated turning. A turning that both of you want. All this holding back has been just too much and has let to this exact moment. Holding back for almost a year was not easy which has led you to become extremely needy, and tonight is the moment that you’re going to let go of it.
Tonight, there are no more reasons to hold back.
His impatient hands run up and down your waist, making you more than happy to have his large tattooed hands on your body.  
“I fucking love you too, Yn.” He whispers as he breaks the kiss. “I’ve been having a crush on you since you’ve been single.” He kisses you again but this time with passion and fervor. “It’s almost like I only realized how fucking pretty you are when Taehwan left you.”
Jungkook presses a peck on your lips before he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, causing you to moan each time his lips touch your skin. The alcohol mixed with his confession and how needy you are is driving you completely euphoric.
“I stopped counting the times I dreamed of kissing you in a deserted hallway of the JBC building.” He drops his head to your neck, kissing the base of your throat. “And leaving you hickeys here and there to let everyone know that you’re mine, and only mine.”
You moan as he starts nipping at your skin, the feeling of his mouth on your throat is divine. Everything he does exceeds all the dreams you had. Your hands run through his hair, tugging at the roots. A moan escapes his pretty lips, his voice vibrating against your skin. When he starts sucking your sensitive skin, he licks it with his tongue, a proud smile dancing on his lips.
“I feel like a horny teenager around you, Yn.” He admits as he looks up at you. “Craving you in every fucking way.” His large hands caress your waist while you both look intensely at the other.
“Then let me help you with your boner.” He nods, letting you uncover both your bodies from the bedsheets.
Jungkook lays on his back while you go down on his body. You’re actually very surprised by his erection, it’s huge which makes you want to desperately rip his underwear off to have a proper view of his cock. Without an ounce of hesitation, you take out the only clothing piece from his body, his cock slapping against his abs.
He’s big. Very big. His cock easily surpasses Taehwan’s cock, and god, you always thought your ex had the biggest cock in the world. Jungkook is proving you wrong.
“God, you’re massive.” You look up at him. “How have been hiding this monster in your pants?” You cock an eyebrow, making him giggle at your words.
“I ask myself this question every day.” He says, clearly making you understand that he gets pretty hard around you every day.
As you’re so desperate in pleasing him, you wrap your hand around the base of his dick. His head is red, precum running down his length and over that prominent vein that lines it. You rub your thumb over the tip before going down on his shaft, spreading his arousal all over him. A deep moan leaves his lips as your hands finally touch him, his head falling completely on the pillow.      
“Oh, fuck.” He growls.
Slowly, you start pumping him, taking your time, your hand gliding up and down his length. A trail of groans leaves his lips while you pump him nice and slow, giving him a dreamy handjob. Every time your hand reaches the base, Jungkook shivers, loving deeply how you’re helping to make this boner disappear.
But you want to give him more. You know your hand is just not enough, he needs more to come undone. So you dip down to kiss the head of his cock, his eyes opening directly as this surprises him a lot. You lick his tip, his precum coating your wet muscle before you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down fully on his length.
“Fuck, Yn.” He groans, loving the warmth of your mouth around him. He swears that he’s about to fall apart, covering your mouth with his cum.
Your eyes look up to meet with his. The moment they lock, both your eyes completely filled with lust, he looks away, too scared to bust right there. As much as he’d love to fill your pretty mouth with his seed, he wants it to be inside you. He wants that the first time that he comes with you to be inside your pussy.
“Baby.” He says while his hand goes to your hair, grabbing it before pulling your head a little. “I don’t want to come right now.”
Your lips leave his length, letting it slap again against his lower abdomen. You crawl up his body, kissing him again languidly. Jungkook can taste his salty precum on your lips and he loves it.
“Do you have a condom?” You whisper on his lips.
“Always.” He replies.
While he stands up to grab his wallet, you lay on your back, taking off your nightie and underwear to reveal your body to the man of your dreams. Who knew that all you needed to confess your feelings to him was to invite him to the annual 13th of February gathering? If you only knew that sooner, you’d have invited him months ago.  
When Jungkook gets back on the bed with his condom in his hand, he bites his bottom lip. “You’re fucking beautiful, princess.” He growls, scanning every part of your body. He wants to spend the night dreaming about your insanely perfect body. All he wants is to be haunted every single night by your body.
The man doesn’t waste any time ripping the plastic, putting the condom on his length. You spread your legs, letting him see your soaked folds. All he craves now is to have you moaning under him. On his knees, he gets closer to your body, brushing his cock against your pussy, and getting you even wetter. He wants you to be as wet as possible to be ready for his massive cock.
“Can I?” He asks, wanting to be sure that you’re ready for what’s coming.  
When you nod, he slowly buries his thick cock inside your soaked core, stretching your velvety walls. His large hands find their way to your waist, caressing your soft skin while his doe eyes filled with lust look into yours. Both of you groan as he slowly pushes his long and thick cock inside you.  
“So good.” You mumble as your eyes roll back.
You have to admit that it hurts a bit since he’s pretty huge but the fact that he’s slowly filling you up to the brim helps. It gives time to your body to get used to this massive intrusion. But it feels so damn good to have him inside you. This is even better than in your wildest dreams.  
Jungkook leans closer, pushing his cock a bit deeper inside you and snatching a loud moan out of you. “You feel so fucking good, princess.” His deep voice groans in your ear. “Even better than in my dreams.”
The fact that he has been dreaming about this too gets you wetter. How on earth could you two be so stupid to not notice that you were both completely in love with each other? You feel like you’re in some crappy romantic movie, only it’s taking a dirty turn.
“Let’s just show your brother and Soomin how louder I can make you moan.”
He wants the world to hear you moaning because he doesn’t plan on going nice and slow on you. All he wants is to fuck you rough and good all night long, and that’s also what you want. You want him to fuck you until all you know is to scream his name. You want to get revenge for all the years you had to hear your brother and Soomin fuck like animals.
“Fuck, do it, Jungkook.” You swear as he pulls back a bit to look at you in the eyes, and a smirk arises on his face.
“I plan to fuck you all night long until you beg me to stop.”
Jungkook slowly pushes back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you. His eyes never leave your figure, watching you moan under him. He never imagined that he’d love hearing you moaning under him. That sound is for sure his new favorite music.
“Please do it.” You tell him, making him smirk, satisfied to hear you begging him to show you no mercy tonight.
Brutally, he pushes his cock fully inside you, and a loud moan leaves your lips. For a little while, he doesn't move, hovering over you and watching you with delight. His eyes look down on your body. He’s surprised by how insanely perfect you are. Your body is for sure the prettiest one he has ever seen, and he has seen tons of bodies.
Unlike what everyone thinks, he’s not fond of skinny bodies. He loves curves and imperfect bodies because they show life. They show that their owners eat to live, and the curves drive him crazy. He could come just by looking at your ass.  
His lips meet yours for a sloppy kiss before going down to your neck, leaving another hickey on your skin. On Monday, he wants everyone to see them. He wants everyone to know that he’s the only one who can make you feel good. Once he has tortured your skin enough, his eyes get lost on your body again, groaning as he watches himself buried deep inside you.
“Your cunt takes me so fucking well, princess.”
You close your eyes, completely enjoying having him fully inside you. You’re completely euphoric and drunk on the feeling of him stretching your walls. Once he sees that you’re ready to take more, he pulls back brutally before slamming himself back into you. The bed under you squeaks, the headboard hitting the wall just behind you.
For sure, your brother hears the two of you enjoying some good time, and you already know that tomorrow morning he’ll make some nasty comments.  
Jungkook once again stops when he’s fully inside you, torturing you just to hear you begging him to fuck you. This is of course not enough for you. You need more. You need him to fuck you rough on this bed.
“Please, Jungkook,” you start saying, “fuck me.”
He leans closer again. “Never thought I needed to hear you begging, princess.” He whispers before licking the spot just under your ear. He pushes his cock back before slamming into you with both hands on your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. The slick sound of your pussy soaking his cock as well as your moans quickly fill the room.
“Shit,” you gasp while he thrusts into you with no mercy, “you feel so good.”
You’re completely drunk in the feeling of his cock filling you up, his hips hitting against yours with every thrust he makes. This all causes sparks of pleasure to shoot throughout your body, your arousal dripping from your core and creaming his cock. Jungkook smirks as he notices the sticky mess you’re causing. His cock is buried deep inside you, brushing against that spot that causes you to moan even louder each time. You grip the sheets as hard as possible to steady yourself from Jungkook’s hard thrusts.
Neither of you can believe that you practically missed this opportunity. Without your mother and her insistence on wanting to settle you in with Taehyung, none of you would be having sex right now together. Without your brother and his girlfriend, none of you would be completely turned on. Basically, without your family, you’d still be dreaming about this exact moment.  
“You’re so fucking wet, baby girl.” He hisses before biting his lower lip. His hands press harder into your skin when he feels your walls tighten around him. “And making such a mess on my cock.”
Every time he pushes his hips back, he watches with delight the way his cock is completely covered with your arousal. Nothing drives him crazier than seeing this, it is as if your bodies were made for each other.  
Jungkook bends down, pressing a sloppy kiss on your lips while his thrusts slow down. A desperate whine gushes from you, a sound that Jungkook swallows proudly. His hands go up on your body, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them to make you moan with desire before his fingers start playing with your nipples. Moans flood out of your mouth as he tortures your body.
“It feels so good.” You whine. His thrusts are slow and harsh again, and his fingers on your nipples are just too much for you. Gradually, Jungkook begins to thrust hard into you again, and you moan at the feeling of his brutal thrust. Your walls suck his cock as he slams his hips into you with more force. His fingers keep playing with your very sensitive nipples, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
His eyes look at you, contorting with pleasure as it slowly builds within you. Your moans are getting louder, and right now, you’re sure that your parents that sleep on the complete opposite side of this floor are able to hear your moaning Jungkook’s name.
“Moan louder, baby.” He says as he goes deeper and harder to make you scream with pleasure. Your voice moaning his name is the only thing he wants to hear.  
His hands can feel the way your body quivers with each thrust. The way he’s torturing your body is only making you lose yourself further. He just knows how to pleasure you perfectly like he became a master of your body in just some minutes.  
“Fuck.” He groans when he feels the warmth of your walls wrapping tighter around him. “Your cunt is clenching so hard, baby.”
As you look up at him, you can’t help but find him extremely attractive. His eyes stare down at you with passion and lust as his tongue licks his lower lips. He simply can’t believe this is really happening. He can’t believe that he’s having sex with the girl of his dreams. He keeps growling your name, thrusting into you with more urgency each time.
Jungkook leans again forward, pressing another sloppy kiss on your lips. He loves to feel your lips on his, even if the kiss is a disaster. Feeling your lips makes him realize that this is real, you’re really under him.
“Gonna be a good girl and come for me?” He asks, and you nod. You want to be a good girl for him, especially on your first time together although Jungkook wants to hear you begging for it, he wants to know how badly you want to come. “Use your words, baby girl.”
His fingers pinch your nipples harder, making the wave of pleasure growing bigger inside you. “I want to come.” You manage to say. “I wanna come so bad.”
Jungkook feels his cock twitching inside of you, a low groan rumbling in his throat as you practically beg him to let you come. He smirks while one of his hands slowly goes down on your body, passing your stomach, and landing on your throbbing clit. His fingers start to rub your sensitive spot as his cock keeps hitting that sweet spot that drives you crazy.
“Beg for it, baby girl.” He says. His fingers show no mercy on your clit, and you’re not even sure if you’ll be able to beg for anything before coming.
“Please, Jungkook.” It’s impossible to even form a proper sentence with the way he’s torturing you.
“Tell me, baby girl.” He keeps teasing you with a smirk on his face.
“Let me come.”
His smirk grows bigger on his face, happy to have you begging him to come. Jungkook never thought he’d be into teasing but with you, he seems to discover what he truly likes. The wave of pleasure inside you is growing bigger and bigger, almost becoming overwhelming. You’re moaning like a mess, but at this stage, you couldn’t care less.      
“Do it, princess. Come for me.”
Those words are what you need for the wave of pleasure to hit you intensely, making you come hard around him. Your arousal covering completely his cock and your walls squeezing him over and over again.
While you’re completely euphoric from your orgasm, he speeds up the pace of his hips slamming into you, wanting to chase his own high. The coil in his lower stomach tightens inside of him, and it completely clouds his thoughts. The only thing he sees is the image of you coming under him.
Breathy whines escape his pretty lips as he looks down at the mess you made on his cock. A desperate moan leaves his mouth when his orgasm hits him hard. His eyes roll back with pleasure as his body tenses up and release his load inside the condom. Loud cries of euphoria leaving his lips.
He collapses next to you, both of your bodies covered in sweat after this intense sex session. Your heavy breathing is now the only thing that can be heard in your bedroom.
“I think the entire neighborhood heard us.” You say while running your fingers in his hair.
“That’s exactly what I wanted.” He presses a sweet kiss on your forehead before covering both your bodies with the bedsheets. “I guess we should try to sleep now.”
You nod, resting your head on his chest and slowly falling asleep on his arms. To say that you’re happy that this night took a dirty turn is more than an understatement. But tomorrow, you’ll for sure need to discuss about what just happened. You can’t just fuck like this and expect things to stay the way they were. Everything has changed now. Jungkook just loves you the way you love him.
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Sleeping peacefully with him by your side was easier said than done. It’s around 4 am, you’re both awake but you’re not staring at the ceiling. No, now that you’re both aware of the feelings consuming the two of you, you’re using this time to make up for all the time lost.  
His cock is buried once again inside you, only this time you’re riding him. This time he’s also not wearing any condom since he only had one left in his wallet, he actually never imagined that he was going to have sex with you tonight.  
“Shit.” You gasp, palms resting on his toned chest for leverage as you lift yourself up and drop back on his cock.
You’re completely drunk in the feeling of his cock filling you up, his hips working in tandem with yours while your arousal drips down your thighs, pooling around the base of his cock. Jungkook can’t help but love the way your body contorts with delight as you’re both fucking again.  
“You’re so fucking wet.” He groans, his hands holding your waist tighter when your walls squeeze him. “You’re making such a mess on my cock, princess.” His deep voice sends shivers down your spine. At this rhythm, you’ll be coming undone at any moment. A desperate moan falls out of your mouth, your nails digging into the skin of the muscles on his chest.
Jungkook groans when you speed up the movement of your hips, the warmth of your walls wrapping around him tighter than before as his hands go up on your body, cupping your breasts in them. He pinches your nipples between his fingers, causing you to moan louder and louder.
It’s 4 am, everyone is supposed to be sleeping while the two of you are moaning like nobody else is in this house. For sure, Jin is going to complain about your night activities with Jungkook but you just don’t care. You just want Jungkook to stretch you out open and fill you up to the brim.
“You’re fucking hot, princess.” He groans. “You’re riding me so well.”
You can feel his cock twitch inside of you as you rock your hips at a steady rhythm, your palms still pressed against his toned chest while his hands grip onto the sheets.
A small moan leaves your lips as you look down at him. His long wet hair sticking on his face turns him into an even hotter man. His eyes are staring up at you in that stunning way that shows you how lost in the pleasure he is. His tongue licks his lips as he moans out your name, tugging at the sheets and thrusting up into you with more urgency each time.
“You look like a sin.” You whisper, trying as hard as possible to avoid making more noise this early in the morning. You lean forward to press a kiss on his lips because that’s the only to muffle your moans.
“Can we just talk about you?” He replies back when your lips leave his. “You’re here, using my cock as if you own it and moving your hips in a way that completely hypnotize me.”
You moan at his words because damn, you’re really riding his cock as if Jungkook is yours. Well, for him, he’s completely yours. He doesn’t want any other girl to ride him like you’re doing it right now.
Your walls clench around his length, squeezing him hard. So far, he has let you set the pace and use him the way you wanted but this is just too slow for him. He wants more. He starts thrusting up to you in a harsh way. He goes deep inside of you, and you are loving it. Tears start to roll down your cheeks because of the way he’s pounding inside of you. He’s stretching your insides so much with his rough thrust and it makes your whole body tremble.
The wave of pleasure inside has grown suddenly so strong that you feel like you’re about to come.
“Gonna cum, Jungkook.” You whimper.
Your nails sink into his chest, making him groan at the pain and pleasure it gives him. He grips the sheets harder as he continues to roughly thrust inside you.
“Go ahead, babe, make a mess for me.” He groans as he keeps thrusting hard.
Those dirty words are all you need to let your orgasm go. You are coming, biting your lower lip to muffle your moans. Your thighs are shaking but he keeps thrusting into you while you’re completely high from your orgasm. Jungkook is completely loving the way you’re creaming his dick.  
His pace becomes more brutal as he’s chasing his own orgasm, making the bed creaking under you. Your walls keep clenching around him and that is all he needs to come. He closes his eyes, enjoying this moment of release and you are sure he’d never look so sexy.  
You collapse over Jungkook as you both try to catch your breath for a little while, and you leave a lot of kisses on his sweet face. He’s loving it and he could stay like this forever.
“This a beautiful way to start Valentine’s Day.” He whispers before falling asleep in your arms. You hold him tight against you, loving to have him pressed against your body. This is for sure the best night of your life.
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It’s Monday morning.
You’re entering the building of JBC with Jungkook. Everybody looks at the two of you although they don’t pay too much attention since they all think you’re just friends. But they ignore everything that happened the last two days.
Yesterday, after all the sex, you had a real conversation with Jungkook. You both expressed the feelings you had for each other, you swear you’ve never been happier than you were yesterday. That conversation made you realized how stupid you both are. You’ve been in love for months but you were both so scared to lose the other that you never said anything.
Yesterday, you agreed to give a try to this whole relationship thing. You want to see if this can work even though you’re both convinced that it’s going to work.
So, you’re not entering this building as friends but as a couple. You both have that stupid smile glued on your faces while you talk to each other. Like every morning, you enter the elevator already full of people but when it arrives on the floor you work, you kiss Jungkook with passion, drawing the attention of everyone in the small cabin.
“Have a nice day, my princess.”
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⏤ tag list: @s0seo @huhuehuey @prdshobi @bonnyskies @swinterr @nervouskiwi @hopetookmysoul @liljooniecutie @jangsiyeon @pinkyxpeach @delicate-snow-flake @bangtanolan @y00ngiverse @studycrastinating @gukbeoki @outrokookies @soulstaes @preciouschimine @astheticxvibes @pj-0295 @noonabunny @giyous @xx1999xxxx @lilyflowerguk @virgo-and-libra @youremyjinearth @feel-the-sunset @ivy-lees-bts @peachytan @taehvrl @taestannie @tokyorm @jiminable @skskskook @satotakeru14 @jikookiekosmos @procrastination-queenie
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jungkxook · 4 months ago
Text
—sweeter than sugar. (m)
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⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 
⟶ genre: ceo!jungkook / sugar daddy au + fluff / smut 
⟶ words: 22,258 oops
⟶ rating: 18+ 
⟶ summary: when infamous playboy jeon jungkook comes to you with a proposition that you know you should say no to, you can’t. because all you really know is that being spoiled has never felt so sweet before
⟶ warnings: lot’s of brand name dropping bc jungkook stays spoiling you!!, sprinkle of angst, unprotected sex, dry humping, grinding, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, face riding, handjob, standing sex, window sex?, riding, creampie
⟶ note: this is a repost of a fic from my old blog, just in case it looks familiar to anyone!
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You have come to find that when rich men and women are drunk enough, they will talk.
Naturally, living in the metropolis that is New York City with its crowded population of millions, you are bound to come across certain interesting people. Yet none have seemingly compared to your experiences with the social elite and upper class businessmen and women of the city. For there, nestled perfectly in the hub of the mayhem and money that is the Financial District of Lower Manhattan in a bar lounge you work at, you learn much about the inner workings and the dramatic gossip of some of the wealthiest people in the city. Stripped down to nothing but self-indulgent humans enjoying their happy hours after a day of work and incredibly drunk off of Cabernet Sauvignon red wine and smooth Louis XIII cognac and martini cocktails, they will talk. They will talk about important business deals, murmur about the hushed world of embezzlers, boast about their latest luxurious purchase, whisper about affairs, and mock fellow friends or business partners.
Of course you listen. You always listen. To you, these people are a whole other species ━ so distant from yourself yet so fascinating. It’s not as if they care about your eavesdropping either, for they do not so much as grace you with a second glance, even when you present them with their drink. Perhaps that’s for the best. After all, you’re certain you’ll never be able to understand them. It’s not as if you like them either. But there is one person in particular who becomes quite the talk of the wealthy entrepreneurs and tycoons that occupy the lounge; the same one person who catches your attention over the many nights of your shifts and you think him to be, perhaps, even more fascinating than his fellow snobby folk.
Jungkook, made of diamonds and gold, is a person you find hard to avoid.
Tabloids and whispers of the eminent young man make him known to you far before you even lay eyes on him and all you know is that he is built upon old money and glory. He is infamous, it appears from the ostentatious words that pluck him from the ordinary and hangs him high above in the endless sky, born into a world where he is lucky enough to be graced with not only the wealth but the handsome features too. You still aren’t quite sure you understand what exactly he does for a living, though you learn over time he’s inherited his father’s company of investment banking at the ripe age of 23 after his father’s retirement. Really, all that seems to pique your interest is the simple fact that he wears clothes that cost the same amount as your college tuition, if not more, whilst you are drowning in obstinate debt. It is a life he will never know, much like his life is one you will never know.
Though many attempt to degrade him as being a spoiled rich kid with a pretty face who doesn’t deserve his father’s company, you can hardly find an inkling of hatred in your bones for the boy. Instead, you find blatant envy laced in every nerve, despite still struggling internally to be thankful for the dismal life you live from a day-to-day basis. It is only on days when the universe itself decides to take it’s annoyance out on you in mundane mishaps that makes you entirely jealous of men and women at the lounge. Of the eminent man that is Jungkook.
As a college student in your final year, the looming fact of paying your tuition debt, amongst other necessities and living expenses, dangles over your head in a foreboding dark cloud. It isn’t the idea that you struggle to barely make ends meet, or yet another heated conversation you have with your landlord only a week prior, begging him to wait until you get paid to give him your rent, or the fact that you work two part-time jobs aside from attending class in an attempt to make enough money to live that makes you break down on one particular Saturday morning. It is when you return from your first job of working an eight hour shift at the café around the corner from where you live, climb the five flights of stairs to your floor after you find that the elevator isn’t working, only to scan through your daily mail of bills and taxes to find an envelope containing a letter with big, bolded words screaming at you EVICTION NOTICE, akin to two middle fingers raised high in the air for you.
That is when the severity of your situation seems to hit you because you suddenly become aware in an entirely pessimistic shame that you have failed. Failed to make ends meet and failed to make your dull routine work of running from one job to the next and attending classes. You skim the contents of the notice rather quickly, your mind stuck somewhere between terror of living on the streets and rushing to get ready for your second shift of the night, but your nervous eyes are able to catch a glimpse of the three week deadline your landlord gives you in order to either return to him the lost rent you are owing to stay or to pack your belongings and leave. You hardly have time to read the rest or devise a plan in order to save your ass as you crumple the paper in anger and toss it on your bed before moving to prepare yourself for work.
The second job you work is at the lounge. It’s popularity amongst the urbanites makes sure that you find little to no time to rest as you are running back and forth from behind the counter to customers serving drinks and other appetizers. It’s a newer job you work, having only been there for six months, but at the four month mark is when he starts showing up, as if the universe further wanted to laugh in your face and taunt that there are people who never have to work hard to simply live.
In the short time span of two months that you see him at the lounge, you never once utter a word to him as your boss makes certain that he personally tends to Jungkook and his friends in an attempt to please the rich boy. However, you admire him from afar anyway, taking note in his appearances and manners. He is always well dressed from head to toe in perfectly tailored and fitting Giorgio Armani suits. His dress shirts are usually either pure cotton or some sort of silky lavish material and a watch and rings are accessories he always seems to wear. He is generous, however, and orders the most expensive drinks for he and his friends and is the one to make sure they find a ride home but you discover he must naturally be a bit of a lush because he is always stumbling out of the lounge well into the night and blissfully inebriated, usually with a girl wrapped around his finger and fawning over him drunkenly. He is, quite obviously, a sybarite, a playboy, but a kind one at that ━ or perhaps that is just a facade.
You do not see him at first when you begin your shift that night, but he seems to make an appearance at the most terrible of times. It is just as you’re finally clocking out for your break and take a step outside next to the building for a breath of air, further off from the other customers of the lounge who like to sit on the patio with a burning cigarette limply dangling from fingertips or the finest of cigars, when you find your boss, Namjoon, joining your side to tell you something you aren’t at all prepared to hear.
“Y/N, I actually wanted to talk to you,” he starts, his tone casual. The night is cool despite being mid-spring, and a breeze ruffles his dark hair and sends a chill down your spine.
“Am I in trouble?” You ask, and though it is supposed to be a joke, you can’t help but fear for a moment about whether you might actually be.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” he says with a lighthearted chuckle. “No, no. It’s just that━ Well, you see━ You’re most certainly one of our best employees here but, that being said, I think━ Ahem, simply put, with all the new hires we got recently and all their training, we unfortunately are going to have to start pulling your hours.”
His words don’t seem to register in your mind at first and you look at him curiously, dumbfounded. “You what?”
“From now on, we only need you to work ten hours a week here,” he says. “Just for the time being━”
“You’re cutting back on my hours?” You ask abruptly. “Why me?”
“If it makes you feel any better, you aren’t the only one this is happening to,” he replies. “It’s a really shitty thing to do, I know, but we have no other choice.”
Finally, what he says seems to sink in and your eyes widen in disbelief. You push yourself off the wall you are leaning against and round on him instantly. “No, no, you can’t! Please! I need those extra hours and the money━ Look, I just got the news today that I might be kicked out of my apartment in less than a month and I still need to pay back my school tuition. I can’t afford to━”
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Namjoon says, entirely in a dismissive manner that has you coming to a complete halt and making you feel absolutely foolish. “But there’s nothing I can do right now━ Ah! If it isn’t the man himself! Jungkook! Glad to see you could make it. Excuse me, doll━”
Your boss moves quickly, parting from you with a final pat on your shoulder as if to poorly console you before shifting his attention over to the newcomer, to Jungkook. You’re seething with absolute rage that boils in the pit of your stomach and the tips of your fingers, your mouth hanging opened in an appalled gap, as you whirl around only to have your eyes settle upon your boss devoting all his attention to Jungkook and the friend by his side who is digging through his pockets for a cigarette atop the patio just behind you. You are left entirely forgotten and bristling with anger that you find hard to keep under control as you gawk at your boss before realizing that Jungkook is staring at you.
His dark chocolate pupils peer at you under the shimmering moonlight, reflecting something soft and pensive, but what exactly he is thinking, you can’t surely make out. It catches you off guard and has you clamping your mouth shut as if to showcase some sort of proper etiquette around the prestige boy, a blush warming your cheeks, because why is he looking at you? He’s never taken the time to so much as glance your way with any sort of interest ━ or so you thought ━ and yet here he is, his intimidating eyes piercing yours and making you shift uncomfortably in your spot. You don’t bother to linger any longer after that.
As soon as his friend is calling for his attention, and Jungkook turns to avert his gaze to the conversation that is happening without him, you round on your heel and briskly walk back into the lounge, your mind in a haze of embarrassed confusion and anger.
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Your awkward encounter with Jungkook is quick to slip your mind as soon as you are hurled back into the persistent problems of your life.
The next few days elapse into one another in a useless blur as you try to beg your boss at your first job to allow you more shifts, while simultaneously trying to discover what you will do and who you can live with if you are evicted. Moving back in with your parents seems the most practical but least favourable when they live too far away from your jobs and school. You’re considering asking a close friend if you can live with them for a few weeks when the universe seems to present itself to you one more time, but in a way to redeem itself.
It happens on that Wednesday, only a few days after receiving the eviction notice. You return to your job at the lounge that night for a rather usually dull shift as not many people seem to come out on a night that is in the middle of the week. It’s slow, as you expect, and you try to spend the time by cleaning the bar counter, cleaning the shelves that the bottles of liquor stand on, cleaning glasses, and repeating the process again and again, but even that becomes tedious after a while. The lounge itself isn’t typically a place of gathering for just anybody with it’s all glass panes, dark interior, and lights of hues of purple and blue to help with the ambiance, modern furniture, and smooth jazz music to tie it all perfectly together. It’s nearing 7pm when the door swings open but you hardly pay much attention as you’re uselessly wiping the counter and fretting over the notice. When you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat from behind you, you spin around and come face-to-face with none other than Jungkook.
An involuntary gasp slips past your parted lips before you can swallow it back and your hands quickly abandon the rag you’re holding to nervously smooth down your hair and clothes.
“Hi there,” he smiles and, when he does, it is something daunting and mischievous.
He’s abandoned his usual Armani attire for something a little more casual though even your untrained eye can sense that the clothes he wears still costs much more than what you earn in a day. A Saint Laurent bomber jacket, a Rolex watch, Louis Vuitton dress shoes. His blonde locks are parted ever so slightly off to the side and, as he moves to certain angles under the dim lights of the lounge, you catch sight of the tattoos that cover his arm and are mostly always covered up. Up close, you can see features on his face that you would have otherwise misplaced, like the dainty point of his nose or the piercings on his ears or just how big his eyes truly are, giving him a more youthful appearance even though he is not much older than you as it is. You’re so mesmerized and too busy studying his dazzling attire to notice the fact that he speaks to you that it takes you a moment to respond.
“O━Oh, um, hi,” You force a smile on your face that is visibly so. You gulp back your nerves and straighten up, fighting for your voice. “What can I get you?”
“Just water is fine, actually,” he says and, goodness, why was his voice so smooth and luxurious?
You quirk a brow, the question tumbling from you before you can stop it. “You’re telling me that you came all the way down here for a glass of water that you can easily get at your home?”
Your mouth quickly snaps shut, as you’re suddenly fearful of having said something wrong, but the boy in front of you only chuckles and shrugs sheepishly.
“Ah, well, it’s a Wednesday night and I do have to work tomorrow,” he says.
He’s still smiling as he watches you and the sight has you nervous once more. To avoid his intense stare, you move to gather him a glass of water. It’s silent as you do so, the only sound coming from the other chatter of customers and the music that plays in the foreground. When you slide his drink over to him, his smile widens and he nods.
“Thanks.”
You nod timidly and try to distract yourself by cleaning once more. Not even before you can turn fully away from him, he’s speaking again.
“So, you know of me, huh?” he asks and then stops himself. “Sorry, that sounded very conceited of me. I’m just━ I don’t know. Surprised.”
“You’re quite the talk of the city,” You point out in a matter-of-fact tone and giggle. “It’s hard to not know who you are.”
Jungkook licks his lips and smiles almost bashfully. The sight seems so rare that it has you staring at him in wonder. His eyes flicked up to look at you past his long lashes and then he lifts his chin to properly face you. “Then who do I have the fortune of speaking to tonight?”
“Y/N,” You introduce, holding out a hand for him. “It’s most certainly a pleasure to meet you properly, sir.”
The boy takes your hand in his, his skin smooth and delicate, and then he does something you do not expect at all. He turns your palm over so that the back of your hand is facing him and he presses a small kiss to your knuckles that leaves tingles running down your spine.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says.
You must be entirely gawking at him again as he lets go of your hand because he laughs and straightens up in his seat, taking a sip of his water.
“I actually wanted to talk to you,” he says.
“M━Me?” You ask, still stunned. “Did you want to speak with Namjoon? He isn’t in right now but I can leave a note for you, if you want━”
“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary,” he replies, gently turning down your suggestion. “No, you were just the person I was hoping to find tonight.”
“Oh, really?” You question and Jungkook nods. “Then what can I do for you?”
The smile on his face shifts into a smirk and he pauses to take another sip of his water, leaving you in hanging anticipation. He sets his glass down and props his elbows up on the counter, leaning forward.
“I’ve come to offer you a proposition,” he says.
“A proposition?” You echo.
“Mhm, and it’s one I hope you don’t turn down,” he continues. “See, the other night on Saturday, I couldn’t help but overhear you talking to your boss about your shifts, or lack thereof, and━”
“You heard that?” You gasp, dismayed. “You were eavesdropping?”
“Not exactly,” Jungkook says. “I just so happened to stumble outside just as you were complaining.”
You eye him warily, folding your arms over your chest. “Okay, go on.”
“Well,” Jungkook begins, “I’m here to offer you a job but, I must warn you, it’s a very different kind of job.”
His words seem to intrigue you as you absentmindedly take a step closer to him, lowering your head to listen closely. You don’t reply back but, judging by the interested look on your face, Jungkook casually carries on. He locks gazes with you then, a hard unbreakable gaze that has you looking only at him as he utters his next few words.
“There’s no easy way to explain this that won’t make it seem indecent, but I can assure you that my intentions are pure,” he admits. “Have you ever heard of the term sugar baby?”
As soon as you hear the last of his words, you push yourself up and begin shaking your head furiously. “You want me to be your sugar baby?” You ask. The incredulous question has a blush pinching at your cheeks. “Are you nuts? I’m not that kind of girl. I’m not going to sleep with you even if you pay me━”
“Hear me out,” he says calmly and, for some odd reason, you pause. Your eyes narrow into a scrutinizing glare as you stare him down.
“Fine,” You say stiffly. “Keep talking.”
“It’s a crazy idea, I know,” he says. “And, sure, typically sugar babies are used for sex but I would never force myself on you or force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to. That’s a promise I’ll never break. I just figured that we can keep the companionship aspect of the whole thing and that’s it. Nothing more than having a person by my side.”
“I’m sure you can find plenty of girls to take that role,” You muse aloud.
“Sure,” he admits sheepishly, “but I’m asking you because I want you to be the one and because I know you need this money more than anyone else.”
You fall silent as you study him. He pulls out his phone then and begins to scroll through it almost too nonchalantly but you don’t necessarily mind. You are much too busy pondering his offer.
“But you don’t even know me,” You say at last.
“Also true,” he says, glancing up at you. “I guess you could say that’s another part of the reason why I’m asking you because I wouldn’t mind getting to know you. I mean, I see you all the time at this bar. I would have loved to come up and talk to you at any given moment but you always seemed so caught up in your work. Now I know why.”
Another silence ensues and he watches as you bite nervously on your lower lip. You rake a hand through your hair and sigh.
“How about this?” he asks, shifting in his seat to sit up straighter. “We try it out at least once to test the waters for an upcoming event where you’re my date. If you like it and want to keep going, great. If you absolutely hate it and hate me, then you can forget all about me and that I ever asked you this and I’ll leave you alone. Deal?”
“How do I know you’re not planning my murder?”
Jungkook smirks wolfishly. “That would be bad for business, love, and neither me nor my company needs that sort of attention in the press. So… What do you say?”
“I don’t know. It’s just… a lot. I have to think about it.”
Jungkook nods. “That’s understandable. Here━”
He shifts in his seat and pulls his wallet from his jeans. With a flourish, he procures a business card and slides it onto the table. Then, he gestures for a pen and, once you hand him the one you fish out from the apron tied around your waist, he scribbles his own personal number down on the back. He looks up at you with an ever so pretty smile, his eyes twinkling.
“Call me on this number whenever you decide.”
He doesn’t stay much longer after that. When he does leave, he makes sure to leave you a tip. A considerable sum of $500 in the form of a cheque. He’s long gone by the time you register the amount on the slip of paper and your name scribbled down. When the shock is gone, you tell yourself you can’t possibly take the cheque. But he knows that either way, whether you accept the cheque and his offer or try to return the money to him, you’ll call him one way or another. You realize this only on your way home from the lounge and shake your head at his conniving way. If there was one thing you have learnt during your time at the lounge, rich men always get what they want.
You aren’t entirely too sure what makes you cave. Maybe it’s the fact that, when you return home and are greeted to the looming notice papers, you are reminded that you so desperately need the money, or the fact that Jungkook is as charming and attractive as people say. Maybe it is the fact that he is quite obviously devoting his time and attention on solely you. Perhaps once won’t hurt after all. Then, if he stays true to his word and pays you handsomely, just enough for your rent, you never have to see him again. So the next morning, after a great deal of pensive pacing around your apartment, it is with one final hefty sigh that you call Jungkook. He answers on the third ring with a cordial, “Hello?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this but fine. You have yourself a deal.”
Even without seeing his face, you can hear the smile in his voice, can see the way it must be tugging at his pink lips. “Ah, Y/N! Great!”
“What do you need me to do exactly?”
“Well, first thing’s first,” he says. “We need to set up some ground rules. First, I won’t try anything on you that you won’t like. Second, since this is technically still a job ━ and I know it’s going to sound ridiculous but stay with me ━ we need to be cautious about gaining romantic feelings for one another. It’ll just get in the way of everything, okay?”
“Okay. Whatever you say.”
“Good,” he says. “Then let’s jump right to it: I need you to be my date at this business dinner party that’s coming up. The logistics of the dinner party bore me. I know as much about it as you do, if I’m honest, but everyone ━ mostly my father ━ thinks it’ll be a good idea to bring a proper date. As if that’ll leave a good impression on these people we’re trying to win over. We’ll see about that.”
“When is it?” You ask.
“Three days from now.”
“Where?”
“Paris.”
“As in Paris, France?”
Jungkook hums in agreement a little too calmly for your liking. Your jaw drops open in surprise and you begin to sputter for air, stammering over your words.
“Jungkook,” You say his name sternly, laughing at just how ridiculous this request is. “This whole thing started because I have no money. I’m getting kicked out of my apartment ━ or did you miss that? What makes you think I have the money for a ticket to Paris?”
Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to bursts out into boisterous laughter, and he continues to laugh and laugh as if this is the funniest thing he has heard yet. You are left staring blankly at your wall, completely frazzled and stunned.
“God, you’re cute,” he sighs at long last. “Baby girl, I don’t think you quite understand the concept of this but that’s okay. We can work on it. Here, look. Check your phone━”
As he says this, your phone chimes pleasantly to notify you of a new message. Pulling your phone away from your face, you see a new text from Jungkook’s number: a screenshot of an email of a bank purchase, one that he confirms out loud with his confident words even when you feel your hands shaking in overwhelming anticipation.
“I already bought you a ticket as we were speaking,” he says. “We leave Friday.”
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The concept is entirely too hard to wrap your mind around, even after you sleep on it.
It’s like a dream come true, a fairy tale that people can only ever hope for, and it had fallen so perfectly into your very lap in the form of Jungkook. You pack the next night for Paris (which will only be a two day trip, according to Jungkook), the excitement and nerves finally kicking in and making you jittery and grin from ear-to-ear as you rummage around your apartment. He picks you up early the next morning in a chauffeured BMW before you’re both driven to the airport to fly in two first class seats to Paris. The whole thing is ludicrous but you can’t seem to get enough ━ even with the way he seems to act like a total gentleman by holding the car door open for you and holding your hand as he helps you onto the plane. From what you gather, he is kind and gentle and spends the time talking to you on the long flight to Paris in an attempt to help soothe your nerves when he sees you toying anxiously with your hands. You learn about his father and his company and he learns about your family and school life.
When you arrive in Paris, the streets are suddenly dazzling with a magic you have never seen before. From the architecture to the gardens to the grand tower in the distance, everything seems like a whimsical dream and you, the poor undeserving spectator, can’t possibly contain your excitement. In the chauffeured drive to your hotel, Jungkook watches you with amused eyes and chuckles under his breath when you gawk out the window at the passing city. Your accommodations for the getaway have already been paid for and includes a stay at the Four Seasons Hotel. It is simply marvelous, a palace sculpted so divinely out of white stone and marble in the lobby. The people are friendly, both the employees and other occupants, greeting you with warm smiles and generous gestures, but the atmospheric prestige is slightly nerve-wrecking.
Jungkook pays for your room which is the luxurious Royal Suite, a room much larger than you truly need but, god, do you love it. There’s a spacious living room, a foyer, a marble fireplace and a dining table, the master bedroom accompanied by an all marble bathroom, and private terrace with a view of the surrounding city and the Eiffel tower in the near distance, so close it feels as if you can reach out and touch it. Everything is adorned in gold and ivory furnishing, white plush cushions and bedding with teal accents, white flowers and exceptional pieces of decorations. Jungkook is still with you when he guides you into the suite but he doesn’t speak and nor do you. Instead, he watches as you stare in awe at the overwhelmingly large room and the lavish paintings and furniture that are placed perfectly around, and the platter of macaroons and a bottle of Dom Perignon champagne in an ice bucket atop the glass coffee table. He watches even as you throw yourself to the terrace door, beaming outside at the beautiful view.
“Like it?” he asks, his lips curling upward faintly in an amused smile.
“Like it?” You repeat, astonished. You turn to face him and can’t contain the squeal that bubbles at your lips. You fling yourself down onto the plush sofa nearest you and sigh dreamily as you look up at the boy who is suppressing his chuckles. “I’m in love, Jungkook. I definitely don’t deserve this━”
“Don’t say that,” Jungkook frowns, interrupting you quickly. “Of course you deserve this. I’m glad you’re enjoying it so far. That’s what I want to hear.”
You push yourself up to sit on the couch and cross your legs beneath you. You gaze up at Jungkook, gnawing nervously on your lower lip. “I just feel like you could have found a better person to replace me. I mean, I don’t even know where to start with repaying you.”
“There’s no need to repay me,” Jungkook says. “That’s the whole point of this ordeal. All I want from you is to be my side when I need you. You owe no debt to me. Just keep enjoying yourself, yeah?”
You nod timidly and he smiles. He notices you shift in your seat to stand up once more and he swiftly holds out his hand for you in an ever gentleman-like way. You take it graciously and pull yourself up and then he does it again, lifting your twined hands to his lips to press a tender kiss to your knuckles. He keeps his lips pressed to your skin for a second too long and it has you blushing madly before he finally releases your hand once more.
“It’s late,” he says. “You should get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Set an early alarm, okay? I have something else for you that I want to show you before the dinner party.”
“Sounds like a plan,” You hum almost absentmindedly as your attention is suddenly averted back to the room that you can’t seem to get enough of.
“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he smiles.
He begins retreating back to the door of the room but stops when he hears you call his name, your voice so distant and faint, soft and gentle and loving, that it makes his heart skip a beat.
“Thank you for everything so far, Jungkook.”
Jungkook notices the irreplaceable smile on your face and it’s so genuine and heartwarming that it has the exact same smile mirroring on his face. He nods once more, understanding, before giving you a sly wink and walking out the door. You don’t stay awake much longer after that, the jitters and excitement eventually soothing into something soft that lulls you to sleep
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You aren’t entirely sure what Jungkook has planned for the next morning but you are most definitely not disappointed.
He comes by your room around 10:00 am, a light rap of his knuckles against the door signalling his arrival. He’s dressed casual today and it, for once during the duration of the time that you’ve been with him, doesn’t make you feel bad for wearing just as casual clothing. He takes you to a café just down the street from the hotel for breakfast and then he walks with you through the streets of Paris, past all the people and hectic life. When you finally arrive at your destination, your jaw drops open in complete unregistered shock because you realize he’s taking you shopping ━ and shopping not just anywhere but the Champs-Élysées and down Avenue Montaigne where all the leading couture designers are. He pulls you into a certain shop with designer and brand name formal wear, dresses and suits of all sorts of materials and lengths lining the walls, shelves, and dressing mannequins.
“I figured we could go shopping for something for you to wear tonight,” he says. “It’s your pick. See anything that catches your attention?”
You snort a bit ungracefully, your fingers running over the silky material of a scarlet red Valentino dress decorating a mannequin near you.
“Yeah, all of it,” You say, your fingers plucking the price tag of the dress and gawking at it. “But not for that price. I’d have to take out another loan from the bank if I’d want to buy this and I’m still paying off my tuition fees.”
Jungkook laughs lightly at your dry remarks and places his hand on the small of your back with such ease that it catches you by surprise.
“Baby girl,” he hums, and the small pet name is enough to make your heart flutter, “I’m buying it for you. Go ahead. Run wild in here. We can get a consultant to help you if you want.”
“I’m going to need more than a consultant to deal with all this,” You say. “It’s making my head spin. If I’m dreaming, please don’t pinch me.”
He smirks, giving you a shake of his head. “I can assure you that you aren’t dreaming. Go on. If you see anything you like, don’t be afraid to tell me. Today is all about you.”
And Jungkook doesn’t lie. Though it feels so wrong to be so spoiled and pampered, you find yourself basking in all of it ━ from the way Jungkook follows behind you as you study every piece of clothing and waits patiently as you try on dress after dress, to the way the employees that work there fawn over your body and the way you model the dress “just perfectly,” to the way they serve you bubbling champagne in crystal flute glasses. It’s all about you, and it’s never felt so good.
It doesn’t stop there. Jungkook takes you to shop after shop, boutique after boutique, until you find a dress that you take quite a liking to. It’s a floor length Alberta Ferretti velvet midnight blue, almost black, gown, the seams of which hugging your body and curves in all the right places. It’s a slightly off-the-shoulder dress, with a heart-shaped scoop neckline and a slit on one side of the dress that runs far up the smooth expanse of your leg to end mid-thigh. It’s the dress you pick because it’s the only dress that seems to garner such a unique reaction from Jungkook. It’s one where he forgets his words momentarily, gazing at you as if you were made of pure gold, because, holy shit, he’s never seen anything so beautiful before. He can’t speak whilst you model the dress for him and the consultant, twirling around and around in front of the mirrors to admire your own figure, because he doesn’t want to miss a single thing about just how gorgeous you look in it.
He doesn’t tell you but, when you decide on that dress, he couldn’t have been any happier.
Even after finding the dress, Jungkook still continues to take you shopping, promising to buy you any other article of clothing or piece of jewelry that catches your attention, though you try to tame your desires as you begin to feel a bit too spoiled. Jungkook doesn’t mind, of course. He never seems to mind. Eventually, after he takes you back to the hotel with all black Christian Louboutin ankle strap heels and a glittering Tiffany necklace and earrings for the dress, he leaves you alone to get ready for the dinner. When he meets you once more at your suite, it is later in the evening and the sun outside has just begun to set. He enters your room looking as if he has just walked out from a Renaissance painting or was sculpted by the Grecians himself in marble stone because of just how divine he looks. He’s adorned in yet another Armani suit, a dark charcoal that is almost ebony black, and his hair is combed and parted neatly to the side. There’s no need to even look at him to know he is already handsome, but something about that night makes his features more prominent.
You’re still in the bathroom when he does enter your room, calling out to you with a, “Y/N? You ready? We need to get going soon.”
He hears your voice carry from the bathroom, light and feathery, and though it is muffled, he can make it out to sound like, “Just a sec!”
So, Jungkook waits. He’s suddenly nervous as he does, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves and the hem of his suit jacket, when he hears the bathroom door click open. He hears the clinking of your heels as you walk towards him and then time seems to slow down in a sort of entirely cliche way because all he can focus on is you. And, god, you’re beautiful. If Jungkook is to you only a man-made beauty of Renaissance and Ancient Greek art, then you are to him made up of the stars and the moon and sun, carved divinely from the very hands of the universe itself and kissed all over by enchanting Mother Nature. You are radiant, you are natural, genuine, breathtaking, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. He is far too caught up with the way you look to even pay attention to your words, that only hit him in disoriented white noise.
“Jungkook?” You wave a hand in his face. “Can you zip me up?”
“What?” Jungkook seems to snap out of his daze and shakes his head suddenly. “Oh, right! Sorry, of course. Come here.”
You do, closing the distance between him and you with a wobbly flourish on your heels and turn your back to him. Jungkook gulps as he sees the zipper of the dress hanging low on your back. With cold hands, he begins to pull the zipper up, but he doesn’t seem to notice the way goosebumps run down your spine when you feel the ghost of his touch. When he’s done, you turn to face him once more and place your hands on your hips. Your hair and makeup are perfectly done and the glittering jewellery you wear all makes you look like such an elegant star.
“Well?” You ask. “What do you think? Is it too much? I don’t really know, to be honest. Or am I too underdressed? Oh god, I don’t know━”
“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook says abruptly.
Your cheeks are tinted pink at his compliment and you look down bashfully. He reaches out for your hand and you take it carefully only to have him raise your clasped palms above your head.
“Spin for me, love.”
You obediently follow his command, anxious under his watchful eyes. They drift down and up and then back down and up again to take in your full figure and he sighs under his breath. When you’re facing him again, there is a hint of a smile on his face and his pupils are glistening.
“Magnificent,” he breathes. “My goodness, baby girl, all eyes are going to be on you and only you tonight. I think I’m going to need to keep a watchful eye on you and make sure you don’t ditch me for another man before I can even get to know you better.”
You shake your head at him as he softly drops your hand from his. You inattentively reach out to grab at his already perfectly kempt tie, straightening it from beneath his collar.
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” You giggle. “I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon, Jungkook.”
And Jungkook smiles.
Another chauffeured ride picks the two of you up at the hotel (this time a sleek black Mercedes) and drives you all the way to the Hotel Plaza Athénée, in which one of Jungkook’s associates have rented out the entire restaurant attached to it simply for the cause of their business dinner. Jungkook is the one who gets out of the car first and holds your door open, taking your hand to help you out and hooking arms with you as he guides you inside to the restaurant that you can only describe as a winter wonderland, made upon white furnishing and a magnificent crystal chandelier that resembles falling stars or snowflakes frozen in time.
The party isn’t nearly as terrible as you had thought. It begins awkwardly and you feel uncomfortable, shifting your weight from one heel to the other, and clinging desperately onto Jungkook, but the partygoers are friendly. They talk to you without a problem, introducing themselves with big smiles and welcoming you into their small lavish circle. The party continues on rather pleasantly, though you thank the glasses of red wine you are constantly consuming to not only help pass the time and soothe your nerves, but to distract the rich men and women around you long enough so you can breathe without feeling scrutinized.
By the time the night is coming to a close, you and Jungkook are equally as drunk off of expensive wine and champagne, and say a reasonable farewell to the other guests before leaving back to the hotel. You don’t leave Jungkook’s side, and perhaps that is because your intoxicated mind is suddenly buzzing with thoughts and your bloodstream is pumping with adrenaline because you are wide awake. You end up back in his room, both of you lounging out on the perfectly made bed, sharing yet another bottle of wine (that Jungkook had ordered from room service) between the two of you, giggling and chatting well into the night.
There is a moment where the late hour of the night and the alcohol seems to finally get to you and Jungkook; where the two of you are simply sprawled out on the bed in a comfortable silence. Your eyes begin to itch with the heavy need for sleep and you find yourself slipping in and out of your stream of consciousness, the fact that you are still confined to the tight dress you wear completely vanishing from your mind. It’s then that it seems to hit you - the whole ordeal with Jungkook and the fact that you are in Paris, wearing clothes that most certainly cost as much as your tuition - and it comes in waves of overwhelming and bursting joy and gratefulness.
“Jungkook,” You hum sleepily, catching the boy’s attention. “I’m serious when I say thank you for everything. It’s just so- so amazing and I want you to know that.”
“I know,” Jungkook says. “I believe you.”
You shift in your spot to stare up at him. He’s reclining beside you, a hand propped behind his head, and he is gazing up at the ceiling before looking over at you. He smiles softly.
“I just don’t want you to think you’re making a mistake by spending all this money on someone like me ━ as if I’m some sort of basket case,” You say. “So if you want to be brutally honest with me and never want to speak to me again after this, please just tell me now so I don’t have to wait to be rejected.”
He quirks a brow, examining your features as if to decipher your words.
“Is that what you think this is all about?” he asks finally. “The rich boy trying to do his moral duty by giving away his money? I’m helping you because I like you and because I don’t want to see someone as sweet and gentle as you being kicked out on the streets. I like you, all of you, and that’s not going to change. I’m not going anywhere.”
He finds you smiling, bright and cheery, your eyes twinkling beautifully. You do not know what compels you to move next ━ possibly the alcohol clouding your mind or the fact that Jungkook is sitting before you, as handsome as ever even at three in the morning ━ but then you are pushing yourself forward, leaning toward him and pressing your mouth against his for a sudden kiss. All you can focus on is the soft plump of his lips, laced with the taste of bittersweet wine and his intoxicating cologne, and it makes you pur with delight.
The action has Jungkook completely shocked but he doesn’t push you away. If anything, he begins to get carried away, but so do you. Suddenly, neither of you seem to be able to get enough of the taste of each other’s lips. You feel his tongue poke against your mouth, grazing your lower lip sensually, practically begging for entrance, and you part your mouth with ease, welcoming all of him. He kisses you slowly, yearning for more, but then the intensity of the kiss heats up. Your tongues dance together in a sloppy wet kiss, teeth clashing together in a desperate and needy fashion, lips smacking roughly against each other’s and igniting flames in every joint of your body. You react without thinking, wiggling around on the bed until you’re lifting yourself up and straddling his hips, sitting back on his thighs.
You’re grasping eagerly at him, tugging at the strands of hair at the nape of his neck, as his own hands come to rest upon your hips, pulling you against him. He parts from your lips then to pepper kisses down to your jawline and neck, where he licks a clean stripe upward. His lips wrap around the delicate skin there and he sucks, something that earns him a moan from yourself. You keen on him in content and jut your hips forward, silently urging him on for more. His breath hitches in his throat but, when you roll your hips against his once more, he moans into your neck.
“Baby girl,” he grunts. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to hold myself back.”
You smirk as you nip at his neck, making him growl. “Don’t hold back. I don’t want you to.”
Tingles run down his spine at the way your lips brush against his skin and he tugs you closer to him. He is so absorbed in the wholeness that is you that he can hardly grasp onto a reasonable thought. Especially not when you’re moaning against his neck with a slight whine of, “Fuck, Jungkook, I need you so bad.”
It takes all that he can in him to not cave at your touch and he shifts beneath your weight, gnawing on his lower lip. You can feel the bulge in his pants begin to brush against your inner thigh and the sensation against your throbbing core suddenly excites you. You roll your hips once more against him as you smash your mouth against his for a passionate kiss. It’s messy and eager and hot and you don’t plan on stopping. You think Jungkook has the same intentions with the way he is stifling his moans into the form of grunts and groans, his fingers digging tightly into your skin enough to make you gasp, but then his hold becomes ironclad and he stops your movements with ease.
“No, baby girl, we can’t,” he whispers against your lips.
You lean back on his lap and look at him curiously, admiring the way his lips are bruised red and the way his neck is suddenly marked raw. “Why not?”
Jungkook finds it hard to focus as you run your hands up his chest and back down, your fingertips dancing on the top of his belt. He grabs your hand then, twining your fingers together as he usually does and shaking his head gently.
“Not now,” he says. “I said I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want.”
“But I do want this,” You insist. You lean forward to kiss him once more, moaning in pleasure. “God, I want this so much.”
Jungkook smiles weakly. His hand comes up to grasp gingerly at your cheek and he makes you look at him with delicate gestures.
“You’re drunk. I’m drunk,” he says. “Sometimes people make the wrong decisions when they’re drunk. I don’t want you to regret this when you wake up in the morning, even if you insist right now that you won’t. Okay?”
You sit back on his lap once more, dumbfounded and, albeit, slightly let down, but there’s a part of you that is thankful for Jungkook’s sudden decision. You relent at once, somehow letting a reasonable thought in your mind tell you that Jungkook is right, and you nod.
“Sorry,” You sigh and then yawn. “You’re right. I’m just━ just tired.”
Jungkook nods understandingly, and pecks your forehead gently, a gesture that is enough to leave your head spinning. You push yourself off of him and plop onto the bed with a heavy exhale of air as soon as your head hits the pillow. Once it does, you find it incredibly hard to keep your eyes open and Jungkook smiles lightly. It’s the candid genuinity that makes Jungkook’s heart swell.
“Why don’t you sleep here?” he suggests. “I’ll sleep in your room for the night if you want, or on the couch━”
He’s already standing to his feet when you stop him.
“Wait, Jungkook,” You mumble. When you speak next, your voice is an involuntary drunk whine, “This dress is so uncomfortable━ I just━”
He sees you struggling to reach the zipper of the dress and chuckles under his breath.
“Let me help you, baby,” he hums, his hands brushing against yours as he thwarts your attempts. “Just rest.”
You begin to argue, sounding very similar to a needy child, but Jungkook simply hushes you. In your drunken tired state, you don’t seem nearly as flustered as Jungkook is as he unzips your dress very slowly and the feeling is so foreign that it has Jungkook’s nerves mingling with fear. He’s undressed a girl plenty of times and never once has he been this timid. He finds it hard to focus his eyes elsewhere when he has you shimmying out of the dress because, Jesus, did you have to wear black lace panties with a matching strapless bra? You’re nearly stripped bare before him and he gulps as his eyes flicker down fleetingly over your body and your feminine curves. Before he can linger any longer, he is grabbing one of his plain t-shirts that is hanging off the back of a nearby armchair and slips it over your head and body with such soothing motions and all Jungkook can focus on now is just how cute you look in his shirt, your lips parted slightly, and your hair a hectic mess.
By the time your head hits the pillow once more, Jungkook can hear your tiny snores, and he can’t bring himself to shake you awake to help you into a pair of his sweatpants. Instead, he reaches for the blankets below you and tosses it over your figure and you shift, pushing yourself onto your side and nuzzling your head further into the pillow. As he is straightening up and exhaling a breath of air, he feels a small tug at his hand. He looks down then only to see your hand grasping at his fingertips and hears you mumble, through slurring words and a curtain of hair that crowds your mouth, “Stay.”
Jungkook knows it’s a terrible idea. He knows, deep down, just how badly this is affecting him with all these strange nerves coming to light and with just how easily he seems to give in to your demand. He smiles tenderly once more and nods, despite sighing under his breath.
“Of course, baby,” he whispers. “I’ll stay right here. Go back to sleep, okay?”
You don’t reply, but he doesn’t necessarily need you to. The serenity that is your slumbering face is enough for him and so he changes into a comfortable shirt and sweatpants before slipping under the sheets with you where he falls asleep without trouble. When he wakes in the morning, he finds that your limbs are tangled messily with his and you are pressed closed to his chest, his own arm slung over your waist, and he decides, in that moment, that he made the right choice after all.
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You return from Paris feeling refreshed, strangely, and your heart yearning for another magical getaway to a foreign city.
As if buying you the items he did in Paris wasn’t enough, Jungkook gives you yet another check of money for your time and it is surely enough to make your heart stop altogether. You aren’t quite sure how he knows, but he gives you just the right money to pay for your rent, and then some. It doesn’t just surprise you, but your landlord is at a loss for words when he sees you hand him a sealed envelope with the money you still owe him that very Tuesday, though he doesn’t question it.
Your encounters with Jungkook don’t stop there.
For some reason, you convince yourself to stay with the deal a little longer (perhaps a little selfishly, though you do admit you enjoy the company of Jungkook), but you have also convinced yourself that he’ll disappear, vanish without a trace, after returning from Paris. Fortunately, he doesn’t disappear, and he doesn’t act as if your relationship with him is simply just a job. You find him opening up to you, talking to you as a friend would, and you, in turn, find yourself falling more and more under his charm. Sometimes, he needs you for important business dinners or weddings or polo matches and other gatherings he’s invited to and, each time you go, he pays you fully in return. He always tells you such social events make these businessmen who they are, as if it were all one elaborate game. Other times, he invites you to do the simplest of tasks with him. When it first happens, only a week or two after Paris, you’re lounging in a relaxing bath late one Friday evening and you receive a text from the boy that simply says something along the lines of, “Are you busy? I could really use you right now. Come over if you can.”
Then, shortly after, he sends you another message that asks you, simply, to bring a swimsuit if you have one. The ambiguity and peculiarity of his message, as well as the fear of making sure you don’t disappoint him (but also, quite possibly, the chance to just see him), makes you scurry out of your bath and rush to get changed before chasing out the door. You hadn’t been to his home before then but he texts you his address after you reply that you are on your way and it doesn’t come as a surprise when you see he lives in one of the fancier parts of downtown. The address he gives you leads you straight to a high-rise complex in Midtown Manhattan. The subtly grand lobby is still overwhelming and the doorman and concierge greet you formally as you walk by. Jungkook’s abode, naturally, is the luxury penthouse located at the very top of the building and, walking past the other employees and residents to reach the elevator, makes you feel ashamed of the tight yoga pants and oversized shirt you wear (though no one is actually looking).
You wait anxiously in the elevator and walk the short distance to his entrance as soon as the elevator doors slide open to his floor. Earlier he had sent you a text that instructed you to just simply walk in and so you cautiously press open the front door of the penthouse. It swings wide open and your jaw drops at the stunning view before you. From what you can see, there are two floors to the penthouse, and the main floor has the very outer wall made of ceiling-to-floor glass window panes that look down onto the bustling city below. It is spacious and lavishly furnished and all you know is that your tiny apartment pales in comparison to this. You take a step inside and let the door shut behind you and, as soon as it clicks into place, a chirp of a bark makes you jump. Dashing straight out of a room and charging straight for you is a small white dog, yapping along the way at the newcomer that is you. Your face instantly lights up at the sight and, as the dog begins jumping and barking by your feet, you bend over to scoop him up in your arms, scratching just behind his ears.
“And who are you, cutie?” You coo. “How could Jungkook keep someone like you a secret from me?”
The dog twists in your hold and begins licking at your chin, earning an eruption of giggles from you as you try and gently push him away.
“I see you’ve met Gureum.”
Your head snaps up at the sound of Jungkook’s voice.  He’s standing near a corner he had just turned, leaning casually against the wall. The grin on his face is undeniably strong as he watches you cradle his dog in your arms. He pushes himself off the wall and takes leisurely strides towards you.
“He’s been by my side ever since I was a teen,” he says. “He’s a pretty loyal dog, y’know, and he and I have this special bond going on so I just needed to make sure you were worthy enough to be introduced to him, otherwise I would have told you sooner.”
You burst out into laughter and shake your head. “Well, I’m glad I passed the test and was worthy enough to meet him. Gureum, hm?” You pause and glance back down at the dog. “It means cloud, right? A cute name for a cute pup. I think we’ll get along just fine.”
You plant a kiss on Gureum’s face and then place him down on the ground where he immediately darts off to grab a toy before tottering back. You straighten up to look at Jungkook and gesture around his home.
“Nice place you got here,” You say. “Need a roommate?”
“You want to live together already?” he teases. “You have to at least let me take you out on a few more dates before we get that serious.”
You chuckle lightly and the sound is so silvery and sweet that it makes Jungkook’s heart sing. He is watching you with admiration as you kick off your shoes and begin walking further into his apartment.
“So, what did you want from me tonight?” You asked. “Your text seemed a little urgent.”
“Oh, right,” Jungkook says. He begins following after you and shrugs. “Well, I was going to ask you if you could be my date for an upcoming event. It’s a charity gala ball that my parents and the company will be endorsing in a few months time. It’s fairly a big deal and my father thinks it’ll be good for publicity, again, if I have a proper date by my side since I’ll be hosting the night of the gala and saying a speech.”
“Of course I’ll come with you,” You say. “But did you really have to tell me to come all the way here just to say that?”
Jungkook bursts out into laughter. “I know I could have done that over the phone but, truthfully, I really just wanted to spend a little more time with you. Now that our business talk is out of the way, how does a pizza and movie night sound to you?”
He flings himself down onto the couch nearby and lounges out on it, staring up at you with a look of anticipation. You can’t help but quirk a brow, biting your lower lip to hide the smile that threatens to paint your face.
“You just wanted to spend time with me?” You echo. “So you called me over for pizza and a movie?”
Jungkook nods, beaming up at you. “What do you say?”
“I’ll stay only if you let me have first pick of the movie.”
He pushes himself up to sit (at which point, Gureum takes the liberty of jumping up to sit in his owner’s lap and Jungkook casually threads his fingers through the dog’s fur) and grins, “You can pick every movie we watch.”
“Well, then, if that’s the case━” You plop down next to him on the couch and wiggle around until you’re comfortably positioned. “A pizza and movie night sounds absolutely divine.”
“Good,” he says. “Because I already ordered the pizza while you were on your way here.”
You throw your head back and moan a bit too excessively but it only makes Jungkook laugh. “You spoil me rotten, you know that?”
He shrugs sheepishly and shoots you a wink that has your heart leaping in your chest. He leans in close with a wicked smirk on his face and hums, “Only the best for my baby girl. And, of course while you’re here, we can take a dip in the pool.”
“So that’s what you meant by the cryptic swimsuit text,” You giggle. “I’d love to go for a swim. This apartment’s pool must be amazing.”
“Oh, yes, that one is quite spectacular but I was thinking we could stay within the comfort of my home.”
He says this so simply that you almost don’t register his words. Then it seems to dawn on you the meaning behind his words and you are gawking in pure amazement. “Are you telling me you have a pool in your penthouse?”
Jungkook smirks humorously. “Is it too much?”
You can’t help but shake your head at the cocky tone that twines with his words. A small, bemused thought pops into your head that begs the question just what have you gotten yourself into? A month ago, you would have never been able to imagine living such a life and yet here you are, as Jungkook so graciously had invited you into his own personal world.
Soon enough, you’re standing by the edge of the pool in Jungkook’s home ━ and, yes, he really does have his own personal pool. Tucked away on the second floor of his penthouse, high above the city of New York, like his own perfect little oasis. When you see it, when you’re dressed in nothing but a red bikini standing on the edge of the pool, it feels like a dream. The buildings of Manhattan tower around the penthouse, dazzling with lit windows that shine their soft glow onto the rippling surface of the pool. Somewhere far below you can hear the sound of the city breathing, living; of a distant wailing siren and the squeal of a tire and a blaring horn. And, when you look above, it feels as if you’re so close to the sky that you could reach out and touch the hiding stars.
Jungkook, who is behind you and watching the look of awe paint your face, will smile to himself and then he will give you one playful nudge that pushes you into the pool with a gratifying splash and a yelp of startle on your part that you know will fade into nothing to the people far down below when you’re up this high. He’ll join you in the pool and you’ll sit with him in the serene space, sipping on a bottle of wine and enjoying the pizza he had ordered.
Up there, so high above Manhattan, it feels as if you have the whole world in the palm of your hand and you tell yourself that if this really is a dream, you never want to wake up from it.
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After that night, it isn’t uncommon for Jungkook to text or call you with equally vague messages, asking you to come over to this apartment only to embark on the utmost mundane things. Once, he calls you asking for your help and, when you rush to his apartment, he is debating which flavour ice cream he should bring out for yet another movie night you spend together. Another time, he calls you to accompany him on his walk with Gureum, or to help him buy groceries, or be his extra food critic when he decides to order takeout from a new restaurant.
Each time he calls or texts you, each time he asks you to rush over only for something minor, he ends up paying you in cheques and still spoils you with “little” gifts every now and then, like a watch one night, a pair of diamond earrings another, a shirt you had been eyeing at the store one day when he and you had passed by a boutique while walking Gureum. Though the money and gifts are, by no means, any less valuable or less cherished than they already are by you, your sudden time alone with Jungkook becomes something much more than just material pleasure. When it’s just you and him, curled up next to one another on his couch as you watch the flickering images of the movie play out before you, whether basking in the silence or laughing together until you cry, those moments become precious and sacred and you find yourself enjoying his company much more than his money or gifts.
Your relationship with him carries on like this for weeks upon weeks, until three months seem to pass, though it certainly doesn’t feel like it at all (especially when you are consumed with finishing school). The money he gives you, as well as the money you earn from both jobs you still work, is enough for you to keep paying your rent and your loans off, long after you’ve graduated from school (another celebration that Jungkook so graciously attends and earns strange looks from your friends and family when they see just how close the two of you are). As a gift for your graduation, Jungkook calls you late one evening when you are relaxing in a warm bubble bath. When you answer the call, cradling your phone between your ear and shoulder, he greets you with, “How do you feel about Italy?”
You quirk a brow. “It’s beautiful. I’ve always wanted to go there. Why are you asking?”
“Well, yes, it is quite beautiful,” he says. “But how do you feel about going to Italy? Say, tomorrow morning?”
You nearly drop your phone into the bath when you register his question. You sit up rather quickly, as if that will help steady you against the tremendous question. “Is it for a business thing?”
“Just an us thing,” he says. “To celebrate your graduation.”
He already knows your answer, as do you. Yet you still sputter over your words and then, with a sheepishly large smile plastered on your face, exclaim your approval of the spontaneous trip.
In the morning, Jungkook will come to pick you up in yet another chauffeured drive, much like it had been for the trip to Paris. This time he decides to take you to the Amalfi Coast, a coastal town in southern Italy. You land in Naples and rent a car from the airport (a Lamborghini, to be exact) which Jungkook and you take turns driving with the roof down, the wind in your hair. The narrow winding roads on the sides of the coastal cliff seem to be no match for the exhilarating speed of the car and much of the drive is spent soaking up the rays of the warm sun. The quaint town of the Amalfi Coast is built upon the sides of the steep cliff with small alleyways, cobblestoned streets, blossoming lemon trees, and colourful buildings that spiral down, down, down, to the rocky shores of the beach and the sparkling cerulean waters of the sea. The villa Jungkook rents has a luxurious view of the sea. It’s all shimmering white and ivory and cobalt blue detailings, all culminating in one magnificently breathtaking oasis.
The first day in the town is spent on the beach, and the evening is spent wandering about the streets with you in a sheer white and floral Zimmermann sundress courtesy of Jungkook, sipping on limoncello and eating dinner at an outdoor restaurant as the bright sky fades to night. The streets are just as lively as ever with tourists and distant music, the town glowing softly with its burning lights and candles against the starry sky, and everything is simply perfect. Whimsical. The next day is spent with Jungkook’s friends. You’ve seen them before in passing at other social events you have accompanied with Jungkook and, unbeknownst to you at the time, at the lounge when Jungkook and his friend had stumbled upon your talk with your manager. You come to learn that this same friend is Park Jimin, a wealthy man not much older than Jungkook himself, who is built upon old money and whose family owns a chain of successful global hotels and resorts. Jimin invites the pair of you to a day on his yacht out at sea with a few of his other closest friends.
The yacht itself is quite a spectacle, with three floors to it and a personal pool located on the deck, as well as a bar and a lounge area. You spend most of your time sipping on piña coladas and sunbathing in the glittering sun atop the deck, adorned in a Proenza Schouler black swimsuit and a wide-brimmed sun hat. Jungkook’s friends, you come to find, aren’t as insouciant as Jungkook himself but also aren’t as arrogant as the customers you have encountered at your work at the lounge back in Manhattan. Whatever the case, they are nice enough to invite you into their group and make certain you feel as welcome as you can. When Jimin decides to take the cabin cruiser for a spin around the sea, you stand at the bow of the deck, your hands clasped tightly on the back of your hat so as to keep it from flying away, and laugh spritely as Jimin speeds around in wide circles with the sea’s mist dusting across your face.
At some point, the cabin cruiser comes to a halt, softly rocking against the gentle current of the sea. Jimin is the first one to jump into the water, followed by yourself, and a few other of their friends. When Jungkook joins you in the shimmering ethereal blue waters, the smile on your face is irreplaceable and one that makes a similar grin form on his face. The cool water is a relief against your skin which had, up until that point, been warm with the sticky heat of the day. Jungkook is by your side in an instant, just a short distance away from the cruiser and his other friends. By the time he joins you, you’re positively beaming, bursting with joy, and entirely overwhelmed with appreciation for the kindness of Jungkook and the beauty of Italy.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asks humorously. Of course he doesn’t need an answer ━ not when you are so clearly content and at peace.
“Jungkook,” You sigh his name dreamily. “I’ve never been happier.”
He smiles gingerly. “I believe you.”
“I still don’t want you to think you’re making a mistake by spending all this money on someone like me,” You say.
He quirks a brow, examining your features as if to decipher your words, and squints past the sun.
“That’s still what you think?” he asks finally. “That I regret all the time we’ve been spending together? Because you’d be wrong. When I first asked you about all of this, I did it because I wanted to help you, because I like you. And all our time spent together since then… It’s been incredible.”
“You really mean that?” You ask timidly.
“Of course I do,” he says. “Look, when I’m with you, things feel different.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Good. Definitely good.”
You catch his gaze on you and, despite all the money and glory he has to his name, he looks at you unlike he has looked to anything else before. As if you’re worth far more than all the gold jewelry and diamonds and pretty coastal towns and designer clothes he has ever seen. As if you’re the whole world and more, right in front of him, under the glittering Italian sun. His eyes then flicker from yours, down to your lips, and you certainly don’t miss it. There’s a tiny voice in the back of your mind that begs you desperately to kiss him. Maybe he’s feeling the same way because, slowly, your faces inch towards one another.
He comes so close, in fact, that you can feel his breath fanning against your neck, can smell the sea’s salt on his skin and the faded scent of his cologne. You come so close to one another that it, perhaps, becomes a little too dangerous. Before anything can happen, Jimin is calling out to the two of you and you both instantly freeze. Jungkook laughs almost sheepishly and you can’t help but join in. Still, even as the day unfolds and you become distracted with every other beautiful detail of the Amalfi Coast, you can’t help but wonder what would have happened had you and Jungkook not been interrupted by Jimin.
And, by the end of the night when you’ve both tucked in for the night in the villa, the realization dawns on you that you, quite possibly, are falling in love with Jungkook.
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Just when you believe things are going impeccably well, the bitterness of reality finally seems to settle in.
A few weeks after your stay in Italy, Jimin invites both Jungkook and you to a party he is hosting at his family hotel in Seoul. Most of the night unfurls smoothly, with you adorned magnificently in a cream-coloured Alexander Wang slip dress and Jungkook in a Saint Laurent dress shirt, lounging by the bar near the lobby of the hotel and sipping on martinis. Jimin’s hotel is full of a type of grandeur that resembles a palace with its elegant ornate decorations and ebony wood carvings. Seoul itself is as spectacular as ever, the metropolis towering around you and all illuminated by the city’s lights. Yet all of this and Jungkook still focuses only on you, his voice low and charming over the soft thump of music, and his eyes twinkling mischievously.
Some time during the night, Jimin begins chatting to you and Jungkook disappears. At first he is chatting to an old confidant but, when you turn to look at him the next time, you find him with another girl at the bar, seemingly flirting with her. Whatever the case, they appear to be rather cozy with one another, and though you know you have no warrant to be jealous, it still creeps upon you without warning and sabotages your night. You try to avert your attention, try to chat with Jungkook’s friends, and flirt with other rich entrepreneurs but nothing seems to distract you long enough ━ not until Jimin mentions something that grabs your attention.
“You know,” he muses pensively. He pauses to take a sip of his cognac and then says, “I’ll admit: I’m surprised you and Jungkook have lasted so long.”
“What do you mean?” You ask.
“Well, it’s not like you two are dating, right?” When you continue to stare up at Jimin with a dumbfounded expression, he continues. “The only reason Jungkook confronted you in the first place was because his parents were pissed at him. Something about him tarnishing their name by his ‘free’ lifestyle, if you will. They got mad at him and his rampaging bachelor ways, having flings with random strangers every other weekend in a foreign city. His parents are really stuck in their old-school mentality; they just don’t want Jungkook to drag the wrong kind of people into the family money and business. They would have even gone so far as to kick him from being CEO of their company.”
“They what?”
“Oh, yeah,” Jimin says. “Didn’t he tell you? That’s partly what the charity gala is for. His father doesn’t think Jungkook will be able to settle down anytime soon. He’s been under a lot of scrutiny. Jungkook was considerably worried there for a moment; I’ve never seen him like that before. I suggested he fall from the limelight for a bit but he thought he could fix all of this. I guess that’s where you came in. I didn’t think Jungkook would last long constantly being tied down but he’s certainly proved me wrong.”
He chuckles then, as if this whole thing was quite amusing to him. Though you aren’t quite sure how to react. You knew Jungkook wanted you to be his date at important social events for good publicity, but it never dawned on you that he could only be using you for his own sake. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe Jungkook had simply forgotten to tell you, but that just felt as if you are uselessly grasping at excuses. Either way, it slowly begins to dawn on you the whole ordeal of your relationship with Jungkook and, suddenly, you feel used.
You tell yourself Jimin’s words shouldn’t have meant anything anyway because it’s not as if you and Jungkook are dating but you can’t deny the fact that they leave a lasting impression on you. But that’s how it had all started, hadn’t it? Or maybe not. Jungkook had approached you on the basis of needing your company, but he had made it sound so simple ━ as if it was you who needed the help. And you can’t deny the hope you had felt building within you. Had everything Jungkook said to you been a lie? Every pretty word, telling you how great he had claimed it felt to be with you? Jimin’s words all culminate in one prominent thought which is that maybe Jungkook only really needed you long enough for the charity ball, simply so he could earn back his father’s trust and secure his spot in the company.
Whether it was one too many martinis or strawberry daiquiris or the lavish designer dress that suddenly feels too constricting on your body or the way Jungkook was so carelessly flirting with another girl, much like he had done before in Paris and even in Italy, you need to escape. Everything just seems so suffocating and ridiculous. But moreover, you are reminded by the sobering fact that this lifestyle you have suddenly surrounded yourself with is one you have mocked before. It’s one you have claimed you would never have the privilege of understanding, one that you never really yearned to be a part of if it was anything like the wealthy folk who inhabited the bar lounge you work at.
So, you decide to leave.
You aren’t quite certain your abrupt decision will do any good but suddenly all you crave is the comfort of your own home, however much it may pale in comparison to villas in Italy and luxurious hotels in Seoul. You don’t bother telling Jungkook. Instead, you send him a single text that warns him of your departure and inform Jimin who, in his drunken bliss, may or may not remember to tell Jungkook.
And somehow, after you are able to secure a flight back to New York within a few hours and are seated aboard the plane, you’re able to convince yourself that maybe Jungkook wouldn’t miss you anyway.
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Out of your own stubborn will, you begin to ignore Jungkook.
The day after you return to New York, you are greeted by a voicemail from Jungkook who asks curiously why you left. Then, when you don’t respond to that, he decides to send you various texts throughout the week that continue to ask if anything happened, if you’re doing okay, if you’re mad at him. At some point he sends you a text asking if you can come to his place and you decide to respond with a short and cold text simply saying you’re too busy. You don’t know exactly what you expect from pushing Jungkook away. Maybe you had imagined he would forget you altogether and you could casually slip back into the real world that you had lived before meeting Jungkook. Of course that isn’t the case. Jungkook knows something is wrong; he knows that you’re angry but he has no means of knowing why you’re mad at him. Yet he refuses to stop trying to contact you.
It starts with a grand bouquet of saffron crocuses surrounded by Casablanca lilies and gardenias. It first appears at the bar lounge, a massive and beautiful arrangement of flowers encased in a crystal clear vase taking up most of the space of the bar counter which doesn’t exactly please Namjoon. A single card is tucked amongst the petals of the flowers, your name printed in pretty script. It doesn’t say who it’s from but you don’t need to know the name to understand. You decide to leave it at the bar, much to Namjoon’s dismay. The next week, you answer a knock at your door and are greeted to a personal delivery of a small neatly wrapped package that is revealed to be a rose gold Cartier bracelet encrusted with diamonds. You tell the delivery man at the door to return it. The week after that, you answer the front door once more and come face to face with delivery men placing a dozen bouquets of red roses around your apartment. This time you are forced to keep them, and stare at them distantly as they overwhelm your small kitchen in a wild secret garden.
The same week of the gift of the plethora of roses is also the same week of Jungkook’s charity gala. You try to convince yourself to stay home but you can’t not go. Even if Jungkook was possibly using you to his own benefit, it would be a shame if your missing self was indirectly one of the factors that caused Jungkook’s father to change his mind. Besides, it is the least you can do for the man after he had showered you with attention and materialistic pleasure, even if none of it really mattered to him. Your invitation to the gala still stands, that much you know, and the dress Jungkook had bought for you weeks ago is still hanging on the back of your bedroom door. It is a long, A-line Zuhair Murad gown with a plunging neckline, and the tulle and fabric of which is made of a light blush colour. It’s encrusted with sparkling swarovskis where they cluster mostly at the bodice and then trail along the rest of the skirt like falling stars. It’s a breathtaking, elegant piece, and you tell yourself that it is the sole reason why you ultimately decide to go to the gala because it really would be a shame to never wear the dress out.
When you finally do arrive at the gala, it is at Pier 15 in Lower Manhattan. The party itself is on a grand luxury yacht and the duration of the gala is meant to take place sailing around the harbor once night has fallen. As it rests docked by the pier, the yacht is already crowded with various elites and socialites and certain celebrities as the stragglers still trickle in. The party is well on its way, with the guests mingling with one another, enjoying hor d’oeuvres and champagne out of crystal flute glasses, as a live band, somewhere, plays smooth jazz music. You spot Jungkook before he notices you, looking handsome in another Armani suit, standing at the front of the bow of the deck and greeting newcomers. Beside him stands an older woman and man dressed impeccably, both of whom share a striking resemblance to Jungkook. Though you have never met them before, you assume they are his parents. You approach them shyly, with your back straight and your head held high. Jungkook notices you first and his eyes widen in surprise, his jaw unhinging open (partly because it feels as if he hasn’t seen you in months, but mostly because of how divine you look).
“Y/N!” Your name slips past Jungkook’s mouth in an exclamation before he can bite it back. He moves forward as if preparing to walk up to you but he has to hold himself back. He doesn’t miss the way you desperately try to avoid his stare, or the way you stand rigidly beside him.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” You apologize, though you say it mostly for the act you are putting on for his parents. “I got caught up at work and the traffic was horrid.”
“Oh, that’s certainly alright,” The woman says brightly. “You must be Y/N.”
“We’ve heard plenty about you from our son,” The man chuckles to himself. “I was wondering when we would have the pleasure of meeting you.”
Jungkook, who is still in a state of shock, opens and clamps his mouth shut repeatedly, frantically trying to grasp onto a proper train of thought. Eventually, he snaps from his daze and nods towards you. For the sake of the act, he places his hand on your back between your shoulder blades rather than the small of your back he had grown quite acquainted with.
“Mom, dad, meet Y/N,” he introduces. “Y/N, meet my parents.”
You shake their hands in a firm grip and nod politely, tight-lipped, when they introduce their names to you. Soon after, when the sun has dipped below the horizon, the boat takes off on its slow journey around the harbor and the party begins. While Jungkook mingles with his guests, you saunter off to the bar where you concede you will be spending most of your night. A few of Jungkook’s friends are there whom you remember from Italy and so you chat with them if only to pass the time. Fortunately Jungkook is much too busy to find a moment to come up to you. In fact, the only time you are around Jungkook is when he begins his speech to the partygoers at the gala on the deck of the ship. A handful of hours later, the boat docks by the pier once more and, while the party continues to unfurl within the yacht, you decide to venture home.
You have only made it off the yacht and onto the pier when you are forced to come to an abrupt halt. Because there, rushing off the ramp connected to the deck, and hopping down onto the pier in a hurry to catch you with a call of your name, is Jungkook. Truthfully, you had been hoping to escape the party without him noticing; meanwhile, Jungkook, who had been subject to a dull conversation about stocks with an old business partner of his father’s, was hoping he would find you once he managed to break free from the party. Yet now that he has you within his grasps, his words fall short. He stares at you curiously, perhaps a little confused as his brows knit together at the sight of you. There’s a dozen things he wants to ask you, and a dozen more things he wants to tell you, but he can’t.
Instead, he asks, “Where are you going?”
“Home,” You reply. Behind Jungkook, the ensuing party can be heard ━ an amass of sound ranging from regal laughter to soft music. Behind you, and out towards the city, you can hear the sound of passing citizens and tourists, the whizzing of cars and the wailing of a siren. “You don’t need me anymore. Your parents are gone. They looked pleased. You can clearly go have fun now. Maybe go back to that girl who was eyeing you at the bar.”
Jungkook, staring at you with a dumbfounded expression, asks the first thing that pops into his mind that seems the most logical. “Have you been drinking?”
You simply shake your head, though Jungkook has an unnerving feeling that it is more of an act of scrutiny towards him and not an answer to his question. It’s Jungkook’s fault anyway; he wants to talk to you, but he can’t seem to formulate his thoughts into words.
“Just go back to the party, Jungkook,” You sigh.
“I don’t want to,” he says with a frown. He takes a step towards you and pauses. “I want to stay with you.”
When you don’t respond, he pushes himself forward once more. He doesn’t stop until he is standing right before you, where he so very carefully takes your right hand in his. It’s a small action but it’s enough to make your heart swoon. He glances up, makes sure he catches your wandering stare with his.
“Come home with me,” he says. “Whatever’s happening… We can talk it out. Don’t you want to?”
You do. You want to tell him the truth but your stubborn mind warns you to be wary and the small fact that you feel as if you can’t trust Jungkook anymore is enough to make you wince. Perhaps he can sense your hesitation, or notices the way you flinch because he squeezes your hand just enough. And maybe it’s the way his deep carob eyes pour deeply into yours, or the proximity between your two beating hearts, or the way he holds your hand that makes you cave. You tell yourself, much like you had at the start of all this, that just once more wouldn’t hurt. That maybe he’ll finally answer all your questions or that maybe you’ll learn to forget everything you had heard and let Jungkook spoil you with riches.
So, when you nod your confirmation to Jungkook, you not only startle him, but yourself too. He abandons his dwindling party on the fancy yacht for you. He calls for a chauffeur and drives with you in a tense silence back to his home. The perverse silence follows you even as you clamber out of the car, into the apartment’s lobby, and during the elevator ride to the penthouse. When you finally make it to his home, you are disappointed to feel nothing. You don’t know how long you’re in his apartment for, though it really isn’t for that long.
You’ve kicked off your heels and have wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room just as he’s shed his suit jacket and tossed it somewhere on one of the couches. He asks if you want something to drink ━ such a mundane question for your relationship with Jungkook, but what else could he ask you at a time like this? He just wants to know what has been plaguing your mind long enough to drive yourself away from him ━ but you only shake your head. Your arms are wound protectively over your chest and, as you eye the illuminated city down below, you are overcome with the feeling of shame and embarrassment. And all because of one sole thought that reminds you: you don’t belong here. Here in this luxurious dress, here in this luxurious penthouse, here with such a luxurious man.
As if that is the cataclystic thought you need, you turn around on one pointed heel and shake your head. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come here tonight. This was a mistake.”
You’re halfway to the door when Jungkook stops you by speaking up.
“Do you mean coming here tonight was a mistake?” he asks. “Or are you really trying to tell me that you think we’re a mistake?”
“There isn’t even a we,” You retort. When you turn to face him, his brows are pinched together in a scowl.
“What has been up with you lately?” he asks. Though his words may sound hostile, his voice is a gentle plea. “You’re mad, aren’t you? Well, what did I do?”
When you don’t respond, he decides to continue on.
“Didn’t you get my gifts?” he asks. “They were the only way I could reach you to apologize. Did you not like them? Because if that’s the case, just say the word, and I’ll buy you anything you want. Just━”
“That’s not it, Jungkook.”
“Then what is it?” His words are a little more vexed than usual. When he realizes this, he pauses and takes a deep breath. Then, running a hand through his perfectly parted hair, he continues on. “I can’t know what the problem is when you won’t tell me what’s bothering you ━ when you keep pushing me away. But I’m trying my hardest to please you. I just need you to talk to me.”
“So you thought the gifts would work?” You ask. When your eyes settle on him, they’re narrowed into a glare. “Did you━ what? Think you could just buy my attention back? Or buy my love? I’m sorry if it came across that way but I’m not another one of your cheap fucks. I’m not going to come crawling back to you just for your money. I just━ I’ve had enough of all of this! It’s so stupid! I feel so ridiculous.”
You raise your hands in the air in a sign of defeat, though really you are bitterly gesturing to the pretty dress adorning your curves and sigh. Cautiously, Jungkook takes another step towards you. “Y/N, please just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Did you even really care about me?”
The question is so abrupt that it catches him off guard. He takes a moment to respond, noting the way you wrap your arms protectively over your chest.
“What are you talking about?” he asks wearily.
“This whole deal between us,” You say. “You just needed a perfect cover so you could impress your parents, right? Secure your spot as CEO so you wouldn’t lose all your money? And might as well get some bonus points for deciding to ‘settle’ down with a poor girl while you’re at it, right? Was that all that I was to you? A cover and the charity case?”
You assume by the way his eyes widen with apprehension and the way his lips are pulled in a thin line that you must be right. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, his words stammering in his mind.
“How did you know?” he asks.
“So it’s true?” You ask sourly.
“No. I mean, yes. It’s half true,” he says. Then he shakes his head sullenly. “It was Jimin who told you, wasn’t it?”
“What does it matter?” You retort. “The point is, I’m right. You were just using me the whole time. I bet, on all these fancy excursions you took me on, you and your friends would laugh about it and me. You know, I knew you were rich but I didn’t take you for an asshole too.”
“No!” he exhales sharply, as if he has just felt a horrendous pang of pain in his chest. “I mean, you’re right about my parents and about the CEO position, but everything else is wrong.”
Clearly, you don’t look amused. Your patience is wearing thin, and the way you stare up at him as if he is some stranger altogether makes his chest and throat swell.
“I made a mistake. I’m sorry, okay? I should have told you from the beginning,” he sighs. “They were mad at me ━ my parents. They thought I wasn’t taking the position as CEO seriously enough and they would have taken it away from me. But it wasn’t the fear of losing the money that made me feel ashamed of it all. It was the fact that I had disappointed my parents, and I wanted to make things right. I wanted to show them I was responsible enough to take on the company. I wanted them to trust me.”
“So you had to use me?”
“No!” he shakes his head furiously. “Look… All the business dinners and social events I took you to over these past few months ━ I’d have gone to them all even if you weren’t by my side. The first dinner in Paris I took you to ━ I told you I needed a date to impress those associates and it worked. My parents heard about how well it went and they kept praising you, even though they hadn’t met you. For once they didn’t look so disappointed with me. Having you by my side was just a plus. I wasn’t really using you; you just came at the right time so we could both benefit from this deal between us. But when I first approached you at the lounge, it wasn’t about all of this. It was about you. Because I had seen you there before and because I overheard how you were scared you would get kicked out of your apartment. I wanted to help you because I like you, not because I thought you were a charity case or whatever you think it was. It was because I genuinely wanted to get closer to you. And what I said to you in Italy? I meant it. I meant everything.”
You’re gnawing on your lower lip anxiously, watching him carefully. You haven’t realized that he has slowly been inching closer to you until then. You ask quietly, maybe a little tiredly, “But what do I really mean to you, Jungkook? Pretty words mean one thing but… It’s just been months since this whole thing started and nothing’s ever happened between us and I always see you with pretty girls but I can’t be the only one feeling different. I mean, even in Italy ━ you can’t tell me we weren’t going to kiss but then you turned away and━”
You’re cut off abruptly with a kiss on your mouth, his mouth silencing your own mouth with an unbreakable seam of your lips. It catches you completely off guard but it reminds you so suddenly of all your harbored feelings towards him. The kiss is hard, fast, feverish and it happens all at once that you barely have time to register anything else before you’re parting from with him a loud pop! of your lips. You’re gawking up at him with wide eyes and an ajar mouth, lips swollen red, and breathing fast when a sudden realization dawns on you. All the magic you had felt in Paris and Italy, the dreamlike state of mind you had endured these past few months ━ most of it had been because of Jungkook. Because when you’re around Jungkook, no matter the lavish place or foreign city or pretty beach, everything feels, simply, like magic. Jungkook’s reaction is similar to yours but then it softens into something more cordial. His eyes sweep over your face softly and his hand comes up to rest gingerly upon your cheek.
“You mean the world to me,” he whispers. “And I mean that. I haven’t felt this different in such a long time. These past few months that we’ve spent together, whether it being at boring dinner parties or walking Gureum or having a movie night, it’s meant so much to me. You mean so much to me. No one else matters. No one else compares to you. Fancy cars and Italy and Paris can’t even compare to you. And I’ve never felt so━ so me and so comfortable than when I’m around you. I’m just so thankful you even gave me a chance in the first place━”
This time it is you who silences him again with another short kiss, his words exciting you all too suddenly that you think you aren’t possibly able to contain it. You part from him moments later only to mumble against his lips, “Keep kissing me, please.”
It earns a soft chuckle against your lips but Jungkook doesn’t relent. How can he ever deny such an idea when the taste of your lips is so heavenly? The soft flesh of your upper lip wedged so perfectly between his teeth, the way you sigh with delight against his mouth as the kiss progresses, the way the touch and feel of your lips ignites something so foreign, so lovely, in the very core of his heart, in his bones, exploding with each passing second behind his shut eyelids and at the tips of his fingers. He enjoys it too much to find any reason to stop and, instantaneously, his insatiable hunger for you is coming to light. His eager lips part from yours to nip and suck at your jawline and neck and it earns a beautiful gasp from you, your hands flying out to grasp onto his biceps.
“Let me take care of you tonight, baby girl,” he hums. “It’ll be all about you. I’ll show you just how much you mean to me.”
It’s the way he is whispering his words, deep and husky, that sends shivers down your spine. You curl into his chest instinctively and crane your neck, as if silently begging him for more. You can feel his lips ghost along your jugular as you try to speak next and it is enough to make you flustered and, thus, makes you give up on any attempt to communicate verbally without sounding like a fool. Instead, as if to show him your interest, you catch his lips with yours once more and kiss him eagerly. It makes Jungkook smile and suppress his chuckles as he sees just how desperate you are and, fuck, he finds it incredibly hot. In the next moment, you’re burrowing your face into his neck, your tongue laving circles at his jugular.
“Just as long as you get me out of this stupid dress,” You mumble against his throat.
“Gladly.”
He laughs lightly and you can’t help the giggle that bubbles at your lips. He grabs onto your waist then and pushes you around until he has your back pressed up against the nearest wall. He leans in against you and replaces your efforts by littering love bites along your neck and down to your collarbone. Your breath hitches in your throat and your hand immediately comes up to allow your fingers to thread in his hair and grasp at something, anything. You’re bristling with excitement as you hold your head higher, lips curling into a smirk. He hums into your neck and then he’s greedily reaching for the zipper of your dress, tugging it down.
As soon as he has the dress unzipped, he watches as you begin to shimmy your way out of the material, tugging it down your torso and then legs and Jungkook makes sure he doesn’t miss one single second of it or the white lace underwear you wear, the perfect perk of your breasts bare. It’s then that Jungkook realizes this isn’t all an elaborate dream in his head; that this is real life, and that you’re opening yourself up completely to him. As soon as you’re stepping out of the dress, Jungkook can’t help but reach out to grab onto your hips and yank you toward him, sighing into your hair, “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice the way your own hands snake up his chest to pop open the first few buttons of his dress shirt. Instead, he is much too busy on peppering kisses along your neck and shoulders, down to your collarbones, and back up again, marking you red and purple. It’s then that he starts pulling you with him as he takes quick yet careful strides backwards to the flight of stairs. It’s messy and frantic and results in a lot of time spent pressed up against walls and the railing of the stairs along the way to the second floor, greedy hands and lips unwilling to part from one another. By the time you’ve made it to his bedroom, you’ve somehow managed to unbutton his entire shirt which now hangs open against his chest and your hands selfishly run up and down his exposed skin. Once in his bedroom, he shoves you up against one of the ceiling-to-floor windows that line the wall facing his bed, his lips still attached to your neck, and one of your legs thrown haphazardly around his hips, pressing him into you.
You can feel the bulge in his pants and his restrained member poking against your inner thigh and it is what pushes you to give an experimental roll of your hips against his. A rather loud moan falls from your lips at the abrupt contact against your throbbing core and suddenly you need more. You catch his lips on yours and he decides to take the liberty of grinding against you in such agonizing slow circles that it has both of you going absolutely insane but you want to take the time to enjoy every single second of this. His hands grasp at your hips, pushing you further and further up against the window. When he parts from you in the next moment, it is with a fleeting sweep of his hungry gaze down the front of your body, his fingertips dancing faintly along your arms and sides.
He presses one last lingering kiss to your lips and then leaves a trail down your throat, between the valley of your breasts (which he gluttonously grasps at, his thumb swiping over one of your perked bugs), and to your navel. He’s on his knees by the time he’s hovering over your hips, and the leg that had been carelessly wound around his waist now rests upon his shoulder. He plants a kiss on the skin just between your hip bones, just above your panties, and surely he understands your need. His seemingly unencumbered expression is maddening. His fingers dig into your hips and hours seem to pass as you wait for him to touch the one place he neglects. A needy whimper falls from your parted lips that sounds akin to a desperate beg of, “Please, Jungkook. I need you.”
“Shh, baby girl, have patience,” he rasps. “I’m going to treat you just right.”
His promise rouses you and makes you stifle your childlike whines, though your patience is beginning to wear thin. His fingers hook around the lace material of your panties and he slowly drags them down your legs, enjoying the way you bite down on your lower lip in anticipation and watch him with hooded eyes. His eyes take in your soft glistening cunt and he sighs in admiration. Then his tongue makes contact with your clit and a small squeak rips from your throat, your hips immediately bucking forward. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, and if anything moans in delight at the taste of your cum on his tongue. He runs the wet muscle down your folds and back up, swirling slow circles against your bundle of nerves, feeling just how wet you are for him, tasting just how wet you are, and the new sensation hits you all at once, leaving your jaw hanging open. He smirks at your reaction, his tongue continuing its ministration as you’re certain he can feel your arousal grow.
“Jungkook,” You sigh, your hands twisting in his hair. “Ah, th━that feels so good━ Oh!”
The sudden gasp that tears from your throat is a result of his finger pressing against your folds. He runs his digit along your skin, coaxing it perfectly in your sticky succulence that sends a sudden shock of euphoria spiralling all over your body. As he busies himself with swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit, his lips suction perfectly around the skin and he sucks, hard, and his finger slides past your slick folds, earning a cry of delight from you. His finger curls within you and begins pumping in and out of you at a gradual pace but it, mixed with his tongue pressed against your clit, is enough to send you whirling out of control. Your legs are suddenly shaking and, had your leg not been supported by his shoulder, you fear that your knees may have buckled under the pressure
“Ah, Jungkook!” You gasp in a trembling breath. “F━Fuck, nghn━”
The sound is simply divine and Jungkook selfishly wants to hear more. He basks in the way you clench around him, the way you whimper and writhe. Soon he is picking up pace, pumping his finger in you with a reckless abandon and sucking hard at your clit, and it’s almost shameless how fast your sweet release hits you. You’re tumbling over the edge soon after, hips bucking back and forth into his mouth as you chase after your high. Jungkook joins his tongue with his fingers and starts lapping at your walls like he’s eating a full course meal and the new sensation suddenly has you howling.
“Jungkook!” You cry. “Jungkook, I’m━”
You hear him, feel him, hum against your core before it turns into a beautiful moan. He burrows deeper into you, his nose brushing against your clit, eager to carry you to your high, and he does so with ease. As soon as you feel your high rapidly approaching, you let go of all sense of control and welcome it with wide open arms. You’re hit with waves of intense pleasure as you release onto Jungkook’s tongue and finger and, fuck, the sight is even hotter than he could have imagined. He hurries to help you ride out your high, gasps and moans ripping from your throat in a messy cacophony, your hips writhing beneath him. He relents at once when you start to whimper at the oversensitivity and pulls apart, glancing up at you with a glistening mouth, his lips and chin coated with you. He licks at every inch of his face that is shimmering and moans in content.
“Fuck, you taste amazing,” he gasps, his eyes flickering up your dishevelled appearance.
You’re breathing hard, chest rising and falling, and your teeth have bitten down so hard on your lower lip that the flesh is almost swollen. He leans down once more to kiss the inside of your thigh gently and looks up at you through his long lashes. You’re still gasping for air when your hands start tugging at him, trying desperately to pull him back up to you, and he allows you to. When his face is hovering right above yours, you smash your lips hungrily against his for a messy and heated kiss. He grins against your mouth, seemingly enjoying the way you’re biting at his lips, tasting your own cum on the tip of his tongue.
“Tell me what you need from me,” he whispers between your kisses. “What do you want?”
“You,” You gasp. “All of you, fuck. I need you so bad. I’m so wet for you right now; I need you to fuck me.”
His grin shifts into a sly smirk as he hears your pleading whines and he kisses you harder. “Anything for you, baby girl.”
He lets you tackle his neck with harsh kisses and lets your digits trace down his torso to the belt on his pants. You’ve only so much as pushed his pants and boxers down his thighs when both of you grow impatient. His cock pulses, tip angry and red and leaking with milky pre-cum, and you lick your lips at the sight, unable to contain yourself. Your hands reach for his length instantly, fingers brushing against his tip before wrapping firmly around his base. His breath hitches in his throat as you start pumping him, gliding your hand slowly up and down his length, your eyes fixated only on him.
“Fuck,” he grunts abruptly. “Baby girl━”
He pauses and hisses through clenched teeth as you continue. He doesn’t at all expect you to start pleasuring him but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he is carried away as you continue to work your hands against him, jerking him off in just the right pace that he isn’t able to hold himself back. He would have been fine coming right in your perfect hands but he needs more first before he is able to let himself fully go. He struggles to find his words as you begin to quicken your pace, sputtering for air helplessly. He squeezes his eyes shut, gulping hard and trying to focus his attention away from the exaltation he’s receiving.
“Ah, s━slow down, angel,” he breathes. It nearly pains him to pry your hands off of him and when you look at him with those innocent puppy dog eyes, he has to refrain from letting go right then and there.
“What’s wrong?” You ask. “I thought you were enjoying that.”
“No━ I mean, fuck, yes, I was,” he stammers. “But I’m trying not to come undone before I’m filling you up. Fuck, I just need to be in you right now.”
“Then fuck me,” You say boldly. “I’m all yours.”
The words seem to spark a glint in his eyes that entices him to move next. One hand grips at your thigh and lifts it onto his waist, while his other hand pumps himself slowly. Your mewls of euphoria hit his ears in a ringing melody and he waits, patiently, watching as you quiver beneath him, moaning once more. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you’re held in suspense, waiting for the heavenly contact. When it happens, when you finally feel the tip of his cock push past your folds, your jaw drops open in a silent gap. He pauses then, grunting and hissing as he adjusts to your warmth, before he’s pushing himself into you once more, slowly. He’s perfectly thick, fitting snugly in your core, letting you feel him stretch you open inch by glorious inch. It’s too much for you to handle now, and you can’t help the moan that escapes you.
“Fuck,” You whimper, head lolling back against the windowpane. “Fuck━ I━ I━”
“You’re so wet,” Jungkook grunts. “Shit, you feel amazing.”
You whimper in response and he pushes himself into you the rest of the way until he’s finally buried hilt deep within you. He pauses again, letting you both adjust to the newfound sensation.  He almost collapses against you as he pushes himself deeper into you, grinding against you in slow motions that have your head spinning. He pulls back after a while in one languid stride until only his tip is left buried in your folds before thrusting back into you with enough force to send you tottering forward. He adapts a leisurely pace of thrusting in and out of you so that you can feel him stretch you open all the way until it feels like he’s in the very back of your throat before pulling out and it drives you mad. As your arms wrap around his neck, one of his hands digs into your hips, and the other dances up the front of your chest. It first grasps at one of your breasts, his warm palm wrapping so perfectly around it, before his fingers stretch out amongst your neck.
Favouring a more suitable position, Jungkook comes to one stimulating halt when he thrusts up into you one final time. Momentarily you’re taken from your reverie when he pulls his dripping cock from your folds. Instead, he turns you around and you so easily oblige. He yanks your hips towards him, your ass pressing up firmly against his hips, and then he pushes himself into you once more. Your hands brace yourself as you plant them firmly on the window before you. From this angle, you can see the dazzling lights of the city, and though you know it isn’t possible from this high up, you wonder if any passersby far down below on the streets can see you and Jungkook in such a lewd setting. This time, his pace is fast and precise, his hips angling just right to thrust his cock into you in just the right spot.
“Fuck, baby girl,” he rasps. “Moan for me. Let me hear you.”
There is an internal battle to find your voice, being condemned silent due to the ecstasy that clouds your mind and blocks you from thinking or saying anything reasonable. You swallow hard, all senses focused on the way he’s thrusting into you, picking up speed, the sound of skin against skin and vulgar wet slaps each time he sinks deeper into you. The only way you can describe it is akin to feeling your head being set ablaze and sending it’s flickering flames all over your body and make the dazzling lights of the city blur in with the stars. When he thrusts into you the next time, he is suddenly hitting an angle that has something erupting in you and has you plummeting forward, jaw ripping open. You cry out as you flail forward, your hands slipping from their hold against the window.
“A━Ah, f━fuck,” You hiss. “Jungkook! J━Jungkook━ I’m━”
Your voice is drowned out by another loud moan and the sound is so angelic, so clear, that Jungkook yearns to hear more. He pulls your waist closer to him because there is no way you can find the strength to prop yourself up any longer when it just feels so amazing. His movements become more erratic, messy as he fumbles for your high and his. His warm fingers continue to tug at your ass, your waist, anything to hold you closer to him. But soon even he can’t hold himself together. With the way you clench so tightly around him, he begins sputtering for air. Soon, he has you pressed shamelessly all the way against the window, your cheek laying flat against the cool glass, and his own chest lays taut against your back. His self-indulgent hands snake around your front and push apart your thighs so that he can rub the heel of his palm against your clit. That, mixed with his teeth sinking absentmindedly into your shoulder, and the feeling of his twitching cock buried deep within your core is enough to have you a moaning and whimpering mess.
When he pulls out of you this time, it is to pull you back towards the king-sized bed. In the process, you help him kick off the stubborn remaining material of his pants. He’s only managed to make it as far being seated at the edge of the bed, with you straddling his hips and sitting prettily in his lap, when you eagerly reach down to run his length along your folds. Jungkook is too caught up in the pleasure to even bother to stop you, watching as you grip his shoulders tightly, and ride him in his lap with a reckless abandon. Your actions are desperate, eager. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tightly against him, and all you can hear is the vulgar wet sound of his length slipping in and out. It’s disorganized, frantic, desperate, hot, as both of you chase your highs. It hits you first after already being spent from your first orgasm, as if you had just ran straight into a brick wall, and has you completely unprepared. It starts at your core and sparks outward, like electricity flowing through your veins and bones. Your stomach unravels at the feeling, your core tightening around his length and the tight confinement has Jungkook moaning and wheezing for air.
“Jungkook!” You cry. “Fuck!”
You reach your high moments later, coming around his length and coating every inch of him in your sweet release as it leaks out of you, chanting his name over and over again in a beautiful mantra that he finds himself indulging in. The way your high overwhelms your senses has you seeing stars, your head spinning, as your body writhes in his ironclad hold. Jungkook nearly collapses against you at the feeling of your kegel muscles flexing around him, his hands pawing at your back in an attempt to keep a hold on reality. It’s the way your orgasm seems to hit you that has your core pulsating around him, even as you try to come down from your high only to feel the pleasurable ache that is his hard cock buried deep within you. He pulls out then, far too quickly for your liking, but he fumbles to gingerly push you over and you follow suit until you’re laying on your back. He takes no time to position himself back over his entrance, kneeling between your legs, and pushes himself into you once more with a wet squelch. You’re met with a feeling of oversensitivity, but you buck your hips forward, probing him to his release.
“Ah, Jungkook,” You whimper. “Mmm, come for me, baby.”
Your indigent hands tug at his arms, his torso, anything in your reach to have him closer to you and he happily obliges, propping himself up with his elbows. He combs your hair away from your face and kisses your lips tenderly. He pulls his length out of you only to slam his hips back in and rattling you to the bone. You squeak involuntarily, your mouth peppering his jawline and neck with love bites. His thrusts are still quick, desperate almost, as he lusts for his release. The tenderness in your core met with his hard pumps have you sinking your teeth down into his shoulder and he hisses. His hand finds your chin then and he delicately pulls you apart from him before making you face him.
“Keep looking at me, baby girl, okay?” he rasps before cursing under his breath.
You nod meekly, finding solace in gnawing on your lower lip as your eyes make contact with his. The sight has Jungkook nearly coming then and there and how can he not when your hooded eyes are fixated on him, sleepy and innocent, completely fucked out, and you’re sucking hard on your lip. Jungkook has a similar look of exhaustion painted on his face, his eyebrows scrunched together in hard concentration and his lips parting ever so slightly for you to see his gritting teeth. Beads of sweat form on his forehead and yours and suddenly the room is stifling hot, warming your face and body completely. Soon, the oversensitivity you feel soothes into something softer, more pleasurable, and it doesn’t affect you nearly as much. You jut your hips forward then, urging him on and he moans.
“Y/N━ Oh, shit━”
A whimper falls from Jungkook’s lips and it’s so surprising, so hot, that you nearly come again. He’s picking up his pace, snapping his hips messily into yours. He comes only moments later, finally reaching his perfect bliss, and it has him plummeting his hips once more into yours before he’s releasing his hot sticky seed into you. The room is filled with both of your moans, mixed with his breathy groans of your name. His weight gives out beneath him and he falls on top of you though he rocks his hips into yours tiredly to ride out his high until he is finally at peace, boneless from within you. Once he has calmed down from his high, he slumps fully against your chest, his face buried in your collarbone, and the room finally goes silent.
All that fills the air is the sound of both of your wheezing pants and your shrilly beating heart that you are certain even Jungkook can hear. The room is warm, the smell of sex stale in the air, but there is a sheen of pure white elatedness that has you sighing in content. Your fingers rake through Jungkook’s sweaty hair and the silence, with the added warmth of his body laying over yours, almost lulls you to sleep. You’re drifting in and out of consciousness when Jungkook presses his lips to your collarbone and then lifts his head to kiss your own lips. Your eyes flicker open then and you find him smiling down at you and the sight is so radiating, so ardent, that you can’t help but mirror it tiredly. He pulls out of you then and you hiss at the sudden emptiness and the way his milky cum leaks out of you and down your thighs. He stands to his feet, tossing on his underwear, before leaning down to whisper, “I’ll be right back, baby girl, don’t worry.”
He disappears out the room but you don’t know where until he returns a minute later with a damp cloth in hand. He climbs the bed next to you and then he begins to gently wipe at your core with the cloth, making you hum in satisfaction. He finds you smiling at him when he finally looks back up at you and quirks a brow, tilting his head to the side.
“What?” he asks.
“Oh, nothing,” You chuckle lightly, though you’re certain he knows his gentle gestures have your heart bursting with joy. “Come here.”
He does as you say, reclining back on the bed and opening his arms to invite you in. You wiggle closer to his body until you’re pressed up against his side, your head nuzzling into his chest; his own arm wraps around your waist and his other hand lets his fingers run up and down your spine in comforting circles. That, and the sound of his gently thudding heart, is what carries you to sleep that night.
When you awake in the morning, it is to the coarse and wet tongue of Gureum lapping at your cheek. The shimmering sunlight drifts in through Jungkook’s shut blinds and dusts your body in a golden light and heat. It, and Gureum, rouses you back to reality and has you giggling sleepily as you see the small white dog perched up next to you on the bed. Your reach for him to scratch behind his ears as your eyes focus on Jungkook laying just beyond the dog. He’s already awake, gazing up at you with dreary eyes and a soft smile.
“Good morning,” You yawn.
“Morning,” he replies.
He kisses your forehead and you smile once more, folding into him as you hug Gureum close to you. It’s silent again after that and it feels so strange to have everything feel so normal. To be cuddling with Jungkook and his dog in his bed with him after a night of making love, and it is almost as if you were supposed to be there from the very beginning. It was comfortable, it was simple, it was easy ━ and you loved every single second of it. His hand finds yours and your fingers lace together flawlessly and you’re so content with falling back asleep that you nearly miss Jungkook when he speaks next.
“Do you remember what I said to you at the lounge when I first brought up this whole thing?” he asks.
It takes you a moment to think back to that day which seems so far away. His gaze is fixated on your clasped hands but you’re already staring at him.
“The rules?”
He nods slowly. “Do you remember how I said we shouldn’t fall in love?”
You can already sense where the conversation is going and it has your throat swelling, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes.”
Jungkook finally looks at you, his dark chocolate eyes locking with your own pupils. “Well,” he trails off. “I’m pretty sure I broke that rule because I’m falling in love with you.”
His confession startles you completely, hitting you all at once. You gasp in response, eyes widening in surprise, and you can only hope he isn’t able to hear the frantic beating of your heart.
“When did you break it?”
That is all you can muster, but it doesn’t seem to disappoint Jungkook. He smiles sheepishly, his eyes flickering up to the ceiling.
“Would you call me insane if I said that very night at the lounge?” he asks.
“No,” You reply, catching his attention once more. “Because I’m fairly certain that’s when I started falling for you, too.”
Jungkook’s face begins to light up and it is the first time you have seen him as happily genuine as he is there. His smile radiates the same warmth and glory of the sun and he watches you in a shimmering lovelight as you look away, face flushing, and fingers tracing patterns on his bare chest.
“Can we make another deal?” You ask faintly.
“Of course, anything,” he says.
“Can we━ Can we give us a try?” You inquire.
Jungkook laughs. “You didn’t have to ask. I thought it was already a given that we would give us a try after we said we both have feelings for each other.”
You smile again and look up at him. “But there’s more.”
“What is it, baby girl?”
“I just━” You pause and then push yourself over onto your stomach from beneath the soft sheets. Gureum skips over to the edge of the bed and sits at the very end of your feet. “I want to give us a try without your money getting in the way. I mean, I don’t need you ━ or want you ━ to pay for me to be by your side. I want this to be real and genuine.”
“Of course,” he complies. “This is just you and me now. But, that being said, I’m still obligated to spoil my baby girl rotten every now and then with gifts and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. You still deserve to be treated like a princess.”
You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at him. You kiss him once more, short and quick, and mumble against his lips a very faint, “Deal. But, on one condition.”
“Go on,” he hums.
“You let me take you out on a coffee date today and let me pay for the both of us this time with my own money,” You say.
Jungkook grins wide and nods enthusiastically. “That sounds perfect. Anything you want, I’ll do.”
You find it hard to look away from Jungkook after that, and you’re certain you find yourself falling even more in love with him then. His golden tan illuminates under the glittering sunlight and you want nothing more than to be in that moment forever where it is just you and Jungkook, Jungkook and you.
“First thing’s first, though,” Jungkook says at long last. “How about we start the morning off right with a round two from last night in the shower right now. What do you say?”
His proposition has you laughing so suddenly that it startles Gureum at the edge of the bed. You lean down again to kiss Jungkook’s irresistible lips. When you part, you catch his mischievous stare and his broad grin and mirror it.
“Well,” You say, “I have always said you like to spoil me rotten.”
“Well,” Jungkook echoes with a chuckle. He shrugs innocently as he speaks next, pressing a chilling kiss to your neck. “Only the best for my baby girl.”
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⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work. 
⟶ Feedback is always appreciated! 
5K notes · View notes
chateautae · 6 months ago
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maybe i do | kth. masterlist
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➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.
↳  part of the high-class series!
➵ pairing : taehyung x reader
➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst
➵ rating : 18+
➵ warnings : swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, mentions of confrontative violence (with other characters, not each other), lots of feels concerning forced marriage, a bad ex (reader’s), mentions of bad sexual experiences with ex (consensual, just bad sex), explicit sexual content, oral (m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex (chapters have their own warnings!)
➵ a/n : thank you so much for all the support on this series! i couldn’t be more grateful ♡
➵ playlist : sweet night by v! the lyrics fit this series perfectly 🥺
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↠  chapter one : “my forever’s falling down” (11k)
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↠  chapter two : “on my pillow, can’t get me tired”  (10k)
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↠  chapter three : “the window opened one time with you and me”  (17k)
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↠  chapter four : “feels like a river’s rushing through my mind”  (16k)
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↠  chapter five : “would it be alright, if i pulled you closer?”  (17k)
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↠  chapter six : “my heart is pounding tonight”  (25k)
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↠  chapter seven : “i’m wondering if you’d want me now”  (22k)
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↠  chapter eight : “i still hope the door is open”  (38k)
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↠  chapter nine : “i wanna ask you, if this is all just in my head?”  (32k)
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↠ [bonus!] chapter nine. five : “you are too good to be true” (6k)
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↠ chapter ten : “how could i know, one day i’d wake up feeling more?” (36k)
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 ↠ chapter eleven : “i’m wondering, are you my bestfriend?”  (34k)
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↠  chapter twelve : “sharing my fragile truth” (50k)
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↠  chapter thirteen : “i had already reached the shore” coming soon!
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↠  chapter fourteen : “we were ships in the night”
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↠  epilogue : “a sweet night” 
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faq : when do you update?
randomly! i used to produce a chapter every week or so, though with school and work things got busy :(  i do work on my updates everyday though ! i also get very active on my blog and inform everyone before a release, so you don’t have to worry 🥺
what’s the timeline of the mid!couple’s relationship?
what’s domestic/at home mid!tae like? 
what happened to the camera?
how are real-life taehyung and mid!taehyung alike?
what do mrs. choi and seo’s schedule look like?
what did mrs. choi and seo do during the events of chapter 8?
what was taehyung’s mindset during the events of chapter 7?
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extras : 
➵  announcement!
➵ the vote! how should chapter 10 be released?
➵ a poem from mid!tae 💌
3K notes · View notes
noteguk · 23 days ago
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white lies | jjk | m
— summary; in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you. 
— contents and warnings; smut, fluff, very minor angst, poor attempts at humor, athlete!jungkook x reader, childhood best friends, fake dating, idiots to lovers, far too many movie references, a tiny bit of jealousy, jk is a football/soccer player, mentions of alcohol and drugs, the catastrophic event that is a frat party, jk is kind of a himbo, so much sexual tension, mutual pining, a lot of touching, dirty talk, fingering, grinding, jk has a big dick, praise, body worship if you squint, unprotected sex (don’t.), pulling out, very mild possessiveness, mid-sex confessions, the L word…, Jungkook wants to fuck you in his team jacket because his tastes are very singular and you wouldn’t understand it 
— words; 13,3k
— author’s notes; I know what you’re thinking… and yes, every bad movie mentioned is real. Also, this is a self-aware cliche and 100% self indulgent. Have fun!
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When people first found out that you and Jungkook were friends, you received a very predictable, repetitive sequence of reactions.
First came disbelief. It was the most comprehensible one, at least from your perspective, taking into consideration that you and Jungkook were completely different people. He was loud (sometimes too loud) and outgoing, probably knew at least ninety percent of the campus population by name and city of origin. Jungkook was warm, friendly, the type of guy that you’d confess all your worries to if given enough time. You, on the other hand, was more on the “colder” side — you weren’t as inviting with strangers, and didn't mind going through moments of awkward silence. Jungkook was a talker and you were a listener; he was a daydreamer and you were a brute realist: maybe that was why your friendship worked so well. But most people couldn’t really get it. 
Second came the questions — the doubts, the sideway glances, even a few bitter comments if you were unlucky enough. Jungkook had kind of a reputation when it came to sleeping around, so most people jumped to the conclusion that either you were his favorite plaything (which might have been the most offensive thing you’ve ever heard) or that you were simply the rare one he had friendzoned because he didn’t want to fuck you (a big runner-up to that prize). Eventually, though, you settled their anguishes simply by saying that you knew each other ever since you were kids. 
Which took you to the final phase: relief and acceptance. The ones who saw you as a threat instantly relaxed, and the ones who couldn’t understand why he would “waste his time” with “someone like you” quickly understood that it was a deep, innocent connection that he was just “too sweet to let go.” Obviously, that didn’t make you feel any better. 
Truth was, it was kind of hard being friends with Jungkook. Mostly because the boy casted a light so strong that it was almost impossible not to stay in his shadow, but also because you always felt like you had to justify your existence every time he chose you instead of anyone else. You were the person he ran to hug once his team won; you were the one he ditched other people for, just to hang out with you. It made you insecure. And, yeah, there was also the fact that you had been madly in love with him for some time now, but that was unimportant. 
Well, until he asked you to be his (fake) girlfriend, that was. 
Jungkook, bless his heart, was never one of the brightest when it came to real-life situations. He could ace a test with no issue, but, when it came to reading the room, he was a lost cause — something a bit paradoxical when you realized how social he was, but, well, people probably thought his cluelessness was adorable. And that might also be the reason why he never caught onto your pathetic crush, but that was a different topic. 
“Why the fuck would I do something like that?” You munched on your chips, eyes flickering over the TV screen. The two of you had made the terrible decision to hatewatch all the bad shark-themed movies you could find, and now you were suffering the brain-smoothing consequences. “Sounds like the dumbest plan in the world. And I don’t understand what you’d get out of that.” 
He whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Jungkook had been trying to convince you for half a movie now, and he was running out of arguments. “I told you already,” he stressed, eyes locked to the white ceiling. With the living room completely immersed in shadows, the shades of blue and yellow from the television reflected off his face like a prism. “The boys have been teasing me because I could never hold a date.” 
“And? That’s your problem.” You looked at him, meeting his desperate stare. “And, honestly, why did you even lie about it? It’s true, you know it.” 
“You’re cruel.” Jungkook tugged the bag of chips off your hands, ignoring your complaints. “I have my reasons.” 
You laughed. “Yeah, what is it again? Waiting for the right person?” You teased, watching as his frown only deepened, his cheeks puffed out as he angrily chewed. “Come on, Cinderella, snap out of that fairy tale. Have you stopped to think how many nice girls you let go because of that stupid mindset?”
“It’s not stupid,” he murmured, clearly irritated. 
With a sigh, you shrugged. “Fine. It’s not.” You yanked the bag of chips away from him, slightly sad that it was almost finished. Unfortunately, your marathon had made you eat a lot more junk food than your body could probably handle, but that was a problem for the future you. Present you really wanted more chips. “I’m just bitter.” 
“We can agree on that.” He smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes that prepared you for the worst. “What was it that those guys called you in high school?”
You pointed at him. “Don’t,” you warned. 
But his smirk only grew, morphing into a full-blown (dazzling) smile. “Ice queen?” Jungkook tried. 
You rolled your eyes, sinking into the couch. “It’s a dumb nickname, shut up,” you groaned, trying to focus on the shitstorm that unreveled on the television. There was a priest trying to exorcise the ghost of a demon shark, and that was a thousand times more interesting than recalling the nightmare that was high school. “It got even worse when Frozen came out.” 
“Still gets to you, though.” Jungkook poked you on the shoulder, allowing himself one last laugh at your distress before striking once again. “So… wanna help me?” 
Yeah, like that would have magically changed, you thought. “I already said no.”
Jungkook leaned forward, pressing his forehead against his palms. He was in anguish, but you couldn’t feel that sorry when he had caused that himself. “But I already told them we were dating,” he whined, defeated. 
“Again, sounds like a you problem,” you said, throwing the empty bag of chips on the coffee table. “Just say that you panicked and made some shit up. Own up to it, you’re already a grown up.” 
Jungkook shook his head. “I can’t, they’ll never believe me again.” 
You sighed, crossing your arms. “Dragging this out won’t make it any better. You should tell them the truth,” you said, pausing for an instant. “Actually, I can’t see this ending well in, like, any possible scenario. Even Doctor Strange had better odds in Infinity War.” 
The fact that you liked Jungkook was the key point that he didn’t have access to, but that was very clear inside your head. Even in the best possible outcome, in which no one doubted a single thing and everything magically went back to normal, you’d still have to live with that weight inside your chest. Sounds pretty fucking painful to pretend to be someone’s girlfriend when you were almost considering selling your soul to turn that into a real situation. And then to be done with it like it wasn’t nothing more than a business transaction, or a platonic favor for a good friend... that would just suck, to put it lightly. 
Sadly, Jungkook wouldn’t give up so easily. “What if we, like, only do it tomorrow night?” He pressed on, turning to take a better look at you. He always looked so breathtaking, his gorgeous big eyes just staring at you like a cute dog pleading for a piece of meat. You could sense yourself starting to fold, and that was always a bad sign. “Just for a few of my friends to see us together, show that it’s the truth, and then I can just say that we didn’t work out and decided to stay friends.” 
“But it’s not the truth,” you stressed, turning your head back to the television. You were starting to get pissed at the fact that you’d have to watch that movie again to try and make sense of what was happening. But you were also sad because you were both considering his request and suffering in advance because of its unavoidable consequences. “I don’t wanna be just another name in your list of conquests, Jungkook.”
Correction: you didn’t want to pretend to be one. You were fine with trying something out (for real) with Jungkook, even if you didn’t get a fairy tale ending. You just didn’t want to play with your own emotions — and probably induce some emotional trauma — because your best friend couldn’t own up to the fact that he lied about something (again). 
And, yet, it was getting to you. Just like a vipers’ venom, it had started to spread inside your body, corroding the walls you had built up for yourself. Your therapist would rip you to shreds if she knew you were thinking like that, but maybe ignoring the only chance you’d have with Jungkook — real or not — would be the foolish decision there. 
Besides, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? You could push your pride aside and help a friend during a time of need… and who knows, maybe get a couple kisses along the way? And just for one night? You could do that… 
Back in the present, Jungkook was just now digesting your previous claim. “What? You’d never be just that,” he guaranteed, an expression of bewilderment plastered all over his obnoxiously handsome face. Every day was a new test from God, and you were failing miserably. “You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you.” 
Ouch. That was a low hit. And worse? You knew that he didn’t say that with any malicious intent to manipulate you or anything — he genuinely meant it. Jungkook was such a sweetheart when it came to you, he’d stay up to help you with your projects; volunteer to take you out on an adventure when you were feeling down, even if he had to face the consequences of skipping practice later. He had done so much for you, and you couldn’t even push your feelings aside one time to help him out. 
Your high school insecurities were starting to erupt, and you were thinking that maybe those dumb nicknames were right. Maybe you were kind of a cold-hearted bitch. Especially when your best friend/love of your life was pouting and begging you to help him and all you could do was to mock him. 
Beside you, Jungkook deflated like the saddest balloon in the world, a long sigh leaving his lips. “You know what? You’re right, this is stupid,” he admitted, running one hand through his hair. You always wanted to do the same, it was so soft and puffy that you could get lost in it. Also, there was something about the tattoos on his arms, the veins of his hand, that just made you lose your mind. “I should just own up to it.” 
Took you a couple seconds for your rational brain to catch up to your horny one, but it eventually did. “It’s okay, I’ll do it,” you told him. “Just one night.”
“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes widened like a kid’s during Christmas morning, a beautiful smile overtaking his features. He jumped in your direction and, before you could even react, his strong arms were wrapping around you, pulling you into a warm hug. You were so fucked. “You’re the best! I owe you big time.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll remember that.” You placed your hand on his forehead and pushed him away, ignoring both his whiny complaints and the quickening of your heartbeat. “Now back to our shark exorcism.” 
Jungkook’s teammates didn’t get why the two of you were still friends. 
As Jimin, the world’s most competitive striker once said, some things are so obvious that you just can’t ignore them unless you have a secret agenda. When it came to that specific subject, the obvious thing would be that Jungkook had an earth-shattering crush on you, and his secret agenda was the fact that he was too blind to see that it was mutual, so he decided to repress it until it asphyxiated him. 
His teammates tried to warn him over and over again that you, in fact, were all heart eyes and chuckles when he came around, Namjoon even got close to creating an entire PowerPoint presentation about it, but all of it fell on deaf ears. Jungkook, in his blissful ignorance, just wouldn’t hear it. From where he was standing, there was just no conceivable way that his laughable childhood crush had any chance of being mutual. 
Jungkook didn’t know much about psychology, though, because, if he did, he might have faced those emotions head-first instead of avoiding them until they started presenting themselves in different, slightly destructive ways. When you repress something, it doesn’t really go away, it just settles somewhere else, like squeezing a handful of slime. No matter how much he tried to get a hold of it, it still slipped between his fingers — made him cancel dates last minute to spend the night with you, convinced him to do the dumbest things just to make you happy. 
And, now, in a weird projection of a personal fantasy, he was pretending to be your boyfriend. 
In his defense, it wasn’t a machiavellian plan he had meticulously constructed: it just kind of happened. Jungkook wasn’t exactly a poster child when it came to being teased — after all, he was used to be being the best at practically everything — and, when his teammates all ganged up on him during their break, claiming that he just couldn’t get a girlfriend even if he tried, both his annoyance and the practice-induced exhaustion made him say that he was already dating someone. 
“Yeah, right,” Hoseok had mocked, pressing a towel against his sweaty forehead. The changing room thankfully had a great ventilation system, combined with large windows, otherwise they would’ve died from the heat and the smell already. “Just say that you can’t take a joke and move on, Jeon. No need to lie about it.” 
Taehyung barged in before Jungkook could get a word out. “Besides, we know there’s only one person that can fit inside your heart,” he said, watching as Jungkook’s eye twitched. “How’s ___ doing, by the way?” 
“She’s fine,” he answered, monotone. 
“Yeah? Are you gonna ask her out or what?” Jimin teased, his voice coming from beyond a row of lockers. “Or are we free to do that?” 
In typical animal planet fashion, the locker room exploded in a roar of laughs and fragmented provocations, every guy trying to speak louder than the other. Jungkook felt himself shrink, his frown deepening as his heartbeat quickened. There was something burning at his insides, a mixture of shame and jealousy, and that was exactly what pushed those idiotic words out of his mouth. 
“Actually,” he started speaking when the thunderous laughter diminished, turning around to place his bag back in his locker. “I’m dating ___.” 
It was almost amazing how fast the room morphed into a crypt — the thick silence hitting Jungkook right in the face, weighing down and turning into guilt and worry inside his stomach. He was unable to look back and face his friends, instead pretending to be extremely interested in his bag’s zipper. 
Why did he always do that? Why couldn’t he tell the truth for once in his life? 
“That seems even harder to believe,” Taehyung was the first one to speak, the one brave soul that verbalized what they all were thinking. Simply as that, life returned to the locker room, and so did the sounds of his teammates laughing at him. “Just yesterday you were acting all nervous around her.” 
Jungkook slammed his locker door shut, turning around with a determined expression. “Well, yeah, because I was planning to ask her to be my girlfriend,” he had never constructed a lie so fast before, but, even then, Taehyung didn’t look like he was buying it. “I’m serious.” 
Which was probably the least trust-worthy thing he could say. 
“Prove it, then.” Hoseok smiled, crossing his arms. “Call her right now.”
“I’ll do you better,” Jungkook didn’t hesitate — a terrible sign, he realized one heartbeat too late; it was never good when his mouth decided to take the lead, allowing for the words to flow out of him before they could be filtered by his logical brain. But Jungkook was competitive, both in the field and in his personal life, and he couldn’t stand the humiliation that came from both losing an argument and being caught in a lie. As ironic as that was. “I’ll take her to Saturday’s party and you can all see it with your own eyes.” 
Jungkook was just buying himself some time, hoping that his charms would be enough to sweep you into his miraculous scheme before his teammates could realize something was off. Hoseok, of course, did not know that, but his expression showed that he wasn’t all too convinced either. “Sounds great,” he lowered his voice, looking at his friend up and down. “See you there, Jeon.” 
Jungkook left the locker room with a crown of victory hovering over his head and a bright, prideful smile — one which shrunk and shrunk as his day progressed and he realized that there was no way in hell that you’d accept to be swept into his personal melodrama. 
He had enough time between that conversation and the night at your place to go through all the stages of grief. In denial he found himself running from those cyclical thoughts, ignoring that it had happened in the first place — maybe it was all a big misunderstanding and his friends would let that situation go; maybe he didn’t have to sacrifice his friendship with you just to avoid being wrong about something. In anger, came anxiety, frustration at himself for being so dumb and impulsive, allowing for his ego to step in the way and shield him from reason. That one he suffocated with extra gym time and a consequential terrible cramp in his shoulder. 
Soon enough came bargain and Jungkook was thinking that, if he were to be very lucky, he could convince his friends that you happened to be way too sick to go to the party that night, and that, weirdly enough, you two broke up the very next day and you didn’t want to talk about it ever. Maybe he could go through all that in secret, use all his brain power to construct an elaborate, moviesque plan to get him out of the ditch he had dug himself and no one would ever know of his dirty lies. 
It was all for nothing, however — the depression stage materialized soon after, in the middle of his advanced calculus class, and Jungkook was practically imploding over the fact that he had managed to ruin everything between you two, and also between him and the rest of his team. That was it: not only would he lose his best friend (and perhaps the love of his life) but he would also lose trust and respect in the field. 
Acceptance only reached him when Jungkook was on his way to your place, and he came to terms with the idea that he was already in deep shit, so he should at least try and change that. He would ask you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a bit — even if he was positive you’d laugh until you were out of breath and never let him forget about it — under the possibility that perhaps, you’d say yes. 
Which, surprisingly, you did. 
Now, Jungkook wasn’t particularly emotional when it came to most things — even in the field, he managed to control that side of him well — but there was something intense bubbling up in his stomach as he made his way back to his dorm after the movie was over; a laugh that hung somewhere between maniacal and desperate that he couldn’t hold back. That could be bad, really bad. Especially considering that he didn’t have the slightest clue how he would hold himself back from just vomiting out a fervent love confession the second that you kissed him. 
Because that was supposed to happen, right? In a relationship, pretend one or not, people should kiss. He should act like your boyfriend, perhaps a fantasy that he had way too often, and still spare enough brain matter to remind himself that it was all fake. And that it was also all his fault. 
As established, Jungkook was the president of the company of putting himself in extremely uncomfortable situations. And, when the night of the party arrived, he decided to screw himself even further by lending you his team jacket. 
It was because it was cold, he tried to brainwash himself. It was because you were cold, because the night was cold, and not because he liked the view of you in it in the slightest. Or maybe because it was a bomb pumping his thorax full of pride and possessiveness; because it was making him believe, even for a second, that you two were part of a chimerical alternative universe in which you were together. Not at all. It was strictly business — the neighborly job of a worried best friend, at most. 
“Is this really necessary?” you spoke his doubts out loud, tugging at the sides of his large jacket. 
Jungkook managed to keep his cool, eyes darting around the peaceful streets. You two were close to the party, he could already listen to the repetitive beat echoing through the cool breeze, and every step he took amplified his anticipation by tenfold. “It speaks for itself,” he told you, his hand firm on your waist. You were wearing a sleeveless top and a skirt in the same color, and there was a stripe of exposed skin in between the two that Jungkook’s hand brushed against sometimes. He felt like he was a virgin again, hyper-aware of your body and completely unsure what to do with himself. “Besides, you look good wearing it.”
You rolled your eyes. “I look stupid.”
Jungkook glimpsed at you, a sleazy smile growing on his lips. “You look like my girlfriend.”
You snorted. “Oh, so I look super stupid,” you corrected, looking away. 
“Funny,” Jungkook answered, monotone. His smile melted away — there was no way in hell it was mutual, he thought, his friends were just fucking him over, trying to see him embarrass himself. “I hope you act better than you tell jokes.” 
“It’s probably as good as the effects in Birdemic,” you said. 
Jungkook shook his head — he had conflicting emotions when it came to that movie, considering that it was so awful that he laughed to the point of choking on his popcorn. You, being the empathic friend you were, brought up his near-death experience as often as you could. “At least that movie was funny, your poor acting will just be sad,” he threw back. 
“Thanks.” You giggled, making his heart leap inside his chest. Jungkook wanted to beat his head against the asphalt until that shy spirit of his middle school past left his body completely. “I’ll let you do the talking.” 
Jungkook nodded, allowing his gaze to navigate around the neighborhood — there were a handful of strangers in the streets with the two of you, but it was a shortcut to the frat house that not many people knew of. It brought along a peculiar sentiment of intimacy; the way your features were covered by the pale yellow of the light poles making him want to dive in and kiss you until he couldn’t even breathe. The realization that he could actually do that, under the excuse of a fake relationship, was one that almost knocked him out. 
“Just to be sure, by the way,” Jungkook started. “You’re okay with me, like, touching you like you were my girlfriend, right?”
You looked at him for a moment, measuring his expression. “Yeah, that’s part of it,” you told him. “I’m guessing you are okay with it as well?” 
“Fine by me.” Jungkook cleared his throat. The frat was literally just around the corner, buzzing into the night with a generic beat and the joyful yelps of hundreds of strangers. He usually enjoyed that cacophony of sounds, but, that time, it was like the screams from hell. “Just a couple hours, okay? Then you’re free.” 
“It’s fine,” you told him. “How bad can it be?” 
Short answer: bad. Long answer: bad, but with a twist. 
Jungkook looked around the party like he was a kid lost in the supermarket, his eyebrows furrowed as he searched for his teammates (which that whole spectacle was supposed to be for). You felt like a piece of a puzzle thrown in the wrong box, leaning against his toned body as he tried to think of what to do. 
“So…” You cleared your throat, trying to make yourself heard through the loud beating of the song. Jungkook followed your voice, leaning in closer. Maybe your heart skipped at that, but no one had to know. “What’s the plan, captain?”
Jungkook clicked his tongue. You two were leaning against one of the walls of the large living room, in a somewhat calm corner of the party. “I don’t know, I’m not feeling like being interrogated right now,” he said. “I think it’s better if we wait for the guys to get a bit more drunk so they don't think too much about it.” He sighed, looking around for a bit longer. “We could stay here for a while, just sit down and talk. What do you think?”
“Sounds good.” You breathed out. “I’m taking any chance to rest my feet at this point.” 
The ancient gods of the frat parties seemed to be on your side, because it didn’t take much longer than a couple minutes to find a sofa that 1) was unoccupied and 2) didn’t look like it had any suspicious fluids on it. You settled by Jungkook’s side, a breath of relief escaping your chest as you felt the pressure on your calves subside considerably — all you wanted was to go back in time and kill whoever thought high heels were a good idea. 
However, you relaxed way too early. 
You had to hold back a surprised gasp when Jungkook abruptly tugged your legs onto his lap, one hand finding the curvature of your waist instantly. 
“This feels... intimate,” your voice sounded stiff when you spoke up, pushing your skirt down. 
“Yeah, that’s the point.” His eyes roamed around the room for exactly two seconds before they widened just slightly, then snapped back at you. “Okay, two things.” Jungkook placed one arm on the couch behind you, murmuring as he leaned in. He had that scheming expression on his face that had been plaguing you ever since middle school, when he first discovered pranks, and you didn’t think that was a good sign. “First: Yoongi, Jin and Namjoon are here, and they’re looking— shh, don’t look! Dumbass.” 
“Sorry. You’re the dumbass,” you said. It was hard not to look when you felt as if you were under a microscope, watched closely by his meat-headed friends. Still, you tried to keep your composure. “And the second?” 
He exhaled, the hand that was on your waist traveling to touch your cheek. You wondered if he could feel how hot your skin had become. “It’s kind of the time that you have to commit to being my fake girlfriend,” Jungkook warned, stare oscillating towards your mouth. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?” 
Suddenly, you felt like you were right back in high school, about to have your first kiss and not having a single clue about how to do it. “O-Okay,” you whispered. 
Jungkook didn’t waste any time. Before you could think about something to try and break the ice, his mouth was on yours, silencing you and turning your thoughts into white noise. He kissed you softly, much slower than you had expected, giving you time to adapt to the tender movement of his lips caressing yours. 
You sighed, gradually remembering how to move your limbs. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders as he leaned his head to the side, opening his mouth just slightly and deepening the kiss. No matter how many times you had fantasized about that moment, it could never compare to the way his tongue slipped inside your mouth, nor the small grunt he let out against your lips. Kissing Jungkook felt like heaven and you had completely forgotten about your fake dating situation until he decided to pull back just a bit. 
“Fuck, you’re a good kisser,” he mumbled, nose bumping against yours. 
You let out a breathy laugh. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I’m not surprised.” His hand slithered down to your hips, his warm palm sending shockwaves through your body. You felt like you were in danger from the way he was speaking, his body moving closer to yours. “I knew you would be.” 
Jungkook didn’t even give you time to process his words before he was kissing you again — sloppier, hungrier this time. Again and again, he chose to throw gasoline into the flame of your desire, and what could you do but to melt under his touches, to kiss him just as eagerly. 
Faithlessly, you were trying to convince yourself that it was all an act, that he was just playing it up because he knew his friends were watching. But his hand just felt so firm on your hips, pulling you closer as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, fingers digging into the soft sea of his hair. It seemed so real when he moaned softly against your mouth, biting on your lower lip before tracing kisses down your jaw, towards your neck. 
Or maybe you were just so deep inside your own illusions that you didn’t want to believe that it was all for show. 
Your eyes parted just slightly, trying to find his friends amongst the crowd of strangers. It was extremely hard to think when Jungkook was sucking and licking his way down your neck, his hand squeezing your thighs. Apparently they were nowhere in sight, though, for those obviously bright orange jackets had left your field of vision. 
“Jungkook,” you called, surprised at how firm your voice came out. The boy only hummed against your flesh, not paying much attention to what you were saying. “I think they already left.” 
Still, it didn’t seem like he was willing to stop. Jungkook mumbled against your neck, his voice so low that you almost didn’t catch his words past the loud music. “Yeah, but someone else can be watching.” 
You didn’t know who, though, and you didn’t really care. You were more worried about the small bites he was placing on your skin, the soft sucking of his mouth that left you pressing your legs together, begging for relief. “Um, okay, but there’s a minor emergency,” you told him. 
That managed to get his attention, for the boy pulled back so he could look at you. “What is it?” He asked, worried. 
You shifted around on the couch, your legs still thrown over his lap. You noticed something hard poking against your skin, which gave you enough momentum to admit out loud that, “I’m, like, soaking wet right now,” you said. “My neck is super sensitive and I’m really trying to hold back here.” 
Jungkook froze, blinking a few times and your words settled in his mind. He would never understand how you could be so shy in one second, and then just throw that bomb on his lap like it wouldn’t make his dick rock hard in record time. “Fuck, how can you just say that so naturally?” He cursed. 
“Sorry.” You bit your lip. Jungkook had to fight the urge to kiss you again. “I’m just being honest.” 
How ironic was it that, while Jungkook lied his way through life, you had no problem throwing those random truths right at his face? The opposites do attract, after all. 
He cleared his throat, unsure if he should pull away or not. “Want me to stop?” 
“I don’t know,” you admitted, “I think this is getting weird.” 
Maybe it would be the perfect time for the world to just open up and eat him whole, considering that Jungkook had never felt so embarrassed in his life. “Weird how?” He asked. 
“Weird like… weird.” Self-expression under moments of extreme sexual pressure really wasn’t your forte. You broke eye contact, flustered, instead choosing to look at the cluttered coffee table by your side. Jungkook’s hand was still on your body and you liked his touch far too much for your own well-being. “Maybe it would be better if we just went home.” 
“Right now?” Jungkook whined. Sometimes he still acted like the kid you knew, all puffy cheeks and demands for attention; for things to happen the way he wanted. You, being the simp that you were, were his number one enabler. “One more hour, please? We’ve been here for so little time, I just wanna cover all my bases.” 
His pouty lips and needy voice was a Molotov cocktail thrown directly in your heart. “Fine.” You puffed out. 
“Thank you!” Jungkook beamed, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips. The action was so automatic, so unthought, that neither of you reacted to it for a second. “Um… why do you say we try the backyard? Jimin said he’d try some new barbecue technique or whatever, so maybe they’re outside.” 
“And after that we leave?” You asked. He nodded. “And you do the talking?” 
“I’ll try my best,” Jungkook agreed.
You sighed. “Okay. I need some fresh air anyways.” 
Back in middle school, you had a very eccentric world history teacher. You clearly remember one afternoon that she simply walked in and asked the class what was the worst type of torturing they could ever imagine a human could endure — which ended up being a great opening line to a very interesting class about the medieval times and the ways of the inquisition, but also something that plagued you for a long time. That night, when you returned home, you dove into the rabbit hole about the topic and (much to the horror of your parents) discovered a thing or two about torture methods. 
The key point, it seemed, wasn’t even about the actual physical act, but about the horrendous expectation that came from it. Psychological torture could break a person apart before someone even laid a finger on them. You knew that already, but you had never truly witnessed it until that night. 
“Well, guess I have to take back what I said,” Hoseok started, his speech slightly slurred by the alcohol. Jungkook was right, they were a lot less intense after a few drinks, and apparently weren’t questioning a lot either. “I didn’t think you two would ever end up together after so many years of bullshit, but here we are.”
“Cheers to that, brother,” Jimin barged in, raising his cup. 
Jungkook chuckled behind you. “You guys have no fucking faith in me.” 
As a typical former theater kid, you were naturally dramatic. But you weren’t kidding when you said that pretending to be Jungkook’s girlfriend might be a newfound method of psychological torture — especially when he made you sit on his lap, his head resting on your shoulder and strong arms wrapped tightly around you. It was because there were no more chairs left in the backyard, and he wanted to play the gentleman/possessive boyfriend and didn’t allow you to stand up. But justificatives were fruitless when you could feel him getting harder by the minute. 
“It’s not about faith, you just fucked me up,” Taehyung said. He was the least inebriated one out of the group, but that didn’t mean much. “I owe Yoongi like fifty bucks now, thanks, man.” 
Jungkook was probably going to say something equally ludicrous in return, but your  curiosity made you act quicker. “Why?” You asked. 
Taehyung clicked his tongue, leaning back against his chair — it was the type that folded in half, and you were thinking he would flip over any second now if he continued with those harsh movements. “Ah. No biggie. He was one of the few people who believed your boyfriend here when he said you two were together.” 
You giggled, trying to keep yourself composed. Unlike Jungkook, you were not very skilled when it came to making up lies at the spot, so you ended up deflecting a little. “Yeah, it was a bit… sudden. So I understand the surprise.” 
Hoseok yawned, throwing his head back. “Nah, not really a surprise.”
You blinked. “What do you mean?”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes, shifting a little behind you. You felt him tense up, which probably wasn’t a good sign. “Yeah, what do you mean?” He echoed. 
“I mean… that it wasn’t a surprise,” Hoseok repeated, raising his eyebrows in a quiet mockery, as if you had just questioned the color of the sky. “Yoongi was sure Jungkook had finally gotten the balls to confess to you. I, myself, didn’t think it was that likely.” 
Wait, what? Suddenly you felt like you were the one being lied to, and all of them were in it together, building this huge prank around that story just to humiliate you. There was no way Hoseok was serious about that, not when the booze was probably melting his brain. 
Before you could continue to think about that, however, Jungkook spoke up. “Man, you guys suck.” He laughed. “I told you I’d do it someday and you never believed it.” 
Ah. That was it. Jungkook had lied about it just like he had done countless times in the past. 
You deflated a little, a sting of pain inside your chest as the conversation continued to unravel around you. Right then and there, you felt like the stupidest person alive, with no right to complain about the consequences you knew would come from that idea. Even if you had almost convinced yourself otherwise, what probably happened was that Jungkook got cornered some time in the past about some other girl, and ended up telling his friends that he liked you instead, just to get out of that situation. Like some of his lies, it snowballed, and it took you to where you two were now. 
It was hard not to feel hurt, even if you still believed you were a bit at fault for agreeing to his moronic plan. You knew you’d end up like this, suffering over someone who didn’t see you the same way, and you still fell headfirst into that trap. Maybe you were the bad guy in that situation, maybe you were the creepy one for taking advantage of his situation just to feel his body against yours, just to kiss him and pretend that it was all true. Maybe you had no room to judge. 
If you concentrated really hard, you could probably pinpoint the exact moment in which you realized that you were head over heels for your best friend. It wasn’t as glamorous as you’d like, just a dirty thought catalyzed by your teen hormones that unleashed an avalanche — it had happened back in the dark, desolate lands of high school, when you were cheering for Jungkook during one of his games. It was an important one, from what you could remember, his brain buzzing with the tension of his senior year and the promise of a fantastic victory. As always, you were there for him: front row, face painted with the colors of your high school, and cheering him on. 
He smiled at you, like he always did, but there was something odd about it. Like a lightning crossing the sky, one simple (yet fatal) intrusive thought popped up inside your head: he’s hot. 
It was all downhill from there. As much as you tried to wave those ideas away, they kept growing and multiplying, finding new ways to justify themselves — not only was Jungkook hot, suddenly, but you also realized that he would be an amazing boyfriend. He was sweet, kind, funny, determined, a bit ditzy sometimes but nothing you couldn’t deal with. He heard you complain about your problems when needed, but also felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with you. There were so many shared interests between you two that you were positive that you could talk forever and never run out of topics to discuss. Jungkook was a walking minefield and you just stepped right on it. 
And there you were, stumbling your way down into hell as your lives progressed, and Jungkook got into the same college as you. As predicted, he quickly grew to be the campus’ new star player: a great attacking midfielder, with the number 10 plastered on his shirt and a heart-stopping smile on his face. How on earth could you fight that temptation? It was like a re-enactment of Eve and the snake in the garden of eden. Only the snake had amazing thunder thighs that looked even better with his team’s shorts. 
You always asked yourself if Jungkook knew what he was doing when he used his shirt to dry the sweat on his forehead, leaving his glistening abs in full display; or maybe when he hugged and swirled you around after they won a game. Part of you wanted to believe that he liked you back, even if you couldn’t really see it. Most of you believed that he was just his personality and nothing else. 
“Hey,” he breathed out, voice husky against your ear. You thanked his oversized jacket for concealing the goosebumps on your arms. “You good?” 
Just on the brink of a meltdown, no biggie. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 
He hummed, nuzzling his face against your neck. “Just a little bit longer, alright?” He placed a tiny kiss there, but it was powerful enough to make you whimper quietly. No one seemed to notice, but you didn’t know why Jungkook did that when you had just told him that your neck was sensitive. “They seem convinced.” 
Maybe “they” should have you included as well, because you had to actively remind yourself that you two were just acting, that he didn’t see you that way. Nevermind the pool of wetness between your legs, nevermind the way your body was on edge with his strong arms pulling you closer; his chiseled abs pressed tightly against your back. Nevermind Jungkook’s sweet smell or the gentle touches of his lips against your skin. It was all fake, dollar store material. It was just a matter of time before your ride became a pumpkin and the dream was over. 
At the same time, you could tell that Jungkook was being affected as well — you could feel the outline of his hard cock poking against your ass when you pressed down on his lap; noticed the tense movements of his arms as they held onto your body. And when Jungkook spoke, with his head placed on your shoulder and a solemn expression on his face, you could tell that he got just a bit choked up every time you shifted around, brushing your ass against his erection. 
The human brain is amazing when it comes to searching for any reason to prove our own theories, however, and that was why you weren’t taking any of those signs seriously — cognitive bias was a thing, and you weren’t falling for its tricks. If there are people out there that believe that the earth is flat, even with a ridiculous amount of evidence against it, you couldn’t trust yourself in believing that you had enough proof to think that Jungkook was interested in you. Maybe your argument was equivalent to “well, I can’t see gravity so it doesn’t exist”, and you didn’t even know it.
So you decided to take it easy, to aim towards the side of caution, as the night progressed into the deeper levels of Dante’s Inferno. By the time that Jungkook decided that you two had accomplished your goal and it was time to get you home, you almost cried in relief. 
You two drove in almost complete silence, only sparsely commenting on a few occurrences of the night. There was a thick blanket of tension hanging between the two of you, a bitter taste in the back of your throat that you couldn’t ignore. It had been a fun night, yeah, but it was done with. Time to burst that bubble and crash back into reality. 
Thankfully or not, depending where you stood, Jungkook didn’t seem to be as worried about those details. He was ridiculously cheerful, beyond proud of his skills, and a little over the moon about the fact that he had been with you the entire night, acting out things he never thought would come true.
“There you go, all done,“ he exclaimed, victorious, the second you two walked into your apartment. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” 
You scoffed, leaning against the wall so you could remove your shoes. “It wasn’t good either,” you said, monotone. You were physically, emotionally and psychologically exhausted, and you seriously didn’t want to look at his annoyingly pretty face for another second. “Have fun telling them about our instantaneous breakup.” 
At that, Jungkook visibly tensed up. “Ha. Yeah…”
You sighed, beyond pissed off (and heartbroken) at that point. You weren’t Jungkook, weren’t built to lie your way through life, to pretend as if the feelings inside your chest were not your own. “By the way — fuck, I hate high heels,” you complained, throwing your shoes on the floor with a bit more force than necessary. Jungkook flinched a little, distracted. “By the way, what did Hoseok mean by that?”
He blinked, swallowing dry. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck — think of something. “By what?”
You raised one eyebrow. “Saying that you’d never have the guts to confess or whatever.” 
The worst part was that Jungkook could see in your downcast eyes that you had no idea what you were asking him. You seriously couldn’t tell that he had feelings for you — or, if you did, you simply couldn’t believe it. Or maybe you just despised him on a level in which a crush would be preposterous to even consider. “Ah.” He clicked his tongue. Think, you dumbass! Come up with something! “That.” 
You were getting a little choked up now. There was no way you couldn’t notice the trademarked signals of Jungkook buying himself some time, trying to come up with something inside that evil head of his. Maybe you had been right thinking that he had mentioned your name randomly one day, just to save his ass, and now he was dealing with the backlash of his actions. “Yeah, what was it about?” You pressed on. 
Jungkook chuckled, nervous. “Man… I was really hoping you’d forget that.” 
You took a step closer to him, anticipating what was to come. If he was going to hurt you, you wished he would just do it quickly, without dragging it out so much. “Just tell me, Jungkook.” 
And he was trying. Kind of. Jungkook was looking at you like his brain was frying, the Widow’s blue screen reflecting off his widened eyes. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, stare falling to the floor. “I can’t lie to you about that.”
You scoffed, venom running up your throat. That was priceless. “You tell white lies almost every day, why is this so different?” 
“Because it’s not a white lie.” 
You furrowed your eyebrows and narrowed your eyes, taking another step towards him. “Why are you thinking about lying to me, in the first place?” You asked. “Even if… even if it will hurt me. I deserve to know.” 
“Uhh…” he hesitated, rubbing the back of his head. “Because the truth kind of sucks and it can fuck everything up. And I don’t wanna do that.” 
Apparently you were right about your previous theory, then. Jungkook didn’t see you the same way, after all. And that was fine (it wasn’t), but he couldn’t even grow a pair and tell you straight on. “So you would rather avoid it?” You didn’t relent, motivated by your frustration, your hurt, that sickly feeling of betrayal — everything at once. “That has been kind of a running theme with you, hasn’t it?” You stared at him, but Jungkook could only avert his eyes from your burning gaze, instead looking at his feet. “Fine. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to, but quit dragging me into these bullshit lies of yours. I’m tired.”
“No one has ever cancelled a date with me,” he blurted out.
You hesitated, blinking a few times as you digested his words. “What?”
He breathed out. “No one has ever cancelled a date with me. It was all me,” Jungkook confessed. “I lied to you about that because I wanted to spend more time with you. And I didn’t care about anyone else.”
“Wh—“
Overwhelmed by a random wave of courage, his gaze snapped up at you. “I like when you watch my practice and bring me stuff, and I like when you invite me to those dumb movie marathons and make me watch the most disgusting shit,” Jungkook continued, his words falling incoherently from his mouth. You could only stare, flabbergasted, as he spilled months — years — of secrets all at once. “And I like watching you study, and I love seeing you laugh, I love spending time with you, and Hoseok is fucking tired of hearing me talk about it and do nothing.”
“I... don’t understand what you’re saying,” you told him. 
“I told the guys that we were dating because you were literally the only person that popped in my mind, and the only person I actually wanted to be with,” he just went on, not paying attention to your previous comment. Jungkook was a little on edge now, a bit breathless and wide-eyed. He’s nervous, you realized. It had been a long time since you saw him like that. “And this was the best night I’ve had in a while, just because you were there and I— I’m fucking everything up, I told you I would.”
“Jungkook,” you called softly, feeling as if every inhale was an olympic sport. Your heart was beating so fast inside your chest that you were afraid of having a syncope before you could hear the words you needed so badly. “Just tell me what you want to say.” 
He cleared his throat, shifting the weight from one leg to the other. “I’m like… how do I put this…?” Jungkook paused, took a deep breath, and dropped the bomb. “I’ve been kind of in love with you ever since we were like eight, yeah.” 
Record scratch. Freeze frame. “You what?” 
Jungkook chuckled. “Yep… awkward,” he said. “Sorry.” 
It hasn’t settled in just yet, which explained why you didn’t start screaming at him. “And you have the guts to tell me that I drop things naturally?” You asked. “Are you serious? You better not be fucking with me right now.”
He raised one hand and placed it on his chest. “I’m not, promise.” 
And then it hit you like a ton of bricks. “Jeon Jungkook!” You screeched, both hands flying to hold onto his shirt, rocking him back and forth with the strength of a thousand men. “I’m gonna make you swallow my fist!”
Jungkook was dumbfounded, ten times more confused than when you tried to explain to him the plot of the Velocipastor — which really wasn’t that hard, it was just a pastor who was also a dinosaur shifter. But his brain wasn’t good at following those types of unpredictable plots, and that counted your burst of anger. “That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting at all,” he murmured, voice flat with disbelief. 
But it was your turn to ramble incoherently. “You’re an idiot! You’re even worse than I thought!” You were still speaking loudly, letting all that frustration wash out of you, giving place to relief. “You made me go through all this fucking night, kissing you and pretending to be your girlfriend, while you actually like me? You prick!” 
You punched his chest — his stupid, muscular, rock-hard chest. “Ouch!” He whined, but you doubted it actually hurt. 
“I was almost crying because of how hard it was to suppress my own feelings for you,” you told him, pulling on his shirt once again. You wanted to take it off, wanted to kiss him until he was all that you could think about. But you also wanted to dropkick him straight to the deepest circle of hell. “And you like me back? Idiot!” 
“Wait, wait, what?” Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up, a perfect picture of his surprise. “For real?”
“For real.” Your shoulders slumped, the anger that possessed your body left you as quickly as it had arrived. “I’m in love with you too, you smooth-brained asshole. Ever since high school.” 
He blinked, dumbfounded. “I had no idea.” 
“Didn’t I tell you that speaking the truth is always the better option? You never listen.” You tugged on his shirt one more time, for dramatic effect. “Dumbass.” 
“You’re the dumbass. And no, I don’t think I do,” his voice was flat, mind navigating miles away from your place. “___?”
“What?” You barked. 
“How mad are you?” 
You groaned. “Pretty mad, why?”
It was his turn to take a step towards you, the heat that emanated off his body now surrounding you. “Because I’m gonna kiss you right now and I’d greatly appreciate it if you didn’t bite my face off.”
You sighed, relaxing against his torso. Jungkook’s hands came up to rest on your waist, guiding you closer to him. “I’ll try my best,” you told him, “go ahead.” 
Maybe all those foolish love songs and melodramatic romantic poets were onto something, because you swore you saw fireworks when Jungkook finally moved in, crashing his lips on yours. Yes, you had kissed him already that night, but there was no way those two situations could be comparable, not when you felt much lighter now that the secret was out, and that you knew what he felt when he pulled you closer, when he sighed against your mouth and caressed your lower back. 
Long years of friendship granted you the knowledge that Jungkook was tender with some things, rough with others — he was gentle with kids, with his other friends, with you; he was hard around the edges when it came to his matches (being especially fiery around championships), people he didn’t like, and goals he wanted to reach. As he kissed you, you could notice him trying to figure out which approach to take with you: his lips were soft on yours, tongue slowly exploring your mouth, but his hands were harsh, groping your ass as he pushed you up against the nearest wall, a growl vibrating inside his chest. 
Maybe it was a bit evil to push his buttons when you knew he was so dangerously close to snapping, but you weren’t in the right frame of mind — or, rather, you weren’t in any frame of mind at all. So, knowing very well that Jungkook was the most competitive person you knew, you pulled away from the kiss to say, “Come on, why don’t you kiss me like you mean it?” 
Which might have been the dumbest final words you could’ve uttered. 
You were graced with just a couple seconds of hesitation from his part — frustration and desire flashing inside his hooded eyes — before he was crashing his mouth onto yours once again. Jungkook didn’t say anything, because he didn’t need to: the messy, sensual kiss he gave you was more than enough to make you shut up. Just according to the keikaku, of course. 
His hands were in the back of your tights before you could think, pulling you up and pinning you against the wall. You moaned against his lips, a shaky exhale leaving your mouth when he rolled his center against yours — cock hard and heavy inside his pants, brushing against your covered heat. Jungkook did it two, three, four times, slowly grinding against you like he couldn’t hold himself back any further, groaning at the feeling. 
When he pulled away, you were almost seeing entire constellations forming in your vision, your breath labored and mind dizzy with desire. “Fuck,” he cursed, resting his forehead on yours. “Want you so fucking bad.” 
“Want you too,” you told him. “Bedroom?” 
He pulled back so he could look at you better. “Sure?” 
You nodded. “Sure.” Leaning in, you placed a timid kiss on his lips. “Want you to fuck me, Jungkook.” 
After all those years, that was all that he needed to hear. He was quick to pull you away from the wall, hands holding your body up and your legs wrapped around his waist. Jungkook knew your apartment like the back of his hand, but he still kept his eyes open as he walked towards your bedroom, your lips mindlessly attacking his thick neck. You had dreamed about doing that so many times and you could say with confidence that you weren’t disappointed by the shuddering breaths he let out, or the small grunts he gifted you every time you sucked his skin just right. By the time that Jungkook placed you on your bed, crawling over you, you were so wet that it was almost embarrassing. 
He looked at you like he was hypnotized, his hands roaming up your legs, slowly spreading them so he could place himself in between. With the action, your skirt rolled up, exposing your underwear. “Shit, I thought about doing this so many times,” Jungkook murmured, almost as if he was talking to himself. “I can’t believe it’s real.” 
“You’re so sappy.” You giggled, but you couldn’t deny that his low voice was getting to you. You shivered when his palms met the exposed skin of your waist, pausing in the space between your skirt and your sleeveless top. Jungkook was deep in thought, his gaze flickering all over your body. “What is it?” You asked. 
“You look so fucking hot in this.” He pulled on the large piece of clothing, his tongue coming out to lick his lips. “Wanna fuck you with the jacket on. Just the jacket.” 
You almost choked on your saliva — well that was something you weren’t expecting at all. “Seriously?” You raised one eyebrow, teasing him. “You have that much of a hard-on for sports?” 
Jungkook didn’t seem to be in the mood for jokes, though, because he gave you a serious answer. “No, I have that much of a hard-on for you.” He dipped in so he could nestle his face on the curve of your neck, humming as he inhaled your scent. Once again, you were faced with the contrast of his soft lips against your skin, but the rough tug of his hands on your skirt. “Wanna fuck my girl with only my jacket on, what’s so wrong about that?” 
You whimpered when he licked on your sensitive spot, trying to push your legs together, but being stopped by his presence between them. Jungkook successfully pulled your skirt out of you, throwing it somewhere on the floor. “Since when are you this possessive?” You asked. 
He moved back, hands progressing to your tube top and sliding it down. It seemed as if the world had conspired in his favor, because it was just so easy to leave you only with his team clothes on, the elastic material leaving your body quick enough. “I’m not possessive,” he responded, only half there. His brain was trying to understand the vision of you before his eyes, only with your panties and his jacket. Jungkook could feel his cock throbbing inside his pants, begging for relief, and he just knew that sight would plague him forever. “Wanna make sure that you know you’re mine, though. I’ve thought about this for too long.” 
As you fumbled for something to say, he dove back in, his mouth attacking your breasts with no time. Your back arched, fingers tangling in his messy hair as he sucked and licked your nipples, his strong hands squeezing your tits every time you moaned out. It was almost humiliating how reactive you were, with your shallow breaths and broken calls of his name, but Jungkook was fucking loving it, and he just wanted more of it. 
You melted under his touches as he pulled himself closer to you, his mouth tracing its way back to your clavicles, then your neck. Much to your dismay, his hands were still on your breasts, playing with your erect nipples as he finally found that one spot that made you yelp. 
“W-Wait,” you stammered, “my neck is sensitive.”
Jungkook knew that already. In fact, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since you mentioned it back at the party; his cock stiff inside his pants at the memory alone. “I noticed,” he groaned, the vibrations of his voice spreading throughout your skin. One of his hands slithered between your bodies, hastily pulling your underwear to the side so his fingers could plunge between your folds. At the sensation of your arousal, Jungkook growled, pressing his erection against your thigh. “Holy fuck. You’re soaked.”
“I told you,” you said, feeling like your brain was about to melt and drip out of your ears. It was hard to concentrate when he was making out with your neck like that, sucking and biting the skin before liking the same spot he had just attacked. Still, the sudden plunging of his finger inside your pussy caught your attention in an instant. “J-Jungkook, I’m—” 
How shameful was it that you couldn’t even finish a damn sentence? Lust was getting the best of you, pushing your rationalizations aside and filling your lungs with desire. Jungkook soon added a second finger inside you, stretching you wide as he continued to fuck you. It was a fantastic sensation — his hand was much larger than yours, and you were sure you’d be able to cum like that if it kept it up for long enough. 
Jungkook moaned against your neck, pulling his head back so he could take a look at you. His cock throbbed at the sight of your dazed-out face, your parted lips looking so dangerously inviting to him, “Tell me what you want,” he asked, diving in to kiss you. He sucked on your tongue, making you whine as he pulled back. “I’ll give you whatever you want.” 
“Want you,” you said, nails digging into his shoulder blades. 
Jungkook liked the sharp pain that came from it, raising the speed of his fingers just a bit. “I’m right here.”
“No,” you whimpered, blinking back the tears of frustration that covered your irises. God, Jungkook couldn’t even believe you were all his. “Want your cock inside me, please.” 
Listening to you saying that was like experiencing a choir of angels singing directly to him. Jungkook had waited far too long to get you alone like that, so beautiful and pliant beneath him, and there was no way in hell he would deny you your request. 
So he got moving, his hand flying to the back of his shirt, which he tugged off with one swift motion. Your eyes fell to his toned chest, roaming his sweaty skin as he moved onto his belt. “Take those off.” He signaled with his head towards your panties. 
You nodded, sliding your underwear down and throwing it to the side. Even with his jacket still on — which, you admitted, it was both objectively and subjectively hot — you felt extremely exposed, thighs closing just slightly when Jungkook took his pants and boxers off. 
“Keep them open,” he warned, his stare stuck to your glistening folds, and you did. His face was one of sheer lust, tongue coming out to wet his lips as he placed himself back in place. “Wanna see you cum on my fingers,” he breathed, “but I’m too hard. Need to be inside you right now.” 
Your attention flickered downwards, pulled by the small collision of his cock against your clit. You winced at the feeling, but one of his large hands kept you in place as he moved closer to your heat. The constant drumming of your pulse was all that you could hear for a second, heart skipping a beat when you fully noticed his size. 
Would it be weird to say that Jungkook had a pretty dick? Because he did. And a big one too, which made you second guess your own limits for a moment. 
As if he was reading your mind, his cockhead pressed against your pussy, so warm and wet that Jungkook swore he was about to lose his mind — or what was left of it. There was nothing more that he wanted then to nestle himself in your heat, bury himself deep inside you until you were the only thing he could think about. “Shit, look at you,” he murmured, brushing his tip against your entrance. Your figure twitched under him, a soft gasp leaving your mouth at the feeling. “Bet I could slide right in.” 
He was hypnotized by the squelching sounds of your pussy, the way your opening fluttered around his crown as he slowly started to press himself into you. He wanted to do it slowly so he could pay attention to every detail of you, every small exclamation of pleasure that dripped like honey from your lips. 
The world around you two was getting smaller and hotter by the minute, suffocating you and pulling the air out of your lungs. Your eyelashes fluttered as Jungkook’s cock slid inside you, just the tip at first, your back arching as your walls clenched around him, almost as if your body was rejecting his size. “You’re so big,” you whined, burry eyes fighting to focus on his face. 
Jungkook, however, wasn’t looking at you, but at the way his member sank between your folds, diving into your wet heat. “Yeah?” He breathed out, jaw clenching. It was taking everything inside him not to start pounding into you. “I’m sure you can take it, don’t you think?” 
You nodded, and it took a moment for your words to catch up to you. “Y-Yes,” you said. 
Jungkook was more than halfway inside you now, and his mind was more than halfway gone, thrown out of the window and into the gelid nocturnal winds. The way you were wrapping around him should be illegal; you were so perfect that jungkook was sure he could never find a drug that would get him so high. “That’s it, be greedy for me,” he groaned, “take everything.” 
He went as deep as he could, his cock almost brushing against your cervix and your cunt throbbing against him. Maybe he had died and was in paradise, because there was no way he could be feeling so good. 
“Move, please,” you asked meekly. 
Lucky you, he was more than happy to comply. 
Jungkook tilted his hips back, until just his tip was still inside you, only to bottom out again, feeling as your cunt throbbed around him. He did this with unbearable patience at first, allowing your body to get accustomed to his cock splitting you open before he started to pick up the pace. Most of his self control had already burned out, though, at it wasn’t long before he was fucking you fast, rough; groaning at the way your tits jumped every time he shived his length back inside you. 
Once again, he felt like a virgin — you were too much, it seemed. Everything about you got him searching for the stars, wishing for more and moaning out every time your cunt squeezed around him. You were so fucking wet, he thought, so tight and warm, that he wasn’t even thinking about cumming, just about how wished to keep fucking you forever. At the same time, Jungkook was sure that he wouldn’t last long, not when you were looking at him like that, calling his name again and again until it silenced all his thoughts. 
Your breath hitched when his cock brushed against your sensitive spot. “Right there, right there,” you sobbed, nails scratching the skin of his arms. Jungkook caught onto your request straight away, keeping the same angle until you were a babbling mess under him. “Oh m-my god, yeah,” you cried out. “S-So good.”
“Fuck, that’s tight,” Jungkook cursed, his hands digging into your thighs, shoving them up for him so he could reach deeper, fuck you harder. He couldn’t stop moaning, gasping, producing the most beautiful sounds for you. “S-Shit, you’re just pulling my cock in. Your pussy feels amazing.” If given enough time, he could go crazy staring at the way in which his cock disappeared between your folds, only to come back dripping with your arousal, and then slamming back in. “You’re just so fucking hot,” he couldn’t help but say it out loud. “Play with your tits for me.” 
You didn’t have the guts to deny him, your hands palming your tits, squeezing the soft flesh. You whimpered at the feeling, eyes closing in bliss as he continued to fuck you. 
“That’s it, so good for me,” Jungkook praised, hips losing their rhythm for a second. His cock was already throbbing, orgasm threatening to hit him any time now. He needed you to cum first, though. “Your pussy too. Come on.” 
That time, you hesitated a little, a broken sob falling from your lips as you found his gaze. However, you couldn’t deny it — you wanted to be good for him, to get his praises again and again until that was all that you could hear. So you followed his command, two fingers, sinking into your wetness before trailing back to your clit. 
A rush of pleasure ran through your veins, pussy clenching around his cock as your moments grew desperate, needy for more. You were bordering on delirious by that point, your mind unable to focus on one thing, instead jumping between all the stimulation you were getting — your hand squeezing your breast; your fingers rubbing your clit; Jungkook’s cock drilling inside you. “T-Too much,” you cried. 
God, but that’s exactly what he wanted. Jungkook wanted to see that pretty, overwhelmed face of yours, wanted to show you that every minute of waiting had been worth it. “Yeah? But you can take it for me, can’t you?” He moaned under his breath, starting to get lost in his own pleasure. You were getting tighter by the second, which was a dangerous thing. “You can cream my cock if I ask you to, right?”
“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll do anything f-for you.” 
Jungkook sighed at your words, cock throbbing inside you. “Good girl, just like that,” he husked. “Such a good girl.” 
Tears started to prickle your eyes, and you didn’t know if it was because of how overwhelmed you were, or because your emotions were just now starting to tip over. “J-Jungkook,” you called his name, for a moment not knowing if you would follow it up with something else. His eyes found your own, dazed ones, and his heart skipped a beat at how beautiful and his you looked at that moment. “Love y-you.” 
Years of fantasizing about that confession could’ve never prepared the two of you for such an honest, unexpected moment. Jungkook felt his soul reach levels of happiness which he had never experienced before, mouth only able to say one thing in return. “Love you too.” He pressed his forehead against yours, movements becoming more sloppy, desperate. The new angle was an amazing discovery, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you, which tore a loud cry from you. “Holy shit,” he moaned. “You’re getting so fucking t-tight around my cock.” 
“Close,” you breathed out, letting go of his previous requests and just taking your hands to his face instead. Jungkook stared at you like he could see the entire universe in your eyes, his hot breaths hitting your face in gentle waves. “K-Kiss me, please.” 
There was no need to repeat yourself. Jungkook crashed his mouth against yours, trapping you in a kiss that felt both like too much and too little at the same. You barely had any time to dive into the caress of his lips on yours before your high washed over you — walls spasming around his length as you dove into bliss; moaning into the kiss and holding to his broad shoulders. 
He broke the kiss right after, a stuttering, failed breath leaving his chest. “L-Love you,” he choked out, “so much.” Jungkook gasped. He was so close, but, at the same time, he didn’t want to let go just yet. It felt too good — having you was too perfect. “Can’t b-believe you’re mine.” 
You smiled at his state, one hand brushing the sweaty hair away from his forehead. “Love you too,” you said back. You could say it again and again, without ever getting tired. After so many years swallowing it down, nothing felt so free. “It’s okay, you can let go.” 
Jungkook nodded, only mildly aware of his own actions. With all the force within him, he pushed himself away from you, pulling out from your heat. Soon, his hand wrapped around his cock, using your arousal to pump himself towards his much-needed release. “Shit,” he choked up, throwing his head back. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna—” 
Jungkook grunted as he finally reached his high; cock throbbing in his hands. His cum splattered all over your belly, a few white ropes hitting the underside of your tits as well; dripping down to your mound and pelvis as his movements started to slow down. Even then, so fucked-out and overwhelmed, Jungkook looked like a god you’d be more than happy to worship. 
“Fuck,” he heaved, hooded eyes trailing over your form. By some miracle, probably the work of some mysterious sports god, his jacket remained untouched. “That looks so hot.” 
You smiled, taking a glimpse at your body. “And messy.” 
He let out a breathy, tired laugh. “Yeah. Gonna clean you up, just give me a second. I almost blacked out here.” 
Playfully, you kicked the side of his thigh. “You better,” you told him. “And don’t be so melodramatic.” 
“Rude.” He leaned in, placing a kiss on your lips. You still felt like you were dreaming, trapped in an alternate reality. If that was the case, you didn’t want to wake up. “Next time I’ll cum in your mouth so you’ll learn some manners.” 
Next time. Those words fell like a stone inside your stomach. It was pretty much impossible to mask your lovesick gaze now. “Yeah, bold of you to believe it’ll change a thing.” You pushed him off you, signaling towards the bathroom. “Go, be a good boy and go get me a towel.” 
Jungkook rolled his eyes, but did as you said, leaving the bed soon after. “I liked you better when you were pretending to be my fake girlfriend,” he spoke from the corridor. “You were more polite.”
“I was acting,” you said. “This is what you’re gonna get.” 
He laughed, appearing back in the room. “Ah, well, I guess I made my choice years ago.” 
That managed to shut you up real fast, heart hammering against your ribcage as Jungkook started cleaning you up. His movements were tender on your skin, feather-like touches that moved up your abdomen, to your breasts, then back between your legs. During all that, a familiar, comfortable silence fell between you two — one that you had grown used to; so empty and yet so full. 
After he was done, Jungkook discarded the towel, returning to his rightful place next to you. Like it was your second nature, you curled yourself up next to him, head resting on his chest and his arm wrapping around your waist. 
The world was perfect for exactly thirty seconds before he decided to ruin it. “So…” Jungkook started, a mischievous smirk already curling on his lips, “you like like me.” 
You scoffed, propping your chin on his chest and meeting his gaze. Jungkook was too cute and too hot for his own good, and his post-sex state managed to incorporate both elements in a hazardous combination. “Yes. And you like like me back.” You remarked. “Did you seriously have to go through all these steps instead of just, I don’t know, telling me?” 
He threw his head back, eyes closing in sheer desperation. “I didn’t know!” 
“Everyone knew!” You exclaimed back, flabbergasted. You couldn’t believe that all those years of shared distress could’ve been solved with the most basic common sense. “Do you think I watch your games because I like them? I tell you all the time I hate sports! Dumbass!” 
Jungkook flinched when you slapped the top of his head lightly, forging pain. “Ouch! You’re the dumbass. And I thought you were kidding.” He pouted, eyes drifting off towards a corner of the room. You could tell he was thinking, so you gave him his time. “But now that you mention it…”
You rolled your eyes, laying back down. “Yeah, that’s not so hard to—”
“I cannot stand body horror.” 
“What?” You shrieked, sitting up at lightning speed. That managed to be the most unexpected thing Jungkook had told you that night — scratcher that: ever. “You told me you loved watching body horror with me.” 
He shook his head, an expression of disgust on his face as he was reminded of every horror movie he had ever watched. “I almost puke watching it. I just pretend I enjoy it because it makes you happy.” 
For a moment, your mouth hung open, mind working a million miles per hour to make sense of his admission. Thinking back to it, you had noticed how frequently Jungkook went to the bathroom while watching Tusk; about how many times he coughed and turned his head away from the Human Centipede. “Oh my god.” Your shoulders slumped, your voice was a frail little thing, filled by disbelief. You couldn’t call him dumb when you had acted just the same. “We’re both idiots.”
Jungkook laughed as you returned to your previous position, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Yeah, I think that’s the only possible conclusion.”
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fantasybangtan · 7 months ago
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something to hold on to (myg)
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❦ word count. 17.7k ❦ genre. parent fic, fluff, angst, a bit of boob action ❦ warnings. illness, mention of hospitalisation, mention of minor character death, yoongi is kind of a dick sometimes, accidental(?) flashing ❦ summary. it’s not that you don’t like your job. on the contrary, reading bedtime stories to a certified little princess is something you still can’t believe you get paid to do. it’s just that between all the school runs, snow days and secret second hot chocolates before bed, you may fallen a little too hard for those dimpled cheeks and gummy smiles.... worse still, you’ve fallen for her father too.  ❦ a/n. merry christmas everyone!! this fic is a collaboration with the wonderful @underthejoon​ @kpopfanfictrash​ @suga-kookiemonster​ @junghelioseok​ @bendthekneetobangtan​ @lamourche​ and @hobidreams​. it’s late, lame and cheesy (and probably under-edited) but I like it that way. I hope you’re all having a fantastic holiday, wherever you may be <3 
.
.
.
Now
“...Can we talk?”
For the first time since blustering in through the front door, Yoongi actually stops to spare you a glance.
You’re standing in the entryway in a pair of high waisted jeans and a peach coloured blouse, hands clasped behind your back and a nervous expression on your face. If he notices your outfit is new, he doesn’t pass comment on it. He doesn’t mention the fact that you’re wearing makeup today either, nor that you seem to have taken a little more time with your hair than usual. Not that you’d expected him to. Your employer isn’t well known for giving compliments, much less understanding when a woman is trying to impress him. Yoongi probably wouldn’t recognise flirting if it hit him in the face with a brick. 
His face is impassive as ever when he drops his keys into the bowl with a shrug. “Sure. There’s actually something I wanted to discuss with you too.”
You nod, fiddling anxiously with his hands as he slips off the snow-smattered trench coat to reveal the suit jacket beneath. He looks tired this evening; more so than usual if the dark bags under his eyes are anything to go by. Even on his days off Yoongi works like a tank, often letting himself get so wrapped up in getting everything done he forgets to eat meals. It’s a coping strategy, of course - one that always tends to get a little out of hand when this time of year rolls around. 
Yoongi turns back to you, loosening the knot of his tie with a ringed finger. He raises his eyebrows.
“Kitchen?” 
You follow him through into the heart of the penthouse: a masterpiece of white granite and gold strip lights. The room is utterly spotless save for the mug of freshly-brewed tea that sits waiting on the island, steam spiralling upwards towards the vaulted ceiling. 
“Here,” you say, nudging it towards him. It’s a comfortable ritual between you at this point. Yoongi needs a hit of caffeine if he’s going to make it to dinner without taking his work stress out on whoever’s unfortunate enough to be in the room with him, but following a series of chest pains a few months ago, his doctor put a strict ban on drinking coffee past 7pm. Replacing the habit with a cup of white tea in the evening was your compromise. 
Yoongi takes it with a small nod of gratitude, lowering himself onto the bar stool. His eyes flutter closed for a moment when he takes a sip, and your chest feels warm inside when the tension visibly starts to drain from his shoulders. The man is always so tightly wound. It’s really no wonder he suffers from back pain, what with all the stress he carries around with him. You’ve been trying to convince him to see an osteopath, but Yoongi insists there’s only so much ‘voodoo medicine’ he can bring himself to splash out on per month, and the December quota was already filled by the VapoRub you made him buy for his blocked sinuses. 
He places the mug down with a quiet sigh. 
“How was she today?”
You snap out of your reverie, meeting his expectant gaze. 
“She was wonderful,” you say honestly. “Coach said he’s really proud of how hard she’s been practicing. Her toe double toe loop has come on leaps and bounds these past few weeks.”
Yoongi raises his eyebrows questioningly.
“The jumpy spinny thing,” you clarify.
“Ahh. So that’s what it’s called.”
A fond smile tugs at your lips. Though Yoongi never misses an opportunity to support his daughter on the ice, the ins-and-outs of the sport are often lost on him. Surprisingly, he’s far more adept at the hair and costume side of things than he is at giving his little girl feedback on her actual performances. Ever since the day her first ever coach had pulled him aside to tell him Dee had ‘a god given gift’ that needed to be nurtured, he’s much preferred to leave such things to the professionals. 
“So.” Yoongi laces his fingers atop the table. Though you remain standing, you can’t help but feel that you’ve entered in on one of his business meetings. He looks you up and down. “Do you want to go first or shall I?”
“Oh -” All at once the nerves return full-force, fluttering away in your stomach like a flock of migrating birds. You instinctively drop your gaze to the floor when you feel your neck heating up. “Y-you can start.”
Unsurprisingly, Yoongi doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid at your odd behaviour, and you wonder how on earth Mina thought you could do this. You wonder how you -believed- her. Holding a conversation with your employer without taking offense to his social tactlessness was hard enough, especially before you understood Yoongi’s deadpan honesty is something he genuinely doesn’t know how to reign in. But admitting you have feelings for him? 
That was a whole other kettle of fish.
“I got a call from Dee’s grandmother today,” he says, drawing your attention back to him once again.
You raise your eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Her grandpa’s been taken into hospital with a shattered hip.”
Your eyes go wide. “Oh my god, is he alright?!”
Yoongi waves off your concern, cringing slightly at the shrillness of your tone. “He’s totally fine. He underwent surgery last night and he’s stable,” he eyes you across the island. “...It does mean they won’t be able to have Dee for the run-up to Christmas though.”
As your panic ebbs, you think you catch a glimpse of something softer beneath Yoongi’s default unmoved expression. He’s not only tired, you realise, but exhausted, worn thin by the constant pressure he keeps himself under. It takes everything in you not to close the space between you and wrap your arms around him. You know he’ll only burn himself out if he carries on like this, and the thought makes your heart ache. 
“I know it’s a big ask,” he continues with a weary exhale, scrubbing a hand down his face, “but it’s too late to cancel on this work trip. Flights to Berlin are fully booked up until late January, and the company we’re doing business with has made it abundantly clear they plan to proceed with or without our input. I’d pay you overtime of course. Whatever works best for you. I just need someone to sit here for a few days and make sure my daughter doesn’t burn the apartment down while I’m gone.”
“Yoongi,” you say quietly, shushing him with a gentle hand atop his wrist. He stares down at the point of contact, and you hope to god he can’t hear the way your pulse is going crazy. “You know I’d be happy to do it.”
Tentatively, he meets your eyes. “Are you sure? Your family -”
“Can manage a few more days without me. Looking after Dee is never a burden. She’s…” you cut yourself off, unable to hold his gaze. “She’s the best thing in my life.”
It’s not a lie. But perhaps it’s only a half-truth. The other best thing is sitting right opposite you, after all. 
Yoongi has never been the type to smile much. He’s stoic and blunt, and doesn’t know when to loosen up when the time calls for it - but he never says anything he doesn’t mean. That’s why it makes your heart feel so full when he says a soft, “Thank you, Y/N. You’re really helping me out here.”
You extract your fingers from his wrist, suddenly too shy to maintain the proximity between you. 
“Don’t mention it,” you cough.
Completely oblivious, Yoongi picks up his mug again. “You wanted to talk to me about something too?”
“Oh, uh… well. I was just -” You scramble for the right words, your mind drawing a complete blank beneath the weight of his gaze. 
It wasn’t like you’d come unprepared. You’d planned this whole thing out with Mina over the weekend, even going so far as to roleplay the possible outcomes of your confession (a necessity when it comes to Yoongi, because the man has absolutely zero concept of letting someone down gently). You’d practiced exactly what you wanted to say several times over in the car before heading over to pick up Dee, and all the whole way back to the penthouse you were convinced you had it down pat. 
Right up until Yoongi walked through the door, that is.
With the air stolen from your lungs just looking at him, your confidence crumbles, and the fact that he’s clearly had a shit day doesn’t help any. The harder you will yourself to form a coherent sentence, the more your tongue refuses to do so. 
“I-It’s not important,” you manage eventually.
Yoongi quirks a sceptical eyebrow at you. “Are you sure?”
You pause, then jerk your chin in a nod. 
“I’m sure.”
Yoongi doesn’t push it. 
“Okay then.” He finishes off the last dregs of his tea and rises to a stand. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Oh, you really don’t have to -”
“I know I don’t.” He crosses over to the clothing hooks and grabs your jacket, holding it out to you. “Put this on. I need to check in on Dee first.”
Dazedly, there’s little else you can do but follow his instructions. It’s not an uncommon occurrence for Yoongi to see you through the parking lot outside his place, especially during the winter months when it’s dark out, but the gesture still never fails to make you giddy.
Next time, you say to yourself firmly when he returns, holding open the front door for you to slip out first. Next time, I’ll tell him.
.
Last Year
You slide your feet into your heeled boots, wincing at the way your toes pinch together inside. 
It’s a Saturday evening - one you’d normally spend watching curled up on the couch with a takeaway in your lap or running yourself a nice hot bath, had Mina not spent the better half of the week trying to convince you to go on a date with the IT guy from her office - and between running slightly late and the shot of Dutch courage you definitely shouldn’t have taken ten minutes ago, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself up in knots. 
“You need to get out more,” your friend insists. “It’s been literal years since you last had fun.”
You open your mouth to correct her but she fixes you with a warning glare before you can say anything. 
“Fun in the form of Hula Fit and pottery class don’t count, Y/N. And you should probably save the conversation about your weird hobbies until at least the third date. Preferably after sex too, or your chances of getting any will be slim to none.”
You sink down in your chair, scowling at her over the top of your ice cream cup. 
“I still have fun,” you mutter. “I just have a lot on my plate right now. This new job is taking up a lot of my time, and I’m really not interested in getting fired before the trial period is up.”
“Y/N, you pick a rich couple’s kid up from skate club five times a week, make her pasta and watch cartoons until bedtime,” Mina snorts. “What the hell could go wrong?”
“First of all Mr Min is a single father,” you say, pointing your plastic spoon at her accusingly, “and second of all, you haven’t met the guy. If you had, you’d understand why I’m so on edge.”
“Why? What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s freaking terrifying, Mi!” You throw your hands up in the air to emphasise your point. “He barely spoke in my interview, just sat there giving me the dead eyes while his assistant asked all the questions! And he did exactly the same thing the first time I met his daughter. Just stood in the corner of the living room and watched, like he was assessing my ability to play with her or something.” 
“Well he must have liked what he saw, right? You got the job.”
“Barely. Apparently when he called the agency to let them know I was hired, he made a point of saying it was only because the other girl he’d been speaking with came down with pneumonia and he needed someone ASAP.” You pout sullenly, stabbing at your ice cream. “And since then he’s taken every opportunity to point out when I’m doing something wrong.”
“Maybe you’re just taking it too personally? That’s his little girl after all. He probably just wants to make sure she’s in safe hands.”
“I guess… I just wish he wasn’t so blunt about it,” you sigh. “Mostly I just feel sorry for Dee. I don’t get the chance to see them interact often because he usually gets home after her bedtime, but he doesn’t strike me like the type of dad who’s particularly involved, you know? She must only see him a couple of days a week.” You take another spoonful of ice cream, your gaze turning contemplative. “She must have one hell of a mother, wherever she is. I can’t think of any other way she could’ve turned out to be such a good egg, given that her father’s so emotionally constipated.”
“Okay, that’s it.” Mina lifts a hand to stop you from going on. “You think way too much about other people’s problems, you know that? It’s depressing. You need to stop getting stressed about the things you can’t change, and start focussing on the stuff you can.”
“Such as?”
“Such as your non-existent dating life.” She pulls her phone out and starts typing. “I’m sending you Jungkook’s number, and you will text him this week. Understood?”
Your phone vibrates in your back pocket.
“Mina -”
“Nope.” She holds up a finger. “I’m not backing down this time. Not until you agree to put yourself first for once.”
“...Fine,” you sigh eventually, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “I’ll text him. But I’m not promising anything more, okay?”
Though it physically pains you to admit it, Mina was right to an extent. You haven’t so much as given a guy your number in the past year, let alone one as hot as in the picture she’d showed you. Zipping up the tiny black skirt you’d borrowed from her closet, you realise with a sense of looming dread that the odds of making a fool of yourself tonight are decidedly not in your favour.
“Jungkook is a gentleman,” you recall her telling you, sipping daintily at her bubble tea. “He definitely doesn’t put out on the first date. Buuut -” she’d lifted a finger before you could chime in. “that does not mean you get the green light to wear your granny panties.”
“I don’t see why not. They’re comfortable and non-restrictive.”
“A girl should always wear her best lingerie when it counts, Y/N.”
“Says who?”
“Oscar de La Renta.”
“Ha, right. And what would he know about women’s underwear?”
She fixes you with a deadpan look. “Are you literally kidding me right now.”
“Mina, if Jungkook’s not going to see it then what’s even the point?” you mumble through a mouthful of ice cream, pointing the spoon at her to emphasise your point. “I’m not just gonna slice myself in half for nothing.”
If it were possible, you’re fairly certain Mina’s eyes roll all the way back into the back of her skull.
“It’s not for him, you loser, it’s for you. Sexy underwear is a confidence booster!” 
“It’s also expensive and a pain in the ass to move around in. Quite literally.” You tilt your plastic cup in an effort to dig out the last of the chocolate chips, but Mina reaches across to pluck the spoon from your fingers. “Wha-? Hey!”
“If you think I’m letting you pull a Bridget Jones on your first date in twelve months, you are sorely mistaken,” she says resolutely, ignoring your sullen expression. She raises a hand to flag down the server, muttering under her breath, “Clearly we have more work to do than I anticipated.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m taking you to Silky Fit, and we’re not leaving until you’ve picked something out,” she clarifies, pulling her purse out when the waiter came over with the bill. 
After sparing you a second glance, her expression softens somewhat. She tilts her head and sighs fondly at you, the same way someone might sigh at a helpless child, or a puppy covered from head to toe in mud after playing in the garden. 
“You have ice cream on your chin, babe,” she says, tossing a balled up napkin your way.
And thus, here you are a week later, teetering around your apartment in an outfit that’s two sizes smaller than anything you’d usually opt to wear, the string of your new thong pulling uncomfortably tight between your ass cheeks. 
Admittedly, glancing at yourself in the mirror before slipping your blouse on had left you feeling pleasantly flushed. Even despite the minor physical discomfort, Mina hadn’t been lying about the confidence boost. Your body looked good. The colour of the set you’d picked out provided a pretty contrast against your skin, and the bra had just the right amount of upward push to make your breasts look full and perky in their cups. Though ‘sexy’ was never typically a word you’d thought to associate with yourself, turning from side to side in the mirror almost had you reconsidering. 
Makeup done and hair styled into a loose updo, you snap a quick picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror, feeling surprisingly content with the end result.
Y/N: [image.png]
Y/N: all good ???
Despite being at a formal dinner with her boss and some company associates, it takes less than a minute for your friend to respond. You snort when an image of her disgruntled face comes through, clearly shot from beneath the restaurant table. 
Mina: stop trying to sext me ?? I don’t have time for this right now
Y/N: desperate times. need validation :(
Mina: you look so good I could eat you
Mina: ...are you wearing them?👀
You smile at your phone. Feeling emboldened by her praise, you pull up your camera again, this time shooting a quick video in which you turn slowly so she could see the full effect of your outfit. At the very end you tug your blouse to the side a little, flashing just the top of your lace bra with a comically over-exaggerated wink. 
Y/N: video.mp4 🤫
Y/N: enjoy your night baby x
Your taxi calls shortly afterwards to let you know they’re downstairs. 
.
Despite how busy the restaurant is tonight, it isn’t hard to spot your date. 
Jungkook is big. Far bigger than you’d imagined the stereotypical nerdy tech guy to be. He practically dwarfs you when he stands up to shake your hand, and you feel positively giddy when he rounds the table to pull your chair out for you. He even has the presence of mind to catch you when you inevitably stumbled over your heels on the way down, a gentle hand on your elbow stopping you from face planting in front of the entire establishment. 
“Careful there,” he murmurs, the amused smile on his face causing your neck to prickle with welcome heat. “You almost fell for me.”
When you let out a loud snort in response, clapping a hand over your mouth as a second too late to catch the unattractive sound, Jungkook doesn’t even bat an eyelid - just proceeds to tuck your chair in behind you and call the waiter over to take your drinks orders. You can’t help but wonder if Mina warned him about you beforehand. 
All in all, the date gets off to a good start. You’re relieved to learn that Jungkook is smooth enough for the both of you, seamlessly filling any lulls in the conversation before things have a chance to turn awkward. What’s more, he seems genuinely interested in learning more about you, listening attentively when you explain how you’re currently studying part time for your masters in education whilst nannying on the side. You flush with warmth when he praises your ambition. 
“It must be hard, juggling work with your studies,” he remarks. “It’s awesome that you’re so committed.”
“It’s not that impressive really,” you say, though your whole body is practically aglow from all the compliments. “Truth be known, the agency I work with deals primarily with parents from wealthy areas of the city, so most of us get paid a bit more than your average sitter would. It almost feels like cheating, really.”
“Oh?” Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, raising his wine glass to his lips. “Any celebrities on your contact list so far?”
“Sadly not. I’m only two weeks into my first job so far, and my current employer flies a little lower under the radar than most rich people.”
“A businessman then,” Jungkook nods.
“Precisely. He used to run a tech company, which I think is how he made the majority of his wealth. Nowadays he just does marketing stuff though.”
“A tech company, huh?” Jungkook presses. “Would I have heard of him?” 
To your alarm, he almost spits out his wine when the name Min Yoongi comes out your mouth.  
“Min? As in Min Enterprises?!” he sputters. 
You’re quick to fill him a glass of water, which he accepts gratefully. “That’s the one. You know him?”
“Sure I do,” he says between gulps. “We use literally all of his anti-virus software at work. The guy’s a genius.”
You raise your eyebrows curiously. “Really? The woman from my agency told me his tech company closed years ago. I don’t know much about this stuff, but I would have thought any software they produced would be a little outdated by now...”
Jungkook snorts in amusement. “Closed down is one way of putting it.”
“What do you mean?”
“His programme was good. So good that none of the other tech giants compete with it,” Jungkook explains once his eyes have stopped watering. “Come 2010, Microsoft bit the bullet and bought him out for around fifteen million. They’ve been developing and expanding on his work ever since.”
“Fifteen million?” Your eyebrows shot up towards your hairline. “Christ! No wonder his apartment looks like the Louvre.” 
“I bet it does,” Jungkook laughs. “I’d kill to see what your Christmas bonus looks like.”
It certainly explains a lot, you think to yourself. Particularly Yoongi’s attitude. You’ve seen The Social Network, after all, as painstakingly boring as it may have been. Those matrix-minded, Zuckerberg type kids always grow up to be emotionally stunted. It’s like a trade-off they make with God for getting to be smarter than ninety-nine per cent of the human population. 
When the waiter comes back to whisk away your starter plates, you momentarily excuse yourself to go to the bathroom to check your teeth for wayward broccoli. After giving yourself the all clear, you fix your lipstick and pull your phone out to let Mina know everything’s going well. 
You’re surprised to discover you already have three new messages from her.
Mina: helloooooo ??
Mina: man. she goes on ONE date and already I’ve been dropped
Mina: after all I’ve done for you 😭
You furrow your brows in confusion, scrolling up in the chat. Your bewilderment only increases when you discover Mina’s previous texts have, indeed, gone unanswered. Your video clip is nowhere to be found, and you wonder absently if the Wi-Fi back at your apartment is screwing you over again.
No sooner have you exited the chat that another text comes through, this time from a different number.
We need to talk.
Your heart abruptly flatlines. 
Several things click at once after that, the first being that clearly, it was not Mina’s name you had clicked on to send that video to. 
With shaking hands you open up the chat with your employer, utterly horrified when all your worst nightmares are confirmed at once. 
There, staring back up at you from beneath a message asking if Dee is allergic to band aids, is your cleavage. 
Enjoy your night baby, is what you’d said to Mr Min afterwards. 
Mr Min, who could slice a grown man’s confidence to ribbons with little more than a look. 
Mr Min, your boss of merely two weeks. 
“Fuck!” you hiss, pressing the call button and bringing the phone to your ear. “Oh fucking, fucking fuck…”
Your employer picks up on the second ring. You suck in a shaky breath before speaking. 
“Sir, I -”
“Miss L/N.” 
His voice is ice cold. So cold that the sound alone sound has your apology catching in your throat. 
Not for the first time since you met him, you’re reminded of exactly why Yoongi is so revered and respected among those in the business world. You can’t imagine what it would be like to have him speak your name like that in a boardroom full of men in suits, but you’re pretty sure any shred of self-confidence you had would be all but crushed beneath the toe of his designer oxfords if he so desired. In all honesty, you’d probably prefer it if he were yelling at you. At least if he raised his voice, you wouldn’t be gripping the faucet right now for fear your knees might buckle beneath you.
Somewhere on the other end of the line, a door slams shut like Yoongi is just getting in after a long day. Or perhaps he’s taking this conversation somewhere more private. Either possibility has your stomach churning with anxiety. 
“What is wrong with you?” he hisses under his breath.
You swear you’ve never wanted the floor to swallow you up so badly as you do in this moment.
Screwing your eyes shut, you force yourself to respond. 
“Sir, I can’t tell you how completely sorry I am… th-the video was meant for someone else. I would never be so bold as to -”
“You do realise I’m entrusting my child to you?”
Immediately, your mouth snaps shut. The sensation that you’ve just been slapped across the face takes you by complete surprise.
It takes a few seconds for your brain to play catch up with what Yoongi just said, but when the words finally compute, you feel -hurt-. The suggestion that your personal life might impact on your ability to take care of Yoongi’s daughter stings like hell, and for all his lacking interpersonal skills, your employer didn’t strike you as the type to draw such conclusions until now. The notion doesn’t sit well with you at all. 
Swallowing tightly, you place a hand over your abdomen to ground yourself.
“I really am sorry, Mr Min,” you repeat quietly. “It was an accident. I never intended to put you in an uncomfortable position, and I promise it won’t happen again.”
On the other end of the line, Yoongi is quiet for a moment. 
You wonder if he could hear the slight tremble in your voice. If he can sense the fact that he just squashed your self-confidence beneath his thumb like it was nothing. 
“Make sure it doesn’t,” he mutters eventually. Then, after another short pause, “I’ll see you on Monday.” 
Before you can so much as thank him for not threatening to report you to the agency, you’re met with the tell-tale click of your employer placing the phone down on you, leaving you with an embarrassed lump in your throat and bottom lip wobbling with the threat of tears. 
As could probably be predicted, your date with Jungkook goes rapidly downhill from there. Apparently unable to enjoy a good thing without utterly humiliating yourself along the way, you feel sick to your stomach with anxiety for the remainder of the evening. You barely even touch your dessert, and when Jungkook walks you to your cab half an hour later, you brush him off with a forced smile and a handshake, already having accepted the fact that he wouldn’t want to see you again.
Only when you’re in the back of the cab and heading home do you allow the first quiet tears to fall.
.
Showing up to work the following Monday is one of the toughest things you’ve ever done.
Even Dee seems to notice something is off when you pick her up from practice. Shrewd as she is, she eventually settles for humming along to the radio when she realises you’re in no mood to talk. Try as you might, you can’t stop replaying her father’s words to you on the phone, and despite Mina’s insistence that he’s an unforgiving prick, a small part of you still wonders if he’s right… Are you even fit to look after a kid? Are you fit to do -anything- besides making a fool of yourself?
To make things worse, Yoongi arrives home early that evening. 
As nervous as you are to see him again, you can’t help but be momentarily distracted by the way he hoists Dee up onto his hip to greet her. It’s not that he’s smiling or anything - such an expression would probably look wrong on him, anyway - but the way he cradles the back of her head seems strangely affectionate for a man like him.
“You’re getting heavy,” he murmurs, pausing to sniff her damp curls. His eyebrows furrow slightly. “And you smell different.”
“Y/N put lime jelly in my bath,” his daughter responds in a sleepy voice, her voice muffled against his lapel. “The water turned green like a skeptic tank.”
“Septic tank,” Yoongi corrects quietly. Though his face remains as expressionless as ever, you don’t miss the way his aura grows soft around her - a detail he himself probably doesn’t even recognise. “Sounds like you two had fun.”
His eyes lock with yours across the living room and you drop your gaze immediately, your body flushing with heat like you’ve been caught out doing something you shouldn’t. 
“S-sorry,” you blurt reflexively, already moving to grab your satchel. “I didn’t realise you were coming home early. Let me just pack up my stuff -”
“Y/N.” Yoongi’s voice stops you in your tracks. “Can I speak with you for a second?”
Standing stock still like a deer in the headlights, a sense of impending doom floods through you. This is it. Clearly Yoongi’s thought it over and decided to fire you after all. And the worst thing is you couldn’t even blame him! How could he possibly see you as a professional again after witnessing you running your tongue over your top teeth like a hungry carnivore? You haven’t even had the chance to explain it was -ironic.-
“Sure,” you squeak, torn between accepting your fate and grovelling on your knees for forgiveness. Who the hell was going to hire the babysitter who got fired from her first job during the trial period? For sending -provocative images- no less!
Carefully, Yoongi sets Dee down on the floor again, nodding in the direction of her room. 
“Why don’t you go pick out a bedtime story?” he says.
His daughter peers up at him like he’s just sprouted a second head. 
“You’re going to read to me?”
“No, I’m going to hit you over the head with it.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Obviously I’m going to read to you.”
Dee doesn’t look convinced. She folds her arms over her chest. 
“Alice in Wonderland?”
“That book is long as hell, Dee. I’ll read two chapters.”
“Five.”
“Three.”
“With the voices?”
“What am I, a performing monkey? Get out of here before I change my mind, kid.”
Dee huffs, clearly dissatisfied. Nonetheless, she trudges off to her room, her ringlets bouncing as she goes.
The living room falls uncomfortably quiet again once it’s just you and Yoongi. 
You fiddle idly with your hands, unsure of where to look. The embarrassment of the situation hits you all over again when you accidentally replay the video in your mind, and despite the fact that you’re wearing two layers already, you can’t help but cross your arms protectively over your chest. 
As if sensing your discomfort, Yoongi clears his throat.
“May I offer you a drink?”
You pause. It’s not quite what you’d expected, but then again, rich people are weird. Maybe it’s customary to send your incompetent employees on their way with a glass of Chateau Petrus. Having skipped out on the whole making-millions-of-dollars-in-your-early-twenties thing, you probably wouldn’t know.
“I’m fine,” you manage weakly, shaking your head. “Thank you, sir.”
Yoongi gestures towards the couches. “Shall we sit then?”
You gnaw at your lip anxiously. “... I think that depends.”
“On?”
“Whether you’re going to fire me.” You force yourself to look up. “With all due respect, Mr Min, I’d rather just shake hands and go. I’m finding it hard enough to look you in the eye right now as it is.”
Yoongi blinks. Your words hang heavy in the air between you.