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#bts smut
venusiangguk · 3 months ago
idealizations concerning real life relations | jjk (m)
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>>pairing: jungkook x reader / fuckboy!jk x hopeless romantic!oc
>>genre: s2l, fwb, smut, angst
>>word count: 40.9k besties i am so sorry
>>warnings: jk is so sweet, but also so evil lmao, oc lives in her little noggin, angsty fwb, drug and alcohol use, tattoos, multiple smut scenes that include: oral (m/f), fingering (f), light face slapping (with hand and cock??), praise, degradation, marking, dirty talk, so many creampies yum, multiple orgasms, kissing :(, cumming in pants :), probably more but i cant think of it, ok other stuff now, manipulation, infidelity, oc thinks jk is made of stars :(, jk thinks she is so pretty :(, misunderstandings, some fluff if you squint, brunette jk, blonde jk, n blue jk,  1 mentions of: howls moving castle, too many mentions of: stars, the color pink
>>notes: bruv i do not have anything to say for myself EXCPET that i worked v hard on her and i really hope u like it <3 beta: @birbdae​ tysm for dealing with this, she is long lmao >>> soundtrack
this is split up by seasons, so if 40k is a lot for one sitting, you can read one season at a time if that is easier :)
>>summary: jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.
 Souls are stars. Half of a star to be exact. Clearly this means your soulmate, or whatever shares the other half. 
 When you die, your body becomes the earth. The trees, the flowers, the grass. Dirt. And your soul becomes stardust that ascends back to its rightful place in the night sky until the other half of your star meets you there. 
 And there you stay until it’s your time to live again. You’re then a falling star. Shooting, flying, breaking apart as you soar across the sky. Pieces of you and them scattered who knows where, some pieces falling longer than others, some finding their place on the earth immediately. Until the universe decides to bring you back to one another. Born again. Together again. If you’re lucky enough to meet in this lifetime. But if not in this one, then perhaps the next. Or maybe you were together in the one before. Maybe it’s guaranteed. Once a lover, always a lover. In this life and in the next. 
 Who knows? You sure as hell don’t. 
 It doesn’t make sense. The way you think about the stars and the people around you. You know that. It’s not like you live by it or anything. You don’t even like space. Know that realistically stars are just gas and that when they fall from the sky they are dying, not reincarnating. They smash into the ground and then. Poof. Gone forever, nothing but a black hole left behind. You also know that soulmates are a fairytale at best and a beautifully spun cruel web of lies at worst. 
 But being a part of a star and having a… person sounds a lot better to you than eternal damnation or a forever of nothing but void darkness. 
 “Iced Hazelnut macchiato sub oat milk for __!”
 Blushing Brews is hectic but the barista is a smiling little caffeine fairy granting your wish for energy in the form of a small plastic cup. You smile as you take the drink from him. His smile is blinding, it hurts to look at him directly.
 You think that maybe not everyone is part of a star and that maybe some are just random, pointless space rocks that fall to earth. But not the barista. He’s definitely part star.
 “Thanks,” you say.
 You shuffle through the people waiting for their drinks and take a seat at your usual table. The whole coffee shop is quaint and cute, the chairs vintage and upholstered in different shades of velvet fabric. The tables have dried flowers and flakes of gold encapsulated in them. Your table is a little to the left next to the large window, with the order station still in view. You get to people watch the folks outside and person watch the one inside, only one soul able to hold your attention indoors. Aside from the friends sat with you at your table of course. You stir your drink.
 “I bet his cum tastes like the oat milk he puts in my coffee.” You stare at the barista behind the counter, innocently just doing his job, oblivious to the way he glows so bright. “Thick and creamy... kinda sweet...” 
 “You are so-” Taehyung starts. 
 “Disgusting. She’s disgusting,” Yoongi finishes for him. If the barista is a star, Yoongi is a space rock.
 You raise your eyebrows, contemplative. He’s not wrong. Dirty, nasty, disgusting. You’re all of the above. But you’re also a hopeless romantic. Forever in love with the idea of love and all the different parts of it. Always looking at every aspect of life, through rose-tinted glasses. If you wanted to idealize the barista’s sperm, you would. Who was Min Yoongi to stop you? You take a sip of the coffee the barista prepared for you. “You know he never charges me extra for it, even though he’s supposed to.”
 “He should. Considering he could probably get in trouble and also how you objectify him.” Yoongi grimaces as he downs his black espresso.  
 “I don’t objectify him, I romanticize him. I simply observe him and speak everything that goes on in my pretty little head.” Both of your friends give you a flat stare. “Okay, it’s not like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” He may not know the extent of his charm, but you know he knows he’s charming. “He has a whole sleeve and wears massive stompers to crush hearts. What’s he doing working in a coffee shop?”
 “His job?”
 “No. He’s trying to subtly leave an impression on unsuspecting creative writing majors that never had a strong male figure in their life, just so he can further ingrain in their head that while he is breathtaking, and makes an incredible iced hazelnut macchiato sub oat milk, he will surely leave just like everyone else, only to become a distant pink memory that they can’t forget, no matter how hard they try and how insignificant.”
 “He doesn’t even know your name,” Taehyung says, with a roll of his eyes.
 “How can you go from talking about his nut to calling him breathtaking and pink?” Yoongi pulls his laptop out, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.
 “Of course he knows my name. Also. You know what else I bet is pink? His big fat-”
 “Shut up.”
 You hum, swiftly transitioning. “I’m multifaceted and the definition of dichotomy.” Out comes your notebook. You could at least look like you’re being productive. “I only handwrite poetry and I pull over when I see a field of flowers and I think we are all made of stars, but I also like getting railed and degraded, as well as emotionally demeaned,” You pause, thinking for just a moment, “Though that’s more for my art than anything. Duality.”
 “You’re something, that’s for sure. Don’t look now but barista baby is walking this way.”
 Barista baby. A pastel feeling starts to creep its way over your skin, leaving goosebumps, and a blush in its wake. You glance in the direction of the counter and sure enough, during a lull in traffic he’s out from behind the counter and he looks like he’s coming directly for you. His big black pants that are decorated with a chain jingle as he takes heavy steps with boot-clad feet. Maybe you’re dramatic but you think you can see a trail of stardust behind him. You look away. Too bright.
 “Hey, can I clear these cups for you?” he asks, reaching for Yoongi’s empty one, and Taehyung’s mostly full one. His voice is deep and as soft as the velvet you’re sitting on. He pauses when he feels the weight of Taehyung’s cup. “Oh sorry about that.” He sets it back down.
 “Take it, he doesn’t even like coffee, he just gets it for the aesthetic. He’s an art major.” You roll your eyes, sipping your drink.
 “Why do you add my major at the end of every insult?” Taehyung groans at you before turning to the barista. “Do you even know her name?”
 “Taehyung!” you gasp. Yoongi’s laughing quietly next to you, typing away.
 The barista looks between you and your friend hesitantly before saying. “Of course I do, it’s __. She comes in here like at least 3 times a week.”
 Taehyung sniffs and you beam.
 “Do you know my name?” the barista quizzes.
 Your eyes flicker from his face down to the little chalkboard name tag attached to the mauve apron that he’s wearing over his short sleeve black shirt. ‘JK ♥’ is written in pink chalk. Cute.
 “Yeah it’s JK,” you say, leaning forward on the table, giving him your full attention.
 He smirks. “Don’t let my manager hear that. It’s actually Jeongguk.”
 “Well, Jeongguk, you would not believe what __ had to say about the oat milk you guys have here. She said-” Taehyung starts.
 “I said,” you cut him off shooting him daggers, “That it’s super thick and creamy, really yummy.”
 “Speaking of oat milk,” Jeongguk says unfazed, “You literally break my heart every time you stir that drink.” He leans forward bracing his hands on the table, kinda crowding your space, and nods his head in the direction of your half-empty, light brown coffee.
 ‘You literally break my heart every time you look at me.’ You think. You slow blink at him. “Why is that?”
 “It’s supposed to be consumed in layers.” His eyes are twinkling, and his smile is just a little crooked.
 You hum, thoughtfully. “Would it make you happy if I consumed it in layers?” You look up at him through your eyelashes. He’s trying to suppress a smile, his shoulders shaking lightly with poorly concealed laughter.
 Taehyung fights back a gag as he chokes on the tension radiating off of you and Jeongguk. Quickly he raises to his feet, and snatches Yoongi’s laptop right from his hands, tucking it underneath his arm before he’s pulling the older boy out of his seat. 
 “Yoongi I just remembered that we need to finish that project-“
 “Tae you’re an art major, and I’m an engineering major. Our classes are in completely different buildings. There’s actually no plausible way for that to be believable and I would literally never pick you as my partner. One because you…” They fade out as they get closer to the door, making their exit.
 Jeongguk glances at the newly free seat before peeking at the counter. Still no queue. He takes it upon himself to sit. He places his chin on his hands, tattoos and rings on full display. “Yeah. It would.” He states plainly.
 You shift in your seat. It’s so hard to look at a star close up. You squint. “What if that made me not happy?” It truly would ruin your day. Why would you drink straight oat milk, and then straight espresso when you could mix it and enjoy both flavors at once?
 He searches your features before cocking his head to the side, a tiny closed-lip smile on his face. “What would make you happy then?”
 Your heartbeat is fast and heavy and you can hear it in your ears, everything else subdued and muted. You bring a well-manicured hand down trace at one of the blossoms in the table. You can’t look at him anymore, not when you say it. With faux confidence you speak, “You could take me out.” 
 You see him tense in your peripheral. You’re still tracing the flower, breath stuck in your throat. 
 “No,” he says. Your hand jerks, ruining the perfect petals you’ve been outlining. You recover quickly, clearing your throat.
 “You could take me out.”
 Your head whips up. Eyes wide and doe-like before you get your composure. You scoff. “What’s the difference? Also, why haven’t you talked to me before?”
 He looks like he’s thinking, a brief flicker of something flashes in his eyes, gone too fast for you to place it. He looks like he’s settling when he says, “I like to be pursued.” 
 A smile slowly graces your lips. You nod. “Fair enough.”
 He brings his hand down and brushes his pinky against your finger that was tracing the flower. It’s weird how your whole body burns hot and ignites from such a small touch. “I gotta go,” he says, tone soft and hazy and baby pink. 
 You glance towards the door just as a couple walks in. You purse your lips and make a soft agreeing noise.
 Jeongguk raises from his seat, smoothing out his apron. He’s walking away when you speak up.
 “Why don’t you ever charge me for the oat milk?”
 He glances back at you, a radiant star-filled smile on his face. “To make you happy.”
 A small rush of air pushes past your lips as you watch him walk away. You wonder if anyone has ever been successful when pursuing a star. 
 You do your best to get to work, though your eyes keep flickering to the counter. Jeongguk catches you just once or twice. Each time he smiles and looks away, focusing once again on the orders he’s being given. 
 The couple that interrupted your and Jeongguk’s conversation ends up sitting a few tables away. Not close enough for you to hear, but close enough for you to watch. Ever the daydreamer, you wonder what they are saying. What should we get for lunch? Did you call your mom like you said you would? Do you want to stay the night? Are you the other half of my star?
 The girl is offering the boy a sip of her drink, his hand coming up to cover hers as he guides it to his mouth. She smiles big, eyes half crescents, when he nods in approval, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek, grinning into it. They settle into a conversation, hands moving, heads shaking.
 You close your notebook and head to campus. Jeongguk doesn’t notice you’ve left until a few hours later.
 “Fancy seeing you here!”
 You jump, almost knocking over your coffee and glance next to you to see the beautiful boy who scared you. 
 Jeongguk is fresh-faced with his eyes brighter than ever, and he smells like freshly ground coffee beans. The expensive imported kind. From Colombia or something. Maybe Paris. You think a pretty boy like Jeongguk would look good in Paris. Anywhere beautiful really. A beautiful boy in a beautiful place. It just makes sense. He’s still got his apron on and his hair is tied up today, little flyaways framing his face like a halo. 
 “Is it really?” you ask, trying to sound bored. Trying to quiet the butterflies in your tummy. 
 You’ve got your laptop with you. No distractions in the form of pointless scribbles or poorly written couplets about boys with coffee eyes and kisses that probably taste like coffee to match, today! You’ve got a Humanities paper due in about 8 hours.
 “I guess not, considering you’re here literally all the time.” He grins and scoots closer. “What are you doing?”
 “I have a paper due later, so I’m just finishing that up.” You ignore the scoff he makes when he sees you’ve barely got half a page written.
 Jeongguk reaches to his other side and offers up a new coffee, figuring yours would be watered down by now. Considering you’ve been here since opening. It's particularly quiet for a Friday, but the lull in business is always welcome. Jeongguk glances to the counter at the storefront, only to find that Jimin’s staring and when he catches Jeongguk’s eye, he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Jeongguk smiles a tiny grin, but other than that, the other barista is swiftly ignored.
 You take the coffee with a small ‘Thank you.’ and then hold his gaze as you deliberately stir it, mixing the carefully poured layers. You smile when Jeongguk’s eye twitches.
 “Very unhappy right now.”
 You sip away.
 “What’s your major?”
 “Creative writing. Do you go to school? I haven’t seen you around campus.” You make sure to save what you have so far, just in case you get even more distracted and forget to do so later. 
 He shakes his head, pretty earring twinkling in the window light. “I would hate to be stuck somewhere for 4 years, and then not even be guaranteed a job after all that debt I would be in.” He pauses and then chuckles at how gloomy he sounds. “I do apprentice at a tattoo shop every now and again. Your major makes sense though. Seems fitting.”
 You tuck the tattoo apprenticeship information away, saving it for a later conversation. “How do you know what fits me?” 
 His expression is sly. “I know more about you than you think. I hear the way you talk about things, and see how you look at them. Plus you’ve always got your nose in your notebook. Do you want to be an author?”
 You scoff and roll your eyes, a trace of bitterness seeping through and tainting your expression. “We all want to be authors.” You unfold and refold the napkin in your hand, before tossing it to the side. “I’m going to be an editor, or a journalist, or... something.”
 “Don’t worry you have time to think about it.”
 You give him a sideways glance. “I mean- not really, I graduate at the end of the spring semester.”
 He regards you with curious eyes for a second. He looks like he’s trying to figure you out. His eyebrows furrow like he comes up empty with no explanation for what he is wondering. So with a faint confused smile, he asks, “Why do you live like that?”
 You place the coffee you were about to sip back down, caught off guard a little by his genuinely inquisitive and soft tone. “Like what? With long term goals?”
 He laughs, loud. It’s brash and startling in the quiet coffee shop. He throws his head back and his eyes crinkle. Some people turn to look at you both. You don’t care. “I mean that’s one way of saying it. But what I mean is like- what if you change your mind? Or like I don’t know… get bored?”
 You pause. It’s a loaded, scary question. You wonder if the jobs you listed would really be enough to satisfy someone like you. Someone who’s always thinking about things in a way that makes them seem better than they are. Someone who sees things in extremes and thinks stars are inside of people. Someone who has a constant feeling inside that always wants more. You wonder if you actually will get bored. What you’d do if you did. You don’t want to think about it anymore, so you don’t. Instead, simply stating, “I love writing. I won’t change my mind about that, and as long as I’m doing something that has to do with it, then I’ll be fine.” You think you’re telling the truth, mostly at least.
 He makes a soft noise of understanding, but you’re not sure if he actually does.
 “I guess if I had something I loved like you love writing then I would see things differently. I just don’t love anything that much. Nothing but my freedom. And it seems like everything tries to take that away eventually.”
 Your breath catches and you think something cracks inside of you. Can you ever truly contain a star? Or is it the tighter you hold it, the more likely it is to explode? A supernova waiting to happen?
 Before you can respond he speaks up again. “But hey, listen. We should, like, hang out.”
 “Oh? I thought you wanted me to take you out?” You jest.
 He rolls his eyes, fighting a smile. “You’re still going to.” 
 The thing about being a hopeless romantic is that you think about life in could be’s. You could be his, he could be yours. You paint a picture of potential in your head, all different shades of pink and red and doused in stardust. 
 You’re levelheaded and sane in most areas of your life, can understand the consequences of moving too fast, not taking the time to think, and not seeing things for what they truly are. But when it comes to things that have to do with liking, with loving, with wanting… You’re brash and eager. You cling to idealizations and dream of scenarios. It makes you infatuated quick, attached even quicker. It’s not a bad thing really. You just fall fast and love easily. You’re good at hiding it, but that sweet pink feeling? It’s always there, just simmering under the surface. 
 The party is loud and so is your beating heart. Thump, thump, thump. The room has an almost opaque hazy feeling to it, smoke lingering in the air from whatever everyone is smoking. You take a sip from your red plastic cup, grimace, then drink some more. You don’t drink that often, but it's nice. Once you can’t taste or feel the burn of it anymore. Once it makes you float a little. People are bumping into you, as you leave the kitchen. You just refilled your drink. Vodka and some juice this time. 
 He’s running towards you at the speed of light. At least it seems like it. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s because he’s just fast. Maybe it’s just because you've got a crush. He doesn’t need to run, you’ll still be there. He’s stopped by people here and there, ugly moths flocking to a bright flame. He flutters away with soft dismissive smiles, a few ‘Hey I’ll catch you later, okay?’s. It makes you feel fuzzy.
 “You made it!” He’s beaming, and he’s not out of breath but his chest is moving a little faster than normal. You can see his muscles through the thin fabric of the t-shirt he’s wearing. You stare. He crowds your space, comes close enough for your hand that’s holding your drink to bump into his tummy. Very firm, very strong tummy. He’s so warm, kinda sweaty from all the excess body heat in the room. Or maybe he was dancing. You wanna watch. See how he moves. You take another drink, grazing his stomach as you bring your arm back down.
 “You came,” He says again. He’s talking to the top of your head, mostly, your eyes still distracted. His hand comes up to grip at the elbow of your bent arm, just resting there. Just touching.
 At last, look up at him, and you have to consciously take a breath. He’s glowing so bright in the hazy, smoky room, surely he doesn’t belong here. At the party. On Earth. He’s wearing a wide neck tee, it shows off the length of his collarbones. They are pretty, strong. But you don’t linger.  And you ignore the fresh blossoms of sore red skin that are already there. Just peeking out. You showed up late. Jeongguk doesn’t seem like the type to wait. Not that he was waiting for you. Maybe he was. You hope he was. Even if he found things to keep him occupied while doing so.
 “Yeah, I came.” You look at him over the lip of your cup. You’re almost there, almost floating.
 He doesn’t say anything when he takes the cup from your hand, holding it from the top, taking a sip of his own. He doesn’t grimace. Maybe he’s already used to the taste. You’d say something but the drinks make you a little sluggish, your quick-wit slowed down. You’re not drunk, far from it, you’re just feeling... nice. He takes your hand, drags you through the crowd of people. That feels nice too. His hand is big and warm, kinda rough yet baby soft at the same time. You’ve always loved contradictions. He’s pulling you to the living room. There’s a ratty couch in the corner with your name on it. Probably spelled in a variety of questionable fluids.
 “My friends-” you say realizing you lost Taehyung and Yoongi.
 “They’ll find you, don’t worry. The house isn’t that big.” It’s kind of hard to hear him. You lean closer.
 To your surprise, Yoongi and Taehyung are actually already there, making quick friends with the other barista from Blushing Brews. Jimin, you remember Jeongguk mentioning him here and there. A few other people are around too, some you vaguely recognize from campus or just around, some you’ve never seen before. There’s not that much room on the couch.
 You glance up at Jeongguk, but he doesn’t seem bothered, easily finding a place for himself. He’s still got your hand, so you’re dragged with him, settling half on his lap half on the cushion. You’re kind of sideways, back against the arm of the couch, side pressed against him, legs over his lap. His hand is on your mid-thigh, fingers on the inner seam of your jeans. He’s not doing anything but it feels good. He’s got his other arm around the armrest of the sofa, around you. It’s a little too hot to be sitting so close, but you don’t say anything and neither does he.
 The conversation around you is hectic, bouncing from topic to topic. You’re content just sitting and listening, casually just nursing your drink. Taehyung’s going on about the latest piece for his portfolio and how he got accepted to be part of the university’s winter showcase which was kinda of a big deal, and a guy named Namjoon is talking about the wonders of botany, and the medicinal benefits of plants. There’s a couple of girls around too, you smile whenever you accidentally make eye contact with them while people watching. They smile back, eyes flitting curiously between you and Jeongguk. He squeezes your thigh. You press them together, subconsciously, mostly a natural reaction.
 “Hey,” He says quietly, so only you hear.
 You turn your head to look at him, instead of the people around you. You make a surprised noise when you see how close you are, noses almost touching, him already looking at you. You question him with a look.
 He doesn’t need to, your proximity already near, but he presses his lips against your hair, right next to your ear, his cheek brushing yours. “Are you comfy?” You feel him smile more than see it. 
 You wiggle your toes in your sneakers, press your side a little closer to his chest. “Mhmm.” You glance down when you feel his fingers start to trace the seam of your pants, no longer just squeezing and holding. You honestly can’t help it if you spread your legs just a bit wider in response. You think you feel his breath hitch, before you definitely feel his hand settle high on your inner thigh. It’s nothing scandalous, but it’s something. Makes that sickly sweet feeling boil in your belly.
 “You look pretty.” There’s a lazy grin on his face, he’s looking at you with so much contentment that it makes you squirm. You wonder if he’s high. His hand on your thigh tightens. You ask him if he is.
 He giggles, cute and quiet before pressing his face into your shoulder like he’s embarrassed. “No, I was but not anymore.” When he looks at you again, his cheeks are tinted pink. He looks pretty too. You tell him.
 He rolls his eyes, and looks like he’s about to argue. But the bubble you both were protected in is popped by Jimin’s loud voice, mentioning his name.
 “Don’t let Jeongguk hear you say that. He’s the most cynical person I know. Will crush the little daydream in your head so quick.”
 Jeongguk laughs, before chiming in, “Who’s day do I need to ruin?”
 One of the guys you don’t know speaks up. He’s got broad shoulders and plump lips. “Hyeon, over here thinks she’s found her soulmate in the form of her Mathematics professor.” He rolls his eyes like it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. 
 You look at the girl and she’s laughing light heartedly, not taking the jabs too seriously. You catch Yoongi’s eye, and he’s already looking at you, eyes bubbling with soft concern, like he knows where this conversation is going to go. 
 Jeongguk adjusts you on his lap, not much, just enough so he can sit up some more and be fully attentive. He keeps his hands all over you. You don’t miss the way almost everyone’s eyes are on you, nosy and full of questions.
 “Hyeon, let me ask you this. Let’s say on the incredibly off chance soulmates do exist, why the fuck would he be in your hometown, that you literally have never left? There’s 7 billion people in the world and you think you met your ‘one true love’ at your University?” he even uses air-quotes. 
 Hyeon sniffs, and turns her nose up. “I think it’s fate that-“
 Jeongguk interrupts her with an obnoxious buzzer noise. “EH. Wrong. Please Hyeon. Believing in that shit is just setting yourself up for disappointment.” He shakes his head, exasperated, before he settles back into the couch. His fingers start tickling your inner thigh again.
 Everyone’s kinda chuckling, even Taehyung when he asks, “Damn man… Who the fuck hurt you?”
 Everyone really chuckles at that. Except Jeongguk. He shrugs trying to come off unbothered. Calm, cool, and collected. Like he didn’t just passionately crush a girl’s hopes of finding the one. Although you will admit, falling for your university teacher probably wasn’t the best path to follow on the quest for finding your person. 
 “No one,” Jeongguk says, “I just think it’s stupid.”
 Jimin cackles, high pitched and teasing. “Yeah okay. Don’t listen to him. He got his heart broke a few years ago and hasn’t been the same since.”
 Jeongguk laughs like he’s over it. You wonder if he is. “Shut the fuck up Jimin.” His eyes still have starshine in them when he turns his attention back to you. “I’m gonna go get another drink. Do you want one?”
 You shake your head, giving him a small smile. He squeezes your thigh before he goes, leaving with a quiet, “Stay here okay? I’ll be right back.” 
 Taehyung’s quick to take his place, plopping your legs in his lap like Jeongguk had. “You okay?”
 He says it lightly like he’s trying to not make it a big deal. And it’s not. Not really. Sure you thought of a few could be’s and wished on a few stars. But you know he’s right in some ways. It’s a good thing you don’t really believe in soulmates either. Not really. You believe in people and in stars. In could be’s.
 “Yeah I’m good.” You say back quiet. “I don’t believe in them either. Not seriously.” You try to laugh off his incredulous look. 
 “Are you really? I saw you writing about him, and you’ve been like extra daydreamy lately.”
 You roll your eyes. “First of all, don’t snoop. Second of all, it’s just a crush.” You shrug.
 He looks at you a little sadly. “We both know you don’t have ‘just crushes’.”
 “Actually, I do, now. So please drop it, and go flirt with Jimin some more. I’m going to the bathroom.” You swing your legs off him and wander around for a little bit. You didn’t really have to pee that bad to begin with.
 During your house roaming escapades, you accidentally walked in on a few people, and never actually found the bathroom you were supposed to be in. Now you’re in a hallway, looking at an elaborate family photo wall. Turns out you have no clue whose house this is, despite Jeongguk mentioning the guy went to your university.
 There’s old photos of a couple that turn to marriage photos of a couple. The couple posed in front of a house. Then there’s baby photos, turned into school photos. Color coordinated christmas cards. You squint. You know pictures don’t really tell you much,  but they look happy. With their picturesque life. You wonder if the parents share a star. 
 You jump and let out a squeak when you feel a hand grab the bend of your elbow and spin you around. 
 “There you are,” Jeongguk sing-songs, trying to not laugh at the noise you made. “I was looking for you.”
 You lean against the opposite wall of the pictures. He crowds your space. He smells good. You don’t know how you didn’t notice when you were on the couch with him. Maybe it was the smoke floating around. It’s a little easier to breathe here, in the random hallway you found. Or at least it was till he showed up. 
 “You found me.” You sing back. He smiles, almost shyly. But his eyes drop to your lips and then back up.
 “What were you doing?” He asks. He moves to lean against the wall next to you, trying to get a look at what you were distracted by when he found you.
 “Just being nosy.” You hum. “Did you get your drink?” 
 He looks down at his empty hands, and then leans his head back on the wall, laughing softly to himself. A little drop of sweat rolls down his extended neck. You swallow. It’s still early to mid fall. The weather is still hot enough. Plus all the bodies in the house. Plus he’s a star, always burning so bright. Must be tiring. Sweat inducing.
 “I think I forgot it when I went looking for you.” He rolls his head to the side to look at you, and he’s got that lazy grin on his face again. 
 “Wanna go get it?” You ask, already pushing yourself off the wall.
 He’s quick when he stops you, hand on your shoulder gently guiding you back. He’s in front of you again, closer this time. Hotter.
 “No, no. It’s okay. We’re- good here. This is good.” His eyes keep flickering to your lips. It’s making you squirm, something starts to stir in your belly. You shift under his gaze.
 “Do you do this with all of your friends?” Your voice is softer now, the casual atmosphere you both were just in, long gone. The tension is tangible now and you’re too scared to speak up, afraid you might break if you do. 
 He hums, angling his body even closer to you. Your back is against the wall now, and the sounds of the party around you are muffled. One of his arms comes up, bracing his forearm by your head bracketing you in on one side. His other hand comes up to toy with the bottom of your shirt. “Do what with them?” His voice is just as soft. 
 You swallow. “Look at them like you’re gonna kiss them.”
 His eyes twinkle as he looks at you, eyes dropping to your lips again. He licks his own, and now they’re wet. The light hits them just right to make them shine. What do stars taste like? He drags his gaze back up deliberately slow. “Yeah. I kiss all my friends.” It’s said on an exhale as he leans closer to you. His lips graze your ear. “Don’t you?”
 You let out a trembling breath, shaking your head. A warning signal goes off in your brain, red-lights flashing. That’s a red flag, you’re sure of it. But for some reason, in your mind, the lights, the flag… they look pink, almost enticing instead of worrisome. The blaring warning alarms slow and blur into a melodious siren song.
 He’s shifting closer again. The heat from his body is scalding. Part of you wishes you could move back, most of you wants to press into it. Get burned just a little. “You don’t?” he asks. There’s a little bit of a teasing lilt to his voice, you can hear the smile. “Why’s that?” The hand by your head plays with a small piece of your long hair, twirling it around his fingers. You get a glimpse of his tattoos. Pretty.
 You struggle to find something to say. You don’t want to say you only kiss your boyfriends, you don’t want to scare him. Because you want this, you do. You just- “I- I only kiss special friends.” -want it to mean something. 
 It rushes past your lips and you’re not able to stop it. Not able to really think about what you’re saying. Not able to think about what you’re implying, what you’re agreeing to. You feel his grip on your hip tighten a little, and his body pushes towards you, just grazing yours. He’s not hard yet but he’s excited. Cock a little thicker and heavier and pushing out just a little more than normal. Your eyes squeeze shut and you try not to whimper. 
 He nuzzles against your temple. “That’s good, we can be special friends. I like that.” 
 He’s leaning in and you’re about to ask him if he means it, the thing he said about liking it, but the tension is shattered and the fragile atmosphere is ruined. 
 “Gguk! You better leave that poor girl alone!”
 It’s said by Jimin, it’s always him it seems. He’s drunk and hauled over Taehyung’s shoulder, just passing by the hallway you’re in on their way to presumably the bedrooms. There’s a few people laughing and following them, waiting for a show and consequently, some filter into your secret hallway and take it upon themselves to make it their space as well.
 Jeongguk sighs, forehead resting against yours. “I gotta go make sure he wraps it.” He sounds annoyed but amused. “He’s had chlamydia one too many times. Insurance won’t cover his clinic costs anymore.”
 You snort. “Please tell me you’re joking.” You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Actions bold for the fragile feeling floating around you both. His eyes track the movement and you don’t miss how he tenses before your arm falls back to your side. 
 “Yeah I am, but I should still go make sure he’s being safe.” 
 You nod. “You’re a good friend, Jeongguk.”
 He rolls his eyes, playful when he squeezes your hip. “Don’t forget you still have to take me out.” 
 “I won’t.”
 His smile matches your own. “I’ll see you?”
 You nod again, as he turns to jog in the direction that Jimin and Taehyung went. You wish he looked back. Oh well.
 Early to mid-fall bleeds into late autumn.Still warm during the day like a soft summer’s kiss, just a little chilly during nightfall like the last words of a past lover. You and Jeongguk haven’t talked about the party. And he hasn’t tried to kiss you since. Things are different though. Soft touches here and there, more frequent than before. Even softer, stilted flirting ensued during the following weeks. He wasn’t acting shy, never that. 
 But it’s like he was waiting for you. Waiting to be pursued. You guess. It’s clear he wants more, but it's almost like he doesn’t want to be the one to push for it. Give in to it. You don’t really know. You also don’t think too much about it. Don’t think a lot about anything other than him, and the next time you’ll see him, next moment you’ll get to spend time with him. Usually, you don’t have to wait too long. He spends most of his breaks with you at the coffee shop, now. It’s a sweet thing he does, just like how he’s been putting that extra pump of sweetener into your drink lately.
 Today, however, you are not at Blushing Brews, you’re at the fair. Large rides and crooked games line the surrounding area of the boardwalk, sounds of people screaming and laughing fill the air. It smells like heart disease and the salty ocean. It’s not too crowded, it’s been open for a while, you came on one of the last days it was in town. 
 “This is me taking you out by the way,” you say around a spoonful of frozen cherry limeade.
 Jeongguk hums as he leans down, wanting a taste. You want to taste too, just not of his frozen lemonade. You scoop a heaping amount. Maybe he’ll get a brain freeze. 
 “You don’t say?” He smiles before wincing, mouth forming a small ‘o’. He’s blowing out like he’s trying to warm the inside of his mouth. You smile, spoon between your teeth. 
 “Tasty?” you ask, trying to stifle a laugh.
 “Cold.” he responds, still trying to melt the icy slush in his mouth. He offers you a bite of his.
 “Too sour,” you decline. “I only like sweet things.” 
 The wind is blowing, the breeze is pleasant after running around the fair all day. Hours have gone by, playing games that you both know are rigged, bartering with the worker until you’re giving up and buying the prize you want anyway, a medium sized Hello Kitty plush with a pink bow. Riding rides that are terrifying simply because they get taken apart and put back together, time and time again. Eating way too many fried foods and drinking far more sugary drinks than is healthy. But neither you or Jeongguk have mentioned wanting to leave.  
 You walk the boardwalk and take a seat at the ledge of the pier and Jeongguk’s close by following suit. Feet are dangling off the edge, and a soft mist of salty water tickles your ankles. It’s night time now. The stars are bright in their home. You lean back and brace yourself on your extended arms, palms on the wooden pier.
 “You know that stuff you said at the party? About soulmates?” You’re not looking at him, eyes up towards the sky. You can feel him gazing at your profile though. It burns a little. Everything about him is hot. Not unbearably so. Kinda like when you turn the shower on as hot as it can go. Scalding, but good.
 “About all of it being bullshit?” he laughs to himself. “Yeah I remember. I’ll say it again too.” He knocks your extended elbow causing it to buckle, playful and cheery like he always is. How can being around him be such a contradiction? Light-hearted yet suffocating. Doesn’t matter really. Not like you’re going to stop. Not until he tells you to. You scowl at him before righting yourself.
 You’re quiet for a moment, long enough for Jeongguk to follow your gaze and glance at the navy blanket above you both. “I believe it,” you state.
 He’s looking at you again. You look at him as well, face impassive. “You do?” he asks. He doesn't really sound surprised. Why would he be? What writer doesn’t believe in something as far fetched as reciprocated love?
 You shrug lightly. “Maybe not like soulmates. But I think we have like… a person that we could spend a really long time with. Forever even. Maybe longer if we’re lucky.” He doesn’t say anything so you continue. “I also think we are all part of the stars. And we share a star with our person.”
 Jeongguk’s confused to say the least but he goes with it. You live in a constant daydream, and he knew you had your head in the clouds when he first met you, decided that he wanted you. “If we’re stars, how do we get to earth?”
 “We fall. Falling stars,” you explain. He makes a soft sound of acknowledgement.
 You both fall silent, the distant sound of laughter and the rolling waves the only thing letting you know the world hasn’t fallen mute. The reflection on the moon dances on the ripples of the ocean.
 “How did you… come to this conclusion?”
 Again you shrug. You lay back on the salty, sandy wood of the dock. “I don’t know really. I just like the sound of it. The idea.” You give a half suppressed laugh, feeling kinda silly. He lays down next to you, attention fully taken by the stars. 
 You don’t know why. He sees himself everyday.
 “So you really have no idea?”
 “I mean…” you start. Think a short moment. “We really don’t have any idea about anything we can’t physically see. Right? Like we have no idea if heaven’s real or not because we can’t see it. Hell too. I don’t even know if Australia is a real place.”
 Jeongguk chuckles. “Of course it’s real.”
 “How do you know? Have you been? Have you seen the alleged opera house? A kangaroo even?” You raise your eyebrows challenging him.
 He’s shaking his head like he can’t believe you. He’s smiling though. Always shining. “I’ve seen pictures. And other people have been.”
 “And you just believe them? People say they have been to heaven, there’s pictures of angels.”
 A staring contest ensues before he’s rolling his eyes, giving up. He waves a lazy, bony hand. Wrist limp, as he gestures for you to just get on with it. 
 A smug grin graces your lips. “It’s the same with soulmates. People think they are real, claim to have met theirs on some off chance. But, that’s all subjective hearsay.” You kick your feet, still dangling, just tempting the ocean to drag you in. Maybe a shark will get you. Maybe a sea spirit. “But… the stars? They are right there. People? Literally everywhere. You? You’re right next to me. I can see all of it. I know it’s all there, and real. There’s a connection. It means something I think.”
 He hums a few times like he’s processing something, trying to figure out how to word the thoughts running around in his mind. He takes a deep breath. “Stars are really big you know. Don’t you think it's… I don’t know, like suffocating for the star to confine them to being someone’s soulmate?”
 “Not soulmate.”
 “You know what I mean.”
 Head shaking, you deny what he says. “No, I don’t think it’s confining or suffocating. Being important to someone is so special; precious. A big deal for them.” You nod towards the sky.
 When he whispers, it’s said so quietly you almost miss it, “What if the star doesn’t want that?”
 His words hurt for some reason. It’s stupid, and you can’t explain it, but the ache is piercing, like a sweet tooth left untreated for too long, slowly decaying, sharp stabs of pain throbbing.
 “Don’t you think the stars get lonely?” You murmur back. 
 He swallows audibly, and you hear him let out a breath that trembles just a hint too much to be considered normal. Jeongguk rolls to his side so he’s facing you, he has a dopey smile on his face, just a little bit crooked and uneven. It looks forced, but you let him have it. “Well… which star am I then? If we all are made of stardust.” He’s trying to tease. Trying to breathe.
 You look at him with a light blush on your cheeks. The multicolored fair lights are glowing over his face, rapidly changing color. It’s like you’re looking at him through a kaleidoscope. It’s dizzying. That’s not why your stomach is doing flips though. You roll over to your side, body to body. Only a few inches in between you both. 
 “You’d be the north star, I think.”
 He hums, closes his eyes so his lashes kiss the apple of his cheek, a soft expression taking over his features. They're still shut when he ponders, “Why would I be that one?”
 You don’t have to think about it. “Because it's the brightest star in the whole sky.” 
 His brows furrow before he opens his eyes, he looks confused. “Which one are you?”
 You shrug again. He keeps asking you questions you don’t know the answers to. You don’t even like space that much. Just the idea of it. You like the idea of a lot of things. 
 “I don’t know if I’m star material.” You laugh rolling onto your back again, looking up once more. The stars look so close, right next to each other, but in reality they are so far apart. You think about how you and Jeongguk are separated by just a few inches. A foot at most. Yet in this moment, it feels like you couldn’t reach him if you tried. “I’m probably like a space rock or something. So essentially the same. Just less luxurious. People don’t make wishes on me. Space rocks are pretty pointless and useless. Just look at Yoongi. He’s a space rock too.” You’re laughing as you say it. Jeongguk’s not.
 “I shouldn’t be that one,” he whispers. “And if someone like me gets to be a star, then you get to be one too.”
 A small smile is still on your face when you gaze at him again. “Someone like you?”
 He nods.
 You giggle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
 He regards you, eyes taking every inch of your face like he’s trying to memorize you. The freckle by your eye, the faintest scar near your lip. “I think you’ll find out, eventually.” He sounds off when he answers.
 Still, you don’t hesitate. “I hope so.”
 The room is big but you’re sitting close to him.
 “No! No! You’re like not that bad... honestly! If the whole creative writing thing doesn’t work out you could be an idol.” 
 You know the boy next to you is lying. You know he is because your voice keeps cracking. Going flat or sharp whenever you get a turn on the mic. Pfft. You never could have been an idol. But when you glance at him, your cheeks aren’t flushed with embarrassment. They are flushed because of how much you have been laughing, because of the pink fuzzy feeling bubbling in your chest. You’ll probably burst soon. Jeongguk’s eyes are gleaming, and his lips are pursed trying to hold back his smile. Maybe it’s better that way. You wouldn’t want to be blinded. His smile too bright and full of the stars. It’s been hard to look at him the last few months. 
 “You are such a liar!” You’re giggling as you playfully swat at his shoulder. 
 But your laughter quiets when you feel his big hand grip around your tiny wrist before you can land a hit. His long fingers overlapping where they meet at your bone. Your eyes flick between the connected skin and his face and that’s when it happens. The world starts to move slower around the sun, and your heart makes up for it by beating that much faster. You see his doe eyes dance between all your features paying special mind to your lips. The tension between you both is tangible and hot, burning. And it’s going to happen. After months, ages, of stilted flirting and wavering touches and poorly hidden desire. Jeongguk is going to kiss you. 
 Your lashes are fluttering, your eyes are closing, and you’re leaning forward to meet him halfway when you hear: 
 “Do you have any?”
 Your eyes open wide to see his mirroring yours, and your breath stutters out in quiet shock. Embarrassing. 
 “W-what?” You do your best to keep your voice steady, but you’re flustered. He’s so close and his eyes are so focused. There are stars in them too. 
 The grip on your wrist tightens a bit bringing your attention to your attached limbs. Yours still raised mid-strike, his raised in mid-defense. His eyes flick to his decorated forearm. Your brows furrow. 
 “Any tattoos?” You ask. 
 Jeongguk’s little pink tongue darts out to wet his lips before he nods and lets out a small affirmative noise. 
 You flex your hand in his hold and glance at the ink all over it. He has knuckle and hand tattoos, along with random other designs littering his skin. 
 You blush. “Yeah I have a tiny black cat on my ankle… It’s supposed to be the cat from Kiki’s Delivery Service?”
 You expected him to think it was silly, childish, but he smiles instead. “Jiji?”
 You grin back and nod.
 His lips purse together and his eyes peek at your lips again. “Did it hurt?” he muses.
 You laugh a little. A breathy, incredulous thing sneaking past your lips. “I mean you know for yourself. Your whole arm is covered.” You nod your head at his arm, and your fingers twitch in his grasp, like they want to touch, trace the dark lines on his comparatively fair skin. 
 The blush that falls on his cheeks is cute, but you don’t allow yourself to dwell on it, still feeling a bit childish and silly for letting your thoughts run away from you just a moment ago. Thinking he was going to finally kiss you. Tsk. Embarrassing. 
 “It hurt yeah,” he says chuckling to himself, “But Jiji is black right? So it must be dark? That hurts worse. Especially on the ankle.” his boot-clad foot nudges up against the ankle where he knows the piece is, brushing against it gently. He doesn’t take his eyes off your face. 
 You think about the fact that he knows which ankle you have tattooed, the way he knows what technique was used on it. How he knew it was a dark, filled in tattoo, not just an outline like it very well could have been, without even having to look away from you to peek at it and double check. You think about how he asked, just to ask, despite already knowing. You think about what that could mean. You think about how he must have been paying attention to you, taking in small details about you and filing them away without you even knowing or noticing. You think about how he maybe just wants to hear you talk sometimes. The gulp is audible when you swallow down the sweet, tingly feeling that’s crawling up your throat like bile. 
 It’s only you two in the noraebang room, the distant sound from the rooms surrounding is loud, loud enough for you to speak up. And yet your voice comes out as a soft whisper when you answer. He leans closer to hear you. “It hurt at first, when he went over it, you know? But after a while... I don’t know. It felt like warm? I kind of liked it. You know... the pain.”
 All the noises of the rooms next to you cease and it’s like your ears are filled with cotton candy clouds. All the sensitivity leaving them and migrating to your other senses making them heightened. You watch with clear eyes as Jeongguk’s pupils dilate. 
 “Do you think I liked it? When it hurt, when I got all mine done?” He asks. You can’t tell if he’s being quiet on purpose or if it’s still the baby pink clouds in your ears. 
 “You might have… I know a lot of people do, but I don’t know much about you Jeongguk.”  
 And maybe it’s coincidental. The way the kiss hurts. Feels slightly painful. Bruising and desperate. Or maybe it’s intentional. Either way, the tension between you and him comes to a head. The gasp that leaves your lips is loud and sharp, you don’t even kiss back at first because you’re so dumbstruck. Lovestruck. It’s only been a few months... Embarrassing.
  Embarrassing until it’s not. Embarrassing until you get yourself together enough and start to kiss back, hands sinking into his long hair, gripping a little too hard so you have something to tether you to this earth. Embarrassing until it’s wet and sloppy but slow and dreamy all at once. Until you feel his teeth dig into your bottom lip, his tongue following to soothe the little ache that he caused, maybe by accident, maybe on purpose because you told him you liked pain. It’s embarrassing until you can’t think about how embarrassing it is. 
 Until you can’t think straight at all because the only thing going on is your mind is: this is how it feels to kiss a fucking star. Not the rich kind of star that’s dressed in designer brands and weighed down by the heaviness of the world along with too many rings and watches and chains. Not the idol kind of star either, the kind that is so carefully crafted and manufactured that it’s kind of hard to see it as a star at all when it seems more like a doll. 
 Kissing Jeongguk is like kissing one of the stars in the sky, when they are in their rawest, purest form. The kind of star that people make wishes on when they are twinkling, when they are falling; dying. You’re dizzy and your eyes are squeezed shut so tight that little white dots are coming and going in the darkness and you think that maybe those are stars bursting right before your eyes. You hold onto the star in your hands a little tighter, kiss him just a little harder. 
 He winces from the force of your kiss and pulls away. Embarrassing. 
 When he looks at you his eyes are dark, and his chest is already heaving. 
 He licks his lips and his eyes go down to your lips, then back up almost as if asking for permission to continue. You give him the slightest nod, and that’s it. That’s all he needs.
 The noraebang seating is uncomfortable. Booth-like vinyl over barely padded benches, but you go easy as Jeongguk urges you to lay down, resting against the arm rest. His kisses are insistent and hot as he crawls over you, and settles between your open legs. 
 He’s such a good kisser. The type to cradle your face in his palms, the type to sneak his tongue inside after teasing the seam of your lips. The type to bite gently, make you whine into his mouth, and he just eats up every little noise you make and breath that you take. It feels good, even the sharp sting of his bites, even the way the armrest presses into your back when he puts his weight on you. The hand that pulls at your hair to expose your neck to him, feels good too. 
 He bites and sucks, little multicolored flowers blooming on your skin. He’s suffocating in the best way. The silence swimming around you is suffocating as well, just not in a good way. The lack of words make you feel antsy, the distant music of the neighboring booths sound muted and subdued, giving the illusion that you and Jeongguk are the only two in the world, in your own little bubble. It’s overwhelming. 
 “You’re a good kisser,” you gasp, just to break the quiet.
 You feel him smile into your neck, before he braces himself over you, looking at you smugly, yet charmingly. “You too.” he says softly. The way he rolls his hips into you, however, isn't soft at all. 
 He brings a hand down, and bunches up the material of your skirt so the only thing between you both are his layers, and your panties. You can feel him better now, can feel just how hard he is, how thick and long his cock is, rutting over your cunt. 
 You spread your legs as far as you can so that you are more open for him, his cock slipping just barely between your pussy lips over your panties, rubbing over your clit every time he grinds into you. He keeps his thrusts consistent and rough, his breath stuttering out labored and hot.
 You’re trying to keep quiet, but you can’t help the soft whines that slip past your lips. “Feels good, Koo,” you praise. 
 Your hands are gripping at his biceps, feeling the way that they flex and tremble from holding himself over you. He drops to his forearms and groans deep, burying his face in your neck. You can feel his hips start to move faster, more desperate. His breaths are puffing hot on your neck, going up in pitch at the end. He’s almost whining for you and your hips start to roll to meet his, your pussy needy and wet, craving the friction and drippy at the sound of his pleasure. His lips are alternating between biting and giving soft wet kisses.
 “Fuck, I’m not gonna last... I’m gonna cum-”Jeongguk grits out against your neck before lifting his body some to look down at your bodies where his clothed cock is grinding frantically against your panty covered pussy. 
 You can hear the desperation in his voice along with a hint of shame. 
 “That’s okay,” at the sound of your voice Jeongguk looks at you, one arm bending so he’s got his palm braced on one side of your head and his forearm on the other and you sigh out a soft pleasured sound. He looks so breathtaking. His starshine eyes are dark and wet, his fair skin is flushed and hot. There’s a bit of sweat at his hairline from how hard he’s working for his release. You wipe away a drop on his temple as you push his long hair out of his face. “You did good, you made me feel so good. Show me how good I make you feel. Please.” 
 You watch as pleasure overtakes him, the hard thrust of his hips becoming even more erratic and hectic. He’s nodding along with your praise like that’s what he needed to let go, whines and groans tumbling from his lips. He’s looking at you when his eyes start to flutter and his brows turn up in pleasure. His mouth falls open and he’s coming. Hot shots of white fill his pants and you can feel the warmth of it and the throb of his cock through the thin layers of clothes separating you.
 His head is hanging and his body is trembling with the after rush of his orgasm when he chuckles lightly. “That doesn’t normally happen. I swear.”
 You’re kind of just laying there, on the less than comfortable noraebang booth bench, with him still in between your legs. You laugh with him softly. “Been a while?” you ask.
 He shakes his head, still catching his breath and coming down, mind still a bit hazy. “No, no. You just- you’re so… different. You make me feel weird.”
 The laughter that had been floating between you slowly starts to quiet as you both seem to realize what he said at the same time. He looks at you, eyes simmering with panic, and yours look back searching and confused.
 It’s quick, the way he changes the subject, smothers you with his breath and distracts you with his soft kisses and even softer touches. Making your tongue too busy with his, to ask questions. Not that you would have asked. You play it off, threading your hands in his hair, kissing him deeply. The tiny little prickle of hurt you felt in your chest was completely forgotten as he kisses you back just as hard, like he wants to swallow you whole. 
 He brushes some hair out of your face and whispers against your lips, “I wanna make you cum.” The hand that isn’t playing with your hair is sliding down your body, before cupping over your pussy. Your panties are wet, sticking to you. You know he can feel it because he gasps, soft and small. “Fuck, please let me.” He rests his forehead on yours, and rubs at your clit over your panties. The gentle, teasing circles are the match that ignites the little flame of arousal that has been seething within your belly.
 You whisper, “What if someone comes in?”
 Your hips subtly rolling into his touch at their own accord, don’t do much to show him that you're actually worried.
 He breathes a laugh against you before placing a chaste kiss to your cheek, and then biting softly at the apple of it. “You know why people come here… so do the people who work here. No one’s gonna bother us.”
 He’s kissing your neck again, and his fingers are speeding up.
 “Is that why you brought me here?” you whisper, breath hitching on a whine.
 Jeongguk’s fingers stutter for a second before carrying on, and he looks at you with hazy lidded eyes. He has a sheepish smile on his face. “Not exactly. I wanted to hang out. But I may have been hoping for a little.” he says as he kisses you softly. “Been thinking about how you taste since that party.”
 You can’t help but moan. You’ve been thinking about it too. How it feels to be completely devastated by a star in the best, most blissful way. You manage to keep some shred of decency, though. You’re not at yours or his, and you’re not in your head this time. You’re in a very public space, even if everyone knows what goes on behind the locked doors. “N-no sex.” you bargain.
 He nods. “Can I use my mouth?” he nuzzles into your temple, and two of his fingers tap against your pussy. “Can I use it here?” he places the gentlest, teasing kisses between his words. “I’ll be quick.” he assures.
 You whine and squirm against him. “Confident?” you ask, trying to tap into your usual, quit wit. To little avail. It’s no use. You were ruined at the first taste of him, the first feel of his lips on yours. You can only imagine how they will feel in other, more secret places.
 He smiles, tongue in cheek before he shrugs lightly. “A little.”
 You roll your eyes, but when he plays with your clit again, your hips buck into his palm and he takes that as a yes and moves down your body. His hands come up to play with your boobs briefly, squeezing and rolling them in his hands. “Gonna fuck these one day, okay?” he tells you.
 Him saying that he’s gonna fuck your tits, should be vulgar. But to you it’s a promise that this is going to happen again, and it makes you high, floaty thinking about him wanting you, desiring you. Him already thinking about the next time he gets to have you when he hasn’t even finished with you this time. 
 Your brain is hazy and his touch is burning through your clothes but that’s nothing compared to the way his breath feels on your clothed cunt when he finally finds his place between your legs. You’re wet, embarrassingly so and you know your panties are sticking to your core. Your ears are still cloudy, and you’re sure you’re probably imagining it, but when Jeongguk slips his fingers into the sides of your panties to peel them away, you think you can almost hear the wetness. He grabs them from the top and starts to pull them down and off your feet. Your hands come to your face to try and hide, your legs instinctually closing.
 He’s having none of that. His hands are placed on your knees as he slides them over your thighs, chills following the path of his fingertips. He places a gentle pressure, urging you to open them. He’s a little higher than your cunt, kind of resting on your lower belly when he pulls at your hands, making you look at him. 
 “Don’t hide from me,” he says quietly. One of his hands tangles with yours as he slowly lowers himself to your pussy. He kisses and licks over your smooth, pink lips. His hand that’s holding yours squeezing every now and then when he looks up at you with his dark, lust filled eyes.
 His free hand comes down to slip between your folds, and just teases at your opening, almost like he’s playing with the little droplets of slick that are dripping from your core. Your legs open a bit more, shame and shyness steadily creeping away as you yearn for him to make you feel good. You feel him smile and peck your pussy lips before he rests his head on your thigh. He looks at you, doe-eyes filled with mirth.
 “Want my fingers, too, pretty girl?” he muses.
 You close your eyes as you nod, an exhale stutters from your chest.
 “What do you say?” he taunts.
 Eyebrows furrowed, and lips pouted, you grumble out a soft, “Please…”
 He hums before he slowly sinks his middle finger inside. It feels good right away, his finger is much longer and thicker than your own, reaching that spot inside that you always struggle to reach. Your mouth parts and the softest sigh leaves your lips. His other arm wraps around your thigh, and fingers slide between your folds from the top to spread them so your clit is exposed and ready for his tongue. When he finally tastes you, he moans along with you, before he gets to work.
 He wasn’t lying when he said it wouldn’t take long. Jeongguk’s tongue is skilled. It works fast, flicking quickly over your clit, up and down. It’s constant and wet, and it's so filthy the way his tongue on your sweet spot makes your pussy just gush all over the finger he has inside of you. 
 He sucks gently when his tongue and jaw need a break, little pulses and slurping suctions stimulating you, before he goes right back to lapping at your sensitive little bud, occasionally dipping down to lick at your center, wrapped tight around his finger. 
 He pulls your hood back a little more, placing wet kisses to your clit, tongue licking just slightly before his lips wrap around it making you jolt from the direct sensation. 
 You’re braced on your arms, looking down at him, watching him make you come apart at the seams. When he adds his ring finger, your head and eyes roll back, and your legs spread even farther, making yourself as open as you can for him. 
 “Fuck, I’m already close,” you whine, high pitched and airy. You bring a hand down and brush some of his hair out of his face, and you see him smile a little, smug as he puffs out a soft laugh. His breath is hot on you, as his tongue and lips keep playing with your clit. His fingers speed up too, curling every time they are pushed in, dragging when they pull out. He knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how to make you fall apart.
 “You gonna cum for me baby?” he purrs against your cunt.
 Your brows are pinched in pleasure and you nod as you watch him. “Yeah, don’t stop, please,” you whisper.
 His eyes close as he drowns in you, his face pressed up against you as he licks you from an angle that is so precise and so perfect that your legs start to shake. The hand you have in his hair tightens and you pull, keeping him close as you chant quiet, lewd praises.
 “Gonna cum, Koo- oh my god-” Your mouth falls open and your eyes squeeze shut. 
 Right when you’re on the crest of pleasure, Jeongguk replaces his tongue with his fingers so he can watch you as you cum. He sees the way you're about to protest at the loss of his mouth before your body tenses and your back arches off of the bench, his fingers toying with you enough to make the rush hit you before you can even complain. 
 “Fuck, look at you baby,” he murmurs in awe. 
 His eyes are trained on your pussy, the way it clenches and contracts around his fingers. He spreads you as wide as he can so he can have the best view of your pink cunt pulsing, and dripping. His fingers slow on your clit as you start to come down and the fingers inside of you almost pet at your g-spot, milking every last bit of pleasure he can from you. 
 Slow is still overwhelming though, when you’ve just cum. It’s not long before your hands are reaching between your legs and gripping at his wrist.
 “Too much,” you cry.
 He coos, as he removes his fingers. He gently pulls at your inner lips and opens up your puffy little cunt. “She’s still pulsing around nothing…” he says. He sounds dazed, lust drunk. “Did I make you cum that hard, baby?”
 You’re still trying to catch your breath as you look down your nose at him. He’s got that effortlessly confident, cocky look on his beautifully, flushed face and you just want to kiss it off. You kick him instead.
 “Awe, don’t be mad, I’m only teasing,” he giggles as he settles himself on top of you, resting on your chest. He squeezes your tit good-naturedly. 
 “Confidence is only sexy if it’s paired with humility, which you are sorely lacking, my friend.”
 “Your special friend,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.
 You grab his face and angle it towards you and kiss him before you can think too much about it. Before you can think about how it might scare him. The way he tenses in your hold is heart-stopping. Not in a lovesick way, but in the worst gut-wrenching way. You can almost feel the inner battle that he has within himself before he seems to give in.
 The soft sigh he moans into your mouth is so sweet, that it’s toothache inducing. The way he lets himself melt into you and the way he becomes pliant in your hold almost feels better than his tongue. With his pliancy in mind, you gingerly sit up, mouths never parting, and he goes easily with you until you’re crowding his space and eventually straddling his lap. The kiss is still soft, saccharine sweet when his hands slip under your skirt. They knead at your cheeks, pulling and squeezing admiring how plush your body is. You’re about to start working your hips over him, but he groans and gets a hold of you before you start going.
 “You already made me cum in my pants once, you are not doing it again,” he whisper scolds, while playfully nipping at your bottom lip.
 “I thought it was sexy,” you whisper back. You brush your nose against his.
 You’ve got your hands working through his hair, scratching at the nape of his neck. He hums while he pushes into your touch, eyes closing.
 “You know what else is sexy?”
 You make a soft questioning noise.
 “When you walk out of here with no panties on,” his eyes are still closed as he smirks.
 You’re jostled quickly and back on the bench instead of his lap. He’s crowding your space and when you look him over, you see your light blue panties hanging from his finger. You blush.
 “Jeongguk, you better give those back right now,” you whisper.
 He quirks an eyebrow. Then he leans in and coos into your ear, “Don’t you think it would be more fun to think about what I’m gonna do with them? How I might be planning on wrapping them around my cock the next time I touch myself? How I might be planning to cum all over them?” 
 It’s audible when you swallow down the desire crawling up your throat. You raise to your feet and head for the door.
 “You should tie your sweater around your waist, your boner is distracting and indecent,” you say with a quick backward glance. 
 Jeongguk pockets your panties, and laughs before taking your advice and catching up with you. 
 “When I think of you, I think of the color pink.”
  It’s cold outside, but the apartment is warm. So is the bed. So is the body laying next him. Warm.
 Jeongguk doesn’t stay the night very often.
 He is tonight though. His head is on your chest and his fingertips are lazily running over your bare skin leaving little chills trailing behind. Your hand is in his hair. It’s getting long now, and it’s still soft, easy for you to run your fingers through, despite being bleached a week or so ago. You went with him to the appointment. 
 Jeongguk laughs a little. “That’s funny because I also think of the color pink when I think of you.”
 He doesn’t look at you when he says it, but he can tell you’re smiling, close to giggling when you respond, “Really? Why?”
 He hums and looks up at you. You look back with that look of adoration that you always have when gazing at him. His chest constricts, it’s hard to breathe when he’s with you sometimes. 
 “Because of how pretty, and pink your pu-”
 You push your hand in his face with a laugh and try to roll away from him. “God, shut up! You’re so crass.”
 You don’t get far before he’s got his hold on you. His big hands wrapping around your tiny bones. He manhandles you until you’re properly under him, hands pinned and bottom half weighed down by him straddling you. 
 “That’s not what you were saying a couple of hours ago, was it baby?” he taunts. “What was it you said? ‘Yeah, Koo… your cock feels so good, please cum inside me, fill me up.’ right?” he says, making his voice breathy and high pitched, mocking you. 
 He presses into your cheek, nips at your ear as he teases, basking in the way that your cheeks blush red, incandescent. Warm, just like the apartment, like the bed. Like the whole of your body underneath him. 
 You’re there often, under him. Sometimes on top of him, next to him, in front of him. He kisses you, chaste yet thorough, and you keen, hands fighting against his hold like you want to touch.
 Again, he relishes in your reaction. He relishes in everything about you, everything you do, all of the time. The way that you’re witty and sarcastic when you’re out and about. The way you constantly talk about things as if you’re painting a picture with your words, carefully choosing each syllable. 
 Versus the way you get when you’re just with him. Sometimes still witty, a visionary, but mostly shy, sweet, and like the most delicate flower in his destructive hands. He tries to be gentle with you, he really does. But he’s a creature of habit; and he has a habit of being rough, a habit of hurting and ruining pretty things. He hates that about himself. But it’s almost subconscious, he never realizes he’s doing it, ruining it, until it’s too late.
 But he’s been transparent with you. It’s not his fault that you always seek him out, and it’s not his fault that you’re the sun, always there in a sense, in his mind. It’s not his fault that he’s grown to crave your comfort, your presence. Even at night when you’re not physically with him and the sun has set but his bed still has lingering warmth on the side that’s not his; even then, you’re still there in the recesses of his mind, just like the sun is still in the sky even if it can’t be seen, even if the moon has taken its place for the night. Or a star, as you would say. It’s not his fault.
 His hands release yours, and one comes up to your cheek, thumb rubbing over the apple. Your hand comes down and holds at his inked wrist as your lashes flutter. His eyes scan the entirety of your face before a lopsided grin starts to form on his lips. He tilts his head a little. 
 “And why do you think of pink?” Jeongguk asks.
 He watches as you flush even darker, the smallest scowl falling over your features, a little wrinkle forming between your brows. He bites his lip to keep from laughing at you.
 “You think I’m gonna tell you now?” you spout.
 He doesn’t give in, knowing you just want to bicker. He knows you do that, pick fights, just because you want attention, just want him focused on you. You’d never admit to being the bratty type, but he knows you well. In that sense at least. Instead he hums, pecks your nose. “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me, I just like that you’re thinking about me.”
 “Do you think about me too?”
 Sometimes you scare him. When you ask him questions like that. In that soft, sweet, hopeful tone. When you give him those tender looks and touch him with hands that are too gentle for someone like him, like you think he’s the one that might break between the two of you. 
 “Too much,” he murmurs honestly.
 You smile and you look like you’re going to say something, but Jeongguk’s quick to change the subject.
 “You should let me tattoo you.”
 “No way!” you say instantly, swatting at his chest. He shifts and rests most of his weight on you, buries his face into your skin. You smell like your body wash, along with a little bit of him. Vanilla and JK.
 “Why not? Do you doubt my craft?” he teases, mock offense lacing his tone.
 “Maybe if you actually went to your apprenticeship every once in a while, instead of skipping to go to those lame parties, I wouldn’t,” you tease back.
 He snorts. “Jokes on you, I skipped it tonight to hang out with your lame ass.”
 You smack him gently again. “Jeongguk!”
 You’re giggling freely, body shaking underneath him and he can’t help but grin at the sound. “Maybe if you let me work on you, I would be more motivated to practice.”
 You hum thoughtfully, eyes crinkled as you try to suppress your laughter. “Fine, but only if you let me tattoo you too.”
 He knows you think that will deter him, but still, he doesn’t even hesitate. “Deal, baby.”
 You laugh at him again, loud and overly bright for a few moments until you realize that he’s not laughing with you. The way your face settles into a confused pout finally breaks Jeongguk’s straight face and makes him chuckle. Your brows are pinched and your eyes are wide.
 “Y-you’re not serious…” your incredulous laugh putters out. “Are you?”
 “Of course I’m serious.”
 And he is. Jeongguk doesn’t know why he is, or why he wants it so badly now that he’s put the idea out there. It was a joke at first, just something to fill the air, to interrupt you before you could say something scary again. But he does. Maybe it’s masochistic. Maybe he just wants something that will remind him of you when whatever it is that's between you two inevitably ends. Because he knows even the brightest of flames burn out eventually. 
 Or perhaps it’s a sadistic desire. Perhaps he wants to be inked into your skin, somewhere secret, so that the next time someone sees you in the same way that he’s seeing you now, they will ask about it, and consequently remind you of him. You’ll still think about him, even when others are with you, trying to hold your attention. Even when you’re trying to forget him. 
 “Matching ones?” you whisper.
 He nods. “Yeah, friendship tattoos.”
 Jeongguk doesn’t miss the way your face falls for the briefest of moments, how your lips part and the softest, tiniest, dejected sigh leaves your lips, before he quickly kisses away the disappointment. It’s bitter on his tongue.
 “Special friendship tattoos,” he amends. Another light kiss. He wonders if it tastes like gasoline to you too. The shadow’s from the candle on your nightstand dance across your skin. Best to be careful with gasoline kisses next to an open flame. “We can get stars.”
 You’re quiet for a moment, mouth dropping down in a pensive frown. “It has to be small. And somewhere where no one can see it on me.”
 He smiles big, and his heart skips a devastating beat when he sees how you instinctively smile back. “Don’t worry, I plan on putting it somewhere very private,” he purrs.
 “You are not tattooing my pussy or my ass, Koo.”
 “Not there!” he laughs, “I meant like by your tit or something.” 
 Jeongguk starts to kiss down your body, he’s always kissing you when you’re together. He stops in the center of your chest on your sternum.
 “We could do it here,” a wet kiss just to the side of your heart. He can feel it, how it speeds up because of his mouth, his hands, him. He travels a little lower.
 At your ribs, just under the curve of your breast, he stops again. “Or here.” Another kiss where his tongue tastes you before his lips even touch. 
 He makes it to your belly button, just about to move to your hip before you speak up.
 “I liked it there, on my ribs,” you say, voice a little wispy, higher pitched than normal. He notes that your chest is rising and falling just a bit faster than before.
 “I’m not finished yet,” he says, looking up at you through his bangs and his lashes, trying to go for stern, but the humor in his voice gives him away.  
 Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth as you try and silence your laughter. 
 Jeongguk places a kiss here, a kiss there all over your silken skin. Little kiss marks shine when the candlelight hits them just right. He bites every now and then too, unable to control himself when he gets to the softest part of your lower belly, and the inside of your thighs. He even kisses Jiji on your ankle. He’s gripping your foot and you wiggle your toes in his hold
 “Is Kiki your favorite?” He asks distractedly, lips still playing on your skin, he’s starting to make his way back up now.
 “Spirited Away,” you correct softly, on a giggle as Jeongguk hikes your legs up around his waist. You wrap your arms around his back, and he shivers when you run your nails over his shoulder blades, goosebumps making a short appearance. When he rolls his hips into your pussy, you gasp. He inhales it, breathing in your pleasure. It makes him throb, hard and hot against you. “I’m still wet inside from earlier,” you whisper.
 He groans into the kiss he brandishes your lips with. He ruts harder into you, bringing a hand down between your bodies, and gripping the base of his cock so that he can rub the tip against your clit. He feels how wet you are, with your slick as well as his cum from just a little bit ago. He tsks, scolds you playfully. “I know, I can feel it. So messy.” He’s smiling when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth.
 Your eyes are fluttering when you ask, “What’s your favorite?”
 Jeongguk’s distracted, of course he is. How could he not be when you're mewling underneath him, squirming from the tip of his cock swirling around your clit? He humors you. “Howl’s Moving Castle,” he says as he pushes the head in before hissing and pulling back out. He does it a few times, teasing himself with your cunt.
 When you laugh, it catches him off guard. Enough to make him pause and look up at you with a dumb smile on his face, just grinning because he somehow made you laugh, and the sound of it is nice.
 “That would be your favorite.”
 “What’s that supposed to mean?” He spits into his hand, slicks himself up, rubs a little on your pussy.
 “You’re just-” You gasp when his fingertips graze your clit. He gasps when you spread your legs wider for him, sweet and eager, just like always. “You’re just like him. Charming, confident…”
 “Go on,” he grins into your neck, sucking a little bruise. You tilt your head so he can reach better.
 “Slow down.”
 You giggle. “Stealing hearts and eating them.”
 He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. He braces some of his weight on your thigh, tests your flexibility as he hovers over you, lips brushing yours lightly, teasing. He gives in when you crane your neck to reach him. “I haven’t eaten yours, have I?” He muses.
 Your hand comes up and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “No, not yet.” 
 You pause and look at him with one of those soft, terrifying looks. He knows you don’t even realize how scary it is, when you look at him like that.
 “Maybe I’ll be the one to steal your heart, hmm?” your head tilts, and you smile at him faint and cute. It’s meant to be playful, but Jeongguk can already feel his heart clawing its way up his throat. “You who swallowed a falling star, o' heartless man, your heart shall soon be mine,” you quote, tease, with a giggle.
 Jeongguk goes rigid on top of you. His heart is beating fast in his chest, loud in his ears. He kisses you, hard. Bruising like the first time. Hopefully you take it as eagerness. 
 “Stop talking,” he whispers, begs against your lips. 
 When he slides into you, he can’t help but wonder if you remember that that was the curse the wicked witch placed on Howl to trap him. 
 There’s something about Jeongguk that makes people drawn to him. He’s charming, enrapturing,  in every sense of the word. Makes people feel special. His laugh is infectious, loud and often more entertaining than the original joke when he does that thing where he claps his hands, or falls to his knees if it’s funny enough. Being around someone like that is refreshing. He’s captivating and easy to be around, easy to love. He’s such a bright light no matter where he goes, a beacon to those in his vicinity.
  And he’s so, so kind. To everyone that speaks to him. Even to those that don't speak and just look, he offers a kind smile. When someone has his attention, they have it all, his big doe-eyes holding eye contact, nodding to let them know he’s listening and being attentive. He’s a good person. A little hard to understand, hard to get close to. So people say, so you’ve learned. But he’s good. Not much is known about stars, anyway. 
 You’re watching him right now, always watching. You’re on another stained sofa in a different house than the one you usually went to with your knees pulled to your chest, a cup of beer resting on your knee. He’s chatting with someone, looks like the guy is showing him his tattoos. Jeongguk smiles, looks enthused, points to one that he must like based on his reaction. Then he’s holding up his own forearm, pointing to a small piece of ink, and then of course, he’s pointing at you.
 Just before coming here, you and him had been at his tattoo shop. He drew the most beautiful, intricate little shooting star into your ribs. A little fireball attached to a long trail of stardust, smaller little twinkles falling off of it. It was simple clean line work, lines thin and dark. And then you drew two of the most basic five pointed stars on him, in a small blank space of his already existing sleeve. 
 You warned him, told him you couldn’t draw a straight line with a ruler, let alone a heavy, vibrating tattoo gun. But he assured you he wanted it, that he needed to get that spot filled anyway. 
 Though both stars are small, one is bigger than the other. 
 ‘This one is you,’ you had said, pointing to the larger star, ‘and this one is me,’ you continued, moving to point to the smaller one. 
 ‘Is it?’ Jeongguk had asked, a teasing smile gracing his mouth as he leaned into you. 
 ‘Yeah,’ you had breathed against his lips. 
 Your soft kisses turned to soft touches, touches that transformed into soft moans. Right there in the parlor.
 He’s talking louder now, getting excited. “Look how good her lines are! I didn’t even have to help her that much…” he goes on and on and you smile into your cup. 
 It was actually a really shitty tattoo. Lopsided, with the points of the stars all different lengths. But hearing him praise you, express how much he actually likes it? It makes your heart burn, glowing bright pink in your chest. You get up and sonder over to him.
 He smiles as he sees you, opens his arm up for you to tuck yourself into his side. His arm going over your shoulder, and yours going around his waist. You rest your empty hand on his tummy, can feel how it tenses as he laughs. 
 “Ah, my little artist herself!” he says.
 “That’s a stretch,” you deny, looking towards the guy across from you, “Namjoon right?”
 He nods. “Yeah the one who has spent the last 5 years in school studying medicine and plants,” his voice holds a twinge of regret, a longing for life that isn’t run by tests and grading scales.
 You laugh lightly. Ah, the botany guy. “Graduate program?” you ask.
 He nods again.
 You tap your fingers on Jeongguk’s stomach, trying to think of something else to say. “Oh! Do you know Yoongi? He’s not in the same plant… program or whatever but he’s doing a graduate program too.”
 Namjoon smiles. “I don’t know him aside from the parties he shows up at sometimes, but I’ve heard of him around campus. Where is he by the way? You usually have him and Tae with you when you show up here right?”
 Your brow furrows as you take another sip of your drink, readjusting yourself so your back is against Jeongguk’s chest. He rests his hands on your hips, and cheekily pushes against your ass. You ignore him. “I actually don’t know? We haven’t hung out in a while...” you hum contemplatively while you play with your bottom lip. You look up at Jeongguk. “Do you know? Jimin’s not here either.”
 He shrugs, expression bored. “Jimin said he has something to do tonight, maybe he’s finally sucking Tae’s dick. And you know Yoongi hates these parties almost as much as you.”
 You pout still, but Namjoon swiftly changes the subject.
 “Anywho, you’re a tattoo artist now?” he tilts his drink in the direction of Jeongguk’s arm, his smile playful and knowing. “Must be pretty special to be able to get behind the gun and work on this one. He’s a snob.”
 You’re about to deny it once again but Jeongguk interrupts you with a snort. “Obviously she’s special, we are special friends.”
 Namjoon’s eyebrows raise and you laugh a little. Your eyes sparkle when you look up at the blonde behind you. “Are you drunk?”
 He grumbles and wraps his arms around you tighter before mumbling into your neck. “No… not really, but I am horny,” he whispers.
 You tut at him, scolding with a whisper, “I literally just jerked you off earlier.”
 You’re swiftly ignored as he turns his attention back to Namjoon, “If you’ll excuse us, we have to put aquaphor on our tattoos.”
 You send Namjoon an apologetic smile, but he just laughs, turning to head in the direction of the kitchen. 
 Jeongguk’s hand is tight when it grips yours, a vice like hold as he drags you through the house. It’s at a frat this time, so the upstairs is lined with bedrooms. People are littered through the hall, and in the open bathroom you can see a girl cutting a line on the porcelain sink. The guy behind her holds her hair for her. A modern romance, like a scene from a movie. There are the stereotypical socks on door knobs, and thankfully the music is way too loud and the bass is boosting so you can't hear what’s going on behind the doors. You almost run into Jeongguk’s back when he comes to a stop in front of a locked door void of any sock.
 “Jeongguk,” you hiss, “we can’t just have sex in a random person’s room.”
 He’s somehow procured a key and gets the door open. “Yes we can, but this isn’t someone random’s room, it’s Jimin’s. He lets me use it sometimes.”
 He doesn’t notice the slip of the tongue, once again, but it leaves an icky taste in your mouth. Thick and unpleasant on your tongue. But you know in due time the taste will change, into one of starlight, heady and intoxicating, and so wholly Jeongguk. 
 “Jimin goes to uni? I never see him on campus,” you wonder aloud tentatively taking a step through the threshold. It looks like a typical college boys room. A desk with a computer and school work scattered all over. A floor littered with shoes and clothes, along with a nightstand that has the lamp, the lotion bottle, and the kleenex box that sit on top of it. You laugh to yourself. Weird. 
 “Mmm, he’s enrolled and goes just enough to not get kicked out so he can keep getting his student loans and living here,” he replies as he locks the door. 
 Immediately he’s backing you into the bed, urging you to lay down. He stays close, lips on yours, hands hastily pushing your shirt up and over your head so your top half is bare under him. He pauses while straddling you, looks at you with hooded eyes, taking in the way your long hair fans out against the grey sheets of Jimin’s bed. With eyes raking over your skin, his tongue peeks out to lick at his lips subconsciously as he fondles your tits.
 “You’re so sexy, your body is so nice,” He pinches your nipples, making them pebble between his finger tips, “love the way you respond to me,” he purrs.
 You make a soft embarrassed sound as you blush and bring your hands to your face to hide.
 Like every time you try to hide from him, he pulls your hands away and gives you a sly yet sweet smile. He looks down at you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Why do you still get so shy with me? Hmm?” With your hands in his, he brings them to his clothed torso, urging you to touch him. 
 His mouth parts when you graze his nipples, and he breathes out a tiny, pleased laugh. “I get the same way for you, can’t you feel it?” He trails your hands down even farther, until they are rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. He sighs, head hanging back, letting you pleasure him for just a moment.
 You go to undo his belt but he stops you. “Not yet,” he says as he swats your hand away. He kneels down, kisses and sucks at your collarbones, as he grinds softly into your lower belly, quiet little sighs sneaking out between his kisses. 
 He’s slowly moving down your body until he gets to the new tattoo, fresh and vibrant against your skin, the edges still a little red. He gently runs a finger over it, before kissing next to it, all around it. “I love it, do you love it?” he murmurs, doe-eyes jumping between the ink and your face.
 You run a hair through his blonde locks, brushing them out of his face. “Yeah, you did such a good job, thank you.”
 He hums and you feel him smile into your ribs before making his way a little lower. You stop him by pulling at the hair you have a grip on.
 “Wait, I wanna- you always take care of me…” you look at his cock. “Let me?” you ask.
 He sits back up and regards you like he’s debating on letting you have your way with him before he huffs and shuffles off the bed. He stands at the edge and rids himself of his shoes and socks and you watch as you follow his example. 
 Next he gets rid of his shirt. You take him in, admiring the lithe, trim cut of his small waist, how his jeans and belt rest on his hip bones, the lightest little fuzz of hair that travels down his lower belly. The very obvious hard on pushing against the zip. You crawl over and sit on the edge of the bed in front of him. He cradles your face and your eyes flutter shut at the touch.
 “You wanna take care of me, my baby? Wanna make me feel good?” 
 You nod as you take his arm into your hold, glancing at him through your lashes before pressing a sweet kiss next to the tattoo you gave him. He coos.
 “C’mere,” he says, applying light pressure with the hand on your face.
 Up close you can see the flush that has taken over his skin. He has little droplets of sweat forming at his hairline. It’s always so hot at these parties. Maybe it’s because you’re always with him when you attend. He’s always burning so bright, fiery hot. 
 The hand on your face pinches your cheek sweetly, and now, your cheeks are warm too. He laughs a little before he kisses you. “I know just how you can make me feel good, pretty,” he says against your lips, biting quick and sharp.
 He threads a hand in your hair at the back of your head and guides your mouth to his neck. “You can kiss me here,” he sighs, extending it so you have more room. “And here,” down to his collarbones.
 You kiss and suckle softly at the bone that protrudes, and pull the thin skin between your teeth for just a second. You moan when Jeongguk hisses and the hold in your hair tightens. Pulling away, you look up at him. He looks down his nose at you, bites his lip before he smirks a little.
 “You wanna mark me, don’t you? Was the tattoo not enough?” he answers the unspoken question swimming in your eyes, while simultaneously teasing. He’s acting cocky, but his voice is airy and has a bit more vibrato than normal, giving away how aroused he is. 
 You nod eagerly. Of course you want to mark him, of course the tattoo wasn’t enough. Maybe you’re greedy, or maybe you’re just in love. But you don’t think it will ever be enough; a part of you will always yearn for more. He takes his time searching your face before he nods a single, short time. 
 Jeongguk doesn't usually let you mark him, and if he does, he’s usually particular about where. This fuels you, and you sink your teeth into his faintly sun kissed skin, rolling it between your teeth harshly, sucking until you’re sure that his skin has turned the color of the prettiest violet. 
 When you lick at your work to help ease the ache, a moan gets caught in his throat. You rub your thighs together. His noises always get to you, always make your pussy weep inside of your panties. With his chest rising and falling rapidly, he pulls you off and pushes you back onto the bed, a little forcefully, but you don’t mind. He’s always been a little rough with you. Stars are known to be destructive from time to time. 
 He crowds your space, taking a spot in between your open legs. Being sat on the bed, his abdomen is eye level, and he pulls you to his tummy when he twines both his hands in your hair again. You lick the center line off his abs before you kiss, wet and open mouthed.
 “Yeah, kiss me there,” he moans. 
 You peek up quickly, and see that his head is tilted back again, blissfully letting your mouth work over his skin. His hands in your hair massage at your scalp encouragingly. Gentle and subconscious with his movements. His abs tense and jump when you nibble at one of the bumps of muscle, and he pushes into you, eager, maybe a little desperate. Although he would never admit that. 
 He holds you there, guiding you where he wants you till he’s pleased and backs away from the bed enough for you to have space on the floor when you drop to your knees.
 Your pussy pulses, gets a fluttery heart beat of its own, as you watch Jeongguk undo his belt. Anticipation makes you sink a hand between your thighs, makes you press and put a little pressure on your cunt to give you just a bit of relief. 
 His hands are big and strong, and the glint of the belt buckle matches the glint of the rings that decorate his fingers. The glint of the zipper as he pulls it down. He rubs himself over his boxers, shimmying his jeans down just little as he does it.
 “Do you wanna kiss me here too?” He’s smiling a tiny smile, talking quietly as his fingertips play with the tip of his cock. He sounds a little breathless too. 
 “Please,” you all but whimper, mouth watering.
 He hums, while he drags his briefs down his length until it springs out and bounces back to his tummy. He sighs when he starts to stroke himself with one hand, the other settling on your face, petting a little before he taps an open palm on it.
 You try to hold in the moan, but when his hand connects with your skin again, just a little harder than before, you can’t. It makes Jeongguk’s hand on his cock speed up. His mouth parts in awe. Gripping your jaw, he pushes it side to side, and you just let him. You let him play with you like a little doll. Another teasing smack lands on your face.
 He sighs, lust filled and dreamy. “God, you’d let me do whatever I want to you, wouldn’t you?” His thumb is running over the slightly reddened skin of your cheek. You nod in his hold. 
 You would. It’s scary to think about, the extent you feel like you’d go to, to have him, what you’d let him do, let him get away with.
 He brings his cock to your lips, but pulls it back when you try to suckle it. You pout, and then he taps the tip of it against your lips, groaning when he says, “Yeah, I know you would, you’re so good to me, so perfect,” he taps the length of his cock on your cheek a few times, he marvels at the little string of precum that connects his tip to the apple of your cheek. 
 His cock feels thick and hot and a pleasant kind of heavy on your cheek, much like how it feels on your tongue. When he finally lets you taste him, you start by curling your tongue around the crown, licking up some of the precum that has dribbled from his slit. You love it when he leaks for you. It shows you what you do to him, how bad he wants you. He confirms it when he sighs small affirmations.
 “That’s it, such a good girl for me.”
  You look at him, smiling a little at the praise, tongue teasing his slit, and his face makes your pussy throb. His mouth is parted and his eyes are hooded, like he wants to close them, bask in the pleasure, but keeps them open because the desire to watch you with his cock in your mouth outweighs it. He pushes his hips forward.
 “Suck it, baby,” he whispers, soft and salacious as he guides the tip past your lips, little by little until it touches the back of your throat.
 You’re confident about a few things, but your head game is close, if not at the top of your list. Little to no gag reflex to hold you back, mouth wet and sloppy as you drool all over his length. Tongue skilled as it moves up and down the sensitive vein running on the underside, while your throat contracts around his tip. 
 His hips stutter like he’s gonna pull out before he pushes in as far as he can, hands forming a makeshift ponytail with your hair as he holds you down, buries your nose in the coarse patch of groomed hair at the base of his cock. He moans, whines, high pitched and loud. He pulls out of your throat with a gasp.
 “Fuck, your mouth,” he drools, praises. 
 He gives you a second to catch your breath, admires the way your eyes are glassy with tears, mascara smudging the slightest bit, surely to be running by the time he’s done with you. You love it when he fucks you hard enough to make you cry, hard enough to make your makeup run. It shows how well he did it, how badly he made you fall apart. He’s got a few pictures on his phone of you looking ruined and fucked out. He says you look so pretty like that, with teary eyes, a messy face, and hair knotted from being fucked into the mattress. 
 Then he’s fucking your mouth. Hand coming down to your neck so he can feel the way his cock fills it up every time his hips snap forward. His body curls over yours some as he bends a little to reach your neck, and you can feel the heat from his body ignite the air around you as he slides deeper, inch by inch . 
 Every time he pulls out you take a quick breath through your nose, before he’s pushing in again, your throat like a spit-slick cocksleeve designed specifically for him. The perfect amount of wet and the tightest type of grip. His breathing is audible and ragged above you, harsh huffs, and occasional moans color the air when you swallow around him. His cock is so hard and hot in your mouth, throbbing and pulsing on your tongue. 
 Your hands are on his thighs and you can feel them tense, almost tremble as he pulls your head down onto him over and over again. He’s less considerate now, stingy with the breaths he allows you to take while he chases that high.  He’s groaning loud and unabashed, and you’re choking, bubbles of spit forming at the corners of your mouth and around the base of his cock. He holds you down one more time, shaking your head by the ponytail so that the tip of his cock rubs against the back of your throat then he’s hastily pulling you off.
 You rest your forehead on his lower belly, trying to catch your breath. You can feel him too, getting a hold of himself, due to the expanding of his stomach as he takes deep breaths. He still has his hands on you, touching just like always, running his fingers through your hair. Until he’s pulling you up by it.
 He’s quick to get his lips on you, and his tongue is quick to slide into your mouth. When he tastes himself on you, he sighs, smiles into the kiss. With hands cupping your face, you smile back, basking in the attention and sweet affection. You reach your hand down and grab his cock and his hips jerk. He pulls away at first before subtly fucking into your hand and moaning. You drink it down like the sweetest champagne, his sounds intoxicating in their own right. 
 “Fuck,” he whispers as he rests his forehead against yours, “wanted to cum in that mouth so bad… wanna cum in your hand right now,” he pushes a long slow thrust into your palm, his foreskin sliding with his movements. He sounds like it’s so difficult to hold back, to keep from cumming right there in the palm of your hand.  “You’ve got me so hot baby, wanna cum inside you…” He places the softest, pleading kiss to your lips. 
 It almost sounds like a question, his voice light and airy, lilting up at the end. Soft and gentle as he brushes his nose against yours, a gesture that is as painful as it is sweet, a touch too tender for what you both are. But it makes you keen in his hold, body pressing to his, as close as you can get. 
 Your hands are running over him, and his running over you, just taking up each other’s space, breathing each other’s breaths. His hands slide to your hips and spin you around so you’re facing the bed, a little rough, impatient, as they yank your pants and panties down. They knead at your ass, when you lower to your forearms and arch your back, presenting yourself to him. 
 Jeongguk drops to his knees behind you, spreads your cheeks so he can see your cunt, pretty and pink and glistening. He rubs his two first fingers in between your plush lips, and your legs spread wider. You push back into his touch.
 “Just fuck me, please, I can’t wait,” you breathe.
 He hums, plays with your pussy a little more before you feel him spit on it. Then he buries his face into you, tongue coming out and licking from your clit, to your core, all the way to your hole between your spread cheeks. He swirls his tongue around it and you peep, the feeling oddly pleasant, but unexpected. Jeongguk huffs a little laugh  while he pulls away. He sheds his pants, and you follow suit, before settling atop the bed, once more on all fours.
 His big hands fall on your ass, jiggling it a little. He groans at the way the fatty part ripples before settling back into place. Gripping his cock with one hand and pulling a cheek to the side with the other, he rubs the tip between your silky lips. The sloppy, wet noises fill the room, loud and clear. The sound of the distant chatter and subdued party music outside the door is distant, barely there, all your focus on Jeongguk. He hisses as he watches his cock sink inside of you.
 “So wet…” he rasps out as he fucks into you with shallow thrusts. He can see your arousal shiny and sticky on his cock, no lube needed.
 You nod as your head dips, hanging between your forearms. He bottoms out and you let out a high pitched whine. “Yeah, want you so bad, Koo…”
 He stays buried to the hilt for a moment, hands running over your ass, your back, squeezing at the smallest part of your waist. His touch feels so good, electric on your skin. But you’ve felt his cock before, many times, and you’re no stranger to how good that feels. It makes you lean forward, makes you drag your cunt up his length, before you push yourself back onto it. 
 Jeongguk gasps, hands squeezing hard at the motion. “Fuck… keep doing that.”
 You whimper as your work your pussy over him, throwing your hips back, fast and consistent. Getting high off the sounds Jeongguk is making behind you. The soft curses, the loud groans when you start to circle your hips slightly. The way he just lets you make him feel good. 
 You collapse onto the bed, arms giving out due to the pleasure coursing through your body, and you turn your face to the side, hands gripping the sheets beneath you. His palm settles on the small of your back, halting your movements so that he can snap his hips forward, punching pleased gasps from you. You turn your face into the sheets, trying to quiet yourself. 
 He doesn’t like that apparently. If the hand gripping your hair and yanking is enough to go by.
 His body is over yours, chest to your back as he fucks into you with short, hard thrusts. “Wanna hear you pretty girl, want everyone to hear you,” he whispers in your ear.
 You squirm in his hold, slowly getting overwhelmed by the way his body is making you feel, by the way you slowly climb higher and higher until you feel like you could touch the stars. “Feels… so good…” 
 “Yeah, I fuck you the best don’t I?” he purrs, “Better than anyone before me? Better than anyone will after me too, right? Always gonna want this cock, aren’t you?”
 You whine because you know it’s true. You know no matter what you do or what happens between you and Jeongguk, he’s always going to live in your head, always going to have a place in your heart, your body is always going to remember him and long for him. Not even just in a sexual sense either. You think he knows this all too well.
 He pulls out of you with a ragged breath before situating himself on his side behind you. He urges you to push yourself against him, back to his front, spooning. He grips the thigh of your top leg, pulls it up to your chest.
 “Keep them open,” he instructs.
 You do as he says, looking down your body where you see him bring the tip of his cock to your center again. He’s watching you though, braced on his elbow, while his free hand guides himself into you. The way your eyes roll back before squeezing shut with knitted brows makes Jeongguk sigh, the way your mouth drops open when he pushes in the last few inches makes him moan.
 He’s going slow. Long, punctuated plunges into your cunt. He’s got his face buried in the place where your neck meets your shoulders. Breathing out lewd moans, his grip on your hip tightens as he bites and kisses at your throat, breath scalding as he pants into your skin.
 “Love your pussy, fuck…” he brings skilled fingers to your clit and starts to massage with tight constant circles. You buckle in his hold, glance down at his hand again, watching as he touches you just the way you like, the way he knows you like. The way he knows will get you shaking in no time.
 “Please let me cum,” you beg.
 He hasn’t purposefully been edging you, but you’re worked up. Usually he fingers you, goes down on you, before you even get his cock inside of you. But due to the change in routine today and the lack of stimulation, the pressure in your core has been building quick, almost putting you at your breaking point already. 
 He’s well aware, voice teasing yet aroused when he coos, “You wanna cum baby? Yeah, you do?” 
 You twist in his hold some so that you can look at him, show him the tears in your eyes, hoping that they convey how badly you want to do just that. 
 His eyes are shiny too, pleasure so raw and apparent in them. He kisses you, licks into your mouth as he keeps that slow pace to his hips. The one that’s so deep, the one that brushes your sweet spot inside every time he glides against your sensitive walls. 
 “Want you to cum too,” he says it with a sigh, like he’s so close, just needs you to finish him off, “you’ve got me so… think I could cum just from being inside you while you cream on my cock, just from feeling that messy little cunt cum around me,” he’s moaning as he speaks, his hips losing rhythm, speeding up some as he gets closer.
 You nod, the hand you're leaning on holding tight at the sheets, the other keeping your legs spread. “Yeah, want you to cum inside me, cum with me…” Your eyes are closed, and your voice is kind of delirious as you feel it all come to a head. Your pussy is already tightening around him.
 He hisses. “There you go, that’s it baby… can feel how close you are,” his hips have almost stopped, just the smallest, minute little thrusts still going. He brings the fingers on your clit down to your leaking cunt just for a second getting them nice and wet before circling your bud again, faster, a little harder than before. Focusing on your pleasure, on making you finish. You keen as the leg you're holding up starts to shake.
 “Gonna cum,” you warn, the hand that was gripping the sheets coming up to your tit to play with your nipple.
 Jeongguk curses on a moan, “Yeah, fuck… me too.”
 He feels it, the way your body goes tense before you let go. How you tremble against him as your orgasm rushes through you, moans and whimpers falling from your lips. Your pussy clenching around his cock is what sends him over the edge. 
 “Fuck, I’m cumming-” he gasps out quickly, before biting down on your shoulder, grunts of pleasure muffled as he fucks into you as deep as he can, repeatedly, with those small thrusts. You feel his cock throb inside of you, cum filling you up. 
 You smile, serene and spent when he goes limp behind you. His arm comes around your waist, pulls you closer. He keeps his cock tucked inside. You run your fingertips over his arm and feel the slight scabbing of the stars on his skin.
 He shivers at the touch. Sitting up some, he curls over you. Your eyes are still closed, content, chest still rising and falling with your deep breaths. He leans in and kisses you, so sweet. Tastes like rose petals dipped in sugar. 
 He’s still on your lips when he mutters, “Now we have to figure out a way to get out of here without getting any cum on Jimin’s sheets.”
 You giggle, nod, and then kiss him again. You’ll clean up in a little. 
 It’s deliberate, the way you choose not to think about the reason why he wants to clean up, get going. How he doesn’t want to stay the night with you. 
 “I want you to get out a pen and a piece of paper and then clear off the rest of your belongings.”
 School is back in session, winter break ending far too soon. It’s your last semester, your degree is so close you can almost taste it, with only 3 classes left till you’re walking the stage in your cap and gown. One of the classes is a writing class that you saved till the end of your university run so you had something to look forward to. 
 It’s a Thursday afternoon and you’re sitting in the back of your Creative Writing lecture hall. Someone’s eating so it smells disgustingly of peanut butter and the seats are filled with college students who just rolled out of bed at 12pm, everyone slightly disheveled and the crowd lackluster as the professor paces the front of the room. She’s quickly become one your favorites however, the last few weeks in her class proving to be entertaining as well as educational. You paw your sweater sleeve up in your fist and hold it to your nose and lean forward attentively.
 “Now, I want you to think about someone you love. It can be a real person, fictional, completely imaginary. Dead or alive. Old or young. Doesn’t matter. You just have to love them.”
 Of course starry doe-eyes flash in your mind. A crooked grin that pulls down a little farther on the right side. The centered mole just under his bottom lip that you kiss softly, so often when he’s distracted. The scar on his cheek that you run your fingers over when he’s resting on you. You do love Jeongguk, you have for a while now.
 “Write that person’s name at the top. They are going to be the model of basis and foundation for one of the characters in the short story project that we have due mid-April. So you’ve got approximately 2 months to finish it.” 
 A chorus of groans sound around the hall. The boy in front of you rests his head on his arms, looking defeated.
 “Hey,” your professor laughs, “this is the last year for most of you and this is the only project you have this semester. And it was in the syllabus. Not sure why you all sound so despondently surprised. You didn’t really think you would get through the whole course without one did you?” she inquires, still pacing the front of the room with a quirked brow.
 You honestly don’t mind. It will be a good distraction when you’re left to entertain yourself. Jeongguk’s actually been more on top of his apprenticeship attendance lately. It’s a good thing of course, but you don’t see him as much as you used to. That’s not to say that you aren’t together an incessant amount, just a bit less than normal. You scribble a tiny ‘jk ♡’ at the top of your paper.
 “Now with your muse in mind, I’m going to ask you a series of questions so that we can get some finite details about your fictional character on paper for you to use and reference as you’re writing,” she pauses, clicks to another slide on the projector. “What is their favorite color?”
 After writing the question you pause. Surely it’s black right? That’s basically the only color he wears. Maybe blue? You had helped him color his hair navy just a few days ago, the stains on your pillow a blueberry colored reminder every night… Still, you go with your first instinct, scrawling ‘black’ on the lined paper.
 “Their birthday?”
 You’re quick to answer this one, he’s a Virgo, so his birthday is… A small frown starts to tug at the corners of your lips. What day in September did he say? Did he ever say? Did you guys ever even actually talk about birthdays? ‘Virgo’ gets written next to question 2.
 “Are they close to their parents? Closer to the mother or father? Are they estranged? If you know why, please elaborate.”
 You know you don’t know this one. Fairly certain Jeongguk hasn’t even mentioned them in passing.
 “What role, or character archetype are they playing in your story?” she clasps her hands in front of her. “Are they the hero? The love interest? The villain?”
 You answer that one hastily.
 A few more questions are asked, some that you can answer, some that you can’t. They gradually get deeper, more personal as your professor carries on with them.
 “Okay. Now I want you to think hard about this character, and about the muse you’ve crafted them after. Could you answer all of the questions I asked?” She moves a weighted gaze around the room. You feel like she’s looking directly at you when she speaks again. “Do you really love the person you chose for the basic character prototype? Again, they could have been real, imaginary or fictional, but do you really love them, or do you love the idea of them? The version of them that you have pieced together in those brains of yours.”
 Your heart stops for just a moment, you can almost feel how you pale, the color draining from your cheeks. She continues.
 “I only ask because I want you to grow to love the character you are creating. This isn’t Psychology, I’m not here to make you question the love, or emotions you do or don’t feel,” the class laughs at this. The class with the exception of you. “But I am here to make you better writers. And one skill that you can have as a writer, a creative, or fiction writer especially, is building a connection with your characters. You’re going to be working on their, the character you’re outlining, story for the next few months. And when I read your work I want to be able feel the connection you have with them.” 
 She waits for it to sink in before continuing. “So I ask again: Do you love the muse you’ve chosen, or do you love the idea of them? Because loving someone and loving the idea of them are two completely different things. To love an idea of someone or something is to love it in a very surface level and/or superficial way. Still with me?” she questions.
 You are, but you wish you weren’t. You think you’re going to be sick.
 “Good, so as I was saying. It’s superficial. To be blunt, you love them for what they could be not for what they really are. As writers, many of us are guilty of this.”
 The thing about being a hopeless romantic is that you think about life in could be’s.
 “To truly love someone or something is to know all the little details about them, their virtues and their flaws. The reason why they prefer winter to spring. How old they were when they got their heartbroken for the first time. When they figured out who they are as a person, or if they are still searching. I asked those questions at the beginning of class to get you thinking.” 
 Your hands are starting to tremble just a little. Words on your paper coming out sloppy. You do love Jeongguk.
 Your professor takes a deep breath, flips to another slide. “How can you expect to love the character when you don’t even truly love who they are modeled after?”
 The room is quiet for a second. Someone raises their hand.
 “Isn’t it possible for characters to change as you write them? Like I can’t change my person, but I can change my character, like write them the way I want so that I end up loving them.”
 Your professor laughs again, light and airy as if she expected someone to ask. “Ah, yes. Character development is a thing of course. Although this is something that happens naturally throughout the story. But to change your character, like how you described?” she shakes her head and tsks, “Is it really love if you have to change them?”
 The sound of your paper crumpling is blaring in the quiet room. You pull out a new sheet, writing your sister’s name at the top. Her favorite color is green, her birthday is July 8th, she’s closer to your dad because you and your mom have always had a bond she couldn’t recreate with her, she’s the hero in the story, not the love interest like Jeongguk was… The lecture continues, and you don’t even notice when the bell rings, too busy thinking about how you do love Jeongguk.
 Jeongguk’s playing the newest version of Final Fantasy on his PS, the one you got him for Valentine’s day just a few days ago. You remembered him passively saying that he hadn’t played since he was little, and how he said he missed racing the chocobo’s. 
 His eyes flicker between his tv and you walking around his room. You’ve been to his apartment many times, but still, you always move around and take everything in like it's your first time there; your fingers running over his manga collection in the corner, tidying up his desk, lighting the linen candle you brought from your place. 
 ‘A gentle smell’ you had told him with a sweet smile, ‘because you’re sensitive to certain scents.’
 He gets distracted, the pleated skirt you're wearing catching his eye even more than the improved graphics of the game. He doesn’t quite hear you when you speak up.
 “Huh?” he asks, dragging his gaze up your body only to be met with a knowing look of your own. He smiles sheepishly.
 You roll your eyes, before taking a seat in his computer chair, not too far from his bed where he’s sat. Flipping through one of his tattoo sketchbooks you ask again, “What’s your favorite color?”
 Jeongguk isn’t surprised when you decide to make conversation. Before you started wandering around his room, you were on the bed with him while he played but you were a little fidgety and fussy, like you had something on your mind. He suspected you got up to try and distract yourself from your thoughts.
 He hums and tells you that it’s black, maybe red. 
 You ask his birthday next. He tells you September 1st. 
 Adjusting himself against the headboard of his bed, he opens for you when you make your way to him, crawling across his duvet. You take it upon yourself to settle between his thighs, back against his chest. He wraps his arms around you and continues to play, his chin resting atop your head. He smiles to himself when he feels you start to trace the stars on his arm.
 “Are you close to your parents?” you question again.
 He makes a small pondering noise. “Not really.”
 “Why not?”
 “Uh- they worked a lot I guess and-” He pauses. You don’t sound like you’re prying, just soft curiosity lacing your tone, but he still hesitates. “Why are you asking?”
 You hum and lean up a little to peck at the line of his jaw. He purrs at the contact, content. “Just wondering,” you state, pressing back into his chest.
 It’s quiet for a bit, you annoyingly plucking at the little bit of arm hair he has, making him laugh and playfully scold you, nuzzling into you and nipping at your cheek in retaliation. You giggle and he gets that sharp feeling in his chest, just like he always does.
 He thinks that’s the end of your questioning but too soon, you speak up again. “Do you prefer Winter or Spring?”
 “Winter, but my favorite season is Fall,” he says glancing down at you quickly before redirecting his attention to his game again. “You’re being weird, are we playing 20 questions or something? No, I’m not a virgin. What color panties are you wearing?” he asks, trying to make a joke.
 He chuckles when you lift your skirt to check before flipping it down again. “Pink,” you reply.
 You’re about to talk again but he interrupts you, “Wait let me see, I didn’t get a good look.”
 He hears you huff and can imagine you rolling your eyes as you do what he asks. You put it down again after a few seconds.
 “Just a little longer,” he tries.
 “Ugh, can you stop,” you say, a giggle leaking into the words, “I’m trying to talk to you!”
 He groans over dramatically like he’s exhausted, but he gives in. He always does with you. 
 “How old were you when you lost it? Your virginity?”
 The fond feeling in his chest starts to dwindle, and Jeongguk can feel the first little pricks of irritation poke at him as he answers your question shorter than before. “17 or 18.”
 You make a small surprised noise, looking up at him shocked. “Really that old?”
 He doesn’t glance back, stays focused on his game, hoping that you get the hint that he doesn’t want to ‘talk’ like this. “Yeah, I was a late bloomer and also an idiot.”
 You smile at him before going back to tracing his tattoos. “I doubt you were an idiot. That was just part of your story, a little chapter in your life.”
 He tenses at your words but shortly after, a lull falls into the conversation. But as soon as Jeongguk relaxes, a small frown takes over his face when you ask if the girl had been his girlfriend. And again, you don’t sound overbearing or anything, but he knows you can tell he’s not interested or invested in your questions. The atmosphere has shifted from pleasant and content to stiff and vexatious.
 “Yup,” he says, voice taking a stern edge despite his efforts to mask it. 
 He feels you tense against his chest, your fingers halting on his arm. “Are you mad at me?” you ask hesitantly.
 Immediately he feels bad, and sighs. “No, I’m not,” he says quietly, trying to be gentle. 
 But it seems you just don’t get it, because not even a few minutes later you’re asking, “How long were you together?”
 And he does his best to not snap at you, but he can’t stop himself when he goes rigid behind you and his words come out harsh and scathing. “Why does it matter and why the fuck are you interrogating me all of a sudden?”
 You turn around between his legs and gape at him with a shocked expression. “I’m not interrogating you? I’m literally just making conversation? Trying to get to know you better?” 
 “And why’s that?” he says, his tone flippant and annoyed.
 You pout and furrow your brows. “Am I not allowed to get to know you?”
 His jaw ticks and he casts an annoyed gaze around his room, looking anywhere but at you, as if not acknowledging the confused and hurt arch of your brow will make it go away. “You haven’t tried to in the last what? Five months?”
 “Six,” you correct him quietly.
 You sound unsure, like you don’t know why he’s lashing out like he is. And to be fair, it’s out of character for him, at least with you. He’s really not this cold towards you very often, almost ever. 
 Usually things with you both are great, easy. Fitting together in each other's lives almost perfectly. So seamlessly they are almost completely intertwined at this point. You meeting him for his breaks at his lessening shifts at the coffee shop, him meeting you after classes when he doesn’t have work, going to each other’s places after he gets off from his apprenticeship. The parties every now and again. The tattoos. 
 But he supposes it’s easy to put two blank canvases together when there are no details known about either of them. That’s what he was hoping for at least.
 “So am I just not allowed to?” you repeat when he stays silent.
 With an irked groan he tosses his controller to the side and rubs his hands over his face, rakes them through his navy hair. “I just don’t get why you are asking in the first place.”
 You regard him quietly for a moment, taking in his bored stare. He knows the disinterest in his tone is agonizingly apparent, and he knows it hurts you, just like the detached dismissal that he has ready on the tip of his tongue will. He expects you to keep pushing, to bicker with him just so he doesn’t give you the silent treatment. 
 He doesn’t expect you to start crawling off his bed. 
 He sighs and reaches out for you, getting a grip on your arm before you can get away completely. “C’mon, what are you doing? Are you mad at me now?”
 “I’m not mad, I just don’t see the point in staying here if you aren’t going to talk to me.” You’re trying to sound impassive, but he can hear the hurt in your voice.
 “But I am talking to you. I talk to you all the time, what do you mean?” He hates that he almost sounds like he’s whining, but he just doesn’t understand and he’s frustrated that you are prying and making things deeper than they need to be, than they should be.
 “Not about things that matter,” you reply curtly.
 “But the things you’re asking about literally do not matter, ___,” he states, just as short.
 You hang your head back and he can see your lashes fluttering rapidly. He knows you’re trying to not cry. Blinking to rid your eyes of unshed tears. You do that sometimes, cry when you get frustrated. As articulate as you are, sometimes things are hard to get out. You sound defeated and disheartened, but your words also have a hurt edge to them when you say, “They matter to me, anything that has to do with you matters to me.”
 He knew you were close to tears, but when you look at him with glossy eyes, he softens almost instantly.
 “Baby,” he coos, sighing again as he tugs you back to between his legs, back to his chest like when the conversation first started. He wraps his arms around you and kind of sways a little as he pecks your hair. “I just don’t think it’s important. Like the past is the past, and that’s it, you know?”
 He knows you’re pouting, and your voice is short and whiny when you insist, “I just want to know.”
 He hangs his head back and knocks it lightly against his headboard, trying to be patient with you. “It wasn’t like a bad relationship or anything like that but I just-”
 “Does it still bother you?”
 “No, but it’s still something I’d rather not think or talk about,” he’s talking to you slowly, like a child. 
 You’re quiet for some time, but Jeongguk just waits, knows you have more questions.
 It’s tentative and rushed when you speak again. “Was she your only girlfriend? If it wasn’t a bad relationship, why did you break up with her?”
  He takes a deep breath, actively trying to not be short with you. “She was the only serious one, and she broke up with me. Nothing really happened.” He shrugs, tone getting softer as he speaks. “Just the stereotypical case of unreciprocated love, or like one person just not feeling it anymore.”
 “So you loved her?” It asked so quietly that he almost doesn’t hear you over the chimes of his game still playing in the background, forgotten and now sound tracking the trepid atmosphere around you.
 He doesn’t verbally reply, just nods. He knows you’ll feel the movement.
 It hurts him when you go still in his hold. Like you didn’t want that to be the answer. You recover quickly, however, inquiring him again. “Did she break your heart?”
 He can’t help but laugh a little behind you, the words sounding far too dramatic for him. “Yeah I guess so?” he answers, “But it wasn't like traumatizing if that’s what you’re thinking. I just cared for her more than she cared about me in the end. That’s how it always is, right?” He pauses, hums like he’s thinking. “Plus she was the first girl I was with, blah blah blah, you know how the story goes.”
 You make a confused noise in front of him like you’re trying to understand and wrap your head around what he just said. “Did that really not affect you at all?”
 You’re probably wondering why he is the way he is, if his first heartbreak isn’t his anti-commitment origin story. He doesn’t blame you.
 Jeongguk thinks about his words for a second. He’s not lying. It wasn’t traumatizing. Maybe it did change him, how he views things, people, love. But it wasn’t tragic. He just kind of became this way as he got older. He has no real backstory for why he is the way he is, why he loves to be loved but will never love in return. Not in the way the other person deserves, at least. Even if he wanted to, he never would. Because as selfish as it is, the one thing he craves more than love, than anything, is his freedom. And in his head he can’t have it all. 
 And maybe that is tragic in a sense, but he’s never really thought of it as a bad thing. Knows that sometimes in order to have something he wants, he has to give up something else. 
 “I mean… I see love differently now. I don’t know if my viewpoint changed because of the break up or just because I got older and realized what’s important to me, but I probably used to think about love closer to the way you do… head in the clouds,” he nudges you playfully, like he’s trying to lighten the mood, “too much faith in people. A top tier romantic and the number one idealist.”
 He knows it’s hard to picture. But he was more like you than he would care to admit. Maybe that’s why he’s so much more careful with you. Because he knows.
 “How do you see love now?”
 Sometimes Jeongguk thinks he’s heartless. But when you ask him questions like that, the kind that you already know the answer to, but ask anyway, hoping that he will tell you something different, tell you what you want to hear… He knows he’s not because his heart aches in his chest. 
 He knows he’s not heartless, because he does his best to be soft with you, to make whatever this is between you both, as painless as possible. And that’s why he never lies to you about this kind of stuff, because he knows if he did, it would hurt so much more later. And he doesn’t want that. Jeongguk is selfish with you, but he never wants to hurt you.
 “You know how I see it, ___,” he murmurs softly, like he’s trying to be gentle. Almost like he’s reminding you. “Why are you asking questions that you know are going to-”
 Hurt you.
 He doesn’t say it, because he doesn’t need to. He knows you know that’s what he means. 
 He feels bad when you start to backtrack. “No, no. I’m not. It’s okay…” you rush out as you shift onto your knees and face him again, hands coming up to cup his face. “Thank you for telling me,” You kiss him gently, hands squeezing, thumb rubbing over the scar on his cheek. You’re too soft, too good for someone like him. “I’m sorry for being nosy, I was just curious.”
 His hands on your hips squeeze, and he pulls you closer, brushes his nose against yours before he kisses you. “It’s okay, I’m sorry for getting upset just-” he breathes hot and sharp against your lips, “Kiss me.”
 Falling into each other after moments like these is easy. It’s been happening more lately, rough talks turning into rough touches. But again, it’s just so simple. It’s easy to stop the fights and the questions with his lips against yours, it's easy to forget the things he does behind your back when he has you on yours beneath him, and it’s easy to pretend like that’s all there is. Just you and him. Two parts of the same star you might say. 
 But even though it’s simple, Jeongguk still wonders how long easy will be enough. 
 His hair smells like vanilla.
 He took at shower at yours just a bit earlier so it's a familiar scent, one that’s comforting and soft. The warm water made him cozy and pliant. When he came out with damp hair and pink skin he made his way over to you, maneuvering your body till you were flat on your back so he could cuddle up and lay on top of you, head resting on your chest and his body between your legs.
 You’ve got your laptop resting on the coffee table in front of you, one arm out haphazardly doing your homework, the other carding through Jeongguk’s hair, tucking little stray pieces of blue behind his ear. He hasn’t moved in a bit, just content laying with you in the quiet, the tv a mindless background noise. You wonder if he fell asleep.
 It’s only sometime later that he’s shifting, rubbing against your shirt.
 “Baby?” he muses, sleepy and quiet.
 “Hmm?” you drone, eyes on your computer still.
 He looks around a little like he didn’t mean to fall asleep and now is trying to make sense of the missing piece in his memory. “I slept?”
 You look at him and your heart beats a little faster, an unconscious smile playing on your lips as you take in his pout, the red of his cheek from being slept on. “Yeah I think so… the drool on my shirt says that you did,” you tease.
 He flushes a little before plopping back down on your chest with a groan. He asks you what time it is and when you say a little after 9:00pm, he groans again. 
 “I don’t want to get ready,” he mumbles, hand absently squeezing your boob.
 You hum, hand back in his hair, eyes back on your school work. “You could always stay?” 
 He hums back, “Or you could come with me.”
 He sounds cute and hopeful, the little catnap making him softer and melt in your mouth sweet. Like a Hershey’s kiss that was left in the sun for just a little too long. 
 But as tempting as he is, you decline, telling him you have to get this paper done and work on that project for your writing class. And study. Spring midterms are next week after all. 
 He huffs a small sigh, sounds like he’s close to drifting off again when he mumbles, “Gonna miss you.”
 You wonder if he can feel the way your heart skips, if he can feel all the little shooting stars in your chest crash into the pit of your stomach, tiny little explosions of endearment and fondness and love. You want to tell him again, that he could stay, skip the party, if he really wanted to. But you know he has his mind made up, and that he doesn’t really want much of anything.
 Being with Jeongguk is getting harder. Not bad really, just a little more difficult to deal with. The comfort of being with him slowly morphing into a yearnful ache. You don’t let yourself think about it often, knowing that you’re not going to do anything to change the situation. Too scared to try, if you’re being honest. But in times like these where his affection is so gentle and so tender that it almost hurts? It’s hard to ignore all the things you both leave unsaid and cast to the side. 
 That doesn’t stop you, however, from reverting back to what you both know and what is safe.
 “You’ll miss me?” you tease.
 He grumbles, like he’s a little embarrassed, buries his face between your tits.
 You giggle and pull his hair a tiny bit making him look at you. “Maybe I should make you feel good before you go? Wake you up a little?”
 He narrows his eyes and scowls at you, playful fire lighting up his eyes, “I thought you had homework?”
 “I do, but it won’t take that long.”
 He rolls his eyes and sits up like he’s getting ready to leave, “I hate you. I cum in my pants one time and you never leave it alone.”
 You laugh, and as hard as he tries to keep a smile at bay, you can see the corner of his lips quirk up. He settles into the couch a little away from you and acts like he’s giving you the silent treatment.
 But you know the game, you’ve both played it before. Act mad and hurt, get babied and taken care of. You give in, so easy for him just like the first time you made him cum and all the other times after that. 
 You don’t waste time as you crawl over to him and settle on his lap, your hips straddling his. He doesn’t give you much other than his hands resting on your ass, thumbs slipping under your shirt to rub a bit at your hip bones. He regards you quietly, just looking you over until his eyes land on your lips and hesitate before flicking back to your eyes.
 You lean in, ready to give him what he clearly wants, but he’s stubborn as ever despite his suppleness, turning his head away at the last moment with a close-lipped giggle. 
 You scoff softly before taking a new route, undeterred. Now going straight for his neck, kissing on the little mole he has on the side. Your tongue tastes him first, skin warm and clean, before your lips latch on in a light suction, barely sucking as he purrs and tilts his head. 
 A hand travels down his chest and you palm him over his sweats at the same time that you pull some skin between your teeth and bite. He gasps, and the hands on your ass squeeze, pulling you closer to him, and you revel in the way his hips just barely push up into your palm. 
 He’s much needier and more eager when he’s in this mood. Not quite submissive, but more lenient. Maybe you’re taking advantage of his soft, hazy state when you start sucking a bruise on his neck, right over that freckle where everyone can see, but you can’t help yourself. Once you taste a star, it’s a constant craving, something that you fiend for. And when he feels the pressure of your mouth, and the pain, he doesn’t stop you, just pulls you impossibly closer. He hisses when you scrape your teeth and then whines when you lick over the mark.
 You pull away when he starts to squirm and then settle on the floor, the plush rug underneath you a soft cushion for your knees. He spreads his legs quickly, easy for you in the way you typically are for him. Looking down his nose at you, he waits patiently for you to start touching him again.
 When you do, he lets out the softest sigh, lets his head fall back for just a moment before looking at you again, a newfound darkness swimming in his eyes. He’s already hard, just from a few small touches over his clothes and a couple kisses to his neck. His pants get pushed down, pooling by his ankles. 
 You moan a little when you take him in your hand, rub your thighs together some. The skin of his length is a pretty pink, and soft to the touch. 
 “Already hard?” you ask, a smile in your voice as you grip him a little tighter and stroke slowly.
 He nods, eyes going between your hand and your face. Your hair is messy and you’ve got your big round reading glasses on. “I’m always super horny when I wake up, you know that,” he tells you, unashamed.
 Humming, you nod. You do know, but you wish you knew better. You wish you got to experience it more. Got to wake up with him more than you do, got to disappear under the covers in the soft morning light to wrap your lips around him more often than you do, got to wake him up with slow slurps and wet kisses more than you do. You wish you just got to be with him more than you do.
 But you don’t.
 The passive reminder is heavy on your heart like he is heavy on your tongue, the tip of his cock leaking just a tiny bit when you press your tongue flat to the sensitive part under the head. You look at him as you do that, you take in the way his brows turn up and his mouth parts.
 He pushes a piece of hair behind your ear, and his voice is soft and raspy when he tells you, “You’re so pretty, baby.”
 You blush and adjust your glasses, shifting on your knees a little. “Thank you,” you reply with a quick kiss to his length.  
 Sometimes the sweet, soft things that you do make him go crazy. You think so at least, because when you place those small kitten kisses up and down his cock, it jerks in your hold, pulses hot and hard for you. When you flick your eyes to Jeongguk, his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth and his eyes are closed.
 You keep your gaze on him as you wrap your mouth completely around the swollen tip, and suckle. Your pussy clenches when Jeongguk’s body goes tense, hips dipping into the cushion of the couch like he’s trying to run away from you and how good your mouth feels. 
 “Fuck-” he whines, looking at you quickly before letting his eyes fall shut again.
 He brings his hands up, laces them through your hair and pushes slightly, kind of encouraging you to sink down farther, but not demanding like he usually would. You let his hands slowly guide you down his cock, your palms on his thighs, feeling as they tense more and more with every inch of him that you take in. He shutters when you reach the base, nose against his lower belly, his tip brushing against the back of your throat. He pulls you off with the same sluggish speed, almost like he’s using your mouth to tease and torture himself with the leisurely pace that he’s setting.
 The next time you sink down on his cock, you stick your tongue out, and lick at his balls, making him spread his legs more and push up into your throat, the tip breaching where your gag reflex would be if you had one. 
 “Yeah, baby-” he chokes out, “Love your mouth, fuck…”
 You drool and swallow and suck on his cock like it's the last time you ever will, like it's the best thing you’ve ever tasted. You add your hands too, once Jeongguk settles back and brings his fingers to his chest, toying with his nipples rather than pulling at your hair. His eyes are hazy as he watches you, as he listens to the slick clicking noises of your strokes and nasty slurping sounds of your mouth. 
 “That’s so fucking good,” Jeongguk says as his hips twitch, a shuddering sigh tailing his groans.
 You pull off and stroke him with just your hands, wanting to see how he looks, how he reacts. The way his crew neck is bunched up with his hands underneath playing with his body just like you. How his abs tense when you rub at the little spot under the crown, how his cock spurts just a baby bit of clear precum when you do it harder.
 “So big, Koo, so wet,” you praise.
 He nods and agrees easily with a distracted and breathy, “Mmh- yeah.”
 Jeongguk is fussy in your hand squirming as he gets closer. He takes one of his hands out from under his sweater and pushes and paws at the strap of your tank top. “Off- wanna see,” he whines quietly.
 You give a cute nod, and rake your nails down his bare thighs gently and then sigh. Pleased at the way he shivers, his sleepiness making him so responsive. Then you do as he asks, pushing the straps down and letting your big tits bounce freely. 
 “God you’re so sexy,” he sighs, a hand now wrapped around his cock, stroking fast.
 “Do you like them?” you whisper, small hands grabbing and shaking them a little, nipples hardening at your own touch.
 Jeongguk nods, tells you what you already know. That he loves them, wants them in his mouth, wants his cock between them.
 “Wanna fuck them?” you offer.
 But like he wants too many things all at once and can’t decide, he backtracks on his previous statement, words fumbling and cute as he settles for just shaking his head and saying eloquently, “No. Mouth.”
 “You’re a little needy today,” you muse, bringing your hand up to grip his cock only for it to be swatted away.
 “Shut-” he moans when you tease the tip with your tongue, cock kicking and a drop of precum dribbling from his slit. “up. Mouth only.”
 “Okay baby,” you comply easily.
 Jeongguk’s tattooed hand is holding the base of his cock so it doesn’t throb and kick as your lick and suck at him, just his thumb and forefinger keeping himself in place. He sputters out tiny whines and little sighs as you blow him, little moans of your own thrumming against his length.
 When you bring your tongue back to the tip, little quick flicks over his frenulum, he tenses and jerks before sinking into the feeling.
 “Ah- just like that… your tongue, just your tongue baby.”
 His sensitivity is so gratifying. So worked up, that just the tip of your tongue is enough to get him wiggling and squirming. 
 “Think I’m gonna cum?” he warns, a puzzled pitch to his tone.
 Though Jeongguk has always been sensitive, he’s never cum from just your tongue licking at him, always needing a hand around his cock, or your mouth sucking on him, your pussy milking him. This makes a little flame burn hot in your belly, eager to make him feel good in a way you haven’t before.
 “Just from my tongue?” you ask against the tip.
 He nods, hasty and jerky with his movements. “Yeah, keep licking me- so close- please,” he says quietly.
 While making him feel good just how he asked, you flick and lick and suckle at the underside of the crown, tasting him as he leaks for you, watching as he fights against the urge to fuck up into your mouth and stroke his cock. His chest is rising and falling, puffing out hot, high pitched breaths. His free hand is now gripping at the cushion of the couch rhythmically, knuckles white. 
 You smile, with your tongue out, knowing the signs, having made him fall apart so many times before. Slurping and suctioning a little so that you can lick constantly over him is what makes him lose it.
 His jaw hangs open and his brows turn up, “I love that, oh my god, fuck-” he moans head dropping to the back of the sofa. “I’m cumming, baby,” he breathes.
 His body locks up and the hand gripping the sofa pulls at the cushion as he curls in on himself, his cock spurting out a shot of cum every time it pulses. He’s almost whimpering, as you keep flicking your tongue lightly on him. Eyes squeezed shut, hand still holding his cock in place for you, like he doesn’t want you to stop even though he’s twitching now, overstimulated and too sensitive. You give one last, slow lick over the whole length of him before you pull away.
 Finally Jeongguk untenses and lets himself relax into the couch, deep breaths filling his lungs. He looks pretty, sweaty and thoroughly fucked out, his hand idly rubbing up and down his tummy. 
 He’s still leaning back, eyes closed as he basks in the afterglow of his orgasm when he says, “Put my cock away, please.”
 You giggle and pull his sweats up for him, and he lifts his hips to help you. You pat his cock gingerly when it’s tucked inside.
 Finally he peeks at you, eyes hazy as he opens them. They get more alert quickly, though, when he sees the state you’re in. He sits up, smiling big and laughing.
 “Baby,” he coos, leaning in to peck you on the lips between his breathy laughter, “look at you, so messy,” he pinches your cheek as he sits back some, looking at how you’re covered in his cum. A spurt on your chin, another across the bridge of your nose and cheek, and a final one on the lens of your glasses.
 You beam at him and he looks you over once more before leaning down to your level again, hands fondling your tits a little as he whispers in your ear, “So, cute. My cute baby.” He kisses your temple before standing and telling you he’ll be right back with a cloth to clean you.
 It takes him a bit longer than it normally would, and when he comes out you know why. He’s dressed in his party clothes, shoes already on. A little hint of melancholy makes a home behind your ribs. But he still looks so lovely when he crouches in front of you, eyes bright like the lights in the sky. 
 “Sorry,” he says with a bashful smile, “Checked the time while I was in there- gotta run.”
 You nod, always understanding of his quick exits and flighty ways. “Have fun,” you say quietly.
 He brushes a thumb over your cheek and looks at you. His touch is gentle while his gaze is intense. With pinched brows and a pensive purse to his lips, he leans in slowly, nuzzles your cheek briefly before kissing you. 
 His kisses are evil, you’re sure of it. So deliberate and passionate that they make your head spin. Sweet as he licks into your mouth, as he breathes you in, hands cupping your faces as he brings you closer. Mean as he pulls away, leaving you breathless and longing for more. 
 “I’ll see you,” he assures you as he gets to his feet. 
 You smile because he will. 
 When you arrive at the party it’s just like any other one. You first make your way through the crowd to the kitchen, Yoongi and Taehyung in tow. You pour yourself a drink, and just like always it takes about 2 minutes for you to realize you may have been better off at home. It’s too hot, and it smells like cheap weed, and the cheap fragrance that is half hazardously spritzed here and there to try and cover up the smell. The alcohol is cheap, $10 New Amsterdam lines the counter, a bunch of half empty bottles with mismatched lids. The red solo cup in your hand is cheap. The girl in front of you sitting in Jeongguk’s lap is cheap.
 Or maybe she’s not. You don’t know. Don’t really care. In the morning, you’ll process how it’s not the other girl’s fault, and how it’s Jeongguk you should be calling names. You’ll think rationally about how she likely didn’t know about you, when she took her place on his thighs. You’ll understand that there’s no way she could have known how highly you think of the boy she’s sinking her teeth into, how you think, know he’s made of stars, how when you think of him you see the color pink. How could she? Jeongguk evidently didn’t tell her. She probably doesn’t know. You know that. You’ll process it in the morning.
 But right now all you can process the sickly feeling crawling it’s way up your throat. All you can feel is the way your palms get sweaty, and a little shaky, your fight or flight making adrenaline course through your veins as you just watch. 
 Watch as Jeongguk obliviously carries on conversations with the people you’ve come to know at these parties. You watch as he mindlessly tilts his head so the girl he has in his lap can kiss his neck better. So she can make him feel good, better. She’s sitting much like you were during the first party you attended here, on that same gross, stained sofa. Jeongguk’s got his hands all over her just like he had them all over you that night, in front of everyone. The same hands that were all over you just a few hours ago.
 You glance around the circle you’re still on the outskirts of, Taehyung and Yoongi on your flank, taking in everything you’re seeing as well, a tense silence falling over your trio, them waiting to see what you want to do. Jeongguk’s circle doesn’t even bat an eye at the fact that there is a random girl that is not you, kissing on him. They just carry on conversations with him, like he’s the best multitasker in the world. 
 Or maybe she’s not random, you think, realize. All the times you’ve declined his invites to these types of functions flash in your head and you have to close your eyes, have to really focus on not hurling the little bit of alcohol you were able to ingest on your way from the kitchen to the living room. But a laugh that you’ve always adored and grown to love these past few months fills your ears, automatically making your eyes flick open and search for him.
 He’s got his eyes closed now, and you can see the way the hand on her thigh is clenching in pleasure. He hums at something someone says, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth. He chuckles again, a breathy one. A distracted one, one that’s sounded just to appease a shitty joke that’s been told. Your eyes move to the girl. She’s working her teeth and her tongue over that mark you know you left just a few hours ago. Darkening it, making it her own. She can’t erase it, no. But she can take its place. 
 It’s almost slow motion when she detaches and moves her hand to Jeongguk’s jaw. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch her, you know what she’s doing. 
 Jeongguk’s eyes flutter open in that hazy way they do when he’s distracted and turned on. When you see her apply pressure getting him to angle his head towards her, his lips towards hers, your heart clenches. He just goes with it so easily. Like it’s second nature, like he’s used to it, does it often in fact. He doesn’t even try to fight it at all. His eyes flick down to her lips, and he leans in, and you can’t watch anymore. You don’t want her to know what the stars taste like. What your star tastes like.
 “Hey Kook.” It’s still a nickname, but it sounds so much harsher than the soft ‘Koo’ or occasional ‘baby’ you usually reserve for him. 
 It’s satisfying to see the way his body tenses and the way his eyes fly open at the sound of your voice. His head looks around the room quickly a few times, before finally landing on you. 
 What’s not so satisfying is the way he makes no move to separate himself from the girl who is now just leaning her head on his shoulder, eyeing you. She’s got a sly smile on her face, and she’s kicking her legs that are swung over Jeongguk’s lap like she’s bored. Just waiting for the inevitably tense moment to pass so she can get back to what she was doing. Jeongguk clears his throat.
 “___. I- um. I didn’t think you were coming… Like I thought you said you weren’t when I saw you earlier?” He phrases it like a question, like he didn’t understand what happened earlier was a lot more than him ‘just seeing you’. Like he might be able to blame whatever this is on a miscommunication, a little mistake. 
 Your blood is boiling, but you can’t even find it in yourself to be angry with him. You guys aren’t dating. Technically he’s not doing anything wrong. If you got mad right now, it would be crazy of you; controlling. 
 No, you can’t really be angry. But you can be hurt. And you are. So irrevocably hurt, you can feel the hollow pain settle in your chest, and make a home in your lungs. It hurts to breathe.
 “Yeah… I finished my paper after all. Thought I would surprise you. Since you- since you invited me.” You cringe at the way you sound. So childish, naïve, foolish, hopeful. Your eyes jump between him and the girl still comfortably settled in his lap. You can see her playing with some of the longer pieces of his hair at the nape of his neck. You look away. 
 Jeongguk sighs like he doesn’t know how to fix the situation he’s got himself into. “You didn’t have to do that.” He has a faux sweet tone to his voice, like he’s appreciative of the gesture, the thought, but it just wasn’t necessary. 
 His coolness makes the tears that you’ve been fighting finally sting. So many welling in your eyes, you don’t even need to blink before they trek freely down your cheeks.
 A watery, self deprecating laugh leaves your lips before you murmur, “Clearly.” 
 You gesture to the girl, finally forcing you both to acknowledge the proverbial elephant in the room. Jeongguk winces, like he’s the one that’s hurt. You chuckle again. “But hey, listen. Have fun okay? I’ll see you.” Your voice cracks, and you hastily run out of the room.
 Jeongguk tries to call out to you, even pushes the girl’s legs off, but you’re already lost in the crowd. He groans and flops back onto the couch, running his hands over his face.
 When there’s loud banging on your apartment door, it’s expected.
 It’s Jeongguk. Of course it is. Out of breath from running to your door from the elevator, he has distraught eyes, like he’s frazzled with his hair askew. But still, he looks so devastatingly pretty. 
 You look at him up and down, and you feel your eyes water again. Tears welling heavy, like the numb feeling in your chest. Pictures of him with his eyes closed and a girl on his neck flash in your mind. You take a deep trembling breath, willing yourself to keep it together.
 “What?” you say simply. You try to sound mad, but really you just sound tired. 
 He shifts in your doorway, looking down at his feet before meeting your gaze. You know you look like a mess with red rimmed eyes and probably some mascara running underneath. You couldn’t be bothered.
 “Can I come in?” he whispers. 
 You scowl. “Why?”
 He shrugs, a defensive gesture. “I wanna talk to you?”
 You scoff and roll your eyes before turning away, leaving the door open for him. You sit on your couch, and watch as Jeongguk awkwardly stands in front of you. He looks so nervous and so out of place in your apartment, a sight that is such a stark difference to how he was earlier. So soft for you, so sweet for you. Easy to hold and easy to love. You never thought you’d see him in your home, antsy with stress and not pleasure. Something so cold it burns, settles in your chest.
 “__ I-”
 “You got here fast,” you interrupt. 
 Jeongguk flinches at your sharp tone. “Huh?”
 “You got to my place fast. Must have cum pretty quick huh?” The bitterness in your tone is scathing, and Jeongguk’s taken aback by your tone, having never heard you sound like that with him before.
 He sighs, “No we-”
 “Oh you didn’t? Did she just blow you?”
 “Please, __ just-” 
 “Jerked you off in the bathroom th-”
 “I didn’t fuck her __!” Jeongguk yells. His hands are in his hair, tugging before they run down his face, pulling his skin in aggravation. 
 You flinch on the couch. But you turn your nose up to him, and tuck your feet under you making yourself small. Even though you’re on the verge of tears, your words are icy. “Well, I’m sorry I interrupted and ruined that for you.”
 He sounds defeated when he groans and makes his way over to you, sitting next to you on the sofa. “I didn’t sleep with her.” 
 With him so near, you can feel the warmth of his body start to melt away the anger you felt, leaving just the tangible ache and hurt. 
 “Please look at me?” he asks quietly. He reaches his hand out, but you shy away from the touch, squeezing as close to the armrest as you can.
 You shake your head. Your chin is quivering, ugly dents forming as you suck in one of those stuttering breaths. The kind that gives away just how close you are to breaking. And if you look at him and his starshine eyes and moon glow skin you will. You know you will. 
 “Baby, please.”
 You feel his hand cup your cheek and gently press, guiding you to look at him. Just like the girl from earlier did to him. Your eyes drop to his neck and there it is. It’s an ugly dark purple mark on his soft skin. You feel sick, and the softest cry sneaks past your lips. You close your eyes and take a deep breath willing yourself to keep your composure. But it’s so hard when even just looking at him hurts. 
 When you take him in again, you’re met with his gaze. He looks pained too, despite the circumstances. Despite this being his fault. The hand on your cheek is gentle, like the thumb wiping away at your quiet tears. He looks at you. Really looks at you.
 “I swear I didn’t.” It’s said softly, but he’s begging. He’s begging you to believe him.
 And it sucks because you do. You know he’s telling the truth and it just hurts you and confuses you more. The fact that he left her to come and find you. The fact that he’s here making sure you know that he didn’t do anymore than just let her kiss on him; that he didn’t cross whatever invisible line in this ‘relationship’ that’s not even real, anymore than he already has. 
 You look at him sadly, the smallest smile on your lips as you whisper, “But you would have.”
 His face falling is all the confirmation you need, and the way your heart breaks in your chest is clean and sharp. The pain takes your breath away.
 He hangs his head, and his hand falls from your face to land on your thigh. 
 “I’m sorry.” Is all he says. No denial. No nothing that could make anything better because even the apology that just fell from his lips was only uttered because you found out. 
 But then you’re reminded that in reality, he didn’t do anything wrong. He’s not your boyfriend. You have no say in what he does, or who he does. 
 Though your lips are shy, comfortable with only his, his lips are sociable and like playing with friends. Though your hands are small, not even big enough to hold all the love for the fallen star in front of you, his are big. Big enough to hold many things, maybe not love, but surely people. It’s a painful realization, when you come to the conclusion that your naiveté got in the way of you seeing things clearly, that your rose-tinted glasses kept you from seeing things for what they really are, and not what you had wanted them to be. It’s painful getting caught in the path of an imploding star. 
 “No, I’m sorry,” you murmur, bringing a hand up to wipe at your tears. “I- you’re not mine. I shouldn’t even be upset. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You try to laugh, but it comes out pitiful and pained and wet because the stupid tears just won’t stop.
 He looks up at you hesitantly. He speaks slowly, like he’s unsure. “Just because it wasn’t wrong… doesn’t mean it was right.”
 And that’s a line if you’ve ever heard one. But it works, and it’s true. You just look at him, waiting for him to continue.
 “And I hurt you.” His hand is back on your cheek again, and his eyebrows are pinched and his lips are set in a frown. 
 Him acknowledging that pain he caused doesn’t help ease it. If anything it makes it hurt worse. 
 You nod in his palm, confirming. “Yeah, you did.”
 Maybe you’re seeing things, but his eyes well with tears to match yours, and he’s crowding closer to you taking up your space. “How do I fix it? How do I make it better?” 
 Your shoulders shake with the cries you're trying to keep in. “I don’t know if you can. Or if you even actually want to.”
 He’s frantic and he shakes his head. “No, no I do!” He’s holding your face in his hands, forcing you to see how much he means it.
 But it just makes the heavy tears fall faster. “Jeongguk you-”
 He kisses you. It’s desperate and hard, like he’s begging for something you’re not even sure he knows. Lips moving against yours slow and molten hot like lava, teeth clicking when you pull away to take a breath, to cry. Palms gripping roughly as if bruises made by hands will hurt less and replace the ones that are made from careless actions. When he backs away, it’s just enough for him to speak, his forehead on yours, his lips still brushing yours.
 “Please, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” he chants. When he finds other words besides apologies, he whispers, “Let me make it better, let me fix it.”
 His mouth leaves a blazing trail down your neck, kissing urgently but so, so softly, like it's the only thing he knows how to do gently with you. 
 I’m sorry.
 You don’t fight him when he presses into you, the weight of his body falling over you as he coaxes your legs open and settles between them. He makes you look at him and leans in to kiss you for real, on the lips. But you turn away, a whimper falling from your lips. This doesn’t discourage him, though. And you don’t stop him. His lips, or his hands. Because although they hurt you and cause you so much pain, they also make you feel so good, reminding you of all the sweet things he has said, the things he has done. Maybe he doesn’t love you but it feels like he does in that moment.
 I’m sorry.
 He’s so gentle and so careful with you, when he gets you bare. When he lines himself up and slides in. He gasps with you and moans. He buries his face in your neck, biting and sucking as he rocks his hips, before he takes a deep breath and kisses soothingly over the marks he made like he didn’t mean to lose himself and didn’t mean to cause you pain. In contrast, you dig your nails into his back for that exact reason.
 I’m sorry.
 He hisses at your harsh touch, and his hips pick up pace. He’s been whispering to you the whole time, whenever he can between the whines and groans falling from his lips. Telling you he’s sorry, how he will do better, how he’s never going to stop making you feel good. You nod, wanting to believe it, hoping that he means it. He brings a hand between your bodies, rubs you until you finish around him. Making you feel good in one of the only ways he knows how.
 Kiss me.
 He begs for the small affection as his hips start to stutter, thrusts growing erratic and jerky. You’ve always been weak for him, so you give in. Easy, easy, easy. Like it’s second-nature. Jeongguk kisses you while he cums, gasping into you, hips slowing but not stopping until he has nothing left to give.
 “Can I stay?” he asks, so softly.
 “You’ve never wanted to before,” you reply, rolling away from him.
 “I want to now,” he insists, tentatively curling around you. “Please?”
 You don’t reply, but you don’t move away.
 When you wake up, you’re surprised to see he’s still there. That he hasn’t run out on you. It’s foolish, but as you lay with him you let your mind wander. A few could be’s running laps around your fatally lovesick brain.
 The night before could be a misunderstanding. Things could be okay.
 Maybe you could be his.
 Maybe he could be yours.
 Everything is pink.
 The cherry blossoms that have reached full bloom, large pink flowers dancing when the breeze blows.
 Your heart glowing pink, beating warm in your chest. Fluttering like the petals that rain from strong branches.
 Jeongguk’s cheeks as they swell with a flush, a pink cast that’s a perfect match to the glow of your heart.
 “What are you staring at?”
 Your eyes were hazy with thought before you heard his voice, but at the sound of his soft, inquisitive tone you refocus, realizing you’ve been staring. 
 Jeongguk bringing you to the Cherry Blossom Festival was a sweet, baby pink surprise. The last few weeks have been, really. After the first stilted week following that party, after the doctor’s appointments to make sure you were clean, despite his insistence that you didn’t need to, him claiming he used protection with the other girls, and after the hard talks, things seemed to actually be going okay. Back to how they were before that night, at the very least. 
 The parties have been less frequent, and even though he doesn’t say it, you know that him not going as often, and bringing you when he does go, is him trying. Trying to show you that he cares, trying to show you that he’s sorry for hurting you. Trying to show you that he’s putting in effort that he didn’t before.
 He lets you know where he is if you’re not with him, texts you when he gets home, stays the night more often. He makes a point to take you to Blushing Brews from time to time despite him not working there anymore, tattooing full time now. The new girl behind the counter that replaced him is a little younger but nice enough even though she doesn’t give you your oat milk for free like Jeongguk used to. You think him taking you there regularly is him trying to be sentimental, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest.
 Before the incident you both were already together so often, almost constantly, so with the added bonding your lives are almost one. 
 So although things haven’t evolved into more, you think that maybe with time, they could. And you think that if he’s at least trying, that’s all you can ask for. You’re not going to push him, or demand things from him that he doesn’t willingly want to give. Because just like always, you’re worried that he will run. That you will scare him. Being with him in some way is better than not being with him at all.
 You reach a small hand up and pluck a petal from his long, blueberry locks. His eyes cross when you present the little flower to him.
 “Had something in your hair,” you say with a tiny smile.
 He blows it out of your hand. “Ugh they are everywhere,  you have some in your hair too.” He leans away from the tree trunk he was resting against and cards a tattooed hand through your hair. He pauses for a moment looking around until he finds a whole blossom that fell, instead of just single petals, tucking it behind your ear.
 You’re sitting in front of him, face to face, between his legs, your own bent and kind of caging him in. His legs doing the same to you.
 His eyes scan your face for a moment before he smiles softly, hand cupping your jaw and urging you forward for a gentle kiss. He tastes like a mix of the cherry syrup that filled the cherry blossom bread mixed and the sakura ice cream you both were munching on. Sugary sweet and creamy. 
 He hums when he pulls away, eye still closed before he grins, lazy and serene. “Are you having a good time?” he murmurs. 
 You look around. See kids running around and screaming, gathering handfuls of fallen petals and throwing them in the air just to watch them snow down once again. You see couples all over, young and old, hand in hand, or lips locked together. So many stars out despite the sun still being warm and bright in the sky.
 With eyes falling back on Jeongguk, you feel that intense lovestruck warmth bubble over in your chest, so full and overflowing with adoration. Even after the hurt he caused and the pain you felt, all you feel is love. You don’t think there could be room for anything else, no matter what happens.
 You peck him cute and sweet, and nod. “Yeah, thank you for bringing me. Everything is so pretty here.”
 His hands grip at the smallest part of your waist between his legs. “Not as pretty as you.” He brushes his nose against your cheek, and you squirm a little, his hair tickling your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear, “Prettiest girl ever.”
 He kisses on you a little, not too much considering you're out in the open, but enough to make you scoot as close to him as you can, bodies almost flush together. You breathing gets airy and you get a little lost in him, in the stars. So much so that you don’t notice when one of his hands slinks away from your waist and to his pocket.
 “Hey,” he whispers, bringing you back to earth. “I got you something.”
 You pull away surprised and look him in the eyes before you glance down at his closed fist. You pout a little, confused, before cupping your hands in front of him. He plops something light and shiny in your palms.
 The small silver necklace in your hand is simple but so beautiful. You remember lingering on it when you first got to the festival, the ornate little cherry blossom charm catching your eye. You didn’t think that Jeongguk noticed, but he must have slipped away to buy it when he went to get the food.
 Your eyes are shiny when you look up at him again, “Koo…” you whisper, “you didn’t have to-”
 “Shh,” he shushes you, his big hand petting at you, “I wanted to… do you like it? You prefer silver right? No gold?” He sounds nervous, a little eager to please and make you happy.
 You were admiring the necklace when he started speaking again, but at the mention of your jewelry preference you gaze at him again. “You remembered?”
 He smiles a little sheepishly, kind of shy. “Of course I did…” he pauses and looks like he’s debating on saying what’s on his mind. He starts slowly and hesitantly, “I know- I know it didn’t seem like it because of what I did… but I always listened, I always like, cared. I just-” he takes a deep breath like he doesn’t know how to say what he means, “I don’t know, there are just things I don’t know… things I don’t think I want.” He looks down, like he can’t face you.
 You place gentle hands on his face and urge him to meet your gaze once again. His lips are pursed and down turned and there’s an upward tilt to his pinched brows. 
 “It’s okay…” You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into him. 
 It’s okay, I love you.
 The words have been on the tip of your tongue for months, but lately, they have been trying to sneak out past your teeth on almost a daily basis. Getting harder and harder to bite down and conceal. It won’t be long before you’re choking on them, unable to swallow them anymore.
 He wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes a little. “It’s not okay,” he whispers. His sentence sounds unfinished like he has more to say, something he wants to tell you. 
 You’re heart pitter patters anxiously in your chest and you quickly speak up again before he has a chance to. 
 “I mean, don’t do it again. Please,” you laugh quietly, trying to lighten the mood, “But it’s over now and we can’t, like, change it so… we can think of it as character development!” you finish with a cheerful tone and a kiss to his neck.
 You pull back a little when you feel him tense under you for just a fraction of a second before relaxing again. He looks a little off, but kisses your worries away.
 “Yeah,” he agrees with you, tone breathy like it's said on a sigh.
 “Put it on for me?” you say handing the necklace back. You turn around between his thighs so that your back is now to him.
 Jeongguk’s fingers are gentle as they sweep your hair over your shoulder before wrapping his arms around you, the chain circling your neck. His fingers shake a little as he undoes that clasp, and he misses the hook a couple times before he finally gets it. He pulls your hair from under the dainty chain, and smooths his hands over your shoulders before placing a soft, wet kiss to the nape of your neck.
 It’s a subtle action, but it still makes your breath hitch in your throat, your heart beating just a little faster in your chest. He does it again, his tongue coming out this time, his teeth nibbling just a bit when you tilt your neck.
 “Ah- Koo-” you whine, quietly. 
 His arms are around your waist and you settle your hands on top of them like you know you should push them off, keep yourselves decent under the cherry blossom tree, but instead they just squeeze and keep him close. Your thighs squeeze together too.
 He hums into your neck, his breath hot against your ear when he whispers, “Ready to go?”
 You get to your car quickly, not bothering to dust yourselves off, stray petals littering the floor mats. Jeongguk drives, and you kiss on him while he does.
 The car ride was full of airy laughs and soft touches. Heated hands roaming over heated bodies, both yours and Jeongguk’s mind one tracked and ready. He doesn’t even get you in the door before his lips are on yours and his tongue is dancing in your mouth.
 Once he does actually get you to your room, he takes a breath, takes you in. His hands are on your hips, and yours are on his face as he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closing and breaths mingling. 
 He has his bottom lip pulled between his teeth to try and calm the giddy laughter that hasn’t stopped. You’re one in the same, tiny hiccupping giggles ring in his ears as your squeeze at his cheeks and kiss everywhere you can reach. Single pecks to his eyelids, his nose. Longer, honeyed kisses to his lips. He grips you harder, angles his hips against yours. You gasp for him, go pliant in his hold. 
 He buries his head in your neck, bites, sucks, kisses. Breathing in your subtle sweet vanilla scent, so familiar to him by now, he’s not sure he could go without a hit of it for longer than a day at this point. 
 When he reaches your collarbones, he sees the little flower nestled between the slightly protruding bones. It twinkles like a small star on your soft skin. He smiles as he toys with it for a second, before bringing his mouth back to yours, hasty and eager.
 Your hands are in his hair and he’s backing you up to the bed while his teeth nip at your lips, teeth clicking when he can’t help but smile, and consequently you smile back, instinctive and natural. You’re lost in the moment, and he’s lost in you. 
 Until you tug at his hair, keeping him in the present. You pull his mouth away from yours, but he’s needy, his lips immediately moving to whatever skin is within his reach.
 You laugh, and it sounds breathless in his ears. “Hey, Koo-” you moan, the grip in his hair tightening when his hands knead at your ass, “th-thank you.”
 He hums into your skin, a smirk on his cherry red lips. “Why are you thanking me?”
 “For today… I just-”
 Jeongguk’s kisses slow at your tone. You sound a bit unsure, a bit off. When he finally looks at you again, present enough to see through the haze of want that has clouded your bedroom, he sees it. 
 It’s so much brighter, more potent than it’s ever been before, like it’s all consuming and fervent in your eyes. Love. His heart skips a devastating beat. Not because he’s happy, or ecstatic, or relieved. But because he’s scared.
 His hands find your face, gripping a little too hard, he’s sure. Your small ones wrap around his wrists and squeeze tenderly, a little too gentle, he’s sure. 
 The way that your smile slowly drops is daunting. Your brows furrow and that little pout forms on your face and Jeongguk feels sick.
 “What’s wrong?” you ask gently, your thumb on his wrist rubbing softly over his skin.
 He shakes his head slightly, his eyes searching yours frantically waiting for that glow in them to die out. It usually does, like you’re able to contain it, bottle the feeling away until it’s like it was never there to begin with. 
 But this time it doesn't, you just continue to look at him like he is the brightest star in the sky, like he’s the other half to yours, like he completes you in that asinine way that romantics think can fix everything. He’s been there. And he knows that’s just not right. 
 “Please don’t,” he whispers.
 You’re shaking your head too, like your absentmindedly mirroring him. You sound so confused when you speak up, but you laugh a little like you don’t understand the joke. “Don’t what?”
 There is no joke. Jeongguk wishes there was. Wishes he could give you what you want, wishes that the way you look at him wasn’t suffocating, wishes that trying was enough. Because at least he did that. The last few weeks were enough for him to know that sometimes no amount of trying can make things fit together.
 “Don’t look at me like that,” he continues in a voice that sounds fraile and skittish in his ears.
 With brows even more pinched than before, and a perturbed expression on your face, you squeeze at his wrists, just a touch harder, like you’re trying to get him to focus. As if he isn’t fixated, as if he isn’t solely concentrated on your every movement, every slight change of expression. “Like what?”
 “Like you love me.”
 Jeongguk didn’t think it would hurt this bad. Didn’t think finally telling you that it wasn’t going to work, that he wasn’t going to be with you in that way, would be so profoundly painful. 
 But at the same time, part of him thinks that you knew it wouldn’t last. That you’ve known for a long time. The other part knows that you’ll hold on as long as he lets you. He’s always been so selfish with you.
 You flinch in his hold and you stutter a little as you shake your head in his hands. “Jeongguk I- it’s- please-”
 He doesn’t know what you’re begging for, but he knows he can’t give it to you. The pads of his thumb brush at the apples of your cheeks. He leans forward, kisses you softly before he murmurs against your lips, “Please just don’t- don’t ruin this,” he begs. His eyes are closed and his brows are scrunched. “We’re good like this, right?”
 He knows you’re just appeasing him when you nod your head, like you’re scared to lose him, but he lets out a relieved sigh all the same. Kisses you like he means it, because he does. So grateful that you’ve never been the pushy type, never been the type to cage him in or corner him. 
 Jeongguk loves making you cum, because you cum softly. Not like the other girls before you, during you, or the ones that will come after you. So, he focuses on that instead of the pestering thoughts in his head. The ones saying that if he could just figure himself out, maybe it could’ve been you. 
 He concentrates on shedding your clothes, fixates on the way you taste, committing it to memory. He runs his fingers over that star on your ribs, the skin just barely raised. It’s like a message in a special form of braille. I’m sorry etched into your skin, or maybe I tried. 
 You suck in a sharp breath when his tip breaches your center, and as every inch of him slides into you, you exhale a soft whine, brows pinched with a look reminiscent of pain as your lashes flutter.
 Jeongguk doesn’t take his eyes off you as he inhales your breath, drinking down the tiny moans that you make for him. He lingers on the way that you turn away from him like you’re trying to hide the flush that has covered your skin in the sweetest shade of pink, the way that you let your small hands clench into little fists. One by your head, the other at your mouth so you can bite at the knuckle. The way you gasp when he finally pushes into the hilt, back arching, toes curling.
 “So good for me baby, so perfect,” he breathes as he starts to set his pace, hips snapping forward into yours. 
 Your pussy feels like velvet around him, so wet and warm. He shudders every time his swollen tip drags against your walls, and he groans when you pull your legs back, opening yourself up for him.
 He’s got you on your back, tits bouncing as he pulls and pushes inside of you. They are plush and round, and so, so soft as he grips at them roughly. He groans when he digs his fingers in into the squishy skin, hard enough for blossoms to bloom. Your nipples are a dusty rose and they pebble when his touches go from hard to soft and teasing, rubbing over the small buds. Your breathing picks up with his strokes.
 No matter how many times he fucks you, it never gets old or tiring. You never get used to the way his fat cock stretches out your tiny cunt. You never get used to the juxtaposition between his harsh holds and tender caresses. 
 He fucks you so good every single time, it’s mind-numbing. Makes you forget about everything else. Makes you forget about the way your love seems to be on a time limit, the hourglass on its last grains of sand. He fucks you so good that you forget that he’s not yours despite you being so wholly his in every sense of the word. No more ‘you could be his’ floating around in your head.
 His, his, his.
 His to touch, to kiss, to fuck. 
 And he does exactly that. With hips still thrusting into you, he bends at the waist some, wraps his mouth around your nipple, tongue flicking lightly over it, making you mewl underneath him.
 You push up into the sensation, before you curl into yourself, hands coming to cradle his face and card through his hair, pushing some back out of his eyes. He glances at you with a gaze that feels like love, pretty and dark. Smiling, he smirks a little before briefly pulling the bud between his teeth. You hiss and let out the littlest cry of pain. He coos against your chest before soothing you with soft teasing laps of his tongue.
 With legs that are now wrapped around his waist, you use your heels to urge him to focus on fucking you, even if his mouth feels divine. 
 “Faster,” you pant, voice catching on a whine.
 “Yeah, baby?” he asks, moving so he’s over you, braced on the hands he places by your head. “Tell me what you want.”
 You moan, one hand cupping your own tit, the other just resting on his neck. He’s warm to the touch, and glistening with sweat as he fucks into you, fast just like you asked. “Want you to fuck me so good that I never forget it, never forget the way your cock feels inside of me.”
 His hips slow just a little, and he lowers himself to his forearms so that your bodies are close, the friction hot as you rub against each other. He sounds wistful when he brings his lips to your ear, cooing softly, “Don’t worry baby, I’ve already made sure you won’t.”
 He trails a hand down your body and presses against your ribs right where he knows your tattoo is. It makes you gasp, and he nips at your earlobe before he brings his hand back up.
 Instead of pinning your wrists like he normally would, Jeongguk intertwines your fingers. 
 The tears that prick your eyes could be from pleasure or a longing so deep it’s become painful, maybe both, but you don’t have a chance to discern them as your back arches, unable to squirm or move away in his hold.
 “Koo- I’m-” you warn him.
 He speeds his hips up, plunges fast and hard. “Oh baby, that’s it. Show me how this cock makes you feel, show me how I make you feel.”
 Jeongguk holds you down as you cum. Your fingers are laced with his and he moans along with you, pleasured by pleasuring you. By being the one that makes you fall apart, the one that makes you shake, and the one that makes your face look so obscenely pretty as you cum, clenching around his cock. 
 “Fuck,” he whines. Your cunt grips so tight around him, little pulsing contractions making his hips almost halt. 
 When you come down, relaxing a little in his hold, he’s quick to get his lips all over you. Not really kissing, more just mouthing at wherever he can reach as his thrusts grow erratic, fast and sloppy. 
 The sorta-kisses and pants that he breathes are burning hot. Leaving little scorch marks in their wake. When his lips find yours, when he whines the softest, most desperate ‘please’ against them; it’s searing. 
 It hurts to kiss him.
 You don’t know what he’s begging for, and you don’t know why it’s your instinct to say ‘it’s okay’, but you do. You think you hear him let out a quiet, relieved cry as he hides his face in your neck, squeezing your hands so hard you feel like your bones are going to break.
 “You gonna cum for me?” you whisper, voice salacious and saccharine sweet.
 He nods into your neck, a strained ‘Yeah’ falling from his lips. 
 “Baby, lemme see, wanna look at you,” you plead, pussy leaking again at his tone, at how wrecked he sounds.
 He groans and bites into your neck making you keen before he brings himself up a little. You whine when you see him. His eyes heavy, pupils blown. He’s flushed and his expression is hazy as he rams his cock into you, loud slaps and lewd wet noises sounding around you. His tongue licks at his lips and he bites the bottom one a little before his mouth parts, and his brows pinch, a silent moan written all over his features.
 “Gonna cum, fuck-” he whispers as his eyes roll back, before squeezing shut.
 He grits his teeth as he desperately fucks into you, a drop of sweat drips down his nose and lands on your cheek, and his hair sways around his face. You want to tuck it behind his ear so you can see it more clearly when he cums, but his hands are still holding yours. The fast pace he’s set makes your cunt tighten around him again, creaming all over his cock for the second time.
 He gasps and chokes out, “Yeah, god- I’m cumming… fuck I’m cumming-”
 His body tenses, and he spills inside of you as he buries his cock as deep as he can. Your pussy is still clenching as you feel the throbs and jerks, every spurt of white filling you up. He’s still thrusting slowly, milking himself, causing some of his cum to spill out, making you both filthy and gross.
 When he pulls out, he kisses you slow. Lazy licks of his tongue against yours, as he pets at your sweaty skin. With your hands finally free, you card them through his hair, untangling it as you go. He trails fingers down to your core and plays in the mess you both made. You whine a little, tender and a bit sore.
 He kisses you sweetly as an apology. “Let’s get you cleaned up?” he asks, voice small. 
 He takes you to the bathroom, washes you in the warm water and showers you in warm kisses. He lets you do the same to him, hands lathering vanilla soap over every ridge of his muscles. Your pussy pulses when he gets hard again as you wash his cock, but you know you wouldn’t be able to handle another round, so you stroke him till he’s cumming once more, against your tummy, with nothing but a small gasp. 
 The shower made you both pliant and docile, the comfort of your bed too hard to ignore. He falls asleep next to you, arms wrapped around your middle, soft snores tickling your neck. You run your fingers over the stars on his forearm till you succumb to exhaustion just like him. 
 When you wake in the early hours of the morning to light rainfall outside your window washing away the cherry blossoms, you’ll act surprised when Jeongguk is nowhere to be seen. Then you’ll act like it’s not a big deal; like it's the same as all the other times he didn’t stay the night. You’ll act like the ache in your chest isn’t breathtaking, agonizing. Like the pain doesn’t feel different this time. You’ll act like the first shower of the season really does signify new beginnings and you’ll act like the rain isn’t going to be a forever reminder of the end of you and him. Spring is here.
 It’s Jeongguk’s day off and he’s got his hands and his mind busy with playing video games so that he’s distracted and doesn’t have to think about the plethora of things going on in his life at the moment. All of them involving you.
 He’s distracting himself so he doesn’t have to think about the way he left in the middle of the night, after watching you briefly, asleep and serene, soft little puffs of air the only sound besides the rain outside. He is distracting himself so that the image of you reaching out in your sleep for someone who is no longer there, doesn’t plague his mind. He’s distracting himself so that he doesn’t have to acknowledge your calls or texts, incessant since he left. He’s distracting himself so that he doesn’t have to face you, and decide what to do about this thing he’s gotten himself into.
 Normally he would just brush everything under a rug and call it a day. Then settle back into the cyclical routine you both have become so used to. But there was no denying things were coming to a head, emotions gradually growing and becoming too intense, too deep to ignore. Last night was a prime example. Things were just becoming too much. You were becoming too much.
 He knows that’s a shitty way to see it. That it puts most, if not all, the blame on you. But he feels like he’s made it clear since the beginning. Clear that he doesn’t do relationships, that he doesn’t fall in love, that he doesn’t believe in stars the way that you do. Though he did try to make it work. Make himself want what you want. He feels bad. He’s always wanted this to end painlessly, even if that was a far fetched wish, delusional and too hopeful for someone like him. 
 It’ll hurt him too when it’s over. Despite his best efforts to keep his distance, and his feelings out of it, he would be a liar if he said he didn’t grow fond of you. If he said that he didn’t become so attached and comfortable, that even just the few hours he’s been apart from you, weren’t eating at him a little. Even with distractions, the dull ache and unfamiliar longing he feels still thrums in his chest. Like a pesky reminder that something is missing.
 Jimin is next to him on his couch, Jeongguk having called his friend over as another pastime. Jeongguk can see Jimin glancing between him and the phone on the cushion between them that hasn’t stopped going off. When Jimin finally speaks up, it’s expected.
 “Dude. What are you doing?”
 Jeongguk’s jaw tenses, and he too glances at your face on the screen until it goes black. He waits not even a minute before it’s lighting up with another call from you. He flips the phone over and goes back to his game only to see his character died. He groans and sets his controller in his lap before scrubbing his hands over his face.
 “Spring cleaning,” Jeongguk replies, trying to keep his tone nonchalant. 
 “God you're an ass,” Jimin laughs in an incredulous way, “Isn’t it a little late to be ghosting her? I’ve been with Tae for like four months, so it’s gotta be like what? Six months for you guys?”
 “Eight,” Jeongguk drones.
 Jimin’s eyebrows raise. “That’s pretty long for you…”
 He nods, expression a little sullen. The dark circles under his eyes make him look tired. “Yeah, a hook up turned fling turned whatever the fuck it is now… it’s just too much man.”
 Jimin frowns a little before he hums and Jeongguk plays his game while he waits for his friend to process his thoughts. Jimin’s voice is curious and gentle, not accusatory at all. “Is it ‘too much’ because you’re starting to care too much and you don’t know how to deal with that?”
 Jeongguk goes stiff on the couch, and his chest constricts a little. No, that wasn’t it. It can’t be. It’s always been you that cares too much, and him that's never cared enough. It’s you who has always been just a little too much. Too kind, too sensitive, too intense, too in your head, too in love. It’s always been you. You, you, you.
 He’s about to tell Jimin that, vehemently deny what he just said, but Jeongguk doesn’t get a chance to because there’s a knock on his door.
 It’s you.
 Jeongguk knows before Jimin answers the door. He knows before you sneak in despite Jimin doing his best to be a good friend and cover for him, saying that Jeongguk is out and that he’s just house sitting. 
 He knows it’s you before you stand in front of him and state, “I love you.”
 It’s so quiet after you say it, the only sound being heard is the soft video game music barely audible as is. Jeongguk’s hands grip at his controller tight, his knuckles going white, the ink of his tattoos a stark contrast to the skin.
 “Okay…” Jimin murmurs, “I’m going to Tae’s, Jeongguk text me later… or something…” 
 When the door shuts, the atmosphere is heavy with tension. So many different emotions swirling in the small living room, yours and his all mixing together to create a thick concoction that makes the air hard to breathe.
 Jeongguk’s quiet for a moment longer, fingers still jumping on his controller. He can hear your ragged breathing. He glances at you briefly before looking at his game again. 
 “I know,” he responds slowly.
 In his peripheral, he can see the way you deflate, how your face drops and how your lungs exhale a doleful sigh. Dejection is clear in your stance and disappointment permeates the already noxious air.
 Jeongguk lets out a sigh of his own as his brows pinch and his eyes scrunch shut. He meant for it to sound factual, more like a statement, because he did know. He has known for a long time now. He didn’t intend for it to sound patronizing or cruel. 
 “___,” he starts, ready to apologize.
 But he’s cut off.
 “Fuck you,” you whisper, before he gets the change to explain.  
 He pauses his game and looks at you, eyes wide in disbelief. Your voice holds so much pain and resentment that he physically has to keep from recoiling. You didn’t even sound like that after the party. 
 He knows the animosity directed at him isn’t unwarranted, but that doesn’t stop his own irritation from bubbling up, dark and vile in his throat. His expression goes from one of doubt and concern to one of annoyance and discontent.
 “No, fuck you. Why the fuck are you here ___?”
 “What do you mean why the fuck am I here?” you exasperate, throwing your hands up, “You left me in the middle of the night. You disappeared, I woke up and you weren’t there.” You start off strong but taper out at the end.
 Jeongguk feels his heart break just a little, small cracks like spider veins fracture the surface when he hears the way your voice shakes, like you’re trying so hard to hold on to the anger you feel and not let the hurt, the betrayal seep through.
 It’s like whiplash with you. His emotions flipping like a switch, at the drop of a dime. It goes from him feeling irritated and mad, close to throwing you out, to him feeling bad, like he needs to coddle you, take care of you. His hands reach out for just a moment like he wants to hold you.
 “I’m sorry-”
 “Why did you leave?” you interject.
 Jeongguk’s hands drop as he fishes for the right words to say, to explain to you why he couldn’t stay. Why one more rest with you would have been too much. The love in your eyes didn’t fade at all last night, his only reprieve coming when you closed your eyes to sleep. He couldn’t be there when you woke up, only to see it again. Sleepy, calm, poignant love and adoration that is misplaced and wasted on someone like him. 
 He doesn’t mean for it to come out cold and detached but it does when he says, “It was better for you if I left.” But he can’t help it. His walls are coming up and his doors are closing. He shouldn’t have let you in in the first place, shouldn’t have let you stay so long.
 You look at him like you’re desperately trying to understand what he means, why he does the things he does. “Why would that be better for me?” you almost beg. “Why can’t you just be better for me?”
 You’re crying now, and though he aches because you ache, so fucking in tune with you at this point, something about your words makes something ugly and mean stir inside of him. But he bites it down, swallows even though he feels like he’s going to be sick. He still tries to be gentle with you, patient as he calmly says, “Baby… I can’t be what you need, this-”
 “Why can’t you?” you interrupt, voice sharp and insistent. Demanding and hurt.
 “Because I-”
 “Because you won’t try?” 
 God, you won’t stop interrupting him. He raises to his feet and his voice raises as well, frustration over taking the patience he’s tried to keep with you.
 “I did try! I’m texting you constantly about where I am, I’m not going to parties or hanging out with my friends. I hardly sleep by myself anymore! I’m always fucking with you, what more do you want from me?”
 You’re jaw drops and you feel like you’ve been slapped in the face. Months of never asking for more than he was willing to give, months of settling for what he did, and he still ended up resenting you. Blaming you for whatever it is that seems like it almost destined you both to fail. It hurts. 
 “I never asked you to do that! I never demanded anything from you. I never wanted anything you didn’t want to give. I still don’t!”
 “I did it for you! I tried for you,” he almost whines, but his tone still holds some anger. “Almost everything I do is for you. I did all of it so that this,” he gestures between the two of you, “wouldn’t hurt so bad.”
 You look at him like you cannot believe the words that came out of his mouth. A short laugh falls from your lips. It lacks the joy and warmth that usually accompanies the smiles you give him. This one is sarcastic and cold and unconvinced. “You didn’t do shit for me, Jeongguk. You’re selfish. You always have been.”
 You watch as he slumps, like you’ve figured it out.
 He’s been pacing a little as the conversation between you both escalates, but he comes to a stop a little bit in front of you, his eyes sad and searching. 
 You’re right, but you’re also so devastatingly wrong. Because didn’t you know? He indeed did do so many things for you, with you in mind. Because yes, he is selfish with you. But he never wanted to hurt you. He’s always cared in his own twisted way.
 All those nights that you wanted him to stay, but he chose not to and left you alone, were for you. Because if it hurts now, letting him go, imagine how excruciating it would be if he had stayed. Imagine how many more nights you would have to remember when you wished you could forget.
 The lack of a label was for you too. Because although they say labels don’t mean much, when you have it and it gets taken away, it’s just a reminder of what you have lost. In his mind, you couldn’t miss being in a relationship with him if you never really were.
 In hindsight, it was for him too. This hurts more than he thought it would, but you and him? It has to end, it’s gone on too long already.
 But he lets you believe what you want. He lets you think that he is the bad guy. He thinks that maybe you need to blame him, despite the flaws in yourself, in order for you to be okay. And maybe you’re not wrong. Maybe he is the bad guy. He feels like he is. 
 “I don’t know what you want me to say, ___,” he says.
 “I want you to tell me, why. Why can’t you be better for me?” you repeat. “Why didn’t you let me go? Why did you hurt me over and over and over again? Why did you waste both of our time?” You’re borderline yelling, and the tears leaking from the corners of your eyes are a perfect mix of bitter and heartbroken. “Why can’t you just love me the way you’re supposed to?”
 Jeongguk takes in the angry curve of your brow and your quivering chin. But it doesn’t hit him like it should. It doesn’t tug at his heart like it should. In that moment, he doesn’t want to make it better anymore, he doesn’t want to do anything to ease the pain that is so evidently written on your face. His emotions flip flopping once again.
 Like he’s supposed to. There’s something about that sentence, something about the way you phrase certain things that just irks him, makes his blood boil. Like you’ve idealized and romanticized things so much that you don’t realize that there is no ‘supposed to be’. 
 There is no status quo for love. 
 There’s no predetermined way for things to be or end up. 
 Things, love, life- it just doesn’t work like that. 
 It’s always been like this though, you saying something, him getting annoyed and then him tucking it away because it wasn’t really that big of a deal, because he didn’t want to hurt you by mentioning it. 
 But tucking everything away has let it build up and fester like an infection. He can’t keep the condescending venom out of his words, and once they start coming out, they won’t stop. He hates himself for it, and he’s sorry before the words even leave his lips. Because fuck, he doesn’t want to hurt you. 
 But he knows he’s going to. That maybe he has to in order for you to see what he meant, on the pier that night so long ago, when he said that you would find out what it means to be someone like him. Someone you shouldn’t have made the brightest star in your sky.
 “What? Like how you wrote it in your head?” he seethes. He waits, impatient for an answer, but all he gets is your expression going from pained to confused. “Huh?” he eggs you on, and you stutter a little before he continues, “Okay, tell me what happens next. How did you script it, ___?” 
 He takes a step closer to you and tilts his head while looking at you. You shrink in on yourself, but don’t back away. “C’mon, tell me how it goes. Fast forward- make me fall in love with you,” his voice is antagonizing and malicious. “That’s what you wanted the whole time, right? That’s how it’s supposed to be?”
 You’re taken aback as you shake your head at him, like he’s got it all wrong, like he’s lying. “I- I did try, I tried to get you to Io-”
 He cuts you off, his bottled up feelings spilling out. “No, you didn’t. You wrote a fucking story in your head and made it your mission to bring it to life through you and me.” 
 With harsh breaths huffing from his nose, and his chest rising and falling, he looks at you. Waiting for his words to sink in. You don’t respond, and you jump a little when sets his hands on your shoulders. His demeanor is closed off and cold. 
 “We aren’t characters that need development or whatever the fuck, and we live normal lives. We don’t live through chapters, and we don’t get happy endings. I can’t be the me you’ve created in your head.” 
 He’s whispering and his words are razor sharp, full of disgust and disdain. “I’m not a character in your story, and I’m not made of the fucking stars. I’m my own fucking person, and I will never be yours, not like that.” 
 His chest is heaving and it feels like he’s taking all the air in the room because you can’t breathe. 
 You tried so hard to separate him, both of you, from the versions of you and him that you had in your head. Ever since that lecture. But dreaming of different things, different realities, was how you dealt with it. With him being the calamitous contradiction that he is. So sweet and easy to love, yet so unattainable in the same breath. 
 In one reality, you were his, and in another he was yours. In a different one, you both were one and the same. A single star. You had hoped that that was this reality. But it seems that you were wrong. 
 “I’m sorry,” you breathe, an airy panic lacing your tone. “I know I can get lost in my head sometimes, but I didn’t mean to. I actively tried not to with you,” you tell him, clenching at his shirt, desperate for him to understand and believe you.
 His eyes stay hard though, as he looks down his nose at you. And you know you’ve lost him. The indifference in his gaze is stifling and it brings fresh tears to your eyes. It’s like he has his mind made up. You think maybe it’s been made up since he left your bed last night.
 “You should go,” he says quietly. His hands are gentle but insistent as he untangles yours from him.
 “Jeongguk, Koo- please-”
 “___, just stop! You’re making this harder. For both of us! You’re making it hurt worse- I- it was never going to work, you know that,” he tells you, his hands moving to your shoulders, pushing you away and softly as he can. He sounds desperate, like he’s trying to convince someone. You, maybe himself. 
 It’s possibly the way the light hits them, but you think you see his eyes go glassy as he says, “Please leave, ___.”
 And so you do. You’ve never asked for what he didn’t want to give. 
 You dreamt of different realities to help deal with things because in this reality, you were just visiting, and he was just passing through.
 The world doesn’t stop spinning just because you’re hurting and time doesn’t stand still or give you a moment to catch your breath. The stars still glow in the sky, they still fall to earth, and the sun still shines warm up above even though it still feels cold without him by your side. 
 The ever present, lonely, raw pain that comes from losing someone that had become such an integral part of your life is a reminder that love is no longer the soft pink you once thought it was, but the same shade of blue that stains your pillowcases. 
 When you said pain was good for your art, you didn’t mean this kind. 
 But alas, you still have to live; go. Go to the last few weeks of classes, brain on autopilot for your finals. Go through the motions of getting your cap and gown, walking the stage, getting your degree. 
 Go on as if seeing Jimin at your graduation for Taehyung doesn’t cause a sheer, acute ache in your chest when you see he came alone. No blue in sight, just blue in your heart. 
 You give Jimin the necklace resting between your collarbones because it just doesn’t go there anymore, telling him to give it back to Jeongguk. You go on and on with a sad smile about how it’s okay, about how it’s not going good yet, but going nonetheless. 
 Going eventually turns to moving. Moving across the globe for an internship. Moving to just get away from it all, moving for a fresh start. 
 You move things around your new place alone, even though help would have been nice, just so you know you can move by yourself- just be by yourself. 
 You move around the new city as if it’s your first life, awestruck by the hustle and bustle, the world so much bigger than you thought. Bigger than doe-eyes and pretty tattoos. You move somewhere where the lights take the place of the stars. You move and come to the conclusion that maybe that’s okay. 
 Going through the motions gradually turns to moving on. Sometimes it’s still a soft tender ache, a passive yearning for what was; what could have been. But it doesn’t hurt anymore.
 It’s a different font, but the sign still says the same thing. 
 You suppose some things are bound to change in the years since you last came here. 
 Coffee shops aren’t supposed to be intimidating or daunting. But Blushing Brews is exactly that. You pause with your hand raised, the door handle just within reach. You’ve been home a couple times since you moved abroad, but you’ve never come back here.
 You know it’s silly, and a bit irrational. That the likelihood of running into someone you know in the same place you met them is slim to none. Taehyung and Jimin moved away, still in the motherland, but away. Yoongi is still in town, but most likely busy with work. 
 It’s not like they are the ones you’re worried about though.
 You don’t know exactly where Jeongguk is, but you know he’s doing well. At least since the last time you checked. You don’t lurk as often these days, if at all. Don’t feel the need to. But when you first moved you checked a lot. Of course you did.
 He kind of dropped off the map after you left. He was never big on social media to begin with, but his presence was non existent for a couple months. Until his work accounts started popping up. His pages are filled with his artwork, his tattoos. Never him though, nothing personal, only professional. He’s quite successful, has built a big name for himself. 
 You haven’t seen much of him in years. Only the occasional picture of him on Jimin’s accounts. But even those are few and far between. People get older, life gets busy. It’s probably been a year plus some since he’s popped up on one of your feeds.
 So it’s likely he’s not here. He wasn’t the type to stay in one place for too long.
 When you walk in it’s like a tsunami of nostalgia. It knocks the wind out of you and you have to pause to catch your breath.
 It’s renovated, almost nothing the same, but the counter is right where it was before and so is the table you used to sit at. Right by the window. It’s busy inside, but your spot is empty, almost like you were supposed to come in, take a rest. Catch your breath.
 The smell of coffee is familiar and the chatter of people around you is comforting in a strange way. You kind of feel like you’re in a fishbowl, watching the outside from within, the voices muted because your ears are filled with water.
 You jump when you feel a tap on your shoulder and you hold your breath when you turn around.
 “Miss, are you going to order?”
 You exhale, loud and let out a shaky laugh telling the person to go ahead. It’s not going to happen. Life doesn’t work like that.
 The boy behind the counter is sweet, looks about the age you were when you would come here just a handful years ago. He tells you the specials with a happy grin, asks if you’re okay paying extra for the oat milk in your iced latte.
 Being sat at the table is weird at first. A rush of memories whirling through your head like a vintage film reel. Too fast to decipher, too loud to discern. But eventually your mind quiets, the memories slow, and the atmosphere becomes a bit more pleasant and a little less stifling. 
 You take out your ipad, your initial intention being working here, but you open an ebook you haven’t touched in a while. A fantasy novel. One with an intricate little world to get lost in, complex characters to fall in love with, and some to grow to despise. You don’t daydream often anymore, but once in a while, it’s okay to give in.
 Typically when you get invested, it’s hard to get your attention. The world could be ending around you but as long as the world you were reading about still existed? It was like nothing else mattered. 
 So when you hear a loud laugh cut through the reading haze you safely surround yourself in, you freeze. The hairs on your arms stand up, and you close your eyes tightly before slowly scanning the cafe. 
 You scold yourself for the way your heart sinks when your search comes up empty. With a shake of your head and a sip of your coffee, you get back to your book. You started about mid-way through when you first got here, and now only have about a quarter left. You must have been here for a while. You’ll leave when you finish this chapter.
 The coffee being placed on the table is what you see first.
 “Oh, I didn’t order th-”
 “Do you still drink macchiatos?”
 God it’s cruel. 
 It’s cruel, the way the world goes pink again, the way that everything feels like is aligning, like things have finally fallen into place. Like you can see clearer than you have in years, like you can breathe easier than you have since you left. Like everything that happened before only happened to lead you right to this exact moment.
 It’s cruel because that’s not the way things work.
 Since you’ve been away, you’ve grown up and realized that stars are just stars and that people are just people. Creatures of habit and selfish by nature. You still believe in love and in endings that are happy but you’re not naive anymore. You don’t believe in fate, or the little lights in the sky, or in could be’s like you used to. 
 But that doesn’t stop the tiny gasp you let out when you see him. It doesn’t stop your eyes from lighting up and it doesn’t stop your heart from glowing pink in your chest, just like it used to.
 It’s not supposed to feel like this. It’s been years and you’ve moved on. His gaze isn’t supposed to feel like a kiss and his smile isn’t supposed to feel like coming home. When you take his insistent coffee from his hand and your fingers brush, it’s not supposed to still burn. The flame was supposed to go out.
 “What are you doing here?” you ask, eyes not leaving him as he takes it upon himself to sit across from you.
 His hair is brown again, unlike the blue it was when you left his apartment the last time you saw him, but it’s still long. His arm is even more full of ink, and he’s still the prettiest thing you have ever seen.
 Jeongguk laughs lightly, a twinge of uncomfort lacing it. “I had to drop stuff off, the head forgot to order sugar, but she’s out of town right now.” 
 Your brows raise. “And you’re next in command?” You try to make it a joke, but small talk after years is always a bit stiff. 
 He nods. “Yeah, well I kind of own it.”
 “Kind of?” you ask, leaning forward on your elbows.
 He goes tense, and he back tracks.
 “Well kind of because  I-” he stutters and then looks at you like he wishes he didn’t say anything.
 His panicked face has always been funny. His wide eyes and his mouth that always seems to be open a little bit. Brows turned up with misplaced worry. You smile instinctively.
 It’s always been so easy.
 “You what?” you press, tone soft and inquisitive. It’s a bit awkward, because of course it is. Time didn’t stop and you both aren’t the same as you were back then, but there’s still something. You don’t let yourself think about it. 
 He looks at you, searches your face before his lips pull down in a deep frown. He sighs and rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “I… My wife. She owns it.”
 God it’s so cruel.
 Your face falls before you can stop it. You know because his mirrors yours.
 “Y-you’re married?” It sounds shocked and tinted with unjustified betrayal, even to your own ears, so when Jeongguk shrinks in on himself it's no surprise to you.
 The betrayal is unwarranted because humans are selfish and it’s not like you stayed single this whole time. But it’s only been a small amount of years, you’re both still so young, and he’s never wanted that. Commitment, the loss of freedom, the stability, predictability.
 Or maybe, you realize, he just never wanted it with you.
 When all he does is nod, you ask as gently as you can, as innocently as possible, to not come off as if you’re prying even though you know you are. “Do I know her?”
 He nods again looking down. It’s a few long moments before he clears his throat and speaks up. His hands are folded on the table, fidgeting nervously. The band on the ring finger is glaringly obvious now, like it’s mocking you. “Do you remember Young-Mi? She’s Dae Jung’s niece?”
 If your heart could sink further than the ground it’s already sunk to, it would have. Young-Mi. The girl that took his place at the register when he started his full time tattoo work. She was sweet, and apparently the owner’s niece, but she always charged for the oat milk.
 He met her in the same place that he met you. The coffee shop is no longer yours and his, but theirs. The memories he made with you here, have probably been replaced, forgotten, to make room for his and hers. 
 The kisses that you stole with him, unknowingly in front of her while she was behind the counter and the soft touches and sweet words and the way you would sneakily lick the foam off of his upper lip- it’s all just dirtied backwash now and it’s so sick. Gut churning enough for the coffee in your belly to want to come back up. You swallow it down.
 “When?” you whisper.
 “The Fall.”
 You try to muster up a smile, try to get yourself together because fuck, you’re supposed to be over this, over him. “Because that’s your favorite season?”
 It hurts in a way you can’t explain when he replies, “Ours” and doesn’t mean you and him.
 The thing about idealizations concerning real life relations is that they are a recipe for disaster. To idealize something is to regard it as perfect and better than it is in reality. When you do that with relationships, you’re setting it up to fail. That’s always been your mistake.
 You haven’t idealized or romanticized him in a long time, and you haven’t been in a relationship with him, ever technically, but it hurts like you have. The sting is sharp and piercing, different than any you’ve felt before in regards to him.
 Jeongguk was cynical at that party so long ago. The one with the stained sofa. It was a different conversation technically. That one about soulmates, this one about idealizations, but similar enough in the way that they both end in pain and regret. And he was right, to be cynical, and a harsh realist. It’s ironic how the universe works things out. 
 You look down and smile to yourself, a willful expression to urge the tears away. When you look up, you keep the smile pasted, making it bigger in fact. You nod softly and say, “I’m so happy for you, Jeongguk.”
 He looks like he’s sorry, a little confused but he nods. “We just got a house?”
 It sounds like a question, like he’s grasping at straws to keep the conversation going but has no clue how to change the subject.
 You laugh a little. For someone who never wanted to settle down, he never really strayed very far.
 “Me too. I just moved back. I live alone though.”
 He looks taken aback by the news. Brows pinched more aggressively than before, but still confused. “You’re back? For good?”
 You shift in your seat and nod.
 “Did you tell anyone? Tae or Jimin? Yoongi?”
 You shake your head, you sound hesitant, the tone he’s taking with you making you a little unsure. “I um- I wanted it to be a surprise for my parents. The only person that knew was my sister because she let me stay with her while I got the house together.”
 Jeongguk’s head has started to shake, small little sways like he doesn’t believe you. “I- It’s been years. I didn’t think you were coming back… I didn’t know.”
 Doe-eyes aren’t supposed to be forlorn, and they aren’t supposed to carry sadness. But the ones looking back at you do. Your brows furrow and you frown, ready to ask what he's talking about when he speaks again.
 “I waited for you. For years I was waiting-”
 You shake your head like you didn’t hear him right, backing your chair up some to put space between you. “You what? I- Jeongguk. You got married.” You say it like you’re reminding him.
 He grimaces, and sighs like he’s frustrated. “Yes. We were engaged for forever but I never agreed to a date until 4 months ago because all the time before that I was hoping-” 
 Cruel, cruel, cruel. 
 This can’t be happening. 
 Your mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to say. But what is there to say? 
 “I miss you, ___.”
 You freeze and lock eyes with him. You shake your head, a shocked laugh sputtering past your lips. “Jeongguk, don’t.”
 He doesn’t listen.
 “I’ve thought about you every day-”
 “Jeongguk-” You grip the table and shut your eyes like if you will him away, this nightmare will stop. 
 He leans forward, eager declarations spilling from his mouth. But you don’t hear them because as soon as you look at him again, a little flower falls out of his shirt. Your mouth parts and your face looks like you’re in pain because you are. Your eyes bounce between the cherry blossom and his face like you can’t believe it.
 Catching on, he grips the necklace. “I was going to go back to you. Oh my god, ___ I swear I was.” 
 He waits for you to respond but you don’t. You feel like the room is closing in on itself. 
 “But Jimin gave this back to me and said you were leaving the country and that you were excited for a new start and that you were so close to being okay again and getting better I-” he deflates some as he sits back in his chair “-I couldn’t take that away from you. I couldn’t be selfish with you again.”
 “Please stop,” you whisper.
 “I never take it off because it reminds me of you. This spot in the shop has never been without a table because it was yours, and it reminds me of you.” He points to the little stars on his forearm. “I never covered it up because it reminds me of you.”
 He’s whispering now, and your tone matches his. “You’re married. You got married.”
 He shakes his head. “It’s not the same with her, it’s never felt the same. She doesn’t make me feel the way you did. The way you do.”
 “Stop talking.”
 “How was I supposed to know it was you? When I didn’t even believe in love back then?” He sounds desperate, close to tears almost.
 You’ve always thought the cruelest thing that could happen to someone was meeting the right person at the wrong time. You smile at him, soft and gentle.
 “You didn’t have to know, you just had to try.” 
 Jeongguk sees the way your eyes are dimming and how you’re shutting him out and he panics, shakes his head vehemently at you. You gasp when he clutches at your hands, when you start to gather your things. 
 “No, no, no-” he chants quietly. “This is so fucked up. Everything is so fucked up,” he squeezes your hands, jostles them some. “You still feel it, I know you still feel it too.”
 You look at him, and you see the way he means it. It’s too late, but finally. He feels the same way you do. 
 “I do feel it,” you whisper, heart heavy in your chest, “but we can’t Jeongguk, you-”
 “Do you still have your tattoo?” he cuts you off.
 You nod hesitantly. How could you ever cover it up? Erase him?
 His head hangs, and the hands that are still clutching yours squeeze tightly before coming to his hair. He rests his head in his palms for a few moments. When he looks at you again, it’s like he worked through something quietly with himself.
 He holds eye contact with you when he asks, “Can I see it again? One more time, at least?”
 You suck in a sharp breath. You know what he’s asking.
 Since you’ve been away, you’ve grown up and realized that stars are just stars and that people are just people. Creatures of habit and selfish by nature. Jeongguk is no exception to that, and maybe you haven’t changed as much as you thought.
oc homewrecker ?? LMAO but ok if you read the whole thing i am in LOVE with you (even if you hate me for the ending lol) and am so grateful for you. i can’t think of anything else to say bc i am so nervous lol but anyway if you liked it pls pls pls do all the things: like, reblog, comment, share, send an ask i am DYING to know what u thought!! thank u so so much for reading!
oh also... team jk or team oc ?
jreampie scene in jimin’s room dedicated to luna <3
ALSO!! this is my submission for the “spring will come” event run by @bangtanarmynet
prompt: “Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you still love me.” *edit* the open ending of this fic is intentional, so i unfortunately do not have plans for a part 2. one of the main points in the fic is that there’s no finite, or predetermined way for things to be. i tried to show this with how i finished the story. i hope u understand, and still love the work the same, tysm for reading <3
6K notes · View notes
jungkxook · 4 months ago
—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.
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.”
“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.
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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⟶ Feedback is always appreciated! 
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sopeverse · 3 months ago
why the fuck is it that when idols are dating someone it’s called a ‘scandal’?? how about we call it ‘idols being humans and having a life outside of catering to their delusional fans every need’
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kimnjss · 2 months ago
cyberslut | myg sm au
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banner by: @dee-ehn
🖇 synopsis:
— he has no idea who you are... up front, you’re sweet and innocent - but in reality you’re the exact opposite. running your own nsfw account, where your favorite topic is his hands.
[ cyberslut: a person who will act openly sexual on the internet, yet in real life will act prudent and contained. ]
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pairing: jock(fuckboi)!yoongi x nerdy(virgin)!reader
fic type: social media au
side ships: (platonic...) vmin.
genre: smut!! college au, secret identity, tutoring au, slight themes of infidelity...
warnings: yoongi and his friends are dicks :/ - yn is way too horny all of the time... there’s a lot of sexting... no full nudity.
*BYR: yn knows yoongi is the guy she’s posting abt... yoongi does not know abt yns acct (until he finds out). yoongi nd yn have never talked before the start of this fic.
status: completed!
A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!
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bonus drabbles...
prologue: homeroom hottie
character profiles: yn, her alter ego, nd besties
character profiles: yoongi nd the boyz
part one: invasion of privacy
part two: private sessions
part three: pretty prints
part four: went viral
part five: malleable substances
part six: fellow fish nerd
part seven: long night
bonus: fuck me
part eight: fucking prude
part nine: under the bleachers
part ten: buzzer beater
part eleven: mentally fucking
part twelve: deductive reasoning
bonus: turn the page
part thirteen: teachers pet
part fourteen: surprise me
part fifteen: emotion sex
part sixteen: sexy mermaid
part seventeen: not finished
time jump: untapped ass
part eighteen: give a fuck
part nineteen: not dating
part twenty: away game
part twenty-one: at your pace
bonus: nervous and excited
part twenty-two: petal
part twenty-three: too messy
part twenty-four: drunk yoongi
part twenty-five: being stupid
part twenty-six: superior couple
part twenty-seven: iconic parties
part twenty-eight: twenty minutes
part twenty-nine: risk it
part thirty: reformed fuckboy
part thirty-one: nice change
part thirty-two: public event
part thirty-three: bars and clubs 
epilogue: on purpose
epilogue: fucking nerd
4K notes · View notes
zibermuda · a month ago
high end | jjk
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→ summary: jungkook is a best-selling erotica novelist living in a lavish neighborhood. He spends his days cruising on yachts, tasting the world’s most expensive wines, and fucking bar-staff. But, as soon as you move in next door with your fruity cocktails, tight bikinis, and odd philosophies, his hobbies shift. To put it plainly; you're sex on legs and he wants to write about you in his upcoming novel. But first, he has to get to know you inside and out. 
→ genre: smut, fluff, angst (erotica-novelist!jk, architect!reader)
→ words: 13,050
→ warnings: unprotected sex, orgy, semi-public sex, semi-public petting, semi-public fingering, ice play, nipple play, bondage, licking, biting, fingering, drooling, spanking, finger sucking, hair pulling, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, use of sex toys, multiple orgasms, pussy eating, dick sucking, throat fucking, crying, gagging, high drug use, drinking, swearing
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masterlist || request
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Let's get one thing straightened out; rich people love to do rich people shit. Whether it be deep-throating oysters in the coastal towns of France, raiding designer stores, or pretending to relate to the lower class, they do it and they do it often.
Jeon Jungkook is guilty of most of the above. At 25 years of age, he lives in a multi million-dollar house situated in the privacy and luxury of the Hills. His neighbors live just as lavishly; some actors, some dentists, and some wealthy by marriage. Their problems seem bizarre to the average person, but respectfully, problems are problems. If you're feeling off about something — even if you're standing in your ten-acre garden and can't seem to decide where to build your own personal water park — you still have a problem.
Jungkook has a problem of his own, but we'll get to that in a moment.
How the fuck did he get so rich and where do I sign up? You might be thinking to yourself. He writes about the intimate and explicit details of sex. Each of his novels revolve around a successful individual dealing with life’s obstacles and ultimately leaving their imprint on the world. The sex scenes are a by-product of the power play. There's a lot of power in sex, there's a lot of love in his heart for life and its obstacles, and there's a lot of money in publishing well-written (debatable), fantasy-driven erotica novels. 
To say he was born with a silver spoon sticking out of both of his ears would be a bit of an overstatement, but not too far from the truth. His parents are the masterminds behind a multi billion-dollar tech company that develops security software. From day one, they drove the tech-fantasy into their sons head, and even though they persuaded him to graduate college with a Bachelor of Advanced Computer Science, things took a different turn once he stepped foot into the real world; he grew a little too cocky with his qualifications, social status, and good looks, and so spent his time entertaining a rowdy bunch of people, partying, having insane amounts of sex, drinking whatever was handed to him, snorting blow off bars, and everything else the champagne life entails.
And then, like most young people, he was inspired by a short-lived summer romance. She was an aspiring solicitor, beautiful, confident, and determined, but her determination made her use people like dental floss. She bat her eyelashes a thousand times, said anything to grow her network, and lied like it was a 9-5 job. But, as much as it hurt him, he never grew to hate her. There was something about her — maybe it was the way she could tame every doubt in his mind, or the way she built herself from the ground up — that made it clear that she knew the world was hers. She was the inspiration behind his first novel. Similar to how musicians write an array of emotional lyrics and dedicate music videos to ex-lovers, he too found a way to tell stories. The difference is that he never writes out of spite. No matter how many chapters of heartbreak he could write, he believes it to be wholly unproductive. He sees the good and the fun in others or he doesn’t see at all.
He knew many fine publishers through his parents, so it wasn’t long before he was an official published author with a new network of literate friends. His novel was a quick success thanks to his advertising team. They worked their ass to the bone to gain a cult following for him. Posters were on bus-stops, library walls, retirement home notice boards, and even on the ‘Do Not Feed the Ducks’ signs at parks. If the ducks and the elderly weren’t already into sexy, but also kind of odd novels, they sure as hell are now.
He was crowned the king of erotica just a week after his first publication.
The average Joe appreciates a little sex every now and then, but this isn't a story about average Joe’s. It's about filthy rich savages who can't get enough of it; in every position, at every time of the day, at every setting. They put rabbits to shame. For all intents and purposes, Jungkook is one of these rabbit-shaming savages. He loves dubious, sweat-inducing, vulgar sex with loose women; MILFS, teachers, models, lawyers, doctors, bartenders, and even the neighbor living in the colonial mansion opposite from him. She's forty-three years old, freshly divorced, and had been a fan of his writing since the very first publication, so she thought 'what the hell? I'll just knock on his door, crack open a bottle of wine, and gush about how much I love his work. Maybe I can work on my game, too.' She came for conversation, but never thought that he'd be spelling it out with his tongue between her thighs.
When it comes to conversing with him, there's often tension, whether sexual or just plain enlightening, and a tipping point. He always says the right things to aid out unlikely confidence within people; a type of confidence that makes a person say what they truly mean and want. He likes to ask unlikely questions and do unlikely things, sex aside.
Back to his problem, though; writers block. He’s lacking very specific inspiration, but this is where you come into play. He was curious about you from the very moment he saw you chatting with the driver of the movers truck. You'd been standing outside your new house with your summer dress and broad-rimmed hat, and he'd been curiously scoping out his new neighbor from his window. It's not uncommon for him to feel such curiosity toward a successful person, nor is it rare for him to adapt and characterize them for his novels. Only the devil knows what kind of woman you are. Maybe you’re a teacher of fine arts, a model, a marine, a police officer, maybe you married into wealth, or even a decoy sent by the FBI. He learned many years ago to not judge a person by their cover.
It was only yesterday that he saw you standing on your driveway with a shadow cast over half of your face, and if he hadn’t been preoccupied with avoiding various voicemails and bickering with his lawyer over the phone, he would’ve introduced himself. Today, though, he plans on doing just that. In fact, he’s already half-way down the stairs with a free schedule and the brighter side of your face clear in his mind.
The staircase banisters are glass panes adorned with silver hand-railings, and each step is a thick, hand-cut slab of grey marble. The steps cascade from the second floor to the kitchen, where contemporary wine racks have been built underneath. Stocked on the racks are hundreds of bottles of imported red wine, white wine, and limited edition champagne taken from events and given to him as gifts. Most, if not all, are purely decorative. He prefers whiskey.
Bright, white spotlights are tucked underneath floating wall dividers to brighten up the home and most, if not all, of the walls have been coated in a light grey paint. A theme of dark wood runs true to his home; dark counter tops, coffee tables, and sculptures. His home is very much an open plan, quite like himself.
Money has never been an issue for him, but it’d be foolish to say that wealth is what got him here in the first place. He has always been smart, has always known the right people, and has always been ambitious to the core. You could give him nothing but an empty bottle, and he’d soon be the best-selling bottle maker in the country.
Jungkook takes a few moments to pick out an expensive bottle of wine — a house-warming gift, if you will — before heading outside. The sky is a pretty shade of blue and almost void of clouds, except for a single cloud spread across the sky like a stroke of white paint. He knocks on your door three times and checks his Rolex after waiting an excess of fifteen seconds. Almost a minute passes before the front door swings open to reveal your shadow-free face. You have light, complementary makeup and a small smile adorning it. If he were younger and a little more naive, he’d drop to his knees.
It’s 4:48PM on a Sunday, yet you have a half-empty, strawberry cocktail in your hand. It’s 4:48PM, yet he has an expensive bottle of wine in his. He already likes you.
“Hello.” You say with those strawberry stained lips. Something about you suggests that you’re a little bit introverted, but it’s definitely not the cloud-white bikini and black, sheer cover-up wrapped around your figure. “I don’t suppose you’re the pool man?” 
“No, but I can take a look if you’d like.” He smiles a true Hollywood smile. “Your neighbor. To the right.”
His home is the biggest in the neighborhood. Many of the other homes are half the size, but just as lavish, including your own.
“Y/N.” You offer out your hand for him to shake and he does so without hesitation. “Architecture is my forte, but that’s not usually the first thing people guess.”
He tells you his name and you repeat it back in a way that makes him raise his eyebrows ever so slightly. And, as you invite him inside, you size him up; from his broad shoulders, slim waist, to his surprisingly perky ass. What is it with men and winning the genetic jackpot for good asses and eyelashes?
You’re not the only one, though. He’s already taken note of your half-naked body, ring-less fingers, and the dimples in your lower back. Your house smells like clean laundry and fresh paint, and an array of gin, brandy, vodka, and whiskey bottles sit on a silver platter on your marbled kitchen counter, right next to a bouquet of deep pink Dahlias. He places the wine bottle nearby, slightly defeated by the wrong choice of drink.
You’re not a wine-drinker, he notes. Cocktails are your best friend.
"Thank you.” You say, genuinely, as you inspect the brand and age of the wine. It looks expensive and by the looks of him, it has to be. “You really didn’t have to bring me anything.”
“I would’ve brought you a pie, but I can’t bake to save a life.” He humors. “You’ll get one, though, just not from me.”
The sun is far too warm to keep the conversation strictly inside. Summer has always been your favorite time of the year.
“What do you do, by the way? I don’t think I asked.” You inquire as you step past the large, glass sliding doors and wander around the great length of your swimming pool. Sundays are the only days where you have the time to lounge around in a bikini and drink cocktails before 5PM, so you make the most of it.
“I’m an author.” Even for someone like him, he’s never seen such a huge personal pool. Are you coaching the Olympic swimming team or something? He can just about picture you lounging on an inflatable pool float, skin wet and glistening in the light.
"What kind of stuff do you write?" You ask with your drink in one hand and his full-attention in the other. "Let me guess.. Science fiction? Business advice?"
His tan skin, wavy hair, and aura yells — practically screams — ‘leisure’, so he could easily be mistaken for a businessman with a habit of visiting the Bahamas every weekend. That’s not far from the truth, to be fair. He isn’t one to shy away from self-indulgence.
"Erotica." There’s no hidden shame behind his confession, nor is their a flicker of embarrassment. He owns it, just like he owns that white, button-up shirt and that dark, ruffled hair. He’s physically fit, too, thanks to his interest in recreational boxing and high intensity training.
"Erotica?" You repeat, way-off, but entirely captivated by this strange man. “So, you’re addicted to sex?”
Cheeky, he notes.
You tap your finger against your glass and drink in everything about him. The longer you look, the shyer you feel. What’s that about? You’ve never been one to shy away from a hot, single neighbor; that is if he’s actually single and not just a cocky husband of a woman who deserves a whole lot better. There’s something very intimidating about him. He carries himself like nothing in this world could bother him or make him stutter over his words.
He likes that you asked that. It gives him incentive to ask you the same thing. “Aren’t you?”
“We’re living in the hills, Mr. Author.” Your laugh strokes his ears like soft velvet. “I’m sure everybody around here is in some sort of sex ring.”
He touches the bottom of his chin and your eyes linger there for a few moments. His face is perfectly symmetrical; sharp jaw, deep brown eyes, pretty pink lips. A small mole sits directly under his bottom lip, too. “You free Thursday evening, Y/N?”
“Could be.”
“Could be.” He repeats, amused. “A friend of mine opened up a bar down on boulevard. Real fancy shit. They serve $1,000 diamond cocktails and everything else pretentious. I’d like to take you.”
“Sounds fun.” You agree without much hesitation. “I get home from work at 7.”
And that’s how Jeon Jungkook meets you for the first time. He doesn’t stay for too long, though, because he prefers to pace himself. Too much of a good thing isn’t good for anybody. You’ve only spoken to him for twenty-five minutes, but he’s already so intrigued. You’re two years his senior, graduated college twice; first with a Bachelor’s Degree in Architecture, and the second time with a Master’s in Architecture. You love what you do, but you hate where you work, even though it’s one of the best studios in the city. Interior and spacial designs interest you the most, but your boss compresses what you’re allowed to do out of fear that you might be better than he is. Jungkook can already tell that you’re better than a lot of people, especially your boss.
“I won’t be mad if you pour that wine down the sink, honestly.” He wanders past your front door and eyes the way you ever so slightly lean your hip against the door frame. “I mean it.”
You laugh, knowing damn well that that very thought crossed your mind just moments before. “See you Thursday, Mr. Author.”
He heads back home, but catches you again from the same window he’d seen you from yesterday. He observes, slightly hypnotized, as you bend over to place a cocktail glass on the concrete nearby the pool. The sheer fabric of your beach kimono rides up your lower back, revealing the curve of your ass and the white bikini thong clinging to your skin. And then he notices his own novel in your hands. The coloring of the front cover suggests that it’s one of his older novels. He then wonders if you already knew who he was and are just a really convincing actress. You didn’t, really, but his novel was stuffed into a box of books that you had just started to unpack. You recall a friend gifting you the erotica novel for your 25th birthday, but you never even read the blurb. It’s been gathering dust at the back of shelves for two years, but now you just have to know what it’s all about. 
Not expecting much, you flick through a few chapters until you land on a random sex scene. You drink in every word like it’s a new cocktail flavor, tasting the incredibly lewd descriptions of wall sex shifting to wet, shower sex. The way he describes each scene has your imagination firing up like an old truck. You can picture each water droplet sliding down the two bodies, the hand print left on the main character’s thigh, and the thick, misty air in the bathroom. A little warm in the face, you flip the novel and peer at the image of Jungkook printed just above the blurb. He’s wearing that same Hollywood smile.
What have you gotten yourself into?
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Monday rolls around far too quickly. You bid farewell to your bikinis and cocktails until next Sunday, and head to work with armfuls of files.
Your boss, David Woods; a man with a passion for development and architecture; ushers you to his large office before you can even make it to your desk. He’s tall and lean; at-least 6′1; with a short quiff that he feels the need to gel back. His hands are abnormally large and disproportionate to his body. Pressed suits, solid-colored ties, shiny shoes, and white button-ups are all that he wears in fear that he could be mistaken for anything other than a rich man.
A dark oak desk sits toward the further end of the room, closest to a blue-grey wall and a painting of something dark and abstract. There are countless awards for god-knows-what lined up on his bookshelves, and a prayer plant is sat on the left side of his desk in a tall, gold vase. If it weren’t for that plant doing regular plant things, the air in here would reek of death.
He takes a seat at his black leather chair and places his big hands on the desk, grinning wickedly at you. The gold light fixtures match the thin, gold necklace that’s half-tucked beneath his button-up.
“A little birdie told me that you’re planning to open up your own studio.” He interrogates. Woods has never been one to mind his business, let alone speak to another human being without a condescending tone. “When was that? Sometime this year?”
“A little birdie?” You’re not afraid to call him out on his blatant dishonesty. “You look through my laptop when I’m at lunch.”
“The company’s laptop.” He corrects. He’s amused by your boldness, but if you squint, you can see the irritation behind his pale blue eyes. “You know how I feel about my people taking clients from The Woods. It’s not good for business.”
No, he’s not talking about literal tree-dominated land, although he does a good job at making people feel as if they’re lost in such a place. The Woods is quite literally him and anything he owns. Once you step foot into the building, you’re in The Woods territory. There’s a difference between being proud of what you’ve made for yourself and being an overbearing asshole who thinks he has a say in everyone and everything.
“I’m just trying to help you out, Y/N. You know that’s all I’ve ever done for you.” He says as condescending as ever. “I just don’t think you’re ready to be your own boss.”
“I’ve been ready for a while.” There’s no reason for you to say this out loud, because, well, both of you are already aware of it. You’re his best. You draw in clients like no other, have a network exceeding 500 professionals, and are a complete realist. You could run five successful studios, but with the right investors, you could run one of the best in the country. “If it’s clients that you’re worried about, don’t. I won’t steal from you.”
“Oh, but you’ve been stealing from me since I let you in these doors.”
Loyalty is a big thing for Woods, but he holds it against people to an extreme extent. He interferes with personal lives, often ordering people to cut ties with others he holds a grudge against or because they don’t ‘fit his vibe.’ If you have an ugly pet, he’ll refer you to the nearest pet sanctuary. If your wife or husband is an under-performer, has one too many blemishes on their skin, or can’t bear a child, he’ll introduce you to somebody he deems worthy.
You leave his office with a plunging feeling in the pit of your stomach and a need for fresh air.
The receptionist greets you as you walk past and toward the revolving doors. She’s a woman in her mid twenties with a noticeable French accent. Light highlights run through her shoulder-length, brown hair. She’s fond of wearing sneakers to work as it makes the train commute a lot more comfortable for her feet, she likes ice-cream scented candles, cats — that’s evident by the few cat hairs stuck to the sleeve of her blouse —, and keeping up with local gossip. She’s good at her job, reliable, and always greets people with a warm smile, even Woods. She’s no-doubt the glue that holds this place together and prevents people from strangling each-other to death.
“Long day?” Mylène, the French receptionist, asks even though lunchtime has yet to hit.
“You could say that.”
“11:11AM.” She says like it means anything to you. “That’s an angel number. I’ll make a wish for you.”
“Thanks.” You step outside for a breath of fresh air. The summers breeze greets you like an old friend.
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From Monday to Thursday, you work and you work and you work. You have countless meetings with new and old clients, draw up elaborate designs, revise old designs, and visit various construction sites. Your desk grows littered with pens, pencils, cuts of fabric and woods, and random slithers of wallpaper prints. During your lunch breaks, you often grab a coffee with old college friends and colleagues, making the effort to really nourish relationships.
Jungkook works, too, but in the most unique way. He meets new characters at various events, leaves an impression on everyone he speaks to, and has sex with three bartenders all in the same night. He gets unconventionally drunk, smokes weed with his cousin on his dad’s side (it’s their thing), wakes up with nothing but a suspicion of what happened the night before, and then sits down at his computer with a throbbing head and very little clothing on. Funnily enough, he thinks up the majority of his novel plots in less than sober states. He writes about a character very similar to you, focusing on her work ethic, her devil of a boss, her love for cocktails, and her sex appeal. He has no coherent plot for this novel, but he knows that ideas are likely to come to mind the more time he spends with you. None of this chaos is new to him. I told you he does very unlikely things.
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Thursday rolls around faster than usual and you find yourself sitting at a bar with Jeon Jungkook at 8:48PM. He’s wearing a black button-up shirt with a slight satin finish, rolled at the sleeves, black dress pants and shoes, and a Rolex around his wrist. His well built chest strains slightly against his shirt, as do his biceps. You’ve come straight from work in a deep blue pencil dress. There’s not a single casual tee or distressed jean in sight, only high heels, neutral colored ties, gorgeous dresses, and styled hair.
Soft, white down-lights shine from the ceiling above the bar table, illuminating whatever vibrant drink the bartender has served to a customer. Pleasant jazz hums from cleverly hidden speakers. The atmosphere couldn’t get any more intimate. You often find yourself at bars like these after a shit day at work with a drink in both hands. There are specific things that make a shit day, but your boss is always the garlic and onions behind recipes like those.
Jungkook orders a scotch on the rocks and takes the first gulp like a parched man. You order yourself a strawberry-mint gin and tonic.
“What got you into writing?” Is your first question of the night. “I’ve heard that the industry is hard to get into. A friend of mine was rejected dozens of times and told that her plots were all wrong.”
He ponders carefully before settling on an answer. “Life and its shit. I’ve been rejected before, but that’s just how it is out there. Wouldn't it be boring to be right all the time?”
You chuckle at the notion. “My boss begs to differ.”
Writing — putting your thoughts out into the world for crass feedback — isn’t an easy thing to do. It’s often praised as brave; to open yourself up to such interactions with people who should have zero impact on your self-worth because, they’re, well, complete strangers with a different set of values, literary interests, interpretation skills, and are often just doing their job as a well-paid shit-stirrer.
A handful of people get a kick out of sharing anonymous, hateful comments. Jungkook deals with those kind of comments every day of his life, but if there’s one thing that he’s learned by being in the public eye, it’s that opinions aren’t facts. It’s important to take them and then let them go. Hell, you even have the power to build your own foundation with the bricks people throw at you. His life is his. Your life is yours. It’d be a very big mistake to see your life in eyes that aren’t yours.
People are always going to be cunts with zero regard for other people’s feelings. The difference is that you and him know the difference between being a decent human being and being that. That’s something to take pride in.
“Sure, but how do you deal with criticism?” You ask, intrigued by his extraordinary life. He’s so young for the empire he’s amassed. Sure, he’s two years your junior, but he could teach you a thing or two. “Do you rewrite or try somewhere else?”
He swirls the whiskey in his glass and watches as it glisten beneath the lights. Amusement is written all over his face, but there’s something foreign wavering in his eyes. “I deal with it by sitting in my mansion and not changing a fucking thing about myself.”
“Touché, but wealth isn’t everything.” You challenge. “A lot of people learn to love the money, but hate themselves.”
“I don’t hate myself.” He says and you believe him. “Not always. I try to hate the choices I make instead of hating myself for making them.”
"Smart. You’re your own best friend.”
“I’m never going to know somebody as well as I know myself, so why not? I am my own mind. I know what I’m thinking at most times of the day.”
He makes an interesting point, but you can’t help but challenge it further. “Then again.. you see yourself, but you also don’t see yourself. There are some things that I know about you that you don’t know about yourself. For instance..”
He holds his glass with a limp wrist, listening attentively. “Enlighten me.”
“Well.. I’m sitting in front of you and I can observe the expressions that your face makes during our conversation. You don’t always realize that you’re making them, but you can’t carry a little mirror with you and check what your face is doing all the time. Wouldn’t that be weird?”
“I’ve never thought about that before.” He says with a smile. “You’re a bit strange, aren’t you?”
His answer disappoints you slightly, but you don’t bother verbalizing it. He can tell you feel this way by the slight lowering of your eyebrows. Only, you don’t realize yourself that you've taken on this expression. Funny, he thinks to himself. Ignorance was bliss.
You both discuss your the past few riveting days that you’ve had; you speak about your boss in the kindest way possible, and he speaks about the people he recently met in only good tones and smiles. He doesn’t ever poke fun at another persons flaw, or their dress choice, or their intellect. He could sell anyone any product, no matter how shit it actually is, with that talent. You find yourself laughing and cringing like he’s an old school friend. It’s a nice feeling.
“What’s the worst thing you’ve done?” You dare to ask with your straw poking at your bottom lip. You’re on your third gin and tonic.
“The worst thing?” He repeats, amused by your formidable question. He could list a few things that’d shift the mood, but he isn’t ready for you to meet the skeletons in his closet, to evaluate the bad decisions he’s made, or to sympathize with the people he’s hurt.
“Yeah, you know-” You take a sip from your drink before returning it to the bar. You’re in a prying mood. There’s something about him, maybe it’s the way he looks at you with those big brown eyes, that makes you want to try your luck. “The naughtiest.” 
The naughtiest? He thinks to himself. Maybe it was when he bent his lawyer over her desk and showed her what 'taking it from the back' really meant, or when he fucked a prestigious critic for a better review on his novel. He's been everywhere, done a little bit of everything, and a little bit of everyone. To choose just one naughty thing would take a weeks worth of contemplation, but then, something of value comes to mind and he leans closer to whisper it into your ear; something so filthy that it makes your breath catch in your throat and your posture improve.
As he speaks lowly, his breath tickles your neck, sending goosebumps down the length of your arms. If you were slightly more sober, and some may argue — smart —, you’d recognize them as warning signs.
“And then..” His voice is intoxicating and has you hooked on every syllable that falls from his lips. He smells like a delicious mix of whiskey, vanilla, and pine. And, during the most telling part of his confession, he runs his palm from your knee to your upper thigh, taking the fabric of your dress with him.
You definitely took him as the promiscuous type, but this is far beyond anything you’ve ever heard before. When he pulls away, your skin is engulfed in an arousing heat. A warm flush had been crawling it's way up your neck, but has well and truly settled between your thighs. "That's pretty naughty."
“Think so?” His confident tone arouses you more. You’re wet. That’s clear to the both of you. “I like the way you’re looking at me.”
You’re way too lost in his eyes and consumed by the feeling of his fingers tracing small circles against your thigh. Your eyes are probably begging for something, a portion of your bottom lip is probably caught between your teeth, and your chest is probably rising and falling quite quickly. “What way?”
“That way.” His eyes flick to your mouth, and then, just like that, his lips are on yours. He kisses you slowly at first, gently sliding his tongue against your own and relishing in the warmth and wetness of your mouth. He craves you; from your bashful smile to every inch of your body that always seems to be wrapped tightly in designer. He wonders what sounds you’ll make when he fucks you, whether or not you prefer to go slow and make love, how wet you’ll get you with just his fingers, and if your panties are thin and lacy and riding up your ass.
He hates wondering, so he takes you home. You unzip your dress and let it fall to the hardwood floor, and he pours himself a whiskey on the rocks. His curious eyes roam all over your skin, from your hardened nipples to your bare thighs, as he guides your lower back against the kitchen counter. Every touch against your skin makes you shudder, whether it be the pads of his fingers or the grey marble of the countertop.
“Look at you. Fuck..” He says, mostly to himself, as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. Your eyes flutter shut at his touch. 
He runs his palm up the curve of your ass and hooks his fingers underneath the band of your panties, tugging it tight against your pussy. The feeling of your skin burns into his memory, and as he looks at your face, really looks at it, he knows he hit the jackpot; your face is as beautiful as your voice, your voice is as beautiful as your mind, and your mind is as beautiful as your body. To him, you’re fucking faultless. He knows he’ll be on his knees for you before the night is over.
The ice sitting in his glass glistens beneath the kitchen light and it gives him an intriguing idea. He wants to see you come undone, to make you so stimulated that you can’t pinpoint where the feeling is coming from. He takes an ice cube between his lips and presses it against the side of your neck. You gasp at the feeling of the ice running against your skin; so cold that it almost stings. Your fingers grasp at the fabric of his button-up as he drags the ice past your collarbone and down to your nipple, pressing it firm against the bud until your back arches away from the counter. A thin sheen of water maps out exactly where his lips have been.
Just like he knew he would, he sinks to his knees and tugs your panties down your thighs and off at the feet. The ice melts in his mouth. His lips are still cold and wet as he presses a hard kiss against your pussy, and the feeling draws a startled gasp from your chest. He spreads your folds with his fingers and teasingly drags his tongue against your pussy hole. His nose digs against your clit as he licks into you. His own saliva coats his chin, and at one point, drools from your pussy to the hardwood flooring.
“Right there.. Like that. Fuck!” You sigh as he alternates between sucking and licking your clit, and curling two fingers inside of you. He touches you right, really making the effort to listen to the sounds you make and taking note of the way you squirm against his mouth.
He licks your pussy and digs his fingers into your ass until your moans double in volume and your breathing turns rapid, and then he stands to steal your breath again with a deep kiss. You fumble with the buttons of his button-up as he fervently kisses you. The pace of the kiss is erratic and you find it difficult to keep up. He bites and sucks on your tongue until your lips are swollen.
His body is dreamy and something you’ve been curious about ever since he turned up in that tight, black button-up; wide shoulders, slim waist, defined abdomen and pecs, and small nipples that harden slightly as you run your hands over his skin. You tug on the zipper of his pants and reach beneath for his cock. It’s stiff and warm in your hand.
He lifts your leg and wraps your thigh snug around his bare waist, eager to feel you. A relieved sigh falls from both of your mouths as he sinks into you. He pulls your hips flush against his own, delving deeper and filling you up until he can’t any more. You feel so warm and wet wrapped around him. It couldn’t be any better.
“You feel so good.” He praises and he means every word. “So fucking good..”
Similarly to the first kiss you shared, he starts off gentle and slow, but is quick to lose himself in the moment and set a quick pace. His pecs and abdomen flex as he bucks his hips against yours over and over again. The sex has you in a trance. Moans drool from your lips, your nails rake across the back of his neck, and your head grows increasingly dizzy. Your lower back digs firmly into the counter top as he fucks you against it, and profanities fall from his tongue in arousing moans. You can’t imagine your night getting any better.
The sex migrates from the kitchen counter, to the doors of the pantry, and finally to the nearby couch. He sinks onto, almost into, the couch as you straddle his lap. Nothing else is running through his mind aside from you; the feeling of your wrapped tightly around him, the sight of your parted lips and low eyes, the sound of your pretty whines and stuttering breath, and the bounce in your tits as you sit on his cock over and over again.
“Oh my.. god. Oh my-” You chant in desperate whispers. “Fuck..”
He reaches for your tits, squeezing the flesh and pinching your nipples between his fingers. Your skin is delicate beneath his touch; he almost feels like he could break you at any moment, but you’re proving to be a bigger girl than he made you out to be.
You come twice that night; once on his cock and the other on his tongue. You’re breathless when it ends and it takes you many, many more moments spent in his arms before you can gather your thoughts and clothing.
Jungkook has had enough sex in his life to understand that sex is never perfect and that’s a very normal and human thing. Sometimes it takes a few different touches and manoeuvres to turn somebody on, and other times it’s a walk in the (water) park. Sometimes he’ll laugh while he’s balls deep in somebody because one of them made a funny noise. He might miss their mouth and accidentally kiss their chin. He might come too early or too late, lose his erection halfway through because a bizarre thought crossed his mind, or even fall asleep before he can take his pants off because he’s had a little too much to drink. Sometimes sex is boring, or silent, or just an itch that needs to be scratched. But he saw no fault in the sex he just had with you. His mind didn’t wander, but his hands definitely did. He liked everything about it; from the sounds you made to the way you slipped your tongue into his mouth. He still sees zero faults in you.
You head home with a slight wobble in your step. The sex was something that you never knew you’d been craving. It relieved a good handful of your pent-up stress and gave back some confidence that you’d been missing. Your sex life wasn’t dead before tonight, it was just put on hold for a few weeks while you get your shit together at work. Woods has been hinting at letting you work with a really huge client for some time now and you feel the need to give him a very compelling reason to. Sex with no strings attached is easy to find, but good sex with no strings attached isn’t. You know you’ve hit the jackpot with this one.
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Woods hands you the client on Friday morning. Just like that. He strides to your desk and slaps down a file full of various sketches, building plans, and contact details. You flip through the pages with an abundance of enthusiasm as he glares down at you. He wants you to stay at the studio and he’s hoping that this will buy your confidence. That’s what this is.
“Don’t disappoint me.” Is all that he says.
You meet with those clients on the very same day, introducing yourself and chatting about various design ideas over coffee at a nearby cafe. They’re a married couple in their late fifties and as rich as ever. They carry themselves well and decide on a budget in the millions. They want to build a retirement home for themselves; somewhere secluded and surrounded by gorgeous scenery, open plan, modern, lots of light, white and elegant decor.
“Plants.” The man adds as you’re taking notes on an iPad. He’s handsome; short, dark hair, well-built figure, pretty brown eyes, and a soothing voice. “Lots of house plants. They make the air better.”
“Actually..” The woman adds as the meeting comes to an end. She’s as attractive as her husband; pretty eyes, shiny black hair, and delicate fingers. “We’re heading to a literature event tonight and the venue is exactly in the style we’re looking for. Why not come? It’s a nice excuse to get you out of the office, isn’t it?”
You accept with a smile. Who are you to turn down free champagne during a weekday? You’re not much of a reader, not because you don’t like to read, but because you rarely have the time. Regardless, you put on your nicest dress and your nicest heels, and adorn your face with pretty makeup. 
The venue is stunning; high ceilings with expensive chandeliers, white Victorian walls, indoor ivory hanging from aged wooden beams, huge windows that allow the sunlight to pass through. It really is beautiful here. The other guests are dressed to the nines; shawls, glistening dresses, designer ties and suits, and priceless shoes. As you’re looking around and sipping on a glass of complementary champagne, somebody all too familiar catches your eye. He notices you just moments after and comes bounding over with a handsome smile on his face.
“Fancy seeing you here.” Jeon Jungkook, your neighbor and the man you had literal sex with the other day, joins you by the table of champagne glasses. A huge chocolate fountain and a few vases full of white flowers are sat on the table, too.
“What are you doing here?” You ask, a bit taken aback by how good he looks; black blazer over a tight high-neck sweater, black dress pants, and shiny shoes. His hair is styled neatly and pushed off to one side.
“I was invited-” He quirks an eyebrow. “-to the author’s events because, believe it or not, I’m an author. Why are you here?”
“Right.” You breathe out all of your tense energy in one, long sigh. With little conviction, you gesture toward the middle-aged couple who are enjoying champagne with a slightly younger woman. “Those are my clients. They want a home in a similar style to this. They didn’t have to invite me, but it’s nice that they did. Could’ve just googled this place or visited later in the week..”
“My parents?” He asks, unaffected.
“Your parents?”
He points two limp fingers in the direction of the same couple and you can’t help but remember the feeling of them between your thighs. “The pretentious looking couple, yeah, my parents. I was so sure you were the type to read through my Wikipedia page and draw up my family tree.”
Small world, you think to yourself. It seems like every rich person knows all the other rich people in this world. They all meet at some point, buying and selling parts of themselves in the good name of business. The world makes the strangest connections sometimes.
“If you ever feel nervous, just remember this.” He says. “Their son writes sex novels, so nothing can really disappoint them any more than that. You’ll give them what they want, though. I’ve seen some of your work.”
“They don’t support you?”
“They do. My mom tells people that I write about science and the order of the universe, though. She’s still holding out hope that I’ll suddenly want to work at their company. My dad doesn’t really care.. as long as I don’t overdose on some yacht in Cancun.”
Jungkook’s eyes drag from your exposed neck and arms, to the curve of your ass. Your glittery dress is as amazing as everyone else's, maybe even better. The soft skin of your back is exposed and a delicate string of jewels runs down your spine. “You look nice, by the way. Really nice.”
The opportunity for mingling comes to a close once a young man — about the same age as Jungkook — steps up to the mic that’s been set up at the front and center of the venue. He’s wearing round glasses and a black, fitted suit. The guests take their seats at their allocated tables. It comes as no surprise to you that Jungkook is seated at the same table as parents. You sit at the table behind with a few other rich women draped in designer. The eldest woman sat around the table taps your shoulder and compliments your dress.
“Stunning.” She says and you smile.
“Thanks for coming everyone. I’d like to start us off with a passage from my latest self-help book.” The young man with the glasses begins after tapping the mic with two fingers. He’s not nervous, just eager to change at least one person’s outlook. “If somebody doesn’t bring anything positive into your life, let them go. You’ll feel bad and question whether you’ve done the right thing, but just give it some time. Don’t check up on somebody who doesn’t check up on you. Don’t try to keep in contact. Stop associating things, music, and people with that person.”
“Maybe they said something mean and you said something back or vice versa, but in reality, it just doesn’t matter. You were both upset. You’re not defined by a petty argument. People in this world kill each-other, steal, abuse power, and assault the most vulnerable. You’re not a bad person for being upset and saying something hurtful, and that rings true if you feel any ounce of regret. It happened and you can’t change it. Sure, you might’ve had some awesome times and genuinely have love for that person, but if they continuously make you doubt your worth, intellect, choices, values, invade your privacy, and lash out at you for being somebody other than who they want you to be, let them go. You don’t even owe them an explanation or a goodbye. Don’t apologize when it isn’t your fault. Don’t apologize for mistakes that you didn’t make. Don’t waste time reflecting on shit that just isn’t worth it. This world is full of people who you will love and who will love you. Don’t settle. You lose part of yourself when you do.”
And then he nods to the crowd and returns to his seat. An older woman takes his place and introduces a passage from her own novel.
“Lessons in love hurt.” She says. “If there was a class for love, nobody would turn up. We’re not lab rats and we’d all prefer to learn without pain. I don’t ever remember feeling like I’d spend life alone after a math class, do you?” 
Despite Jungkook being the most famous author here, he doesn’t get up to speak at all during the night. All he does is listen to the others and clap once they finish reciting their bit. When the event ends and all the rich people have shaken all the other rich people’s hands, he offers to take you somewhere where they serve a lot more than champagne, and you accept without a hesitating thought.
He drives a black camaro and it smells exactly like his aftershave. You don’t bother to ask him where he’s taking you because you trust that he’ll show you a good time. He drives for fifteen minutes down a busy road before turning a corner and continuing down a narrow driveway toward a federal colonial house. The driveway widens five times it’s previous size, making room for at-least twenty decent sized vehicles. He parks among nine other cars and walks toward the large front door with your hand in his; just in case you trip in the dark with those heels on.
Dim, alternating colors of light emit from each of the windows; floor to ceiling on the first floor, and half the size on the second. A huge lawn surrounds the property and is dimly illuminated by outdoor solar lights that are impaled into the soil. Loud, electropop music booms from the walls of the building. You can practically see them shaking in tune with the bass.
“Where is this?” You ask over the volume. Bunches of balloons are fastened around an assortment of topiary bay trees.
“A happy house.” He lets himself in like he’s been here one hundred times before. He has. This is the one place that he won’t ever outgrow. People do every type of drug here, party for three days in a row, and have boatloads of sex. The police don’t bother intervening because too many celebrities are fond of this place and come often. If offered enough money, even the law can turn a blind eye. “You get very happy here, if you know what I mean.”
The air is thicker inside the building and more difficult to breathe in. It doesn’t feel like a home at all. You can smell weed, sweat, sex, and alcohol. The flickering lights illuminate parts of people’s faces and bodies. They’re chatting quietly, touching each-other through and beneath their clothing, smoking cigarettes, and exchanging saliva in the hallway. Some have multicolored hair, streaks of neon paint smeared on their face, missing shirts, cocaine melted into their upper lip, and a light sheen of sweat adorning their skin.
Jungkook takes no notice. He guides you past the bodies in the hallway and toward what looks like a pumped-up, party-haven living room. Two couches sit opposite from one another and in-between a table that’s littered with empty glasses and glow sticks. It’s hard to see much else.
“I was wondering when I’d see you again.” An older woman comes out of nowhere and engulfs Jungkook in a tight hug. She’s wearing a turquoise jumpsuit, lots of jewellery on her wrists and fingers, and bright pink lipstick. The flickering lights make it difficult to make out the true dimensions of her face, but you can tell that she’s very beautiful. She has yellow neon paint smeared down her neck and arms.
“Huifang, Y/N.” Jungkook takes the joint that she offers him and lights it between his lips. The smoke rises to the ceiling and changes color in tune with the lights. “She’s designing my parent’s old people home.”
The woman steps forward and you expect her reach for a hug, but she cups your face and presses a hard kiss against your lips instead. You’re wide eyed when she pulls away, but her smile doesn’t falter. This is definitely a happy house.
“She’s very friendly.. Ever since the divorce.” Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in the light as he laughs. It’s a playful gesture that Huifang returns by nudging his arm.
“Wow.. Yeah.” You pat your lips and check your fingers for her bright pink lipstick.
Somewhere along the flashing lines, Jungkook vanishes beneath the lights and Huifang pulls you down on the the nearest couch. You’ve never been so bewildered in your life. There’s so much going on that you don’t understand, but the three glasses of champagne that you had previously are doing their bit at calming your nerves.
“You’re free here.” She says. “You can do anything around these people; take every kind of drug, have sex on the tables, commit fraud in the hallway. Nobody fucking cares here and I love living this way.”
She points a manicured finger toward two people sat on a dining table chair. Balloons are tied to the legs of the nearby table and confetti litters the floor. A woman, about the same age as Huifang, has the straps of her dress at her hips. She’s hungrily kissing a man whose lap she’s occupied. The flickering lights make what their doing seem slightly more private, but they’re still definitely having sex. There are other people slumped against the wall, some are on the couch, some are cutting up cocaine on the table, some are walking past the couch and into the back garden, where sex is also definitely being had. It all seems very normal here. It’s like a frat party on steroids and Viagra.
“You and I are from the same spaceship. I can tell.” Huifang says, but doesn’t elaborate until she lights a cigarette between her lips and takes a long drag. “Ambitious as hell when shown a little faith.”
“I wasn’t always like this.” She gestures to her styled hair and the expensive rings on her fingers. “I was dirt poor when I had my son and couldn’t even afford to send him to school with lunch like all the other kids. Selfish, right? I got pregnant when I knew I couldn’t take of my own kid. And then it got even harder; I couldn’t afford to pay for his bus tickets when the school fees starting increasing. Something to do with expensive development in the area. That’s when I knew I was in real shit. I thought about pulling him out and teaching him a thing or two around the dinner table, but what the hell do I know? I dropped out of high school to raise him. I couldn’t teach him half the things a decent school could. All I could do was work unstable jobs.”
In the time it takes her to preface her story, her cigarette burns out completely. She takes a new cigarette from the pocket of her turquoise jumpsuit and lights it between her small, pink lips. “Anyways..” She says with a cloud of smoke chasing each syllable. The lights make her dark eyes look like they’re shifting colors.
“I met him during my shift at a bar when I was thirty-two and he was twenty-one. I couldn’t believe how smart and handsome he was. He spoke like he knew the answers to everything.” She doesn’t point to any man, but you know for certain that she’s referring to Jungkook. “He was interested in my life, so I told him everything. I told him how my parents would frown at me for living how I lived. They were rich, but I didn’t want to live off money I didn’t earn. They didn’t understand and scolded me for being selfish. My son wasn’t ever a depressed or spoiled child and he knew the value of money from a very early age. I guess that’s one thing I could teach him.”
“He wrote about me, you know?” She admits. “It’s a complete autobiography, really. He’s a talented writer, always describing things that others wouldn’t have thought to. And he gave me 100% of the profits he made from it. I refused at first, but he insisted that I deserved it.”
You’re so engulfed in her story that you don’t notice when Jungkook takes a seat next to you until his fingers push your hair away from your neck. His hand is smeared in pink neon paint, which is now glowing in a section of your hair. In his other hand is a clear drink. He offers it to you and you smell it; vodka and lemonade. Classy.
“Having fun?” He leans close to your neck so you can hear him over the booming music. “She’s funny, isn’t she?”
“You could say that.”
He watches as you take a leisurely sip of your drink. Your lips are slightly wet and glisten beneath the flashing lights. “Can I ask you something?”
You give him a playful look, the same one you’ve been giving him most of the night, and he responds by placing a hand on your thigh. The silk is smooth against his palm, but so is your skin as he reaches underneath the skirt of your dress. Huifang isn’t sitting next to you when you look for her.
“What’s the worst thing you’ve done?” Jungkook coos against your neck as his fingers dance against your skin. They inch higher and higher as each second passes. The music grows louder.
You’ve had plenty of sex with ex-boyfriends at questionable places, but you haven’t been touched so publicly before, nor have you been so aroused that you’d even allow somebody’s hand to reach any further than your knee.
Your heart slams against your rib cage and you swallow hard. You can’t find the strength to recite your response in anything other than a quiet whisper. You’re no stranger to sex, but you feel like a virgin again. “The worst?”
He can’t hear you. His hand vanishes beneath your dress, now delving beneath the fabric of your panties and running against your wet skin. You sigh at his touch.
The music and chatter has dimmed around you and the only thing your ears listen for is his voice. “The naughtiest.”
Completely void of shame, he eases two fingers into your pussy until his palm is flush against your clit. You instinctively reach for his inner thigh and dig your nails into the fabric of his pants. He moves, slowly pumping his fingers and rubbing his palm firmly against your clit. You’re hazy and light-headed, completely drunk on his touch.
He takes your earlobe between his teeth before pressing a gentle kiss against the sore skin. “I think I can guess.”
You bite back a moan into a whimper that only he hears. Your pussy aches around his fingers and you instinctively push your hips closer toward his touch. He presses a hard kiss against your neck and drags his paint-covered hand from your neck down to your breasts. A trail of neon pink paint vanishes beneath your bra, where he has your nipple between his fingers.
Arousal drools down his skin as he increases the speed of his fingers. Your hips move on their own, circling and following the rhythm of his fingers. A fire grows between your thighs and you have to really, really focus to not drop your drink on the floor and smash the glass.
“That’s pretty naughty.” You can hear the amusement in his voice.
That’s the worst thing you’ve ever done.
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On Saturday, you work yourself to the bone. Jungkook crosses your mind when you’re alone in your bedroom, but you fall asleep before you can do anything about it. On Sunday, though, you just can’t fall asleep. The thought of his touch and the insanely perverted thing you did in that house full of people lingers in your mind. Things like that would usually repulse you, but you can’t help but ache for it again.
Shamelessly, you touch yourself. You run the tip of your vibrator up and down your pussy, spreading your lips and slicking up the toy. You picture the shower scene you had read in his novel; the hand-print on the woman’s thigh, the slapping sounds of wet sex, and the heavy water flowing from the faucet. You picture his fingers rubbing hard against your clit and easing deep into you, just how he had done on Friday night. You picture the dimples in his lower back as he dips in-between your thighs, his wide shoulders, toned abdomen, his voice in your ear. 

A whine falls from your mouth as you delve deeper into your imagination. His sex, his moans, the furrow in his eyebrows when he concentrates on fucking you well, the kisses that he likes to press against your neck. Your back arches off the bed as you draw yourself closer to your climax. You can barely contain yourself. Moans and gasps fill your bedroom. You grasp at the sheets and think of him when you come.
Jungkook sleeps with two women and writes more of his novel; the one inspired by you. His writers block is well and truly being replaced with something far more productive.
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From Monday to Friday, David Woods invites you into his office before you reach your desk in the morning and before you step outside at the end of each day, demanding updates on the rich couple you’re working for. They may be Jungkook’s parents, but they’re your clients. You’re smart enough to know that it’s always best to leave personal-life far, far away from work-life.
“Well?” Woods always begins with.
“Well what?” You always finish with. “They’re happy with how things are progressing.”
Every second of every day, you feel Woods’ ghost looming over your shoulder and yelling ‘don’t fuck this up! make me look good and make me lots of money! more, more, more money!’
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Sunday is supposed to be the day that you can dedicate to yourself and to your peace of mind, but you find it increasingly hard to wind down. No matter how delicious your cocktail is, how warm the summers night is, or how pretty the pool looks as the water glistens beneath the moonlight, you just can’t seem to settle your thoughts.
“Rough day?” A familiar voice calls from his second story home. You don’t need to lift your head to know that Jungkook is hanging out of his window with a glass of whiskey in hand and a handsome smile on his face.
“You have no idea.” You call back, making no effort to meet his gaze. You’re wearing a short summery dress and he likes the look of it.
“Well.” He lifts his glass like he’s making a toast to God himself. “I’d like to have an idea.” 
He invites you over and you hesitantly accept the glass of red wine he pours for you. A gin and tonic would’ve been nice, but he’s keen on you tasting this exclusive bottle of wine. You take a tiny sip and are pleasantly surprised. It’s not vinegary like all the other wines you’ve tasted. It’s floral and soft on your throat.
You tell him everything about your ordeals at work; from the first time you met your boss, to the time he told you not to wear a particular color because it ‘washes you out’, and now to his constant breathing down your neck. You want to leave and create your own business as soon as you can, but you can’t leave a client before construction work begins. You’ll look like a fucking idiot.
It feels good to vent and it feels even better to vent to someone who holds zero judgement toward you. The conversation shifts and you ask about Huifang. He tells you that her son recently received a scholarship for university.
“What’s your favorite color?” Jungkook asks as he refills your wine glass for the third time that night.
“Why do you ask?”
He’s amused at your sudden defensiveness. Is it that bad? “Trying to get to know you.”
“I don’t have one.” You say without giving it a single thought. It’s such a simple question, but you don’t want to answer it. There’s something much more intimate about telling somebody your favorite color than, for example, drawing them a labelled diagram of your vagina and asshole. You don’t want to be that kind of intimate. Not now.
“Fine.” He says, smile not faltering. “Mine’s blue.”
You decide to ask him a question of your own; one that you’ve been meaning to ask since that night at the bar. “Nothing in this world bothers you, does it?”
“Things bother me.” He admits. “But I see no point in hanging onto things that I can’t change.”
When midnight strikes, you announce your departure. You pick up the bottle of red wine and make a rightful request. “Mind if I take this? It’s better than I thought.”
“Help yourself.”
You leave and he rolls himself a tight joint. His personal phone rings from the kitchen counter and he picks up after five rings.
“Yes?” He asks, wholly uninterested.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” A pretty female voice murmurs through the receiver. “I’m a few hours behind, so I’m sorry for calling you so late at night.”
His joint hangs loosely from the side of his mouth, the filter growing slightly damp. It crosses his mind that this woman behind the phone may be his first love, but that thought leaves his mind as quickly as it comes. He changed his phone number multiple times to avoid a handful of others, so how could it be? “Who is this?”
“You forgot me already?” Her laugh rings in his ears like a high school bell. It is her. Only she has that laugh. It’s beautiful, but also sort of villainous. “How long has it been? three years?”
“I don’t keep track of time anymore.”
“Because you’re so rich, right? Nothing really matters to you anymore. You can do whatever you want.” He can picture her rolling her eyes so clearly in his mind. That was something she often did when she disapproved. “Money is a nice feeling.”
He doesn’t say anything, too taken aback by the exact same person who used him up like a favorite lipstick three years back. He doesn’t understand why she called him.
“I read your novel, by the way. The one about me.” She cuts the silence with a softer tone. “You made me look a lot better than I’ve been. Why?”
He lights the tip of the joint with an old, silver lighter and inhales the smoke deeply into his lungs. The smoke chases his response and then vanishes into the air. “No hard feelings, right? We agreed on that.”
“Did you mean it?” She switches the topic at the very moment he notices the lights to your bedroom flick on. “When you said you’d always love me? Wait for me?”
“I meant it then.” He admits, his vision and mind softening. He checked out of the conversation just moments before. “But that was then.”
And then he hangs up, eyes on the gentle light emitting from your home. Unbeknownst to him, his heart isn’t stuck in the radio waves that momentarily connected him to his past, it’s in that bottle of wine you took, in your hands, in his future.
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You work like you always do. Jungkook crosses your mind, but it’s far too often for your liking. It concerns you how he easily he can creep into your mind while you’re sitting at your desk, waiting in line for a coffee, or driving home. You always look at his house before pulling up to your own. This isn’t seeming like a no-strings-attached arrangement anymore and that bothers you.
Jungkook is presented with countless opportunities, but he doesn’t sleep with anyone during the time spent away from you. He touches himself to the thought of you a few times; a clear picture of your face in his mind as he runs his fingers over his skin. He can’t help it, but he doesn’t quite know why. He wonders what you get up to at work and if your boss has backed off yet. He hates wondering.
You don’t speak for almost three weeks and that irks him. He writes a lot of his novel in that time, but it’s not enough to ease his mind. He wants to see you, to listen to you ramble about your life, to see that bashful smile. He calls you on a Tuesday night, but you don’t answer. He calls you on a Friday night and you answer after six rings.
“Where have you been?”
“Working.” You hate the effect that his voice has on you. “Where have you been?”
“Working. Wanna hang out?” He asks because he wants to touch you and you agree because you want to touch him, too.
For a change, he knocks on your door and you have sex in your house. The sex is just as good and dirty as it had been the last time, maybe even better; he pulls your hair, pushes his fingers in your mouth, and slaps your ass as he fucks you from behind. He makes you come twice, makes you say his name, and ties your wrists with your own panties. You lick his cock from the base to the tip and coat his skin with your saliva. You hollow your cheeks, swirl your tongue, and run your tongue along his slit, and he fucks your throat until tears prick at the corner of your eyes. The both of you let completely loose and crumble beneath each-other’s touch, but when all is said and done, you immediately start searching for your clothes.
“Are you avoiding me?” He asks as he watches you step back into your panties. He’s laying back on your bed, naked, with a hand resting under his head.
This is where he had his heart broken for the first time; not with his dick out, although, that does come to mind whenever he reminisces, but after being avoided for a period of time. He remembers what his ex said to him; ‘I’m moving away. Away from this fucking city. I’ll call you.’ And then he let her. He let her glance at him only once, get on that flight, and leave his heart on the runway. But he’s not a total idiot. He picked it up and shoved it back into his chest where it should’ve stayed and where healing only comes with time. Even after publishing his first novel, he still felt alone. Money, fame, and sex isn’t everything. He was missing a kind of company where he was allowed to be flawed. And then he met you. You let him say the wrong things, drink too much on a night out, have messy and imperfect sex, and express dissatisfaction even toward his wealthy lifestyle.
You hesitate before answering. Have you been avoiding him? You couldn’t say. You’ve definitely been running from thoughts of him. “No, why?”
“Don’t know. Maybe you’re not.” He doesn’t pull his eyes away from your frantic movements. “I like spending time with you, so it sucks that I can’t see you more often.”
To you, he’s just another contact in your phone book. To him, you’re just company that he’s very fond of. That’s what you’ve convinced yourselves, at-least. Maybe you were both raised the same way; taught to not put yourself in risky situations unless they’ll bring you success and fortune. Emotions are messy and complicated, and feelings of heartbreak aren’t worth the trouble. Sex is fun, but falling in-love isn’t. You go from occasionally thinking about a person, to becoming a vessel for their entire existence. You’ll no longer put yourself first and that can be a dangerous thing. After sex, you can just get up and leave. But, when you’re in-love, it stays with you no matter how far you run.
“I’ve just been busy.” You say. It’s not a lie. “You know how it gets.”
“Yeah, I do.” He grins at you and you feel a huge wave of guilt wash over you. Why is he such a nice fucking guy? Why do you never want to see that smile leave his face?
You can’t hold it in much longer, so you just let it all out. You need to make sense of this. “This is just a friendship, right? We’re clearly friends, but then there’s all of this sex. Really good sex, don’t get me wrong..”
Jungkook knows that he has love for you, but he’s not in-love with you. He could be, though, and that’s something that intrigues him. If you would just look into his eyes a little differently and let him see past the shades of your iris’, he knows that he could fall in-love. Seeing you stand in front of him, now, with nothing on but panties and his shirt makes him wonder. He’s seen what’s beneath, but he hasn’t seen much of what’s even deeper. You don’t talk when you don’t want to. You don’t let yourself be wholly vulnerable around him.
“Why wouldn’t we be friends?” He realizes how that sounds as soon as he says it. You’re just trying to draw the lines and he’s really fucking awful at coloring within them.
“Okay. Let’s agree on friends.. Just to be clear.” You hold out your hand like you’re offering him a life-changing deal. It may not be life-changing, but it’s definitely a one-way deal. How can he refuse? If he does, he’ll lose you completely. If he agrees, he’ll lose you in the way he wants you, but you’ll still be around.
This has happened before, something similar at-least. He should’ve seen it coming, but he gets so lost in your eyes and lost in the way your voice envelopes all of his senses. This is how his life will continue to be; others will do great things and he will be the messenger. Willingly, of course. There’s something quite intriguing about being the pawn in another person’s self-discovery plan. Besides, he’s not leaving empty handed; he gets another plot for his next novel. He gets to feel whatever pain he feels and he’ll make millions out of it. People will do just about anything to succeed in this world, whether it be playing the devil or the fool. Both warrant profit and a status of some kind. 
He wants to ask if you’re sure, but who is he to question your choices? He doesn’t know what goes on in your head, what’s best for you, or how you truly feel about him. Some may say that he deserves to know, but he doesn’t. Nobody in this world is entitled to your thoughts, your body, or your time, no matter what they’ve done for you.
His expression shifts to one of amusement — like he’s saying ‘well played’ — as he takes your hand and shakes on it. You’re one hell of a woman, the most intriguing one he’s even met. There are layers to you that are never-ending, depths that are too dark for him to see in. And, until you hand him a torch bright enough, he’ll appreciate the things that you do decide to show him. “Friends, whatever you want.”
No matter how much it hurts, nobody can force what isn’t meant to be. Maybe time will change the story, but for now, everything is how it’s supposed to be. He won’t force any of his feelings onto you and that’s what will make him a good friend. You’ll just look at each-other, exactly how you’re doing right now, with tight lips. You’ll share the warmth of each-other’s palms and bathe in the silence until somebody picks up their pride and makes the easier decision.
Just because two people love each-other, even in the most platonic way, it doesn’t mean that they’re meant to be together. For some, pain is pleasure. For others, pain is pain, and they have a habit of letting it go along with the person who sparked the feeling. Life is a cycle of giving and receiving pain, but it’s also a cycle of giving and receiving love. Without pain, nobody would know love, and vice versa. 
But, before he can pull his eyes away from yours and be the one to leave, to make that easy decision, you give him that very look; the look that makes him fall in-love with you.
“Purple.” You say, holding onto his hand like it’s keeping you afloat. You feel like you might lose him forever if you let go, like you might drown in the most painful way. You don’t want him to leave. “That’s my favorite color.”
He doesn’t say a word, far too afraid of missing one of yours.
“Not a hickey-colored purple, more like a lilac.” Your eyes are wide and desperate. To be friends isn’t what you want, even if it’s what you said. You know that you’ll never feel what he makes you feel with any other person. Maybe he’ll break your heart into a million pieces, or maybe you’ll break his, but you wouldn’t want anyone else to do it. You’ll never trust somebody like you trust him and that’s important to you. “I didn’t like wine until you poured me some, daises spark up my allergies, my parents have been separated for nine years, but can’t be bothered to divide their assets, so, technically, they’re still married. My friends and I have a Sex and the City marathon every Christmas..”
What happens that same night is unlike anything either of you have ever experienced before. Shut off from others and believing that you are the only two people awake in this big, messy world right now, you allow yourselves to fall completely, deeply, and unconditionally in-love with each-other. There’s nowhere else that you’d rather be than in his arms, sharing what seems like pointless things about yourself; your experience in college, what you were like when you were a kid, your favorite foods, your favorite music, your worst habits. You laugh, you cry, you run your fingers through his hair and kiss him tenderly. You tell him that you love him because you know that you do, and he tells you that he loves you because it’s impossible for him not to.
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You succeed in your own studio because that’s what you put your mind, body, and soul towards. You rarely question your identity, femininity, and self-worth, but when you do, you take a step back and take a long look at the empire you’ve amassed for yourself. You cry when you need to, you scream at the ocean when things bottle up, you have the filthiest sex with Jungkook and let him kiss every inch of your skin when you want to be touched, and you allow yourself to be wholly vulnerable with the people that love you. You take a look at the kind friends you’ve made, the supportive clients, investors, and even those who despise you in silence.
And, on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, you take a good look at a newspaper article displayed behind the window of a news agency: David Woods, former CEO of Woods Architecture Studio, is under fire for subjecting his employees to bizarre company policies, underpaying, and failing to provide adequate training and feedback opportunities to female employees.
The article displayed on the following newspaper makes you smile just as wide: Jeon Jungkook, author and new-found owner of a whiskey distillery, sold more than one million copies of his new novel in the first seven days, and has achieved the title of Best Selling Author for the third year in a row.
You might be thinking to yourself: did he ever write that odd, sex-filled erotica novel about me? The answer is yes. You just read it.
Thanks for reading!
taglist — @zeharilisharaban @ayumimegami @philostuff @carolsummerlove @piaesthetic @viokook @bangtan-serendipity @kookie-monsteur @codeinebelle @jeon-ggukkie @prdshobi @kookoo-kachoo @goldenlilyz @chiminies-noona @callmeyourstarrynight @minbinwhore @jiminxjimout @rjsmochii @waves-and-woods @dayjeons @hip-hop-phile @preciouschimine @kookiesdoe @min-nicoleee @jungc0ck @kuuuuroo @boraength @vantesday @shrimpmsg @bbydoejk @syazkook @bts-junseagull @tae165 @bangtanforeverxxx7 @cupidguk​ @lilacrosebud​ @lovrboyjk​ @busansonenonly @marcoazz2
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sparklingchim · 4 months ago
drown in your body; m | jjk
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pairing: werewolf!jungkook x human!reader
rating: 18+
word count: 6.1k
genre: alpha!jk, werewolf au, smut, friends to lovers
warnings: dom!jk, sub!reader, dirty talk, groping, spanking, name calling (bitch) fingering, oral (f receiving), impreg/breeding kink, possessiveness, jk is massive, knotting, multiple orgasms, slight choking
summary: You're ovulating - and oblivious to it - and Jungkook, the best friend he is, wants to protect you. But because you're a brat and never listen anyway, you do the exact opposition of what Jungkook advised you to do... And somehow it all ends up with Jungkook fucking you.
a/n: i may have listened to 'drown' by baekhyun while writing this heheee 🤭
Jungkook is your best friend.
But as much as you love your best friend, sometimes - maybe a little bit more than only sometimes - your love is equally freighted with hate.
You just don't know why he's acting so haughty sometimes and thinks that whatever nonsense spills out of his mouth is the best and right thing to do. Well, he is a werewolf - an alpha werewolf to state it correctly - but still, it's not like Jungkook and you aren't friends since you both were little, so Jungkook is undoubtedly aware of that you don't care whatever alpha male shit he is confronting you with.
Take for example this situation right now - Jungkook is pulling that stupid alpha shit on you, behaving like he knows everything better and has to take care of you like you're his younger sister and ew, that perception is just  gross.
,,But I want to come with you," you pout, eyebrows stubbornly furrowed.
,,I don't care," Jungkook simply answers, pushing your hand away that you stretched out to straighten his bangs.
You huff at his annoyed attitude and turn around to open your dorm room with your keys. ,,Why can't I come?" you ask, still not understanding why he doesn't want you to come to the party.
Jungkook picked you up from your late afternoon class and walked you to your dorm. When you asked him if he had something planned for today he said he was going to the party later and of course you asked if you could join him, but to your surprise he rejected you. Without a reason. Jungkook thinks he's being all protective - over what you don't know, because you've been with him to a lot of parties already - but to you he talked gibberish for the past ten minutes while you walked to your dorm and not one single reasonable sentence came out of him.
You turn around when the door opens, pushing the it wider so Jungkook can come in, but he is just standing in front of the entrance, not indicating to follow you inside.
,,You're not coming inside?"
,,I told you that I would go over to the frat house," Jungkook retorts, perplexing you.
,,The party won't start until a few hours though."
,,I know, but the boys and I are gonna meet there now."
,,Okay, then I'll come over later."
Jungkook flares his nostrils, trying to calm himself with taking a deep breath. ,,Why is it so hard for you to just obey me when I tell you something?"
,,What the hell, Jungkook? I'm not your bitch that you can boss around." Normally Jungkook had more patience with you than he has now - though you're behaving like a brat for the most of times - and doesn't let his anger overcome him.
,,It's better for you if you stay home today, y/n," he says calmer, your reaction telling him that he may have been too rough with you.
You roll your eyes. ,,What kind of bullshit is that? You know, just- just tell me if you don't want to have me around, Jungkook."
,,When did I say that? Stop putting words into my mouth, y/n."
,,It certainly feels that way."
,,But really, do you think just because we're best friends we have to be with each other all the time?"
,,So you're admitting that the only reason you don't want me to come is because you don't want me around because you want some alone time with your friends? Am I too clingy for you?" You arch an eyebrow, pretending to sound accusatory, but inside you're supposition that you have of your friendship is crumbling under uncertainty as you take Jungkook's words into consideration.
Are you really clingy? Are you not letting him have time with his friends, because your practically occupying his whole free time? You never thought about this, it never hit your mind that Jungkook could find your annoying or clingy, because he never implied anything when he was with you. You both grew up like this though, always being with each other, literally almost always spending the night over at each others places.
However, right now everything seems quite the opposite.
,,I didn't say that," Jungkook tries to clarify, but it doesn't sound convincing.
,,Sure you didn't."
Jungkook is visibly piqued at your persistent doubts that you exhibit towards him, but you don't care about how your words are affecting him, because your focus is on defending yourself and not letting him treat you like this - he's your best friend after all, he shouldn't be out here treating you like your his bitch that he can command.
,,Stop fucking acting like this," Jungkook says, clenching his jaw.
,,Yeah your right, sorry for wanting to spent some time with you. Your friends are probably waiting for you," you retort pertly. You don't give him a chance to reply anything to you as you shut the door right in front of his face. A triumphant feeling bubbles inside of you, though it might seem a bit childish, but you don't care.
,,Y/n," he growls from the other side, but you just turn on your heels and enter your kitchen to eat something. Food seems much more important than an annoying Jungkook who can't keep his stupid alpha behaviour under control.
A few hours later you're at the frat house.
Though Jungkook told you to not visit, his reasons - were there even any reasons? - were inscrutable, so you didn't give a damn about what he said to you and decided to come over anyways.
You're not aware of where Jungkook is, but that shouldn't matter because you're not here because of him. You're here to have fun and no to meet Jungkook.
After you get yourself a drink there's already a guy - named Hoseok - who approached you and starts a conversation with you. You know that he's a werewolf, he's in a few of your classes but you never really talked to him. Most werewolfs get scared off by the heavy alpha smell that always lingers on you - the outcome of being with Jungkook 24/7. The students here didn't dare to hit on you-sometimes even too afraid of approaching you to just talk to you. They either smell the alpha scent on you or they're aware of Jungkook and you being close, so they decide for the safer option and don't reach out to you. You have some friends, most of them female though, and making new friends was getting harder every day.
However, you're surprised that the usual keeping distance from you doesn't apply for today, because lots of people approach you and try to get your attention.
You're currently in the middle of talking to Jimin, when someone clears his throat beside you. You gasp in shock and turn your head to be met with Jungkook's brown orbs, already staring at you. A perfectly shaped eyebrow is arched and his buff arms are folded in front of him.
Jungkook seems to be...angry. And to call his impression to be angry was an understatement. He looked...Yeah, you don't even know how to describe it, because Jungkook never looked at you like that. He never seemed to be angry at you - well, yes, sometimes over petty things, but not to that extent - and you simply are at loss of words.
His tongue is prodding at the insides of his mouth and if it wasn't for the furious expression he grants you with, you would have concentrated on his hotness and fantasised about what else his tongue is able to do. Jungkook looks so utterly beguiling when he is angry, but not when his rage is pointed at you.
It didn't take long for Jungkook to notice that you're somewhere in this dwelling - despite him explicitly telling you not to come, but of course you still came over since your whole entity exudes brattiness so it's no wonder that you didn't listen to his demand - and it also didn't take a lot of time for him to make out your exact location - the house is practically getting drowned in your scent.
,,What are you doing here?" Jungkook asks, his gaze fully locked on yours and not even sparing a glance at Jimin - who's slowly taking little steps to the side to get away from Jungkook and the scene that's about to unravel...
,,I don't think that's any of your business."
Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head.
,,You are so stupid, aren't you?"
,,Just leave me alone. I'm not even here with you, so have fun with your friends," you say and want to brush him off and walk to the living room, but Jungkook grabs your wrist and doesn't let you go.
,,Where do you think you're going?" he asks with his deep voice.
,,Away from you," you answer and try to wiggle his hand off your wrist, but he doesn't budge.
,,Being with me is probably gonna be the safest now," he grumbles and suddenly he starts walking, dragging you along with him.
You're out of the frat house, walking down the street and you're so confused as to why he reacted like that. Sure, you ignored his words from earlier, but dragging you out of the fucking frat house? That was too much.
,,What is wrong with you Jungkook?!"
He turns around, eyes big and full with anger.
,,What's wrong with me? Really?"
You knit your eyebrows together. ,,You're fucking towing me out of the party like I'm some five year old kid. Get your shit together, Jungkook!" you almost scream at him and your thankful that nobody is around.
,,Why don't you get your shit together? Why are you fucking blaming me?!"
,,What are you taking about?" you ask confused, Jungkook makes absolutely no sense today.
,,Didn't your parents teach you this, y/n?" Jungkook hisses, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
,,Teach me what?" you obliviously ask.
,,That you shouldn't be walking around horny frat boy werewolfs with no care in the world when you are fucking fertile!"
Lips parting you try to get a coherent sentence out of you, but no words spill out of your mouth - just silence hanging between the two of you, his chide completely threw you off.
You absolutely did not expect this. How could you though? (Perhaps if you would keep track of your fertility, but documenting your period on the app on your phone was already annoying enough so you never cared about anything else. Stupid you.)
,,I- I didn't know...," you say abashed.
,,Of course you didn't know." Jungkook's voice is still laced with irritation, he tries to suppress the growing anger inside him, but it doesn't work. Your intoxicating smell is fully wrapped around him, even stronger than when he picked you up from your classes earlier this day. And the fact that you didn't listen to him - didn't listen to his demand though the only purpose of everything he does is to protect you - infuriates him so much.
Sometimes Jungkook really asked himself how he was able to stay with you for so long, because your impish attitude gave him a hard time for hundredths of times already. But the simply answer to that is love. His love that is allocated for you ebbs every annoying thing away, lets it crumble into something meaningless and reminds him about his deep feelings for you, because no matter how tough it is with you sometimes - Jungkook would do everything for you. He'd do everything to meet all of your desires and arouse that sweet little smile that you flash him every time you're fond of his actions.
The simplicity of love surprised him sometimes. The simple way of having such intense feeling for someone that bewitch him into not hesitating for anything he does for you, never spending a second thought about his actions - as long as it pertains your welfare he would do anything to make you happy. But that's what love does to you, Jungkook thinks. And if that's what being in love with you is like, Jungkook would never get tired of it. Making you happy is the equivalent to making Jungkook happy.
,,Let's just get you home. Your smell was giving everyone a hard time back there," Jungkook says, voice finally calm - though it sounded strained.
Usually when you're ovulating Jungkook tries to be as close to you as possible, allowing no other male person to have any intrusive thoughts and thinking about approaching you. He also makes sure to stay either at your or his place when your scent is the strongest. Throughout the whole procedure of keeping you away from horny werewolfs - whom primal insticts would get the better hand of them if it wasn't for Jungkook protecting you - it was excruciatingly painful to be with you when the aroma of your fertile pussy is flying in the air. But he always kept his itching finger away from you. As long as you don't have a partner to do this job for him, he would be the one keeping you safe. (Though you being in a relationship with someone would probably not change anything about his constant need of protecting you and making sure that you're okay.)
You still have a hard time adjusting to the fact that you came over to the frat house, getting surprised by all the boys suddenly approaching you, but now you know that they only hit you up because you are ovulating, which finally brings some sense into the atypical situation.
,,But let's keep some distance between us. It's hard to hold back," Jungkook confesses. He pondered about saying this, but he wants you to know that your ovulating indeed has consequences that are also affecting him.
You weren't prepared for his sudden admission - yes, he is a werewolf, you know that, but you didn't think he would openly confess that your current that effects him. Nevertheless, you like it. You like having the knowledge of him having a difficult time because of you. Because there's an elusive desire in him and you're the cause of it. It would be a lie if you would say that you didn't relish in the feeling of having that power over him, which also leads you to feel more confident, causing a questions to pop up inside your mind.
You take a step closer to Jungkook, reducing the desirable between you, despite of what Jungkook said a minute ago.
Your heart drums inside your chest, your lungs tightening and effecting your steady breathing. Desperately you try to calm your nerves, knowing that Jungkook can hear your heartbeat, is able to notice your whole change in your demeanour, but you don't succeed with your attempt and rather flood your body with more excitement.
Regardless of his skills and the knowledge of the obvious exhilaration that builds up in you, Jungkook stays quite and waits for your answer. He won't dare to cross a line and put you off - you're way too precious for him.
,,What if I don't want you to hold back?"
Your words add more tension in the already buzzing air, holding so much power in them.
,,What if I want you to fuck me?"
,,Y/n...," he warns.
Maybe you would've felt insecure after that insensible answer to your confession, but his lust filled eyes tell you enough to make you doubtless - facilitated even, because for how long did you hide your crush on Jungkook now? (you clearly remember the day when Jungkook joined the baseball team in school and suddenly his body became all buff and big, his usual adorable look vanishing and being replaced with something so manly and attractive that made all the girls in school gush over him. And maybe his bulkier body and the confidence he gained through all the attention that he got - though a lot of people already had a crush on him before that - provoked the crush you developed on him.)
,,I mean it, Jungkook."
,,You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he tries to alert you, wanting to let you know that once you both would get started he won't be able to urge his primal instincts back.
Again you step closer to him, wrapping your hands around his neck and trailing your eyes over his soft lips, the wait trail that his tongue left there a second ago glistening under the glow of the moon that is high up in the sky.
Jungkook can't stop himself, the close proximity of your body instantly drawing him to your neck and he nuzzles his face into your soft skin, your aroma hitting his nostrils and he growls against your skin.
,,I want you," you whisper.
Oh God. How long had Jungkook waited to hear these words from you? He wants you for so many years now, the desire to stuff you full of his cock has been inside him for too long.
And when you start placing soft little smooches on his neck, it's over for Jungkook. He won't be able to resist you this time.
,,You're absolutely sure?"
,,Aren't you literally able to smell how wet I am right now?"
,,No, because your fucking fertile cunt outweighs every other smell," Jungkook snarls, his eyes twinkling in a light red colour as his primal instincts to breed you right then and there get the better hand of him.
And that's how you end up in Jungkook's bed - both your bodies left with just your underwear - only a few minutes after.
He's pinning you down, his big and muscular body caging you under him, his lips hungrily moving against yours and tangling his tongue with you. It's messy and fast and uncoordinated, but as long as it's Jungkook, everything feels amazing.
While his mouth trails down to your jawline his hand cups your tit, squeezing the soft flesh before harshly tugging your bra down and tweaking your already hard nipple. You whine at the pleasurable plain, your whine turning into a moan when he starts sucking your neck and soon slightly sinks his teeth into your skin. Jungkook soothes his bites with his tongue, placing a few reassuring kisses before he moves on.
He fully neglects your tits as he ducks down, he would worship your body more, but right now there's just one place that he wants to be and that's your fertile little pussy. His whole mind is clouded just because of your addicting smell and he can't prolong his craving any longer.
He settles himself between your open legs, discarding your wet panties in one swift motions. Your leaking pussy is just a few centimetres away from his mouth. Jungkook sniffs at your pussy, taking long and deep breaths through his nose to devour the whiff of your fertility.
,,Fuck, you're pussy is so ready to get filled with cum, isn't it?" he asks, his index finger gliding over your cunt. Jungkook bites his lip when he takes the sight of your sticky arousal on his finger in, pulling his digit away to see how long the string of your arousal will go. ,,Fucking look at this." He's so mesmerised by your pussy, his eyes trained on your wetness. His other hand roughly squeezes your thigh, his fingers digging into you flesh. Jungkook sucks his digit clean before pushing both of your thighs up. ,,Hold them up," he instructs and you immediately comply, bending your legs and holding them to your chest.
Jungkook dives right in, his mouth sucking and slurping on your juices, completely surprising you with his tempo. His wicked tongue darts out, rapidly toying with your clit while moans and whimpers spill out of you. His ministrations only cause your pussy to get wetter and wetter, but Jungkook is quick to drink it all down, desperately searching for all your juices that you can offer him.
His hands sneak up to your tits, fondling with the straps of your bra before impatience overcomes him when he can't seem to get the fabric away to see your beautiful full breasts in their full splendour, so he rips your bra into two pieces, throwing both of them away.
,,What the fuck, Jungkook?" you manage to say, suppressing a moan.
,,I'll buy you a new one," he mumbles against your core. Though you're really mad at him, you can't pretend like Jungkook murmuring words against your pussy with his deep voice isn't turning you on.
,,Don't think you will tho," you retort, eyebrows furrowed as you feel the blood inside you sizzle in pleasure.
,,Want me to take you to Victoria Secret tomorrow? I'll get you everything you want, baby."
Oh fuck. Just the thought of Jungkook pampering you with sexy lingerie only excites you.
,,I'd fucking love to."
Jungkook hums against your core, the vibrations of his low tone sending another wave of arousal through you and you're so close to coming undone.
,,Now shush, I'm gonna make you cum now." His big hands knead your tits, fingers grazing over your buds before teasingly pulling them. You whine and moan and shake beneath Jungkook, everything he's doing feels so great.
His mouth latches onto your clit, sucking at your bundle of nerves at the same time as he plunges two fingers inside you. You moans when he starts moving his digits inside you, expertly crooking them and finding you sweet spot within seconds.
,,Oh!" you moan loud.
Jungkook looks up at you, enjoying the view of your beautiful face twisted into pure euphoria.
,,Gonna cum now," you warn him.
Jungkook hums again, the vibrations completely sending you off and throwing you into another dimension. You roll your eyes, your fingers digging into the back of your thighs. The motions of his fingers stop and your pussy starts grinding on its own on Jungkook's face, riding your high out as Jungkook cleans your cum smeared folds up, licking your sticky cunt clean before he withdraws himself and his fingers from it. You let go from the grip on your legs and they fall limb on Jungkook's bed.
,,That was so goddamn hot," he whispers kissing his way up to your face.
You're still panting crazily, but that doesn't stop you from wanting more.
,,You're gonna fuck me now?"
,,Such a fucking bitch," he curses. ,,You're really desperate to get bred by me, aren't you? You want me to fill you up so good and full of cum, huh?"
,,Shit, yes. Yes, Jungkook."
You notice his glance to your pussy and then to his night stander where his condoms probably are.
,,I have an IUD," you tell him before he's able to ask. He nods, and kisses you briefly before he pulls his briefs down, throwing the fabric across his room. Then he sits back on his heels, stroking his hard dick in slow movements.
Jungkook is huge. You'd already fantasised about his big size, but you never imagined it to be this massive.
You bite finger while your thought, captivated by his enormous length.
You're a bit intimidated by Jungkook's size and he immediately picks up on your hesitance, reassuring you with soft spoken words and loving strokes on your body.
,,We can stop right now, but once I get inside you I can't promise to be gentle," he truthfully informs you, giving you the opportunity to back out, but you're way too turned on right now to not allow Jungkook to fuck you hard and deep just like you need it.
,,No, I want this. Want your cock inside me and filling me with your cum. Please." Your voiced is laced in desperation and longing for his cock and Jungkook wouldn't let you pass another minute without his dick stuffed inside your tight pussy.
,,You want me to breed you so fucking bad, huh? You're so filthy." He bores his fingers into your hip, his mind fully misted over with your suffocated scent and his primal instincts to fuck his pups inside you. In the next second Jungkook flips you over, holding your hips up and you naturally steady yourself on your elbows, arching your back for him. 
He glides his cock over your slick folds, his tip gathering every bit of your juices that stick on your pussy. After he lubricated your entrance with your wetness, he nudges his tip slowly in, hands grazing over your sides to calm your senses as he plunges his length deeper inside you, leisurely sinking into your heat till he's fully buried in your warm core. You weren't aware of the breath you were holding in, but when his whole cock deep inside you, you let out a shaky wheeze.
,,What a beautiful bitch you are. Taking my cock so well," Jungkook praises and your insides flutter at his comment.
Jungkook presses soft kisses over your spine, continuing to pamper your body with gentleness before he would start fucking you like he truly wants, but at the same time his affectionate gestures allow him to calm himself down, suppressing the zeal that is going to overtake his body once he makes sure of your wellbeing.
,,You can move now, Gguk," you say, a little moan escaping your mouth after feeling him shuffle behind you and his length mildly moving inside.
Jungkook bottoms out, only letting the tip in before he thrusts forward again, moaning in unison when your tight walls are wrapped around his thick member. Just when Jungkook gracefully moves into you, he knows that he won't be able to control his animalistic behaviour, your tight pussy feels too good to let him have a sober mind.
He has no patience to build up a fast rhythm by going slow at first, Jungkook has to fuck you hard and deep, he wants to make you both cum and spill his seed inside you and let everyone smell his cum on you. He wants everyone to know that your his and no one else's.
You whimper, his cock stretching you out so delicately and reaching spots that no one else ever touched.
,,You like getting fucked like this, don't you?" His condescending tone sends shivers down your spine, making your body scream for more. And Jungkook is good in giving you more, his pace evolves into a more rapid and ferocious one, letting you think of nothing but his cock ramming inside you. ,,Answer me, bitch," he demands.
,,Y-yes, love it. Love it so much, Jungkook," you mewl.
,,Who am I?" he asks though gritted teeth, intently waiting for your answer.
,,Jungkook." You know that this probably wasn't the answer he wanted to coax out of you, but your mind is too busy with dealing with the unceasing pleasure that rushes through.
,,Wrong," he tsks, his hand harshly landing on your ass. You hiss at the sting, mind searching for what Jungkook wants to hear, but you can't come up with something.
,,I'm your alpha, you hear me? I'm your fucking alpha and you're my little bitch." Jungkook spanks you again before gripping your ass with both his hands.
,,You're my alpha, I'm yours, I belong to you," you frantically pant and blurt these words out, but you really mean them - they're not just trivial words you say to make him feel better. You belong to Jungkook, it has never been otherwise.
,,That's right. Your alpha is gonna breed you, hm? I'm gonna shoot my cum into your womb and fuck you till your full with my pups. You would love that, wouldn't you?
,,Fuck, yes. Wanna carry your babies," you moan. Your elbows give in and you press your cheek against Jungkook's bed. He groans when the images of you being big and round fill his mind and Jungkook loves it, he adores the thought of everyone knowing that your his and he's yours so fucking much.
,,Everyone's gonna know that your mine, that your round and full with my pups," he growls lowly.
They already know that Jungkook and you belong to each other - and Jungkook is fully aware of that too because he purposefully scents you every time your both have to go somewhere without one another.
Jungkook leans over, nuzzling his face on the juncture between shoulder and neck.
,,Smell so fucking good," he mumbles, low pants filling your ears and clouding your mind.
The familiar knot magnifies inside you again and you clutch the sheets, knuckles going white because of the tight hold.
,,You're gonna cum, aren't you? You're gonna cum for your alpha." Jungkook draws back again, his gaze locked on you ass jiggling due to the harsh snaps of his hips and reveling in the sounds of your slick pussy getting pounded by his cock.
You nod hastily nod, the tight feeling inside high approaching fast and clogging your mind with thoughts of finally experienced your high that you seek for so desperately,
The constantly sprouting wave finally threatens to erupt with a sudden intensity. And when it ultimately does, it shatters your body into profound delectation, your whole body shuddering as it overflows with pleasure that you've never felt before.
Jungkook's boundless lunges into your pulsating heat let you see scintillating stars when your eyes screw shut, little whimpers and whines leaving your mouth.
,,Fuuckk, that's right. Cum on my cock like the good little bitch you are," he groans, watching how you nuzzles your face further into his mattress and muffling your loud moans. He slides his hands across your sides, giving you a few affectionate strokes.
Tears prick in your eyes, your head comfortable laying on the sheets and your cheek pressed snugly on it. Your heart thunders inside your chest. Your whole body felt drained and tired but at the same time you never felt so much delight and euphoria fill your body, your toes curling at all the overwhelming feelings that flooded your body all at once.
,,Shit, your pussy is so tight baby. So greedy to milk everything out of me," Jungkook curses and one hand crashes against your ass, coaxing a whine out of you. ,,I'm gonna breed you - fuck, I'm gonna fill you up with my cum."
Jungkook opts for really hard thrusts now, your body jolting forwards as he does, but he instantly pulls your back by your hips, having a secure grip on holding your body firmly on your spot.
,,You're my dirty little bitch aren't you? Only mine - you're my bitch, right?"
,,Uh-huh, I'm yours - I'm your bitch," you retort with a tired voice, but his current state rubs off on you, slowly coaxing you out of your little bubble and shooting fire inside you again.
Your answer gets Jungkook more of. He ducks down again, one hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing his fingers around your sweaty skin. Jungkook is lost inside your body, absolutely lost in the way your fertile cunt was spasming around him and trying to milk him out.
,,Want me to breed you? Do you want me to fuck my pups into you?" he pants, his digits pushing further into you throat.
,,Please Jungkook, please fill me up," you beg, tilting your head so you're able to look at him. And fuck, you've never seen him that gorgeous before. His dampened curly hair hangs on his forehead, his whole body covered in a layer of sweat, some droplets streaming down his neck and his temple. Eyebrows scrunched together and his lips secured in his teeth, his jolts get sloppier the closer he gets to his climax.
,,I'm so fucking close," he mutters and draws closer to slightly bites down your shoulder.
,,Breed me, Jungkook. Breed me till I'm swollen with your pups inside me."
Your words spur him on, a deep animalistic growl leaving his mouth before you feel him painting your clenching walls white, shooting his cum so deep inside you that you feel it spurting past your cervix. Jungkook's cock twitches inside you a few times and he lets out a deep moan, continuing slow strokes till he completely stops.
Not soon after that the base of his cock starts swelling, stretching your even wider as his size grows bigger. A few more spurts of his cum squirts inside you. You whine at the new feeling, squirming beneath him.
,,Shh, it's fine, baby," he soothes you, slowly guiding both your bodies on your sides when his knot infatuated to its full size.
A few tears roll down your cheeks and Jungkook quickly swipes them away with his thumb, cupping your cheek and placing a soft smooch on your nose.
,,You did so well, baby," Jungkook whispers, combing his fingers through your hair. ,,So well." His gentle voice pacifies you, lulling your pain away.
,,I love you." Your sudden confession makes him stop with his comforting strokes on your hair. He's searching for something in your eyes - he doesn't know that exactly he is looking for, but just something that indicates that your just playing with him and not meaning the three little words that you just said. But Jungkook finds nothing in your eyes, except for the mesmerising sparkle and the usual fondness that Jungkook always notices when you look at him.
Of course nothing had changed from the look of your eyes - you're gaze looks the same as ever, you were always looking at him with full love expressed in your eyes, because you are in love with Jungkook for years now.
,,I love you," Jungkook retorts, his tone soft.
You flesh him your cutest smile ever, nose lightly crunching up.
,,Say it again," he says.
,,I love you."
You giggle. ,,I love you."
Jungkook pulls himself closer to you, pressing his forehead against yours.
,,Again," he mumbles against your lips.
,,I lov-" before you can finish he captures your lips into a kiss, moving his lips in languid fashions over yours. Your tummy tickles, shivers run down your spine, mind clouded with his loving touches and his sweet confession.
The realisation that you got laid by your best friend sinks in only now. Your childhood friend - your long-time crush fucked you and on top of that he reciprocates your feelings. What a life. Is this what the main characters in books and movies feel like?
You both were so caught up in kissing each other that you both didn't notice how his cock slipped out of you and how a tiny mess of cum is now sticking on his bed sheets. You want Jungkook again, the sudden confessions and the passionate kisses are making you thirsty for him.
,,Again" - you push your upper body up, grazing his abs seductively - ,,Please fuck me again," your beautiful voice whispers.
Jungkook is bemused for a second, taking into consideration how your body must feel utterly fatigued after what you both have done - especially after Jungkook's untamed animalistic behaviour - it is absurd how fast you want to go again. He thought you were done for the night, but it seems like you have other plans.
Despite is concern about the condition of your body, Jungkook would do anything to satisfy you wishes. (and maybe he wouldn't deny your wish because he feels his softened cock growing into a boner again...)
However, before he starts getting into action again, there's one thing Jungkook wants to tell you again.
,,I love you," he repeats, watching how your eyes sparkle in delight at his confession.
,,I love you too," you beam and peck him on the lips. ,,But please make me see stars again, wanna feel you again, want you to fill me up again," you beg and bite your lip. Your ovulation is making you feel so horny and now that you have a naked Jungkook beside you it's not really helping to curb your hormones.
And with your lust filled pleads, Jungkook towers over you again and you two have lots of fun for the rest of the night, the moon accompanying you two with its glimmer shining into Jungkook's bedroom, encasing his room in a comfortable light and creating a cosy environment that envelops the both of you.
You both go for a second round and then a third round - the moonlight shining into Jungkook's bedroom a constant companion as you do the dirtiest things - and perhaps even a fourth - no, that would be too much, even for Jungkook...But maybe you did?? No, no, not possible...Or..?
Well, only Jungkook and you know everything that happened on his bed, on top of his dishevelled bed sheets, his glooming bedroom which you filled with the pent up love that you finally get to express just how you both dreamed of after hiding your admiration for so long.
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venusiangguk · a month ago
the art of craving | jjk (m)
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>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc
>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, pwp, a lil bit of fluff
>>word count: 6.9k
>>warnings: the domesticity... sob sob, the cutest baby... sob sob, dom jk, sub oc, age gap, all that good dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank you, oral (m), videotaping, sexual tension, balls in face, covering of mouth (?), a lil bit of external prostate stim bc jk deserves it 😌, dirty talk, creampie,  sex in someone else’s house (? again), omg almost all members are dad’s 🥲, so many dilfs hhhh, hobi being out of pocket, questionable breakfast in bed 👍🏻
>>notes: HE’S BACK!! also i knocked this out in one day, so I'm sorry for mistakes or if it falls short, i tried to do dilf jk justice 🤧 
also also i don’t think you necessarily need to read the previous part to understand this one, but if you would like to it is here!!
>>summary: jk takes you to a bbq at his friends house. the tri-tip is good but the creampie is even better.
“Are you sure you’re okay with me coming?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
You turn to Jeongguk, who is kneeled down at toddler level. Nari’s got a strong grip in his hair as she uses it as leverage as well as a balancing aid as she steps one little foot at a time into her water proof pull up. He cut it recently, his long locks a little more clean cut and cropped. Still more than enough for little hands to yank, though. He winces, but takes it in stride.
“I don’t know you’re always a bit weird about us,” you say. No bitterness, more of just an observation.
Jeongguk looks up at you as best he can, before getting Nari’s bikini bottoms and repeating the same painful process he did with the pull up. “I’m not weird about it.” He can almost hear the incredulous look you’re giving him. “Okay, I’m not as weird about it,” he amends, “but this is just a group of my friends getting together, and we’ve all known each other for years so I don’t have to worry about what they think of me.”
You hum, walking to the bathroom to get your own bikini on. You’re adjusting the ties at the hip when you say loudly so he can hear you from his room, “You’re worried about what people think of us?”
The effort you put into trying to hold in your laugh when Jeongguk appears in the doorway with a disheveled baby on his hip is futile. Nari’s looking around like she doesn’t know how she got there so fast, shirtless with a half-on baby bikini top, the triangles falling down and resting on her round belly. She smiles big when she sees you though, kicks in her dad’s hold.
Jeongguk looks kind of disheveled as well, yet very serious as he says, “No I don’t care what people think about us, I just- am more worried what they think about me. I know it doesn’t matter,” he sighs dramatically, “but I’d rather people not think I’m a cradle robbing pervert.” He covers one of Nari’s ears with a big hand and pushes the other ear against his chest to plug it when he says pervert. She pops back up, unbothered like a little bobble head.
You walk over and stand in front of them both, taking the strings of Nari’s swimsuit and tying them at the back of her neck. You flick your eyes up to Jeongguk, as you make the bunny ears. “You’re not even 30 yet, relax Daddy.”
“And you’re not even 25,” he almost whines, and doesn't bother scolding you for the use of the d word. This time.
“And this one’s not even 2!” you say, over excited as you turn wide eyes to the baby in front of you, swiftly changing the subject.
Nari squeals at your excitement, leans forward in her dad’s hold till she’s got tiny, pudgy little arms around your neck. Jeongguk hands her to you with ease, tries to keep the sick adoration off of his face while doing so.
“Duuu!” she cries, holding up her hand. She’s got her middle finger and ring finger up, an awkward way to show ‘two’ but you let her have it, jiggling her a little laughing a praise.
“Oh, such a smart little flower!” Jeongguk coos, hand coming up to give her a high-five.
However, she just grips his thumb in her small hand, giggling in the infectious way that babies do, her little crescent eyes lighting up with love and glee and Jeongguk almost cries. He hopes she never stops looking at him like that or holding his hand like that.
The alarm on his phone knocks him out of his sentimental reverie as he begrudgingly frees himself from Nari’s hold. He calls into the bathroom, “We’re going to be late.”
You’re not bothered, instead just sitting Nari on the bathroom counter and doing her hair up in small piggy-tail buns atop her head. She plays with your belly ring while you do so, fascinated by the new cherry charm you have on it now.
“Did you hear me?” Jeongguk asks in the doorway.
“Yup, look at her,” you say, gesturing to the oblivious baby.
Jeongguk does, taps one of the buns. “How do you get them so symmetrical? I can never get it right.”
You hum, sitting her in the curve of your waist. You give her your manicured hand, nails decorated in crystals, to distract her. “I’ll teach you. Want me to get her baby bag ready while you load the car with her sleeper just in case she needs to nap while we are there?”
Jeongguk shoots finger guns at you, before pressing a quick kiss to your temple. You purr. “Good brain, I didn’t think of that.”
You walk out with him, set Nari down and let her toddle about. She hands you an array of things, helping you pack her bag while Jeongguk goes to his large walk-in closet grabbing the portable crib.
“Don’t forget her sock monitor,” he grunts, finally getting a good hold of it.
“Already packed,” you tell him, “Do you want me to pack her undies for after swimming?”
Nari’s speech may be a little delayed according to the doctors but her brain is big and functioning and everything else in her baby body is right on par, or even ahead of kids her age. They suggested early potty-training, and focusing on the positives as Jeongguk navigates the hurdles.
He looks contemplative before he shakes his head. “No, too much hassle, just pull-ups is fine.”
You throw him a look, but he’s already got his back to you walking out the room. “You know she’s never going to learn if you don’t stay consistent and keep a routine!”
“Yes, baby, I know!” he calls over his shoulder, “Fresh start when we get back!”
You roll your eyes. “Daddy’s so silly, huh?”
Nari babbles an affirmative, and with that, you shoulder the baby bag and carry the baby right out the door. Easy peasy.
“Hello my good bitches!”
“Hoseok!” Jeongguk whisper-scolds, a protective hand coming up to Nari’s face. For some reason he covers her eyes instead of her ears. Nari blows a blind raspberry, but is more or less content in your arms.
You’ve never met Hoseok before, but you know you like him when you watch his eyes rake over Jeongguk, a judgemental look on his face as he takes a sip from the red solo cup in his hand, eyes narrowed over the rim.
“What are you wearing?”
Jeongguk narrows his eyes back. Although his friend probably can’t see them behind the huge gold-rimmed, purple hued glasses Jeongguk is wearing. “It’s Fendi. Please move, this is heavy.”
It’s no secret that Jeongguk has a fat wallet to match his fat dilf ass, and that he likes the occasional name brand item in his closet. But he’s not frivolous, and it’s only once in a blue moon that he actually splurges on something as expensive as the bright yellow and white shirt he’s wearing currently.
If anything a good portion of his income goes to what he wine-drunkenly calls the ‘Flower Fund’. Essentially dollars put away for when Nari goes to university, or whatever she decides. Maybe she’ll start her own business like her dad. Your mouth may have dropped when he let the current balance slip. She’s not even 2 yet.
Anywho. The shirt that is the hot topic-  it’s a bit out there, different from what he usually wears, but somehow he pulls it off, the white of the trademark F’s all over compliment the white, 5in inseam swim shorts he has on. You giggled in the car when he paired the sunglasses with it, but the more you look at him, the more you grow to like the statement piece.
His sleeve is on full display, and his arm is flexed as he carries the baby sleeper, finding a wall to lean it against. You’re still staring when Hoseok starts speaking.
“So you’re the hot Nanny he goes on and on about?”
“Nanny?” you ask, raising a brow.
“Hobi? Oh my god?” He shakes his head and his hands open and jerk in a very what the fuck manner. “I do not call you the nanny,” he stresses, eyes going to you.
You keep your brow quirked.
Hoseok laughs, nudges you with his hands open, nodding towards Nari. The baby looks like it's a very tough decision, choosing between you and Hoseok, but after an encouraging nod from you she smiles. Her baby teeth are on display, and her hands are grabby.
Jeongguk’s friend hips her, “He doesn’t actually call you the nanny, but he does talk about you a lot. All good things of course.”
You smile, your heart fluttering a little in your chest but before you can say anything Jeongguk is by your side, telling Hoseok a very adamant and stern, ‘Goodbye.’
Hoseok just laughs. “Okay, okay,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. The one holding the red cup catches Nari’s attention.
She pokes it with a tiny finger before smacking her lips a little. “Joofs?”
“Joofs?” Hoseok repeats, confused for a moment before he gets it. “Juice- yeah no. Not this. Let’s get you your own joofs.”
As he’s walking towards what you assume is the kitchen you call out, “Do you need one of her cups?”
He waves a dismissive hand. “Joon keeps some in the kitchen, go outside and meet everyone! We’ve all been dying to put a face to the mysterious __!” He turns to Nari making casual conversation till his voice fades with distance, “Still nice and plump I see…”
Something warms inside you. The fact that Jeongguk’s friends are all so close, that they keep little things for each other's children at each other’s houses, is so sweet and wholesome and so tender in a way that makes your heart want to burst.
Nari’s playroom has a few leapfrog’s with grade school games on a shelf and you had always wondered why. When you asked, Jeongguk told you that he sometimes watched Taehyung’s boys when he and his wife had date night. He has all the Tinkerbell movies on bluray for Jin’s daughter, and the Harry Potter ones for Yoongi and Jimin’s. As far as you know, Namjoon doesn’t have kids of his own yet, so it’s extra touching that he keeps baby essentials for Nari around.
You lean against Jeongguk, bumping shoulders with him. “Hoseok is nice, I like him.”
He rolls his eyes. “He’s the bachelor of the group. No relationship or kids. Hence the potty-mouth and the alcoholic joofs at 1 in the afternoon.”
You smile a closed lipped laugh, eyes glinting as you look up at him. He smiles back, unable to stop himself. He gives you an inquisitive look, the arm around your waist pulling you a little closer. The hand on your hip squeezing in question.
“Hmm?” he ponders, softly.
“You talk about me?” you ask, just as soft.
He hums, eyes dropping to your lips. “Just a little. Only to them.”
You and Jeongguk aren’t official. The circumstances a bit peculiar, the steps a little harder to maneuver. But what you have is good. A nice mix between fun and serious, committed yet free. You both know what you need to, feel what’s between you, even if you don’t name it or talk about it.
On your tiptoes, you crane your neck to reach his lips, and his eyes slip shut, ready to meet you halfway.
“Ah- Jeongguk you’re on grill duty!”
Jeongguk slumps behind you, a little groan sounding. “Okay!”
He sneaks a sweet kiss, before pinching your butt quickly. “Let me introduce you to the hyungs.”
Jeongguk looks almost as edible as the tri-tip he’s grilling. He’s got tongs in his tattooed hand, his hair held back by those purpley sunglasses that he’s pushed to the top of his head. His shirt is open, his toned tummy out and flexing whenever he laughs at something Taehyung says.
His eyes constantly look for you and Nari in the pool. He has an air kiss war with Nari for a while before she gets distracted by one of the other kids, asking if they can drag her around the pool by her floaty.
You’re pretty sure it’s Jin’s daughter, around 8 or 9. Smiling you nod, telling her you’ll help her. You keep a stable hand on Nari’s circular underarm floaty as she giggles and splashes, tickled pink at being doted on. She’s the baby of the barbeque, so she’s been handed around and loved on so much, giving the whole crew a dose of baby fever.
“You know, we got special toys and a playmat for her. She’s never liked the water.”
At the sound of a woman’s voice you look over your shoulder to see Jin’s wife sitting on the edge of the pool, her feet dipped in the water. She’s beautiful, high cheekbones and kind eyes. She’s smiling, and it has a hint of knowing to it. She nods to the lawn next to the pool, and you see said playmat has been commandeered by the girls.
This gets her daughter’s attention and she jumps up and down excitedly in the shallow end of the pool where you’ve ended up.
“I’m going to go play with them for a little bit, okay Nana? I’ll come back and swim with you soon!” she gives Nari a quick kiss before speed walking to the grass after a stern warning from her mother not to run by the pool.
Nari watches, her eyes wide and curious, and you give her another kiss (she’s been absolutely smothered today). “You’ll be able to play with them soon, don’t worry little bug.”
She wiggles a little, curls in on herself like your kisses tickle before she’s giving you a wet kiss back, her chlorine hands grabbing at your cheeks. You laugh with her, finally turning back to Jin’s wife.
“I don’t know, maybe she just needed another push.”
She hums, getting fully in the water with you. She makes a ‘come hither’ motion with a wave of her hand, gesturing for you to push Nari across the water to her. The distance isn’t far so you do. You and her take turns pushing the baby back and forth and Nari loves it, soft giggles spilling from her lips as she lets her hands drag in the water.
“Jeongguk says you’re really good with her. That she really loves you.”
You feel yourself flush. “That’s sweet of him, but he’s the one that’s made her so good with people.”
She shakes her head, laughing. “Uh, she’s good with us. Kind of a nightmare for people she doesn’t like. She’s almost as picky as he is about who gets to be around her.”
Laughing with her, you speak playfully to the baby. “You? A nightmare? No way!”
Jin’s wife notices the blush, the way you brush off the comments and direct attention to other things, so as she passes Nari to you again, she says, “I get it, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know that I think he trusts you and cares about you a lot. Not that he tells me of course,” she chuckles, “That’s boy talk, but Jin’s got a big mouth.”
“No,” you assure her, “I appreciate it, thank you for telling me.”
Mindless chatter ensues, baby babbles sprinkled in, Nari giving her two cents, as everyone waits for the food. Your name is yelled across the backyard, and the familiar voice is welcomed, as you make sure Nari is in good hands before swimming to meet Jeongguk at the edge of the pool. He’s got a piece of meat on a fork.
“Taste?” he asks, squatting in front of you.
You open your mouth, and he’s about to plop it in before he brings it back at the last minute, blowing on it a little. You laugh, endeared. Probably a habit due to always making sure anything he lets Nari taste isn’t too hot. He presses it to his lips quickly to test the temperature, before the fork is at your lips again, his other hand underneath making sure it doesn’t fall.
You groan, tastebuds doing a happy dance on your tongue as you chew.
“So good,” you moan, mouth still full, “I love the sauce.”
“The aioli,” he says, playfully snobby.
You roll your eyes, swallowing finally. “Whatever. I love it.”
He’s got a sweet smile on his face as his eyes search yours. They linger on your lips, and you think he may kiss you, but instead he wipes his thumb on your bottom lip. You can see a little bit of the aioli on it when he brings it to his mouth, eye contact deliberate as he sucks it off. It’s a bit naughty for him. Always careful about ‘pda’. But his doe-eyes are twinkling and he’s trying not to laugh as he says, “I love it, too.”
Sure that he can feel the spike in the air, you narrow your eyes at him as you whisper, “You’re mean.”
He shrugs, pats your head. “Food’s ready, get baby. I’ll save you guys a seat.”
Everyone around the outside table groans. Hands are on bellies and arms are behind heads and buttons are undone after devouring the food. The kids table off to the side is conspiring on how to get dessert, and little Nari is just about knocked out in your lap, the bread of her cheek smushed against your chest as she nods off.
“Jk, the iron chef,” Jimin sighs, swirling his wine in his glass.
“For real, man…”
Compliments to the chef are spouted from everyone and Jeongguk humbly accepts. The conversation dwindles into something that is lulled and lazy, casual stories about the kids being traded. How Taehyung found his twin boys’ pee drawer. You cringe. How Yoongi and Jimin’s daughter said her first curse word at kindergarten and blamed it on her dad (the one with the potty-mouth… read: Yoongi). You laugh, carefully not to wake Nari.
One of the wives notices.
She coos, “Oh, looks like someone is tuckered out.”
Jeongguk glances at his daughter, brings a finger to her pushed out bottom lip and pulls it down a little, tiny bloop noises sounding when it snaps back into place. He’s evil.
Of course she groggily wakes up, grumpy and rotten as she screeches and groans, rubbing her face into your sternum. Her chubby foot kicks at her dad. He laughs a coo at her, and she just grunts, indignant and sleepy.
“Quit it,” you say, trying not to laugh at the scene.
He hums, shoulders shaking in amusement. “Let’s set up her sleeper,” he says to you before turning to Namjoon. “Can we set it up in the guest room?”
He nods. “You’ll be able to hear her if she wakes up?”
“Of course, we brought her sock monitor.”
“Sock monitor,” Jin scoffs humorously, “Wish they had those when Jiwoo was a baby…”
The voices taper off as you follow Jeongguk back into the house and after a pitstop in the foyer for the crib and baby bag you find yourself in a pretty decently sized bedroom. It’s furnished, but there’s enough space in the far corner for the sleeper.
You sit on the bed, sway back and forth with Nari still snoozing in your arms. You rest your cheek on her head, watching as Jeongguk quickly sets up her nap station. He looks strong, arms working as he snaps each piece into place. His thighs bulge a little, his swim shorts bunching and pulled taut over the muscle as he grabs her blanket and pig stuffie from the baby bag.
“She still sleeping?” he asks, once he’s finished.
You hum an affirmative, getting to your feet and walking over to him. He takes her, and gently lowers her in, staying near until he’s sure that the move didn’t wake her. She whimpers a little in her sleep and you quietly rustle through her bag until you find her paci. Nari quiets immediately, soft baby snores that sound more like tiny little sighs fill the room.
Jeongguk brushes her flyaways off her face, tucks the wispies behind her ear being careful not to snag on her tiny earring. He then turns to you and throws himself into your arms, slumping.
You groan under his weight, but embrace him nonetheless.
“She’s getting so big,” he whines.
“Turns 2 in like 2 months right?”
He nods, face in your neck.
“You gonna do anything for it?”
Sighing, he rights himself. He bends and gets the monitor sock, un-velcroing it as quietly as he can, and then does it up around Nari’s tiny foot as carefully as possible. She’s a pretty good sleeper, never really too fussy, but you can never be too careful. He then grabs his phone from the same bag, checking the connection on the app.
“Her mom was talking about maybe getting together for it,” he says, pocketing his cell and grabbing your hand. “We can do something though. If you want, you’re not obligated of course.”
Your smile is small, but you nod. “Of course I want to.”
His ex is something you both never really touch on. One of the only tense subjects between you two, the conversation always a little formal and stilted, but you get it. And it’s not your place to question him, or how he co-parents. Not your place to question what she would think if she knew about you, because you’re sure she doesn’t. Or else you probably would have been invited to the actual birthday party.
It’s cool. You get it.
You’re wandering aimlessly around the house, hand in hand, taking the well needed break away from the commotion outside. The company is great, just a lot, and you’ve wanted to get Jeongguk alone the whole afternoon. Now’s your chance and after the birthday talk, you could use a distraction.
He’s lazily showing around the downstairs bathroom when you take your chances.
“That’s the waterfall shower, the toilet- it has a bidet, how cool is that? That’s the tub, and- that’s the lock? What are you doing?” He whispers like he’s playfully scandalized by the way you lock the both of you inside.
You shrug innocently, as you step in front of him. Trailing your index finger between the slight dip between his pecs, down to the line between his abs, all the way to the light trail of hair that disappears into his shorts.
“Dunno… What am I doing?”
He hums like he’s thinking about it. “I think you’re being a bit suggestive…” he says quietly as he toys with the tie at your hip.
“Mmm,” you hum contemplative and teasing. You take a short step, closing the small distance between you and him. You wrap your arms around his neck, scratch at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “What am I suggesting?”
Jeongguk’s so easy. He bends some, brushing his nose against your cheek, the hands at your hips already eagerly gripping and pulling you closer. Flush against him. His voice is soft, has a slight shake to it when he says back, “Not sure… tell me?”
You sigh, pleased, when he presses gentle, wet kisses to your neck. You whine a bit when he nips, his teeth sharp and quick. Eloquently you say, “Let’s have a quickie.”
Jeongguk snorts, a harsh laugh huffing into your skin. “Smooth.”
He’s teasing but his swimsuit doesn’t do much to hide how hard he’s getting, despite not even being touched yet. You change that, hand going down to cup him through the material.
“You wanna?” you purr, squeezing him.
He nods, finally kisses you. Slow and gentle. “Yeah,” he breathes against your mouth.
You kiss him with intention, then.
Tongues curl around each other and teeth click. Hands roam, bodies on fire despite the little clothing on your frames, the dip in the pool you had not too long ago. Jeongguk seems eager, kinda desperate as he breathes harshly against your lips, hands on your ass grabbing and kneading your cheeks in his big palms, pulling them apart a little as he presses his cock into your lower belly.
You moan when you feel how hard he is, when you feel how badly he wants you. Right here in one of his best friends' bathrooms. It makes you feel a little high, kind of dreamy as he backs himself to the counter, hooks one of your legs on his hip, forcing you to rest most of your weight on him, bracing yourself against his body.
With your legs now open, Jeongguk takes advantage of the way your pussy is right over his cock, rutting up into you, his hips moving hard and slow as he drags his length against you. You gasp, resting your head on his shoulder, eyes falling shut. Your acrylics grip at his shirt for a moment, basking in the way your clit is being teased. Pleasure making your whole body tingle.
“You’re so hard,” you whimper.
He makes a needy noise, sounding a little embarrassed as he urges you to look at him with a hand on your face. He watches you, as your brows turn up every time you feel the tip of his cock. Your mouth falls open, a silent moan, and he knows you’re trying so hard to be quiet. It makes him throb, jerk against your cunt.
“You’re being so good,” he praises.
Your eyes flutter a little, rolling back some as you nod.
He kisses you again, rougher this time. Your mouths stay attached as you finally free him from the stiff material of his trunks, pushing and pulling his foreskin over his tip. He has to break the kiss so he can moan, so he can look down at your tiny hand wrapped around him, fingers not even able to wrap all the way around.
“__,” he sighs.
You’re mouthing at his neck while you pump, a questioning noise being hummed into the column of his throat.
“You know how… how I’m gonna be gone for... like a week? For that business trip?” His sentence is broken up by lewd groans.
You tell him you know, distracted by the nasty clicking noises that color the air on every upstroke.
He stays quiet for a moment, tensed in your hands. Then he speaks in that unsure voice that he takes when he asks about something he’s not sure your response will be.
“You can say no… but I just- want you, even when I’m by myself… when I can’t actually have you...”
Gently, he pushes your leg off his hip, and reaches into his pocket.
That’s when you get it.
He pulls his phone out, looks at you a little nervously. His cheeks rosy and flushed. You’re pretty sure your pussy floods your bikini bottoms. Jeongguk wants you so fucking badly that he wants to record you, because he can’t go without you- not even for a single week. He could watch porn, jerk off to the thought of you, could even get someone else because you wouldn’t ever find out. But no.
He just wants you.
“Yes,” you say quickly.
Jeongguk beams, both his hands coming to cup your face- phone and all -as he kisses you. Quick, sweet kisses until he rests his forehead on yours, his breaths hot on your face as he lets himself fuck into your palm for just a moment.
“Will you suck me, baby?” he whispers.
And fuck his voice has that tremble to it, like he’s so turned on he can barely contain it. You nod in his hands.
“Gag on it a little? Hmm?”
“Yeah, whatever you want, Jeongguk.”
And that’s how you find yourself on your knees of a bathroom floor, Jeongguk’s fat cock in your mouth, his phone recording every tear that leaks from the corner of your eyes, every gag that reverberates when his leaking tip nudges the back of your throat, every gasp you take when you pull off. The spit slick sounds that echo as you jerk him off while you catch your breath.
His phone catches the choked moans that he can’t keep in, your mouth too wet, too hot around his cock. It catches all the dirty, salacious requests he asks you.
“Lick my balls,” he whispers.
And you do. With one of your hands you jerk his cock, as you look up at him. Part of your face is covered by his cock as you lap at his balls, relishing in the way he spreads his legs a little wider, wanting to feel as good as possible.
“That spot behind my balls- yeah, fuck-”
You bring your free hand up and press two fingers into his taint, massaging lightly stimulating his prostate from the outside, while still stroking and licking him. His cock pulses in your hold and you feel when a little drop of precum dribbles to your hand that’s working over his length. You moan and rub your thighs together.
He doesn’t ask for this often but you love it when he does. You love the way he gets so breathy, so airy with his noises. How his chest stutters with short inhales until he finally releases and exhales with long groans, sometimes light whines.
Right now, his head falls back as he exhales one of those deep groans, before he looks down at you again, adjusts the camera a little, eyes so dark and heavy just dripping with lust and arousal as you make him feel so, so good.
“Don’t make me cum, wanna fuck you,” he murmurs.
It’s almost like a warning, telling you to stop because he knows he won’t be able to do it himself, the buzz thrumming through his body too blissful for him to willingly cut it off, put it to an end.
You listen to him, one last long lick from his balls to his tip, before you’re standing, hopping onto the counter. Spreading your legs, you invite Jeongguk between them.
He’s still filming, angles his phone down as he presses the thumb of his free hand in between your pussy lips over your bottoms. He kisses you while he touches you, swallowing the little whimpers you make, makes sure the shot is right when you start to rock your pussy into his touch.
Trailing his fingers from your hidden slit to the knot keeping your bikini on, he gives you a quick glance, before pulling it. He hooks a single finger under the fabric, and drags it down until your perfect, little cunt is bare.
Bending down some, Jeongguk brings his phone closer to your pussy. It’s hairless, and smooth. Pussy lips puffy. When he spreads you open, your wet center gleaming on camera, you whine, closing your legs slightly.
You’ve gotten over your shyness with him, but having a pussy close up is foreign enough for you to get bashful. But he just shushes you, coaxes your legs open again.
“Have the prettiest pussy,” he tells you, as his index finger barely pushes inside. “Can’t wait to get my cock in here…”
Something seems to click at Jeongguk’s words. He stops the video and looks up at you with his expression pained.
“What?” you ask, kinda of out of it, drunk on arousal.
All he says is, “Condom.”
Your face falls. “Are there any in the bag?”
He shakes his head. “ You packed it, and I didn’t add any. Didn’t think we would need them.”
Normally you wouldn’t push him, would settle for sucking his cock, drinking his cum. Would be good with him eating you out, cumming all over his tongue. But your pussy aches, you're not sure anything but his thick cock filling you up will suffice this time.
“Well, we don’t need them…” you whisper.
“__…” He gives you a stern look. You feel his cock kick, though, where it rests against your thigh.
“Please,” you beg, hand going to his cock stroking it over your tummy. “I have the IUD, it’s like 99% effective I’m pretty sure-”
“Pretty sure isn’t convincing-”
“I’m really sure,” you say, “I need it.”
He looks like he’s fighting with himself. Weighing the pros and cons of fucking you raw for the first time. Feeling your tight cunt sucking him in every time he pulls out, no barrier between you.
He grips the base of his cock and you sigh relieved as he wordlessly slips his tip between your folds.
You hold his gaze as he starts to push in. His mouth falls open when your pussy swallows his tip, and when he reaches the hilt, you let out the softest cry, both of you gasping into each other's mouth at the first swift thrust he rocks into you.
“Thank you,” you breathe.
Jeongguk sucks in a sharp breath. Holds his hips still as his eyes squeeze shut for the briefest of moments before his hips start to move again. You’re overwhelming, he’s never been with someone who he’s had such strong chemistry with, someone who knows exactly how to please him, someone who he knows exactly how to please.
It’s only a few thrusts into you later that Jeongguk is groaning, pushing one of your legs back so he can see your slick on his cock every time he pulls out. “Fuck, this was a bad idea…”
You shake your head, eyes closed. “No I love it like this, can feel you so much better.”
He moans, presses his cock in as far as he can, hips right up against you. “Yeah, that’s why,” he sighs, “never gonna wanna use a condom again.”
The smile that plays on your lips is wicked. “Then don’t.”
Jeongguk laughs breathlessly, fucks you a little faster as he brings a hand up to your face. He loves looking at you while he’s inside you, watching as your features shift whenever he hits that spot. “Be good,” he tells you.
You listen to him, not because you want to, but because you can’t think coherently with his cock inside you. It’s slow, the noises in the bathroom echoed and loud, slapping skin not an option today, but god. He moves his hips into you perfectly, the head of his cock rubbing on your g-spot everytime he pushes inside of you, the drag of his swollen tip against your walls is  dizzying.
He knows how to fuck you so well, having come to know your body almost as well as you do with how many times you’ve sat on his cock, how many times he’s plowed into you, how many times he’s coaxed leg shaking orgasms from your body with nothing but his cock. He knows that you like it when he gets a hold of your tits, when he flicks your nipples with the pads of his thumbs, so he finally moves your bikini top out of the way, does exactly that and he smiles when you arch into his touch.
The scolding he gives you when you accidentally knock the soap bottle over is playful. “Careful,” he whispers.
“Sorry,” you pant. When he tells you to keep it down normally, you usually have a little bit of leeway. But you don’t have that here. You know that you are a guest in the home and that this is your first time meeting everyone. You know that tainting the barbeque with sex noises is probably a bad first impression. That’s hard to remember, however, when Jeongguk fucks like he does.
He coos, his hips speeding up some. “No, don’t be sorry. So perfect. So good,” he sighs, “best I’ve ever had.”
“Just a little faster,” you plead.
The first time he fucked you, he told you he would give you whatever you wanted, and he’s never not done that. So he picks up his pace, one hand squeezing at your tits, the other at the meat of your inner thigh, and he feels how you tighten around his cock, pussy pulsing.
“Like that,” you sob.
“You have to be quiet, baby,” he pants, sweat dripping down his temple.
Like he spoke it into existence, footsteps sound outside the door. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since you both put Nari down, but it sounds like everyone is coming in from outside. Distant chatter echoes through the thin walls, the thin wood of the bathroom door. Whoever was outside seems to have just been passing by, but it lights the fire.
“Gonna make you cum,” Jeongguk tells you.
You try to respond, but the fast pace of hips knocks the breath out of you, knocks the words right out of your mouth. Your hands scramble on the counter, trying to support yourself, but its hard when he just feels so fucking good inside of you.
The slaps that start to sound are thankfully muted by the material of your swimsuit still halfway tied on, because Jeongguk doesn’t slow down, doesn’t falter a bit as he jackhammers his cock into your tiny cunt, deeming time a more pressing limitation than volume.
The frantic pace of his thrusts is an almost constant pressure on that magic, euphoric spot in your pussy. The pressure bleeds to pleasure and your arms and legs begin to shake, as your eyes are water from the effort to keep your moans silent, but you don’t know how much more you can take, if you’ll be able to keep quiet as he makes you cum on his cock.
“Can I cum?” you whisper, words fast and jumbled.
Jeongguk nods, swears as he keeps plowing his cock into you over and over again.
“Cover my mouth, cover my mouth,” you tell him, lewd urgency lacing your tone. “Oh my god, I’m gonna cum-”
The way that you look and sound when you’re about to finish with his hand over your mouth is wet dream material. Your brows are pinched, almost worried looking as you nod, letting him know that you’re there. The moans that you can’t keep in are muffled and desperate sounding under his palm, and jesus fucking christ Jeongguk can’t keep looking at you when you look like that or he’ll cum before you even get the chance to.
He leans forward, presses his face into your cheek. “C’mon, cum for me baby,” he encourages. Demanding yet so sweet as he takes what he wants from you.
You shake in his hold when you do as he says. Muffled moans turn to muffled cries as he fucks you through it, as he keeps his fat cock thrusting in and out of your convulsing cunt.
“That’s it. That’s my good girl-” Jeongguk, whispers before he buries his face into your neck.
After cumming your pussy always gets so warm, so swollen and tight and wet on the inside. And he knows he should pull out, shouldn’t risk cumming inside of you, but he feels like he physically can’t pull out. Like it would be a crime to not paint your insides white, just this once. The instinctual urge to bury his cock inside of you wins out as he loses control of his hips.
“Gonna cum inside,” he warns you.
The way you shiver in his hold at his words, just spurs him on more knowing that you crave it as much as he does. When he moves his hand from your mouth you immediately say a soft, delirious, “Please.”
He’s always had a thing for begging but that single word has never sounded as good as it does when you say with his cock buried inside of you. You sound drunk on him, on the way he fucks you and touches you and takes care of you. It only takes a few more frenzied pumps of his cock until he’s spilling inside of you, barely audible, gasped moans filling your ears.
The afterglow is short lived. The blaring knock on the door makes sure of that.
“You guys are sick, there are children in the house.”
It’s Hoseok. Because of course it is.
Jeongguk just groans, and when there are retreating footsteps outside the door, you finally let yourself laugh.
“Do you think anyone else heard?”
“God I hope not, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“They didn’t hear the end of it either…” you tease.
Jeongguk puffs out a lazy laugh, his softening cock slipping out as he backs up. He looks down at your swollen pussy, sees the little drops of leaking cum. He takes his index finger and gathers it before pushing it back in.
“Bold,” you say, with a quirked brow.
He rolls his eyes. “Are you staying for dinner after we head back?”
His subject change makes you chuckle incredulously, but still you nod. “Sure, I don’t have work tomorrow.”
“Oh, so you’re staying the night?” he asks cheekily.
It’s your turn to roll your eyes, as if you weren’t hoping he would ask.
When you wake up in his bed, Jeongguk isn’t on the right side like he usually is. Instead, there’s a note letting you know that he’s in Nari’s room with her because she was fussy, along with a plan b and some flowers.
helloooo!! long time no see im so sorry for the lack of content im having horrible writers block 😁 but anyway~~ dilf jk!! hopefully the wait for part two was worth it, and that you liked it <3 if you did, pls pls reblog, like, comment, share, send an ask >.< feedback is so appreciated and i love talking to u guys <33 smooches cuties 😚
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extravaguk · 2 months ago
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pairing: jungkook x reader
summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.
Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.
wordcount: 15k
genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader
rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)
warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much
author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!
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You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.
You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.
Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.
'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'
You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.
'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'
But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.
'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'
That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.
The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks
"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."
Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.
"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."
She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"
"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."
"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"
"Nipples. Like, one of them."
Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."
The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.
Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.
"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.
He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?
"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."
September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.
Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.
So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.
"It's fine. I can do it."
"JK, sweetheart!"
Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.
"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."
Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.
"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.
Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.
Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.
It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.
Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.
And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.
He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.
He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.
"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.
You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.
Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."
So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-
He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.
"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.
Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.
Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.
"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.
You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-
"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.
"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.
"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.
"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.
"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-
He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.
Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.
"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-
He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."
He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.
"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."
But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.
"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."
"Let me see!"
It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.
When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.
But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.
Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.
You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.
Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.
So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.
So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.
But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.
Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.
The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.
But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.
You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.
With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.
It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.
And oh, did it react.
He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.
There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.
You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.
And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'
You swear you almost came right on his table.
And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.
So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.
"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"
"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."
At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"
"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."
There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"
You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.
"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."
Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.
You know he's here.
Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.
It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.
You don't see him, but you feel him.
You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.
You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.
You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.
To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-
Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.
You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.
"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.
"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"
Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."
When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.
"You okay?"
The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.
"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.
Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.
Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.
"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.
"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."
"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"
"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.
Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.
And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.
"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"
You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.
"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"
"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."
"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.
"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.
He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.
His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.
Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.
Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.
Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.
Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.
"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.
"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.
"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."
Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.
Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.
He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.
He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.
He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.
So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.
He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.
You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.
He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.
"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.
"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.
"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"
Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"
"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."
Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.
"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"
"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"
He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"
Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"
"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.
"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"
"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"
Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."
"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."
"Why not?"
"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"
It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."
You've made up your mind.
And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.
It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.
Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?
You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.
You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.
But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.
So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.
And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.
"Fuck him."
"I know right? Fuck him!"
"No. I mean, fuck him."
And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.
"A date."
"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"
He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.
"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."
Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.
He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?
"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.
He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.
How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.
But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.
He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.
It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.
It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.
You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-
"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."
"Sharon Stone?"
"Chaelin's cat."
To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.
He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"
Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.
You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.
You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.
To your surprise, none of that happened.
The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.
There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.
It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.
"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.
Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.
"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.
At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.
"I'm sorry, by the way."
"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"
"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."
A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."
tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.
At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.
But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.
It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.
"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.
You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.
"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.
"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."
There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.
"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.
You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.
"You have to stop saying my name like that."
With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.
"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.
"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.
But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.
The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.
He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.
"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.
"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."
"And you came before the ride was over."
You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."
She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.
"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"
There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."
There's another pause, and then-
"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"
You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.
Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.
It's not that you're mad.
Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.
Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.
'Next time, maybe.'
And there hasn't been a next time.
The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.
But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.
It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.
Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.
'you free on saturday?'
You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.
So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.
And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.
You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.
You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.
A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.
"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.
Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.
"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.
Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.
Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.
You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.
His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.
"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.
You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.
It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.
"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.
Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.
"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.
"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.
"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.
There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."
Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.
At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.
Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.
"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.
"Rocky road."
He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."
You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"
"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."
"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"
"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.
"Okay, fine. Why?"
"You're boring and basic."
You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."
You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.
You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.
The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.
It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.
It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.
It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.
It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.
Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.
But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.
You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.
Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.
Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.
It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.
He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.
He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.
And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.
Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.
He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.
"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.
"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.
"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.
"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."
Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.
"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."
"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"
You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.
Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.
There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.
"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.
"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."
You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.
He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."
"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.
"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"
"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"
"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"
You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"
He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"
"Ju- "
"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."
Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.
You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.
"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"
"Please, don't laugh."
That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.
She doesn't laugh at all.
"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."
"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."
"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."
"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.
"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.
"I know. I'm just sad."
"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."
"I know."
There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.
"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.
It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.
He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.
He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.
He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.
You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.
'You're crazy about him.'
Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.
You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.
'And he's cazy about you too.'
Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.
That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.
The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."
You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"
"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.
"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.
She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."
Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-
Knock knock.
He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"
He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.
"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.
"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"
"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."
Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.
You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."
"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."
You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"
"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"
The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."
He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.
He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.
The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.
This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.
"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.
"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.
Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.
"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.
"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.
Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.
He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.
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ladyartemesia · a month ago
You always give out such amazing fic recs. I'm wondering if you have anything on hand for me. My absolute favorite trope is soft camboy AUs but really any sex worker au hits the spot, any member.
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• these stories feature sex workers or sex worker adjacent plot lines up to and including running personal NSFW accounts • please be aware that all contain mature content and mature themes • minors do not interact • please CAREFULLY READ ALL TAGS IN ALL WORKS to be sure that you are comfortable reading the content •
Silk and Lace by @sunshyngal this one will blow your mind because it’s a royalty AU as well. I don’t want to spoil it but this fic is completely wild and amazing. Like amazing amazing. There are hidden identities, sexy secrets, intense mutual pining. I can’t say enough about it. And BOY can Shyn write. I have been obsessed with this story from the second she published it. It is illicit. It is shocking. I am shooketh.
Elite Chatboy by @kookingtae this one is funny as well as hot! Reader signs up for a sexting service and catches feelings with her sweet and sexy service provider Jungkook. It is a hilarious, fluffy, sexy ride. This may seem like a strange thing to say but this story is really about that couple who laughs and loves together because the connection between them is just that irresistible.
Human Touch by @snackhobi this one has a twist. The sex worker is an android named Taehyung who gains sentience and falls in love with the woman who looked at him and saw more than a machine built for her pleasure. This is honestly a beautiful story and at the end I was just so soft and happy.
Starfruit by @inkedtae is a wild wild ride on the camboy Hobi train. Features a curvy reader and oh my gosh it’s so sexy. This one made me laugh too. There is a fun little twist in the middle that sent me screaming. Truly a delight. I laughed and I sighed and I swooned.
Cyberslut by @kimnjss this one hits on one of my favorite tropes ever—good girl with a secret identity online. The reader has a hard stan thirst account dedicated to the college basketball star (Yoongi) who has no idea that his nerdy tutor is the online hottie tweeting about his hands.
Who’s Your Daddy by @ppersonna the reader is looking for a real dom in her life so she seeks one out on a website dedicated to meeting that particular need. She has no idea that the sexy dom she’s paired with is none other than her best friend who has been in love with her for years. This hot, funny, and delightful story of false identities and true love will leave you sweating and grinning guaranteed.
Dazed and Glazed by @floralseokjin Ok this story has been on a couple rec lists of mine and it will continue to be on many more because no joke it’s like a full on legitimate masterpiece. I could write a dissertation on this story. It’s flawless. The characterizations, the world building, the way the emotions build. There isn’t enough I can say about it. This story is special and features one of the hottest sex scenes like…ever. This is truly one of my favorite fics of any genre for any member and I do not say that lightly. The fun begins when the queen of good girl porn wants to retire with a bang—specifically with notorious porn bad boy Kim Seokjin ruining her in all the right ways.
In Motion by @yoonia is something else. I confess I came to her site because I vaguely recalled that she maybe had a sex worker fic but then I found this and I just COULD NOT LOOK AWAY it was incredible. I mean mesmerizing. The reader is invited to an exclusive voyeurism club where she ends up crossing paths with a handsome man who turns out to be her new boss—Jeon Jungkook! It was so incredibly hot. I couldn’t put it down. I’m serious just wow.
Simply.Cute97 by @httpjeon this is a spicy story about a virgin camgirl who falls for her favorite viewer—a hottie who also happens to be a camboy by the name of Jeon Jungkook. Their relationship is the wildest blend of filthy and fluffy and honestly it’s just a ton of fun the entire way through.
Ill-Fated by @sketchguk is great. What is a girl to do when she finds out that the bane of her existence and the gorgeous cam boy she is obsessed with are one and the same person? This is sometimes sweet, sometimes sexy and a pleasure to read all the way through. I can’t say I blame the reader for handling the situation the way she does. It all seems quite satisfying—if you know what I mean.
Playtime by @jungkookienoona is hot hot hot. This is a fun little cam porn love square. Two childhood best friends in love with each other. Both are cam performers and both are obsessed with the other person’s stream. It’s really just an insanely sexy and also an insanely thought provoking story. I giggled a lot because really it’s so cute, but also insanely hot. So be warned, this fic did not come to play—despite its name.
The Playmate Series by @scribblemetae is about a lovely girl who takes a job a ‘playmate’ for the boys of Bangtan. She caters to their kinks and discovers a lot about herself along the way. Obviously there are feelings and a lot of interesting twists and turns throughout. What a spicy ride! A lot of interesting thought and world building went into this one! You’re sure to be fascinated.
Show-Off by @taeverie is a fun little story about a lucky girl who discovers her roommate Hoseok is a camboy and ends up getting a live and in-person show. It’s a fun and quirky little snack that really hits the spot. My favorite part was when Hobi caught her watching his streams after she lied about it. Good stuff all around.
Notorious by @jungk0oksthighs this one is kind of fascinating. I really don’t want to give the story away, but literally by the end I basically just screamed. It was wild. Definitely give it a shot, but be prepared to have your jaw hit the floor. This author is quite good at eliciting that reaction.
A Matter of Shyness by @jjungkookislife this story is so cute! It’s about a sweet girl who is thirst following a naughty Snapchat account at the same time she begins growing closer to a classmate named Kim Taehyung. There are a lot of delightful reveals and genuinely sweet moments.
Éffleurer by @sugaurora is a fascinating and highly addictive story. This features as sex worker who specializes in a type of submissive performance deciding to enter into a submissive relationship with her gorgeous boss. I’m telling you it’s thrilling. Absolutely thrilling.
Obey by @jjkfire this is one of the most endearing and lovely stories on this list. It’s so sexy and hot yes but it’s like also a beautiful redemption song. The reader is a shy awkward escort who isn’t really an escort, she’s really just there to serve drinks and subtly discourage men from booking her, but she unknowingly enchants the very beautiful and very dangerous mafia boss Kim Taehyung and well… What’s a girl to do? The twist in the story is priceless by the way. I literally cried tears of moved beauty. It’s like that.
Kairos by @luffles424 yes I know. This one is an auto-include because I love it so much and it’s like super amazing and all. And if you haven’t read it yet then please don’t deny yourself any longer. Sweet omega college girl decides to auction of her first heat to the highest bidder and wealthy businessman Kim Seokjin cannot imagine who would pay for something like that… but then he smells her and all bets are off. This is honestly a beautiful love story and you know I am such a sucker for a/b/o done well.
Sexual Healing by @honeymoonjin features extraordinarily hot sex therapist Kim Namjoon and his quest to help the reader reach realization and release in this occasionally humorous romp. I really enjoyed reading this. Namjoon’s smooth certainty had me swooning, but it was the way he really encouraged the reader to explore and enjoy herself that made this an unmissable treat.
Out of Work by @jessikahathaway ok Jess full disclosure I read this before we were friends and it’s one of those stories that I ALWAYS think about (Jess’s writing will do that to you) and when I got this request I was like oh my gosh I have to include THAT Jimin story and here it was YOU that wrote it and I didn’t even remember! I love this story. It’s so incredibly fluffy and surprisingly romantic.
The Cockpile: One Shot Series by @httpjeon this is actually seven different one-shots (one for each of the members) each with their own unique setting. All the stories are themed around sex work and all of them are top notch. I highly recommend. Seven stories for the click of one link with this one!
Shutter and Shiver (Part 2) @pac-mang-blog this one was hard to track down but it was worth it. Submissive camboy cutie Jimin has a noona kink and a pretty project partner who watches his show faithfully. Jimin is quite the adventurous tease and the reader spends most of the story in a state of extremely hot and bothered. I included the link to both parts because they really are tricky to find.
The BANGmeTAN Collab is an ongoing collection of stories centered around the members as sex workers. Thus far it features completed stories by @kpopfanfictrash and @underthejoon • I originally linked The Boyfriend Concept which I discovered (thanks to @kigurumu) was actually part of a whole collab! All the authors participating are top notch writers and each installment is a delightful treat!
Satisfy by @suga-kookiemonster so this story is like wild. I learned things about myself reading this story. This author is great at balancing humor with genuine connection and it really shines in this unusual tale of Kim Taehyung’s friend who (after finding herself in need of money to finish school) agrees to an exclusive paid sexual relationship with the extremely wealthy Kim brothers (the Kim Line) in order to minimize scandals for their influential family. It’s filthy, evocative, emotional, and downright electrifying. I think I may have passed out during Tae’s scene and you’ll know why as soon as you start reading it.
Bam! You Got Scammed by @dovechim this is a wildly creative story. Truly. It revolves around a camgirl who is running a bit of a scam. Poor sweet Jeon Jungkook is double crossed and he decides to get his revenge in sexy satisfying fashion. This is a delightful story. I laughed and gasped and fanned myself the whole time.
95mochibuns by @gukptune this story is delightful in so many ways. Jimin is a camboy and the reader is a twitch streamer and they both (unknowingly) have huge crushes on each other that accidentally spill out onto the internet with lots of antics. Even their followers get involved. It’s sexy and hilarious and I always feel such anticipation when I read it. Even though I know what happens!
The Cambunny Series by @getitinbusan is a fascinating take on an idol AU. Jungkook goes exploring and sees someone he recognizes. The drama unfolds deliciously from there! This one was very hot! I had to stop and fan myself! The second part features Hoseok in a surprise guest capacity!
Take One by @untaemedqueen this story holds such a special place for me because I was really involved in helping D plan it. I knew from the first paragraphs she sent me that it was something really incredible. Min Yoongi is a super famous porn star and the reader writes fan fiction about him. Little does she know that he LOVES reading her work and starts incorporating some of her kinks and stories into his work! It’s so much fun and still manages to be both a great love story and a super sexy romp.
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…and since I spent all that time putting together this list, lemme just slide you the link to my MASTERLIST where you can find other themed fic rec lists like this as well as all of my original works 😘
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If you know of any really great stories (including your own) that might fit the theme of this list, don’t be afraid to send them in to me!
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Thank you to the people who sent in recommendations! Newest additions to the list are in PINK!
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noteguk · 26 days ago
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.”
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.”
3K notes · View notes
zibermuda · 4 months ago
ego killer (3/final) || jjk
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Summary — As a fresh college drop-out, Jungkook has to navigate the world with a bit more enthusiasm than he put into his studies. A lot changes, but what doesn't is his desire to make you his. Rough sex, lewd acts at dubious locations, and a (not-so-well) hand-written note is what it'll take.
Genre — smut, fluff, angst (fuckboy!jk, nerdy!oc)
Words — 9,548
Warnings — jk dyes his hair blonde, jk masturbates to your photos, jk gets more tattoos, unprotected sex, bondage, throat fucking, orgasm denial, breath play, finger sucking, oral sex (male & female receiving), cum eating, cum play, hair pulling, rough handling, crying from over-stimulation, dirty talk, deep-dicking, marking/hickeys, fingering, teasing, licking, spitting, spanking, jk hits it from da back, swearing
one | two | three/final
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masterlist || request
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Where did we last leave off? Right! Jungkook put aside his pride, strolled to the administration building, and made the decision to withdraw from his college units. Taehyung said some questionable things that you might hate him for later, and you probably waltzed back to your dorm-room to study for a questionable number of hours. It doesn’t really matter what you or Taehyung did, though, because this is about Jungkook. He made a tough choice; he’s no longer enrolled in college, and when the pretty lady sitting behind the front desk tells him just that, his lips quirk into a small smile. What does he feel? Relief, freedom, but not in the free-bird sense.. In the half-dead-spider-that-was-just-throw-out-of-someone’s-house sense.
He feels somewhat content with his life, but then he wonders what you’ll think of his decision and his happiness turns into shame.
He wants to tell you, to be proud of himself, but there’s a voice in the back of his mind telling him to feel otherwise. You might just try to convince him to re-enrol and make it to graduation. You see things in people that others tend to skim over and have the ability to understand most, but you might not understand this. All you do is spend your free time studying and organizing events for your marketing club, and all you’ve ever been told by your parents is that working hard, graduating college with honors, and getting a fancy office job is the key to life. You’ve never been a quitter, and even though what he did isn’t quitting, you might see it as such because that’s what you’ve been conditioned to think.
He isn’t a quitter. That’s gotta be pretty obvious at this point.
He said this to you; he’s just good at finding out what doesn’t work for him and that’s more than okay. Taking a different path to the average Joe doesn’t equate to quitting. There’s no single path in life that a person must take and he knows that. He just has no idea how to explain that to you. Maybe you already know that. Maybe he’s just afraid of being vulnerable.
Taehyung doesn’t say much else when Jungkook heads for the exit. All he does is smirk a little like this is an act of karma. If only he knew that karma was just a bus-stop away from reaching him instead. 

Jungkook takes the bus home — not the karma bus, just the regular public bus — plays an intense game of Greedy Smurf’s Baking on his phone, does, like, fifty push-ups on his bedroom floor out of boredom, and then jogs toward the house-phone as it frantically rings from the living room. And, even though there’s no way you’d have the number to the house phone, he still holds hope that the caller is you. Alas, it's the police station. They've officially released his dad from his cell and need somebody to collect and take him home. There's nothing Jungkook would rather do less than walk into a building full of authorities, see his dad slumped up against the wall, and have to drag him back to his truck because he’s already hit stage one of alcohol withdrawal. But, he has to and he does, and during the drive home, he’s somewhat glad that he did. It may be hard to believe, but his dad can be useful at times of soberness.

The car-ride is silent for the most part, with the exception of his dad’s obnoxious string of sighs and deep breaths. Jungkook doesn’t say much, either. All he can hear is the humming of the engine and his own heartbeat ringing in his ears. But, if he really wanted to, he could fill his head with your pretty voice.
His dad slumps back in the passenger seat and looks out of the window to avoid all possible eye contact with his kid. There’s not a lot to look at; a few fields of damp grass, a cow or two, a grey sky, and whatever hallucination his brain has created. “How was college?”
“I quit.” Jungkook feels no shame in telling his dad. Why? Because he’s never cared for or considered his opinions. His dad lost his right to give fatherly-advice once he took that first sip of whiskey.
“You didn't quit. You just moved on to better things.” His dad mutters as he rubs the slightly-greying-but-still-relatively-dark stubble on his chin with his thick, callused fingers. He adds something and Jungkook wishes that he hadn’t. “Just like your dad.”
Just like your dad. This is the second time he’s heard that comparison today and it feels just as awful hearing it as it did the first time. Maybe even more so. They may look physically similar; dark hair, big brown eyes, a handsome smile, and a broad build; but, that’s as much as he’ll accept.
“You’re a man now.” His dad ponders for a few moments before dishing out more of his unsolicited thoughts. “You need a job. Get one at the diner in town. I’m sure they’d take you.”
Jungkook debates the idea in his mind, but is quick to conclude that he has no right to. He needs a job, something productive to pass the time, something that’ll make him feel a little less like a failure. He doesn’t even care that the idea was molded and created in his dad’s cruel head. He’s going to get that job at the diner and he’s going to be the best damn busboy anybody has ever seen. For once in his life, he feels a need to prove something, not only to others, but to himself. Whether it be cleaning the bathrooms at the sketchiest nightclub in town or working with the finest lawyers in the city, he’ll find a way to matter in society.
He’ll find a place.
But, when he returns home, he doesn’t quite shut himself away in his bedroom to watch a revolutionary TED talk on something he doesn’t understand. Instead, he pulls up a seat at his desk and starts typing something with a lot more letters than ‘’.
Hang on a minute.. Could he be doing something productive for once?
This might be the second time in the two years that he’s owned this laptop that he’s using it with the intention of pursuing something that’ll actually be beneficial to his future. Porn tabs, Tetris scores, and Reddit up-votes will only get you so far in life.
He’s made his way to one of your social media accounts so he can touch himself to a very average photo of you. And, no, this isn’t the first time.
Shamelessly, he slumps back in his chair, unzips his jeans, and runs his thumb over the tip of his hardening cock. He imagines his fingers as your own, or better yet, your tongue. You may be a good girl with grades higher than his sex drive, but you sure as hell know how to take a throat-fuck.
Is this insanely perverted and unhealthy? Probably, but he needs to do something about all of this pent-up frustration. Some due to his new life, some from the pain of not having you on speed-dial anymore, but the majority comes from the times he has had you; from behind, from the side, with his fingers in your mouth.
Jungkook deals with his issues two ways; he either kicks a soccer ball through somebody’s living room window, or he fucks it out. The former isn’t an option anymore because.. y’know.. character development, and the latter is far too difficult to arrange right now.
You’re not physically here, but he can see you very clearly on his screen. Your smile, pretty eyes, the exposed skin of your neck, and the fingers that have been dragged down his back many times before. You look like an extremely average student in this photo, but he sees so much more.
He could visualize you spread out on his bed in nothing than your pair of Hello Kitty panties, but he’s already opted to spare himself the mental gymnastics. 
“Fuck..” It falls from his mouth in a groan, but if you listen hard enough, it could be taken for a whimper.
His lips hang ajar as he drags his eyes from yours to the lame band shirt you’re wearing. So fucking lame. But, he finds you so fucking sexy. What exactly have you done to him? Better yet, what could you be doing right now? You’re probably studying in the library or being attentive during a boring lecture with your endless supply of stationery and sticky notes. The chances are slim at this time of the day, but you could be doing the same thing as him; back pressed against your mattress, fingers dancing between your thighs, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. What he’d give to see that in person.
The mental gymnastics has well and truly begun now; his mind is doing back-flips and somersaults just to paint the perfect picture of your body. To stop would be detrimental.
He tightens the grip around the base of his cock before sliding his palm up and down the length at a master-masturbator pace. At this point in life, he’s touched himself more times than he’s formulated coherent sentences.
His breathing grows rapid with each stroke and his dark hair falls over his low eyes. He can almost feel your skin pressed against his and your stuttered breath fanning against his neck. He can visualize your legs and thighs straddling his, your hips dipping as you fuck yourself on his cock, the furrow in your eyebrows, the feeling of your nails digging into his traps. He can see all of you and he doesn’t want it to stop.
Pre-cum leaks from the tip of his cock and runs over his fingers, and his breathing deepens further until low whines begin to follow closely behind each breath. He can hear you now; your sultry moans, the vulgar curse words that slip from your lips, his name on your tongue.
“Oh, fuck.. Y/N..” Your name falls from his lips in a pathetic stutter; something that’s been useful in speeding up your own orgasms at the best of times.
He’s done a lot worse than this; you have a pair of thighs, and with having thighs comes the joys of compression while sitting in a lecture. You usually wear jeans, but on the odd day that you rock a pair of shorts or a skirt, your thighs press against the seat like it’s nobody’s business. And, during lectures like those, he found himself shuffling in his seat just for an ounce of friction. Shamelessly, of course. He can’t get enough of you, but the best part is; he knows this feeling goes both ways.
He knows you’ve touched yourself to the thought of him and he knows you won’t ever resist the temptation he presents. From an outside perspective, he has you wrapped around his finger. But, if you really get to know the story, you’d figure out quite quickly that it’s the opposite.
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If you have an adequate imagination, I want you to picture this; it’s a gloomy evening with an 86 percent chance of rain, the sky is a shade of oxford blue, and the stars are too shy to show themselves. There’s a small town with a narrow road running through it. Clothing, jewellery, fresh produce, charity, and home decor stores live parallel to each-other on either side of said road. But, what’s most important is that little diner pushed further toward the nearing forest. How do we know it’s a diner? By the bright, neon-red lettering perched atop the building. Technically, it’s a ‘dinr’, but we’ll just pretend that the letter ‘e’ has electricity powering through it.
Jungkook landed himself a job at this diner a couple of days ago. ‘Landed’ is an understatement; he crash-landed like a comet from outer-space. The interview went swimmingly and he was hired on the spot. Who knew having no filter, failing to feel awkward in social situations, and having relatively good hand-to-eye coordination would be the perfect characteristics for the busboy role? The uniform is quite cute, too; a black apron which is rarely tied properly around his waist, old sneakers, and his favourite plaid pants. His presentation could be a little better, but his customer service couldn’t. Where there’s a customer, there’s something for him to talk about. Whenever there’s an issue, he’s quick to resolve it. No matter the age or generational difference, he can welcome conversation. It’s a talent, really, but it’s definitely not his only one. You know that more than most women.. But, that’s beside the point!
Jungkook has never been good at expressing himself, but he’s made an attempt at doing just that on the back of an old receipt. He keeps it in his back pocket and scribbles on it whenever he has a moment of understanding toward his feelings for you.
He’s worked more day than night shifts, but prefers the moodiness of working during the hours of the night. There’s something oddly artsy about the way the red neon sign lights up the parking lot and the surrounding trees. Plus, it also means that he can spend the majority of his daytime targeting different muscle groups at the gym.
It’s currently 7:32PM and his shift ends in 30 minutes, but something — more accurately,  someone — all-too-familiar makes him wish that it had ended a little sooner. Who has he seen, exactly? A pretty face sitting opposite one he’d like to slam into the table several times.
“Stop loitering.” The general manager (and the general fryer) waves his greasy, chubby hand in front of Jungkook’s face. He’s sporting the same black apron, but it has a few holes, a few loose strings, and struggles to fit around the roundness of his stomach. His hair is jet black and tucked underneath a grease-stained diner hat. “And, why can I see an empty glass on table four? I don’t pay you to do nothing.”
You’re here. You shouldn’t be (according to Jungkook), but you are. Taehyung is here too, and by the looks of it, you two are on a date. A diner? Seriously? And, this diner? Jungkook knows Taehyung is a snidey little cunt, but he went above and beyond by dragging you all the way out to the very place he works at. This is no coincidence. Taehyung knows everything that goes on within a 500 mile radius and he definitely knew of Jungkook’s recent employment. Well.. technically, his parents know everything, but they have mouths larger than the Atlantic ocean and a friend group nosier than a family of anteaters.
Alas, Jungkook has a job to do; clear that empty strawberry milkshake glass from your table. There’s a (very slim) chance you that won’t recognize him, or be bothered to look up from your pancake stack. Or, maybe you’re far too engrossed in whatever bullshit Taehyung is spilling from his lips to acknowledge your surroundings.
He’s foolish to even consider those things because you notice a presence moving toward your table almost instantly. Even if you lacked social awareness, that eucalyptus tattoo inked into his hand is unforgettable and you’re quick to recognize as it reaches for your glass.
"Jungkook..?” His name falls from your lips before you can even reconsider. “You work here?”
All he does is offer you a small smile and waver his eyes over your outfit. You’re wearing a black, over-the-knee dress with short, matching heels. It’s very clear that you thought you’d be going to a restaurant with a little more class. “You look nice.”
“Oh.. thank you.” Your voice is sweet, which is nothing new, but it’s something that he likes about you. He likes it a little too much, but he can thank his apron for hiding the fact.
You could return the gesture just as eagerly. You can’t believe how attractive he is and how you always manage to have this same thought every time you lay your eyes on him. Maybe he’s turned you into a sex fiend. Maybe something in you knows that nobody can satisfy you quite like he can. Yeah, you have a new found appetite for sex, but what if it’s only for his sex? Seokjin said that you were lucky to find someone in the world — let alone on campus — to have decent sex with.
“You don’t, though.” Jungkook directs his insult toward Taehyung before heading toward the kitchen door with your empty glass in hand.
Taehyung scoffs at the diss. No matter what Jungkook does — whether it be unproductive or productive — he won’t ever give him credit. “Classy.”
You might be wondering; why does Taehyung hate Jungkook so much? I haven’t explained it in great detail yet, but it’s because he doesn’t put any effort into anything. Jungkook doesn’t work hard, but he still gets what he wants. He spent his entire college career causing trouble and ignoring his academic responsibilities, but, somehow, the entire school still wanted to befriend him and the teachers gave him leniency. Taehyung was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and his own head up his ass, but he puts effort into a lot of things; his friends, his grades, his social status, his appearance, and even his sabotaging and bullying.
A lot of things come naturally to Jungkook; his sex appeal, his ability to make and maintain friendships, his humor, his status. He doesn’t have to try, but he knows that he has to if he wants a better future for himself.
Taehyung has been unsuccessful in sabotaging Jungkook’s previous accomplishments, but he’s certain that he can ruin what he has with you. You’re the last straw. You’re too smart for Jungkook, too kind, and you don’t deserve to be dragged down by him. If anyone deserves you, it’s Taehyung. That’s what he truly believes.
There are other pressing issues on your mind, though. Since when did Jungkook start working? Wouldn’t he have texted you to let you know? He usually texts you if he finds a quarter on the floor. It doesn’t make sense to you.
“I’m glad he’s finally gone.” Taehyung says before popping a slice of crispy bacon into his mouth. “He was a drain on resources.”
“Gone? What do you mean gone?” The question is directed at him, but you can’t pull your eyes away from the door Jungkook has just vanished behind. Seeing him feels so good, but you don’t know why. You feel safer being here, like if anything were to go wrong, he would have your back. Maybe the toned biceps and thighs have something to do with it.. Definitely.
“Haven’t you heard?” Taehyung’s expression changes into one of pure joy. It’s like he’s filled to the brim with excitement because he of all people has the privilege of dishing out the awful news. “He dropped out a couple of days ago. Thought you knew.” 
You shouldn’t feel irritated — because this is Jungkook’s life and he has the right to do whatever the hell he wants with it — but, he didn’t even bother to tell you. That’s what irks you. Was he trying to hide the fact because he’s embarrassed, or does he feel that a friendship between the two of you isn’t worth it anymore? “He didn’t tell me..”
Jungkook doesn’t show his face for the rest of the time you spend sat at that table. And, by the time the meal has been paid for and you’ve returned to the passenger seat of Taehyung’s car, he still doesn’t make an appearance. You can’t pull your eyes away from the diner’s display of front windows.
Somewhere along the lines, the night sky clouds over and heavy rain begins to pound down on the roof of Taehyung’s sports car with undue strength. His car is the only one in this parking lot, with the exception of the general manager’s four-wheeler (don’t ask) and Jungkook’s busted truck.
“I had fun.” Taehyung’s voice snaps you from your thoughts. He drapes an arm around the back of your seat and offers you a genuine smile.
You turn to meet his gaze and return the gesture. “Me too.”
His other hand wanders up your thigh before his eyes do and you’re not entirely sure why. He’s looking at you like you’re a piece of meat, like you just said something suggestive. You definitely didn’t. His ability to make something out of nothing would be credible in any other moment but this.
“Not here.” You brush his eager fingers away and offer a sheepish grin. “Can we go back to campus?”
For a reason unbeknownst to you, his kind expression shifts into one of distaste. The silence that follows lingers for only a couple of seconds.
“..Can you get out?” He mutters while his eyes burn into the steering wheel. He’s far to heated to look at you directly. If he did, he’d probably just attack you for wearing earrings worth less than $500. “Like now.”
“What..?” You can barely believe your ears. He’s never acted this way around you before. He’s never seemed selfish or judgemental, but this night is enlightening you in the worst way possible. “It’s pouring outside. How am I supposed to get back?”
“Get the bus or something.”
It’s your turn to scoff. You can’t quite tell if he’s joking or not, but his inability to look you in the eyes confirms that he’s being deadly serious. Despite your disbelief, you do exactly as he asks.
“Oh, and by the way.” He dishes out his final words over the sound of the pouring rain. “I know you’ve been fucking Jungkook behind my back, so I took the liberty of fucking the chick who runs the accounting club.”
And, then he speeds off in his parents sports car and leaves you standing in the rain like a fool. You respect your well-being enough to run for cover underneath the overhang of the diner. But, do you have too much pride to ask Jungkook for a ride back to campus? A short debate in the cold brings you to a very abrupt conclusion; no, you don’t.
The diner is warm when you re-enter and it makes you glad that you did. A few water droplets fall from your hair and drip down your bare arms, making you shiver a little. You look like a mess, but at least you’re a mess without hypothermia. It smells like coffee, pancakes, and grease in here, but you’ve never been happier to get a whiff of the combination.
“Hi, sorry to bother you..” It’s just your luck that the large man who had served you earlier is still lingering behind the counter. He has a rag in his hand and a dirtier, second rag slung over his broad shoulder. He looks no older than fifty. “Is Jungkook still here?”
“He’s in the back washing up.” He halts for a moment to listen for the sounds of manual labor. His voice is a husky like he smokes a few packs during his lunch-break alone. “He better be, anyway.”
You look sad and in distress, and that’s one of the very few things he can’t stand to see in a young woman. So, he drops his hard-as-nails act for a moment and summons Jungkook with a loud, abrupt yell of his name. And, like a trained puppy, Jungkook pushes open the kitchen doors and wanders over. His black apron is in his hands, so that must mean his shift has just ended and he was about to head home. You’re so incredibly lucky to have caught him beforehand.
Jungkook looks at you with confusion written all over his handsome face. “What’s wrong?”
“He left.” It embarrasses you to even say those words out loud. “Taehyung, I mean.”
His expression shifts to one you’d never like to see again. He looks like he’s ready to step into a boxing ring to fight to the death. “What do you mean he left?”
You shrug like it’s no big deal, but it is. You feel like crying, like going over every single interaction you’ve ever had with Taehyung just to make sense of this. “He just got upset.”
It’s decent of him to not press any further, but you know this isn’t something he’s ever going to let go of. “Yeah, I’ll give you a ride.”
The car ride is completely silent, but if you had to ability to read minds, you’re sure you wouldn’t hear the end of his distaste toward Taehyung. You can see him glancing toward you every so often in the corner of your eye, but you’re really not in the mood to talk about what happened. You’re still trying to understand it yourself.
The heavy rain subsides and at most, drizzles. This weather is a wonderful reflection of tonight’s events, if you really think about it. Also, if you hadn’t dragged your eyes over to the keys jingling in the ignition, you wouldn’t have noticed the Hello Kitty key ring. He kept it and appreciated the gift enough to attach it to his keys. A smile tugs at your mouth at the gesture.
As he pulls up in the main campus parking lot, you thank him, but as you hop out of the truck, an offer slips from your lips before you can reconsider. “Do you want to hang out?”
“When?” He replies faster than you offer.
“Now.” It’s a speed contest at this point. The pair of you are more eager than a suburban mom with a taste for home-renovation. “Tonight.”
And, that’s exactly what goes down. He parks his truck and pays for parking like a lawful citizen, walks with you to your dormitory in the darkness of the night (with the exception of LED lights smartly hidden in the bushes), and then wanders around your room like it’s an art gallery. He hasn’t been here in a while.
Jungkook has always been a nosy son of a bitch and that proves true once his curious hands wander from your jewellery box to the top drawer of your dresser. Some socks, plain bras, and panties are tucked neatly in said drawer, but something far more interesting catches his eye.
“Never seen these before.” He says with a delicate, red, lacy panty hanging from his index finger.
“Oh my god.” You shriek before snatching the garment from his grasp and stuffing it back into your private drawer. “Don’t look in there!”
“Why can’t I?” He lays his back on your mattress and emits a bores sigh. It smells so much like your perfume and the shampoo you’re so fond of. He recalls the same scent from all the times he’s fucked you from behind with his face buried in the crook of your neck. You always smell so nice. “I’ve seen a lot more than your panties.”
You brush off the embarrassment in the only way you know how; by changing the subject. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
He may not pick up on the simplest social cues, but he knows exactly what you’re referring to. “Eventually.”
“Eventually.” You repeat with an unsure nod and take a seat next to him. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
He chuckles at your question — not because it’s funny — but because it’s a question he hadn’t even thought to ask himself before leaving college. Maybe he should’ve. Maybe it wouldn’t have made any difference. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters.”
“How was your date? Aside from being ditched?” His own subject change comes out like venom, but he doesn’t mean it to. He’s pissed off at himself more than anyone else. He knows he should’ve made a move long before Taehyung came into the picture. Things would be easier.
“He acted like an asshole.”
“You like assholes.”
“You’re not an asshole.”
He’s quick to redistribute his weight to his elbows. The new position does wonders to his biceps and shoulders. “You just admitted that you like me.”
Your belated response is contradictory. “No, I didn’t. Don’t be silly.”
He won’t lie to himself; your words damage his pride. The better half of him is suspicious of your answer, but the other half wants to spend the rest of the evening trespassing on construction sites and adding water to every bag of cement just to be an asshole.
“Don’t lie to me.” He sits up properly and gazes at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. The gap between your faces grows smaller and smaller, but it doesn’t quite close.
He smells and looks amazing, and his lips look as inviting as usual, but, as irresistible as he is, something inside of you is still holding onto another chance with Taehyung. Why? No fucking idea. Maybe this is your way of denying your feelings for Jungkook for as long as you can. That’s if you even have any.
“I’m going to call him in the morning. Maybe we can talk it out.”
“Are you kidding me?” His head clouds for reasons unrelated to sex. “Y/N. He left you out in the rain, at a town you don’t know, and in the dark. What if I wasn’t working tonight? You’d still be stuck if he took you to any other place.”
You shrug, but you know he’s right. There’s no defense for Taehyung and you shouldn’t try to pull one out of thin air. You also shouldn’t let your eyes drop to Jungkook’s lips, but you do it anyway. This is the biggest hint of the night, but the difference is; you want him to act on it.
He hesitates at first, watching your expression for a green light. And, when he finds it, he kisses you. A sharp intake of breath follows in suit. He’s missed having you like this; needy for him, practically begging with your eyes, his for a night. He’d give up his favorite hobby just for the chance to touch you.
The kiss is sweet, filled with a longing, and a passion for perfection, but is quick to turn messy. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth while his eager hand works its way up your thigh and underneath your dress. His touch makes you shudder and laces your skin with goosebumps. 
It feels familiar, like you never want to be anywhere else but in his grasp.
Slowly, he hooks his fingers underneath the band of your panties and drags them down your thighs and off at the feet. The act alone is enough to have your breath shaky.
“Relax, Kitty.” He coos, but all it does it make you ten times more eager. He wants to do everything with you at the same time; make you cry, make you suck his fingers; his cock, fuck you so deep that you forget your own name, punish you for even considering giving Taehyung a second chance. He wants to fuck you so well that you never give a second thought to anybody else. But, first, he wants you to beg for him, to be the only one you want. He knows he can make you.
Jungkook backs you against the mattress, presses a reassuring kiss against your lips, and then swiftly turns you on your stomach. He does it with such ease that you could be genuinely convinced that you weigh nothing more than that of a feather.
As much as he loves the front view, he’d kill for the back. He’s caught himself staring at your ass and the back of your thighs countless times, but the knowing didn’t actually make him do it any less. Everything about you is enough to make him stare; your lips, eyes, tits, ass. He could stare all night.
He pulls your arms out from underneath you and secures your wrists behind your back with your panties. They’re a pretty, pink bikini-style with a cotton body and lace trimmings. But, the fact that you put these on for your date with Taehyung pisses him off even more. There’s no point in being gentle with you. You need to know who you belong to.
He hikes your dress over your hips before roughly dragging his tongue up your pussy, along the curve of your spine, and then back into your mouth. This kiss is as messy as it comes; saliva-dominated and pornhub premium worthy.
“You drive me so fucking crazy.” He mutters against your wet lips, but you can only hum in response.
He touches you like he was made to do just that, stimulating you like you’ve never been stimulated. He flicks his tongue against your clit and elicits the prettiest moans from your lips. The sounds are enough to have his cock hard against his stomach and the veins in his forearms protruding at the sudden blood-rush. He parts your pussy lips and dips his tongue deep into your cunt until you’re struggling against the restraints.
“Please..” Your voice is breathless. He loves it when you beg. “Please..”
“Please what?” His own voice is leaking with dominance.
You’re shameless at this point. There’s no point in feeling shame when he has you tied up with your own panties and his eyes on your drooling pussy. “Please fuck me.”
Jungkook pushes his knee in-between your thighs to draw out a whine from your mouth and to deepen the arch in your back. He’s definitely going to fuck you, but he also wants to fuck your pretty little mouth for lying to him. He knows you like him. The cocky side to him has well and truly revealed itself. “Not yet.”
Abruptly, he wraps the length of your hair around his fist and pulls your back flush against his chest. The whimper that falls from your lips makes his cock jerk against your inner thigh. “Wanna fuck your mouth first.”
He isn’t kidding, either, and guides you to the edge of the bed, where he stands over you with a hand tangled in your hair and the other around the base of his cock. His grip on your hair tightens as you take the length of his cock into your mouth. He isn’t kind about it and pushes himself down your throat until tears prick the corners of your eyes. Your mouth is warm and wet against his skin and it makes him eager to rock his hips.
“Good girl.” He praises as he slowly fucks your mouth. The moans that fall from his lips and the squelching sound of his cock pushing down your throat are the only sounds you’re interested in hearing. “My good girl.”
Arousal leaks from your pussy and dampens the sheets underneath you at his words. It’s difficult for you to admit it, but you love his attention. You love it when he praises you during sex, when he spent all of those hours flirting with you during lectures, when he cursed Taehyung’s name during the first time you two had sex. You like it all.
Your lips grow slick with your own saliva as you bob your head up and down his cock and gag on the length. Whatever mascara you were wearing prior has made its way down your face, and the fabric wrapped around your wrists is tied too tightly for you to break free, so you don’t bother fighting against it.
"Mm.. Just like that." He groans at the feeling of your tongue swirling against the tip of his cock and the sight of your desperate face. You look a little wide-eyed, like you’re worried about your throat giving out. “Fuck, baby.. You look so pretty.”
You do everything to draw him closer to his climax; hollowing your cheeks, holding eye contact no matter how tear-filled your eyes get, dribbling down your own chin, moaning to stimulate him with vibrations. You do such a good job, until you do a great job. But, instead of letting himself cum on your tongue, he tugs your head back by your hair and leans down to capture your mouth in a filthy, saliva-dominated kiss.
You find yourself laying exactly how he first intended; face down, ass up; and taking the rough spanks he lays on the curve of your ass.
Soothingly, he runs his hands down the exposed skin of your lower back and over the dark marks made from his hands, tongue, and teeth just seconds prior. You’re supposed to be this way; his.
Unlike the first kiss, he doesn’t ease you into it by fucking you slowly. He pushes his cock deep into your pussy until his lower abdomen grazes against your skin, and then he pulls out and fucks you like he’s wanted to everyday since the last time; hard, fast, until a light sheen of sweat forms on his skin, until you’re gasping for air and your thighs are shaking with pleasure.
Your moans, sobs, and the sound of your tight, wet pussy taking the full length of his cock are what drive him to ask you such a ballsy (ha!) question.
“Who do you belong to?” He purrs in your ear, but you’re far too lost in the pleasure to register his words. Your moans are a response in themself, but it’s not enough for him. He wants to hear you say it.
Completely unsatisfied with the lack of reply, he grabs a handful of your hair and jerks your head backward. “Answer me, Kitty. Who do you belong to?”
Your throat is raw and dry from his cock, and you can barely formulate your response with his cock buried deep inside your pussy. But, you try, and even though your voice doesn’t sound half as sweet as it usually does, he likes what he hears. “Yours! I’m y-yours! Fuck!”
Tears prick the corners of your eyes and soon leak down the apples of your cheeks. Your pussy clenches with each of his harsh thrusts and your arms ache from being so tightly restrained. 
The sex is everything you’ll ever look for in sex. He listens to your body and your voice until your vision floods with stars and your pussy clenches tightly around his thick cock for the final time tonight. It feels like heaven as he fucks you though your orgasm and rubs the sore skin of your ass. You definitely needed this and you don’t regret anything that happened tonight, not even with Taehyung. But, maybe that’s just the orgasm high talking.
With ease, he releases the fabric tied around your wrists and grins a little at the relieved groan you make. His cum pools on the curve of your back and slowly begins to run down your waist. But, like the dirty son of a bitch he is, he runs two fingers in the mess and pushes his coated digits past your lips and against your tongue.
And, then it ends and he doesn’t get to tell you he loves you. All he gets are brownie points for making you cum and a meaningless half an hour with you.
Jungkook doesn’t want to sound desperate — that’s the last thing he’d allow himself to be — but, he needs love more now than ever. He wants to feel a different kind of love; different to the momentary love his mom offers, different to the abusive love his father gives. He wants to confide in someone, to cry in front of someone knowing they’ll still run their fingers through his hair and tell him they’re proud of him, someone who has enough love flowing through their veins for the both of them. That’d be enough to give him a purpose in life. He sometimes thinks he’s sees his purpose in your eyes, but that’s seeming less and less true as time progresses.
It’s sex, really fucking good sex, but it’s just sex. He wishes he’d look into your eyes and find something more than that, but he never does. Or, maybe he just doesn’t know what it looks like. Maybe it isn’t in your eyes. Maybe it’s in your words, your actions, your thoughts, the margin of your textbooks. Wherever it’s hidden, he needs to find it before it’s too late.
“I gotta go.” He places a kiss on your lips before standing and re-dressing himself; pulling on one leg of his pants at a time and throwing his shirt over his head. His cheeks are a dusty pink shade and you can still see something eager in his eyes. It’s like he’s running away before he gets too involved, before he hurts himself.
He closes the door behind him and heads back to his truck with a head full of you, and his fingers rake through his dark hair in a feeble attempt to console himself.
With an intuitive smile plastered on your face and a high from your recent orgasm, you rub your sore wrists and allow your eyes to wander to the door, where a small piece of paper has been neglected. That can’t be yours. You’re way too obsessive about the cleanliness of your dorm-room. It must’ve fallen from Jungkook’s back pocket.
It’s been folded so many times that it fits into your palm with room to spare. You’re not entirely sure what to expect as you’re unfolding it, but once it’s fully unfolded and you’ve done your best at smoothing out any obtrusive creases, you realize what it is. It’s a love-letter. Well, technically it’s a receipt with a bunch of feelings he’s tried to put into words. But, it’s very much a love-letter and it’s addressed to you. The writing is minuscule and difficult to read, but the parts that you can read send an unprecedented rush of heat to your face. 
I love you. It’s not just about the sex. I can’t stop thinking about you.
He’s written many different phrasings of the same thing, but the message is as clear as day. The sex you just had with him wasn’t just sex to him, and maybe he’s felt this way during previous hook-ups, too. Maybe it wasn’t just sex to you, either, but you can’t quite put your finger on your own feelings.
You should text him and ask him about this. But, then again, maybe you shouldn’t. If he was ready for you to find out, he would’ve already told you. You’re right to hesitate because he isn’t ready. He isn’t ready to talk about his feelings. He can barely write them coherently on the back of a receipt.
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Like he promised weeks prior, Jungkook visits his mom who’s currently staying at her sisters house until she inevitably heads back to Australia. The pair of women were already sat in the living room with a cup of herbal tea in hand and an appetite for conversation, so when he knocks on the door, he’s greeted very enthusiastically.
“How’s college?” His aunt pries as she hands him a cup of tea that he’s never going to take a sip from. “I heard finals are coming up pretty soon.”
He knows he shouldn’t lie, especially not to some of the most important women in his life, but it falls from his lips before he can debate the morale behind it. “It’s fine.”
And, he gets away with it. They don’t press for anymore college-related answers, either, and instead start talking about the importance of a herb-rich diet. He mentally can’t take it anymore once his mom brings up the supposed health benefits mixing dirt in tea, so he excuses himself and heads down the hall and toward the bathroom.
The décor in his aunt’s house falls into the beach-mom-live-love-laugh vibe. He’s never seen so many jars full of shells or motivational signs strung up by frayed rope in his life. And, when he unzips his jeans and aims his piss directly into the water (just because he’s the type), he wonders why a ceramic crab has it’s beady little eyes on his. Who thought it was a good idea to sit a ceramic crab on the lid of the flush tank? In which magazine was that ever considered acceptable décor? His aunt, of course. She likes to be unique.
He does his thing with the supervision of the ceramic crab, and after all is said and done, he wanders toward the sink and pumps a generous amount of lavender-scented soap onto his palms. His eyes do what his eyes usually do; they wander. They wander to the shelving unit drilled into the wall, where multiple bottles of women’s perfume, spare toothpaste boxes, some waxing strips, and jewellery are stored, but what really strikes his interest is a little box of blonde hair dye. The women printed on the cover has long, natural-looking hair and a big smile on her face. She looks happy; something he doesn’t see in himself when he turns to look into the mirror.
He wants to be happy, too.
And, because he’s Jeon Jungkook and gives no thought to consequences, he rips open the thin card-box box, ignores the safety gloves, reads about three words printed on the product tube, dollops the bleach onto his head, and then does an alright job at using the hair-dye brush to coat his dark locks. The product smells awful; he’s never smelled anything quite like it. And, as he waits for his hair to lighten, sizzle, crackle, and pop, he plays a game of Jenga with the toothpaste boxes. 
I’m no hairdresser and he certainly isn’t, but once he washes his hair in the sink (with gloves this time), the end-product doesn’t look too shabby. Not too shabby at all. He could probably do with a little bit of toner, but he doesn’t know what that is.
His mom and aunt are just as impulsive as him, so they see no fault in his sudden, new hair colour. In fact, they take countless photos to send to the rest of the long-distance family members, and it’ll be his mom’s header photo on her social media accounts for a while. That is until her koalas give birth and she replaces it with a very graphic photo of koala-birth.
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The bleach isn’t the only thing he adds to himself.
During a sunny day of loitering and playing soccer with his friends, one of the boys suggest heading to the nearby tattoo parlor. Three out of the four boys have ink on their skin and rarely miss an opportunity to add to their collection, so, of course they agree.
I know what you’re thinking; are these guys just as bad at school as Jungkook was? The answer is no. One is studying engineering, one is on his way to a law degree (tattoo-less), and the other two are taking their own path (Jungkook included). He and his friends know they’ll stick together no matter the differing paths each of them take. They the homies.
Jungkook didn’t have the desire for more ink before going to the parlor, but his curious wandering and the artsy posters hung around the building inspire him. For the longest time, he felt like a mess, like he didn’t really have a purpose in society. But, he knows now that he needs to give himself a different meaning. He needs to ‘redefine this mess’, so that’s exactly what he gets spread over his knuckles.
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You, on the other hand, spend these days studying for your finals. Jungkook crosses your mind more times than you care to admit, but you’re just too afraid to reach out to him. You two are different, maybe too different. It hurts to think about possibly never speaking again, but maybe it’s for the better.
You re-read his note more times than you have fingers before you come to a conclusion. But, your decision to cut things off isn’t the right one and you know it deep in your heart. Out of everyone you’ve befriended at college so far, he feels the most valuable.
An explanation from him would be nice. It’d clear things up, or possibly open up new and exciting doors. All you have to do is ask yourself; is he worth it? Has he earned a place in your life?
You recall all the times he’s ever made you feel special, the times he made you laugh until you cried, the intense orgasms he managed to elicit from you, and all the other ways he showed you that he cares. You recall the pain he shared with you, his lack of love from his parents, and his feelings of irrelevancy. You recall his handsome smile, the way his eyes scrunch each time he laughs, his touch on your skin, his voice, his playful kisses, and it makes you wonder why you’re still sat at this library. He’s never intentionally hurt you and you know it’d kill him if he ever did.
You make the right decision this time; go to him and talk it out, express everything you’re feeling; the confusion, the happiness, the sadness. Say everything and mean it. Luckily for you, you remember the bus and the route it takes to reach his neighborhood, so you follow it. Talking over text or a phone call isn’t enough. You need to see him, touch him, and read every ounce of his expressions.
As you sit on the bus with fidgety fingers and a head full of arbitrary thoughts, you wonder what he does to pass time during moments like these. He plays childish games on his phone, sure, but what does he really do to pass time? What does he think about when he’s sad, happy, excited, angry? What does he think about when he sees a blue sky or a little puppy on the street?
You don’t know this because he’s never told you before. You don’t know this because he’s never been good at expressing his emotions. You don’t know this, but he thinks about you whenever he has the chance; when he’s sad, happy, excited, angry. You are the blue skies and the little puppy walking along the street. You stay on his mind like an anxious thought. You stay in his sight like he has tunnel vision. You hold the golden key to his heart and he loves you. He’ll never love anybody like he loves you, never look at somebody the way he looks at you, never touch somebody the way he touches you. He’d do anything you asked of him, even if it was at his expense.
The bus comes to a stop at his neighborhood, and after thanking the bus driver and stepping onto the pavement, you begin to worry about things you’ve never given a second thought to before. What if you’ve forgotten where he lives? What if he isn’t home? What if his dad answers the door? What if the note wasn’t even about you? Oh, shut up. It was addressed to you!
These thoughts clash and collide in your mind and do a wonderful job at egging on the tightness in your chest and the shortness of your breath. You feel like you might pass out, but then you find yourself standing at the end of his driveway and every thought you’ve ever had clears from your mind.
Jungkook is right there and looking as handsome as ever. His hair is a shade it’s never been before; a butterscotch blonde. It makes him look ethereal, more golden, like his skin is more tanned than it was before, like he's late for a runway show. There are also new, black lettering spread across his knuckles, but you can’t make it out from the distance.
He’s sawing a thick piece of pine wood with an old hand saw and it looks as if he’s making a table of sorts. Not a very good table, might you add. You’re not even sure if the legs are cut to an even height, or if the table-top has the strength to hold much more weight than that of a pencil. That doesn’t matter much, though. What matters is that he’s standing right there; shirtless, glistening with sweat, eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth; and you can finally say what you should’ve said days ago. No more beating around the bush. No more hiding feelings behind mindless sex. 

“Jungkook.” His name falls from your lips in a whisper, but he somehow hears and glances toward you. He looks happy to see you, surprised, but happy.
He wipes the sheen on his forehead with the back of his hand before greeting you. “Oh, hey. What are you doing here?”
“I want to apologize.”
“For what?” He asks, genuinely stumped. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“For not realizing your, my, feelings sooner.”
He hesitates. He doesn’t recall any time he’s ever revealed his feelings to you. The only thing he can recall are the words he had drawn on an old receipt during work, but he swore that was still tucked away in his back pocket when he left your dorm-room. “What feelings?”
You hold up the crumpled receipt and try your best to stop your hand from shaking. You’re so fucking scared of misinterpreting his words and making a huge fool out of yourself. “You left this in my dorm.”
“That’s.. a draft.” His words console you instantly, but the tightening of his abdomen distracts you from the main point. Why is he shirtless again? Right.. It’s a hot day and he’s being a handyman in his front garden. No biggie.
“You love me.” You can’t quite believe those words are coming from your own mouth. He loves you, and he has for a while, and you didn’t know. You neglected his feelings and you hurt him by accepting Taehyung’s advances.
“Yeah, I do. It’s hard not to.” He admits, but grows curious toward your attire. You’re wearing a nice dress, your hair is styled, and your makeup is subtle and pretty. “Why are you dressed so nice?”
This is probably going to sound so stupid coming out of your mouth, but you try to word it as coherently as possible. “I wanted to re-do the night at the diner. I know it should’ve been you and not him.”
Jungkook has never been happier to hear Taehyung mentioned in a sentence before. He’s never been as happy as he is right now, in front of you, and only an arms-length away.
“I want that.” God, he wants that more than he wants anything else in this world. He wipes his hands on his paint-stained cargo pants before placing them on your waist and pulling you in for a desperate kiss. It’s the sweetest kiss you’ve ever shared with him. It feels so right. He feels right.
And, for the first time in your life, you feel yourself fall completely and utterly in-love with another person. The date at the diner goes well, too, by the way. The general manager is a little pissy about having to take his own employee’s order, but he’s secretly glad to see the both of you two so happy. The sex that follows is dirty, too. Imagine the filthiest car sex you’ve ever come across in your life; right in the parking lot of the diner. You’re not sure if visions from that night will ever be erased from your mind.
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It’s an unlikely outcome, but Jungkook takes an apprenticeship to pursue the very thing his dad pursed when he was the same age. He cuts wood, fits doors and windows, paints skirting boards, but he doesn’t follow any other of his dad’s footsteps. He doesn’t reach for the bottle whenever something stresses him out, he doesn’t belittle you or have sex with other women because they’re readily available and eager, and he works hard for everything he wants in life.
He attends your graduation day in his paint-stained cargo pants and gives you the biggest kiss and congratulations the following night, he stays with you through the stress-filled time of applying for postgraduate jobs, through your first promotion, through your first pregnancy scare, and through your indecisive few weeks of choosing an apartment for the both of you. The point is; he stays with you and he’d have to be an idiot to be anywhere else.
His handiness comes in handy whenever you have a sudden desire for DIY, too. If you want the bathroom re-tiled, he’ll happily do it. If you want the living room walls painted a different colour, he’ll rummage around the attic for his paintbrushes. Anything you ask of him, he’ll try his best to provide. It goes both ways.
Taehyung, on the other hand, doesn’t quite hit it off with the girl who runs the accounting club. Yadda yadda.. Their relationship ends with a hard, well-deserved slap to his face.
College is generally a time for students to figure out where they belong in the career world, but that’s not always the case. Jungkook can happily admit that college helped him find his place of belonging in somebody; 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 @valentinazeravla @merakiio @xhazmania @aria217x @seolarsyj @jolesofthehowls @taehyungieskith @tettobokki @fancycollectormoon @thinpotion @infernal-alpaca @paperpurple @linda-botello @yoonqiiverse @gingertalksshit @shaybtsforever @dyaidk @mooniyooni @apollukee @qiqiscocogoatmilk @iamjiminsfloor @minie13 @youremyjinearth @she-is-dreaming @mariannaab​
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venusiangguk · 18 days ago
keen | jjk (m)
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>>pairing: jungkook x reader / jealous!jk x oc
>>genre: established relationship, smut, pwp
>>word count: 9.8k 🙄
>>warnings: hard dom jk, but he gets a lil softer after he cums ☺️, oc is a bit of a control freak, but jk knows just how to handle her 👍🏻, humiliation kink, improper use of precum 😐, spitting in mouth, blushing, improper use of cum 🤨, so many cums!!, creampie, tittae fucking, oral (m), water play (?), water orgasm, oc has tramp stamp 😌, bruising, marking, scenting??? 💀, borderline perfume fetish idk bro, they are in LOOOVVVEEE <3, alcohol but they are not drunk, showering together sniff sniff, passing mention of simba 🦁 (also improper)... i think that is all :))
>>notes: this is way too excessive and entirely self indulgent, but i hope u enjoy!! ty to the anon that asked for jealous jk!! sorry he took awhile but he has arrived and he smells good!! 
>>summary: when you come home smelling like someone else, jk isn't too happy. he decides to help you get the scent off... in a rather unconventional way... 
Jeongguk’s always been like. Really sensitive to smells. Not obnoxiously picky, or abhorrently fussy (that’s your job), but maybe a little particular when it comes to perfumes and colognes… It’s just that— he knows what he likes and he knows what he likes on you.
It’s a cute thing you guys have been doing ever since moving in together. Every morning after you get ready, you wait for the other by the antique, french tea/liquor cart at the end of your shared dresser so that he can pick out your perfume for the day, and so you can do up his tie.
The table came from your apartment, and it originally housed your interior design lore (as well as a few pretty, emptied wine bottles you couldn’t part with), but since entering his home it’s been repurposed as the perfumery.
The whole table is covered in beautiful glass bottles, yours and his. Dark bottles start in the back and they fade as the bottle reaches the front, his side ending in the clear colognes and yours ending in the blush pink perfumes; your being a stickler for organization coming in handy.
Most of the fragrances were gifts from him, some for anniversaries, some just because he thought it would smell good on you. You never complain, receiving gifts being one of your love languages, and he was never wrong.
At first, the morning routine was a little Mr and Mrs Smith for you, but Jeongguk is persuasive and his lips are sinful and he has a very meticulous way of scenting you.
It starts with his lithe fingers moving your hair from your neck, his lips placing a chaste, silken kiss to the precious little spot just below and behind your ear. And then the tiniest spritz of fragrance, always sure to never rub it in, wanting to keep the bloom fresh, and true, and long lasting. He repeats this to the other side.
He goes from your neck, to the center of your chest right above the deep line of your cleavage. Gentle fingers over your skin, gentle kisses hidden by perfume.
From your chest to the insides of your elbows to your wrists. Kiss, spritz. Kiss, spritz. By the time he’s done with you every morning it’s very difficult to get out the door. He can tell by the way you shift in your nylons, how you stumble a little getting into your work heels. By the way your fingertips linger on the silk of his tie before trailing down his chest to the buckle of his belt.
His favorite smell, however, is the note of you that melds with whatever expensive thing he sprayed you with in the morning. There’s something about your natural scent, the natural pheromones that your body emits throughout the day that just makes the air around you decadent, that makes your pulse points dressed in perfume alluring. He looks forward to coming home to you, kissing you hello and pressing his nose into that spot behind your ear.
So when he does that today and does not smell the soft, subdued, sweet scent of tonka and orange blossom that he dubbed you with just a few hours ago, his nose scrunches and he pulls away.
“Did you spray something new?” he asks casually.
It’s a Sunday afternoon, so unlike the normal routine, he’s been off just lazing around the house. Typically you would have joined him, but you’ve been gone; away at a work brunch. A get together for an important project you’ve been assigned with a team. Something about a new client, esteemed and freshly divorced looking for the best interior designers to renovate her new home. Poor guy should have signed a prenup.
“Hmm?” you peep distractedly. You’re hopping around, trying to keep your balance as you do your best to undo the strap of your shoe.
He laughs to himself softly, takes pity on you and kneels in front of you. He taps your thigh, gestures for you to hand your foot over. You hum happily and you wiggle your toes when they are free from your constricting heel.
It’s when you’re shifting to the other foot that he gets a whiff of that smell again. He undoes the straps of this shoe slowly, taking his time trying to place the notes. It’s undeniably masculine and he bristles a little. Mentally works through the colognes he has on his side of the cart. He's keen on sweeter scents, maybe a little woody, but this one is a bit smokey. Tobacco-esque. Wouldn't be surprised if it’s that Tom Ford one he was contemplating a few weeks ago before grabbing the Kilian instead. Either way, it’s not a scent he owns.
He massages your foot lightly, and you lean against the doorframe, a groan falling from your lips.
“Thank you,” you sigh, “my feet are killing me.”
“You smell different,” he muses, his thumbs pressing into the ball of your foot. His eyes wander, and he can see up your skirt, the violet panties you’re wearing.
You laugh a little, inattentive. “Do I?”
He drones an affirmative, and stands up, walking to the kitchen to pour you both a glass of something sweet and red. You follow him.
“Not that glass,” you tell him as you wrap your arms around his waist. “And what do I smell like, oh perfume connoisseur?” you continue, teasing playfully. You get to your tiptoes and hook your chin on his shoulder, place a sweet kiss to the side of his neck. He smells like the classic Bleu De Chanel today, a gift from you.
It’s a beat too long before he replies, grabbing a different glass from the cabinet and you go tense when he simply says, “Cologne.”
You laugh it off, knowing you didn’t do anything wrong. “Ah the restaurant didn’t have a booth big enough for our party so we all squeezed into a rather small one,” you say, plucking your glass from the counter, sauntering to the living room. “The seating was a little uh- intimate I guess. I’ve got this one coworker that just douses himself in cologne. You're probably smelling him on me.”
What a peculiar word to use when describing a work brunch.
He narrows his eyes, unbeknownst to you, and makes a tiny pondering noise. You’re busy curling into the arm of the couch, wine in one hand, remote in the other. A pout pushes at your lips while you search for a coaster, before smiling and setting it on the end table. “Is that so?” he asks.
You nod around a sip, peek at him over the rim. “Yeah, we were all practically on top of each other, but we needed the table space to get any work done. You know how I am,” you wave a lazy hand in the air, “need everything in a specific order, blah, blah.”
Jeongguk tops off his glass. “I see… Sounds more like an orgy than a work luncheon.”
Giggling, loud and bright, you swirl your drink. “I wish, maybe then it would have at least been enjoyable. The food wasn’t even that good, thank god the company paid. I actually didn’t spend a cent! That coworker I mentioned? He paid for my booze.”
Jeongguk braces his hands on the marble countertop, watching you as you obliviously grate at his nerves. Your hair is in one of those claw clips, but it's fallen some, little wispies framing your pretty face. Glancing at him, you give him a soft smile, your cheeks flushed from the alcohol coursing through your system. You tip your glass to him in an imaginary toast, and while he obliges, he just can’t shake the annoyed edge to his mood.
He leaves it for a moment, a few moments, just sipping and watching. It’s not until you let your hair down and shake it out that he lets his irritation fully emerge.
“Can you like- shower of something?” he asks, shortly with a wrinkled nose and disgusted expression. The scent that wafts from your hair doesn’t even smell bad, it’s just strong and not something he wants to smell on you. Especially if it’s not leftover from him.
“Seriously?” you reply. You’re wearing a suspicious, confused expression.
“Yes, it’s stuck in my nose and my brain and-”
“Thoughts of me smelling like another man plaguing you, my dear?” you jest, sultry in tone, and vivacious in nature.
Jeongguk doesn’t think it’s funny though. “No, it’s just giving me a headache. You’re giving me a headache.”
You’re swirling the little bit of wine left in your glass when he says it, but at his serious, irked tone you stop. Clicking your tongue and tapping a manicured finger on the round of the glass, you say, “You don’t actually think I did something, do you?”
Contemplation isn’t needed because he’s certain you would never do something like that to him. Would never sneak around, would never hurt him like that. He knows you’re good to him, that you love him like he loves you. That any male friends or co-workers you have are exactly that. Just friends. Just coworkers. He honestly doesn’t know what comes over him, when he says, “I don’t know, ___, but I do think you had to get pretty close to him because you reek.”
A little bloom of hurt blossoms in your chest, thinking that maybe he doesn’t trust you. But as you keep your eyes on him, gaze hard as you read the situation a little more, you realize it's not a lack of trust that’s making the air tense.
It’s jealousy.
“Huh,” you say, smiling a little.
“What?” Jeongguk sneers.
“You’re jealous,” you reply, settling into the cloud couch like you don’t have a care in the world.
“Am not.”
“And possessive.”
Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “And if I am?”
You shrug, demure and complacent. “Then you are. That’s what I just said.”
He scowls at you, takes an angry sip. “Is it not normal for me to not want you smelling like someone else?”
Again you simply shrug.
“You’re like- mine. Of course I’m. Feeling things,” he jerks a hand around like he’s trying to pick out the right words.
You humor him with a gentle laugh. “I’m not yours, love.”
“Yes you are, and I’m yours. Please take a shower.”
Though your heart beats a little faster in your chest at his words, a little controlling and possessive yet surprisingly romantic and sweet, you snuggle back into the cushions. You may be his in a sense, but you still make your own decisions. “I’m not going to take a random shower in the middle of the day when I just took one this morning, all because you’re throwing a fit. I’ll take one before bed, like I always do. It’s my routine, you know that.”
Jeongguk braces himself on the counter as he hangs his head, dark strands of his hair falling in his face and fluttering when he exhales through his nose. He thrums his fingers for a few seconds, dull taps on the marble. Then he’s pushing himself off, walking right up to the tv and turning it off without even sparing you a glance.
“I was watching that,” you scold as he stands in front of you.
He’s upset, so consequently and to your demise, he looks very sexy. The irritated pinch to his features, his forearms folded and flexed underneath his pecs. The grey sweat pants are always a gift when he gets out of his slacks, and the fitted black tee that hugs every curve of his physique is a nice change from the button ups and ties. Black on black where it pulls tight around his tattoo covered bicep.
You squeak when those same strong arms haul you over his shoulder as if you are but a stray feather from the down throw pillows on the sofa.
“What are you doing?” you whine, though you’re pliant in his hold, knowing that fighting is futile at this point. You also already have a good idea of what his intentions are, his steps leading straight to the bedroom.
“Gonna find another way to get the smell off of you,” he replies.
“Wait, my wine!”
Jeongguk’s steps falter like he's thinking of backtracking but instead takes a detour to the kitchen. “Grab the bottle.”
He backs up to it and you reach out and grab the neck in your hand before patting his butt, letting him know he can get moving again.
Once he’s in your room he gingerly sets you down. This makes you pause for a moment, shifting on your feet. Typically he would just toss you on the bed. It startles you a little when he stops you from crawling across the duvet, with a loud scolding noise.
“What?” you ask, hands stopping just before resting on the fabric.
He holds his hand out for the wine bottle and you hesitate before handing it to him. His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a big swig. “Don’t want you stinking up the whole bed.”
This makes you roll your eyes. “It doesn’t even smell bad. I was actually thinking it would smell quite nice on you.”
He pulls that same over exaggerated face that’s been making an appearance all night. “Never wearing it now.”
You’ve slinked your way over to him and now wrap your arms around his neck, press your body to his. His free hand settles in the curve of your waist. On your tip-toes, you press a soft kiss to his wine stained lips.
“You can be so irrational, sometimes,” you whisper, against his mouth.
He seems distracted and like he’s lost the purpose for why he took you in the bedroom in the first place when you deepen the kiss, when you lick all reason out of his mouth. He tastes like bitter cherry, and his sigh sounds like giving in when you start to trail your lips and soft nips down the column of his throat. It’s not till you try to sneakily grab the bottle from his hand that he seems to come to. To remember his goal.
He makes a quiet tutting noise, smiles a little as he lifts the bottle out of reach.
You try to charm him with your touch, cupping him over his sweats. He’s half hard already, though you’re not sure if it's from your kisses or the thought of what he intends to do with you. “Can I have some?” you ask him, voice salacious and hands coaxing.
“Of course you can,” he says back. He leans a little away from you so he can set the bottle down on the dresser.
“The wood-” you wince.
He quirks an eyebrow at you, reaching into the top drawer for a stray pair of your panties using them as a make-shift coaster. “You can have some after you get undressed for me?” His now empty hand comes up and carefully removes your earrings for you, placing them next to the wine. “After we get you out of these rotten clothes?” he suggests.
His hands trail down to your neck and toy with the necklace resting between your collarbones like he’s debating on taking it off too. It’s another gift from him, for your birthday not too long ago. He bypasses it with a soft, “We’ll leave that one on,” and then goes straight for the buttons on your blouse.
“This though,” he says, flicking a button open with ease, “this can go.”
Once again he backs up, rests his lower back on the dresser like he’s waiting for you to finish what he started, waiting for you to give him a little show.
You look him over and see what his sweats do little to hide. He’s fully hard now, hanging heavy against the seam of his pants. Swallowing, you flick your eyes to him and bring your hands up to replace his. He’s able to wait about two more buttons before he gives in and touches himself over his pants while he watches you undress for him.
He’s slow with his movements like you’re slow with yours. Fingertips gently pinching at the tip of his cock, squeezing down his length as you pull down the zipper at the back of your skirt. He sighs, strokes fast for just a second when the fabric of both pieces of clothing hit the floor
When you bend down to get the articles, he catches a glimpse of the dainty lotus flower tattoo on your lower back, peeking out over the top of your violet panties. You told him it means balance, something you strive to have in all areas of your life, even if you fall short sometimes. Spread yourself too thin, fixate here and there. Even if you mistake control, for the balance that you seek.
He bites his lip on a soft moan, thinking about how it’s a little secret for you and him. How everyone you work with, how almost everyone who knows you, probably thinks you're the last person to have a tramp stamp. How you’re too professional, too uptight and controlling and just not that kind of girl.
Jeongguk knows exactly what kind of girl you are.
“Everything off, please.”
You throw him a look over your shoulder. “Patience, please.”
He laughs, raising his hands like he didn’t mean to rush you even though he did. “Sure. But there might not be anymore left for you.”
The look you give him is much like the look you’ve been giving him. Annoyed. But you do as he says, quickly unclipping the bra, and hastily pushing down your tiny panties. Your bare feet pad over to him and you rest a small hand on his tummy.
“Happy?” you ask.
You try your best to keep that sharp, stern tone to your voice, but he’s always had a certain affect on you. He’s always made you a little easy, and weak in the knees. He’s been playing you like a drum the whole afternoon.
And you’ve been letting him.
Giving into his games. Like the one he’s playing with the wine. The withholding of it as if it really had that much of a grip on you.
You both know it doesn’t, both know the wine is just a scapegoat, a way for him to get you to do what he wants while making it seem like you aren’t doing anything for him at all. To make it seem like you’re shedding your clothes for a sip and not to make him happy. To make it seem like it's the alcohol you want, and not him.
Stubbornness and control have always been virtues of yours. It’s those strengths that landed you your career, the ones that helped you become so respected and sought after so fast. They are also what Jeongguk likes to break in you sometimes. You giving in to him tastes sweeter than any wine money could buy. You letting him take control is more priceless than all of the perfumes on the vintage table combined.
“Mhm,” he purrs, grabbing you by your jaw.
He keeps his eyes on you as he grabs the wine and he takes another big sip. Then he’s tapping a finger on your cheek. Your mouth opens instinctively, and he’s bending some. The wine on your tongue is slightly warm from being in his mouth, sweet like he laced it with sugar cube kisses, and you drink it down as he waterfalls it.
As soon as you swallow, his tongue is in your mouth. Lapping up the remnants, kissing you hard and deep, like he’s taking back something that belongs to him. Greedy as he suffocates you with his lips, desperate as he tries to get you to submit. He bends over you, makes it so you have to bend and arch your back to accommodate him. You resist though, a fussy moan sounding into the kiss.
“Stop fighting me,” he growls against your lips.
A little more force is all it takes for you to be on your knees in front of him.
He puffs out a satisfied little sigh, smiling as he looks down at your scowling face. “Oh don’t be mad, pretty.”
His gaze is condescending and patronizing, and the way your bare pussy pulses is shameful. You’re completely nude, on your knees for him while he’s still fully clothed, the one that’s fully in charge. Your eyes slip shut and you take a breath; the exhale is shaky due to the arousal coursing through your veins.
“You want some more?” Jeongguk asks.
Lashes fluttering as you open your eyes, you see him shake the bottle that’s still in his hands. It seems like he’s taunting you, but still you nod.
When his lips wrap around the bottle, and he takes a few long drinks, you know that it doesn't just seem like he’s taunting you, he actually is. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and then gives you a small smile and a shrug. When he sets the bottle back on the dresser it sounds hollow.
“There’s none left,” he says, his face fauxly apologetic. “But lucky you, I have something I think you’ll like better?”
He bends as his waist, cups your face in his hands as he rubs the pads of his thumbs over your cheekbones. “Say ‘ahh’, pretty,” he says softly, so, so sweetly.
You listen to him, because how could you not when he asks so nicely? His jaw works for a few seconds before he lets a glob of wine-tinted spit drip into your mouth. It tastes like berries, and you swallow before opening your mouth again to show him.
He hums. “Taste good?”
You nod.
“Better than whatever that coworker bought you?” he presses. He bends his knees so he’s closer to your level, rests his forehead against yours, gives you a light kiss. “Hmm?”
The juxtaposition between the way he acts makes you dizzy, hazy as you close your eyes. Relishing in the way he touches you, soft yet like he owns you. Like you’re his. “Yeah,” you agree.
He smiles big before he kisses your forehead. “Keep your mouth open,” he whispers as he bites into your bottom lip, “gonna fuck it.”
Standing up again, Jeongguk quickly sheds his clothes. Waits a moment so he can take you in, sitting pretty on your knees waiting for him. He’s stroking his cock idly when he cups your cheek again, urging you to glance up at him through your lashes. Swearing quietly, the hand on his cock squeezes some before sliding up and down just a bit quicker.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he breathes.
The hand on his cock squeezes at his tip, precum oozing out, shiny and clear. He taps his index finger in it, playing with the translucent string for a moment like he’s considering something.
With his hand still wrapped around himself, he tentatively extends his pointer finger, the tip of it going straight for your mouth. You part your lips for him, thinking he wants you to suck on it but his eyes and the tiny noise he makes tells you ‘no’, and then he’s softly just wiping the sticky precum on the plush center of your bottom lip.
Jeongguk’s breath is shaky above you, like something about the simple act of swiping the evidence of arousal on your mouth is debilitatingly sensual. He doesn’t even know if he can explain it, but he knows he wants more. He grips under the head of his cock, presses the tip onto your slightly parted mouth and moves it back and forth, up and down, covering the whole of your lips in the clear substance. Almost like he’s putting lip gloss on for you.
“Look at you…” he says, tapping his tip on your bottom lip, watching the crystalline string sparkle a little in the sunlight. He sounds gone, drunk- not on the wine, but on you. “Tell me how pretty you are, baby.”
You grow hot at his words, the shame simmering under your skin once again. There’s something so mortifying, and embarrassing about what he’s asking you to do. His precum on your lips feels so dirty that it makes your insides squirm. You can’t tell if it’s because you like it or hate it. “Koo…” you whine, shifting restlessly on your knees.
“Say it,” he demands, looking down at you with hard eyes.
Quickly, with a slight wince, you whisper, “I’m so pretty.” Your hands clench where they are resting on your thigh.
He moans from above you, his hand now steadily working over his cock. “Yeah, you are, so pretty and mine.”
He’s hard enough that his cock goes to his belly, standing straight up, so he pushes it down at the base with his thumb, slowly guiding it past your defiled lips. He gasps softly as the underpart of the head rubs against the flat of your tongue.
“Tap my thigh if you need to, just like I showed you.”
Your eyes shut and you take a deep breath, and then he’s fucking your throat.
He starts slow, letting you get used to his cock sliding past that part in your mouth that resists a little against his tip. Dragging your head down on his fat cock by your hair, unhurried and lazy with his movements. Relishing when you swallow around him, throat slick yet so tight, the muscles working against him. He holds you down, head thrown back, moaning ardently as you sputter and bubble at the base of his cock, spit dripping down to his balls.
You gasp when he pulls out of your throat, heaving breaths and choking coughs sounding in the room as he lets you breathe for a second.
A finger under your chin tilts your gaze up to him, red-rimmed eyes glassy and a little vacant as you look at him.
“Gonna go fast now, hmm? Just how I like?”
You blink up at him and tears leak out the corners of your eyes and Jeongguk tracks it down your cheek gathering it with his thumb.
He doesn’t say anything more, just pries your mouth open, thrusting his cock back in. His grip on your hair is brutal, and the glucking sounds that fill the room every time his cock fills your throat are disgustingly wet and lewd and so filthy. Though they don’t sound near as pornographic as the way Jeongguk moans above you.
“Oh my god- fuck yeah-” His hips rock forward in time with every word he says, his head thrown back, mouth parted and brows furrowed in pleasure.
When he looks down his nose at you, he watches as his inches disappear past your lips quickly and all at once, over and over again. And you’re so docile in his hold, leaving your mouth agape for him, letting him fuck your throat like it’s second nature, and like it’s what you were put on this earth to do.
The way that his cock jumps and throbs before you when he pulls out, lets you know that he was so close- that he almost lost himself in the tight suction of your throat. Lost himself in the fast, harsh thrusts he was giving you. His tip is still oozing and connected to your lips by a line of thick, drooly spit mixed with precum.
With one last pulse of his cock and a raspy, fucked out voice Jeongguk tells you to get on the bed.
You try not to be too eager, but your soaked pussy has a mind of her own- she makes your movements clumsy and crude as you too quickly take your place at the head of the bed, sinking into the pillows under you. Your eyes look to him, and you know he can see how bad you want him, how you're past the point of resistance now, ready to fully give in and be his just like he says you are. Like you both know you are.
“You want it, pretty?” Jeongguk ponders, slowly crawling to you.
“Mhmm,” you say, a little meek.
He’s in front of you now, on his knees, stroking his cock again. He eyes you, his gaze dragging down the length of your body, to where your plump pussy peeks out from between your bent legs. “Show me,” he purrs, “open up, let me see?”
It’s something that he likes to do, knows it makes you squirm, and that it makes you shy. Knows that despite that, it still makes your cunt drool.
Your skin grows hot in embarrassment as you pull your legs back, knowing that like this— pussy bare and visible for him just how he wants—  it’s so blatantly clear how much you love being humiliated despite your qualms.
You open yourself up, with your elbows hooking behind your knees, and your tits pillowed and pushed together between them. Your fingertips pull your plush pussylips apart, nothing keeping the wet slick that coats you from glistening in the light that’s streaming in from the open window next to the bed.
Jeongguk sighs, shuffles a little closer. He brings his index and middle finger to your center, opening you up even more as he pushes your inner lips apart, watches as you clench on nothing. His cock dribbles when he thinks about how good it’s gonna feel when he finally slides inside.
Gripping under the crown, he brings the tip to your clit, presses into you as he ruts his length over it. You keep yourself spread for him, so the pressure is direct and the stimulation pinpointed. The softest little sighs start to fall from your lips, your head lolling back, and your eyes falling shut.
Then he’s pushing in, with a soft order for you to watch. Watch as he forces the head past the initial little resistance before pulling out, then repeating again, adding another inch every time like he’s getting himself used to the tight suction of your cunt.
Being so open for him allows for you to see how obscene it really is. How your tiny pussy is able to suck him right in, inch by inch, until his pelvis is pressed right up against you. His hands replace yours, his thumbs pulling your folds open, and yours go to holding your feet and ankles by your head as you watch him fuck you.
Jeongguk’s eyes are locked on the way his cock gets sheathed, your lips petaling around him like a flower, and everything about you is just so pretty. Your pussy that's dewy with excitement is pretty, your soft skin that erupts with chills as he starts to work his hips into yours is pretty, your face as your eyes close and your brows pinch, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. The sound of your voice as you whine for him. Pretty, pretty, pretty.
“I love you,” he murmurs, his hands coming up to just cup your tits, feel how they jiggle, heavy in his palms every time his hips snap against yours.
You nod, eyes still pressed shut in pleasure. “Love you-”
The tender moment is short lived, much like it always is when Jeongguk is fucking you to prove something. Sometimes he gets like this to teach you a lesson, sometimes just to prove you wrong over a playful bet. Sometimes to help you let go of the stress and control that drives both you and him mad.
In this case, however, he’s trying to prove that you’re his, that he can make you feel better than anyone else could ever dream of.
“Love this cock too?” he whispers, you can hear a smile in his voice, eyes still closed.
Your lips turn up at the corners for a moment, until you’re whimpering, “Yeah- feels so good- Jeongguk-” each word is stuttered, punched out one at a time by his cock.
Jeongguk sounds fond when he mocks you breathily with a light laugh, “Yeah? Feels so good, pretty? Gonna cum?”
“Yeah, make me cum, love,” you whisper, body going slack and pliant as you concentrate on reaching that high.
His hands move, one going to the back of your thigh to brace himself and then the other going to grip at you hair, pulling so that you’re looking down to where his cock pounds into you.
“Watch, want you to see how this pussy creams for me…” He’s panting above you, sweaty and flushed as he starts to climb with you. “cum on me,” he tells you.
Again you’re nodding, at a loss for words as you watch his fat cock slip in and out of you, wet noises sounding in the room. Your legs start to shake by your head, partly from you being in this position for a good amount of time, and partly because of how close you are. Your toes curl and your nails dig into your own legs as your cunt starts to tighten, pussy pulsing as you finally feel the rush.
“Oh my god, fuck I’m cumming-” you cry, eyes squeezing shut again, legs trembling in your hold as you fight to keep them open.
Jeongguk moans, keeps pushing and pulling his cock in and out of your pussy, feeling how it contracts and convulses around him. He yanks roughly, his grip in your hair pulling, urging you to look again. “Open your eyes, look. Who’s pussy is that cumming all over my cock, hmm? Who’s pussy is making such a mess like that? It’s mine, right, pretty?”
Tears spring to your eyes as he relentlessly fucks into you. “It’s yours, it’s yours-” you sob as you peak.
Jeongguk falls to his forearms and your limbs rearrange themselves to accommodate him. Arms wrapping around his shoulders as he buries his face in your neck, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close. His hips are moving with slow, long thrusts, his teeth digging into your neck, not quite lovebites, and not quite bite marks either— a mixture of both and a claim all the same.
“Yeah-” he moans ardently into the hot, bruise-stained skin of your neck. “keep telling me whose it is; keep telling me it’s mine.”
“Oh, it’s yours Jeongguk- all yours,” you pant, nails digging into his back. You feel the give of the working muscles under your harsh touch. “Cum in it- make it yours.”
It’s like your words, your lewd chantings and admissions, are what finishes him off. He groans a deep and fervent moan into you, tells you he’s there, that he’s cumming. You can feel the pillow under your head dip and scrunch as he grips at it, hands strong and forming fists in the down. He rocks his hips into you, pushing the shots of white deep inside as he cums.
He doesn’t let himself drown in it though, the spacey high that he gets when he milks his cock till he can’t take it anymore. Instead, he finishes inside and then makes his way over your chest, his still stiff cock in front of you. He’s lost some of the volume, but he’s still thick, still jerking a bit with the aftershocks of cumming.
“Clean it up, keep me hard,” he tells you, voice shaking as he tries to catch his breath.
You suckle at the tip for just a moment before he’s pulling back with a sensitive hiss. “Just licks-”
Obediently, you comply. The tip of your tongue lightly swirls around him, while you look up at his heated gaze. His hips still twitch when you lick a long stripe up the underside, showing him the leftover cum that you lapped up before making a show of swallowing.
“That’s it, listen so well when you’re not fighting me,” he says looking down at you, shifting some so you can clean him more. “How do we taste?” he asks, voice cute, laced with a grin.
You heat up at the praise, but give another little lick before saying softly, “Good…” Your eyes cross slightly when you look at the tip in front of you. He’s fully there again, hard, and leaking. “What are you going to do with this?”
Again, he’s switching the position up, though he only shimmies down your body a little bit this time. Hunching over, he nips your cheek while he says, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He presses a smile into the pudge before kissing the apple.
When he rights himself, his hands immediately go to your tits. Squeezing them, watching as they jiggle and give under the grip of his greedy hands. Then he’s smiling at you, a little sheepishly, bringing his cock to the valley between them. He drools, lets the spit flow from his mouth down to his cock, your skin.
Your hands are on his thighs as you watch him contently. He looks at your body with wonder in his eyes, reminiscent of a virgin seeing another person naked for the first time. He’s far from that, has taken you any and every way imaginable it seems like, but it’s like you’re his love drug— like everytime is as good as the first, him only wanting you more and more as time goes on.
You keen under his grip, back arching. The hold his hands have on you is a little painful and sure to leave an ache, but you know that’s what he wants. To leave another form of lingering ownership on your body, as he presses your tits tight around his cock.
He moans when he rocks his hips, the first thrust into you the plush pillowing of your tits is enough for his head to roll back, his breath to catch. He’s bracing himself on your body, heavy on your chest as he fucks your tits, and it’s like he doesn’t even notice, too lost in the feeling.  
You’re still just watching him when he flutters his eyes open. He blushes when he sees you, sputters out a soft laugh. “Stop watching me.”
Giggling back a little, you say, “Well what else am I supposed to do?”
His rough mood seems to have simmered down after finishing the first time, the cum in your cunt affirming enough for him to relax a little, settle into a mood that’s a little more lazy and playful.
He hums, closes his eyes again. “You hold them… be useful, instead of nosy.”
You do as he says, and he looks down, sees how your tits overflow in your tiny hands, watches how the swollen tip of his cock pokes out the top every time he thrusts between them. He groans, eyes slipping shut again like the sight is too much. Bracing himself against the headboard, he starts to pick up the pace.
“Yeah, like that,” he whispers, as if you're the one doing the work. As if you’re the one that’s gripping the headboard and using it as leverage to repeatedly thrust his cock into your boobs. “Tighter-”
You can clearly feel the remnants of his harsh touches when you press your tits even more firmly together. The friction of him rubbing against you causes a slight burn on your skin, but you know it won’t be much longer. Can tell by the way his hips stutter just like his breaths, how his moans become more constant, eager as he works to cum— the high just a little harder to reach after his first orgasm.
Encouraging him, you tell him how you want it, all over you just like how his cum is inside you. How you wanna see it.
“Oh- I’m gonna cum again baby…” he warns you, hips pushing his cock frantically between your tits. Your eyes go from watching the way he works himself into the pillowy hold of your boobs to his face above you and you can see how his mouth is parted and how his eyes are shut with slightly raised brows. You moan under him, his expression enough for you to know he’s so close— “Yeah, yeah-” he pants, “Fuck, I’m cumming-”
He locks up above you, his body twitching as he cums, his moans broken and whiny. One shot is strong enough to hit under your chin, on the column of your neck, but the rest spurts from the angry, red head, dribbling to pool on your sternum.
You can only imagine how sensitive his cock is, so when his hands come down and whip your palms away from your tits, you’re not surprised. He still pulses when the grip around him is lost, and he sighs while he holds your hands above your head. He laces your fingers together before diving down as giving you a deep kiss.
He settles on top of you, careful of his cum. With curious eyes, he just kind of looks at you after he breaks the kiss, hands petting at your tangled hair. Then his eyes are roaming, taking in the white on your skin. He lingers at the drops on your neck.
With a trembling hand, Jeongguk swipes up a couple little droplets with the tip of his ring finger. You’re expecting them to come to your mouth, so you part your lips slightly while you wait, eyes lazy and lulling closed. Your mouth stays parted as you tense up, eyes opening in confusion when you feel his finger not at your lips, but at the precious little spot just below and behind your ear. When he massages his cum into your skin, you let out a shaky sigh, lashes fluttering.
“What are you-”
“Shh,” he shushes you. His voice is stern again.
You whine a little, hands clenching where they are still resting on the pillow by your head. It’s one of those things. Those nasty, dirty things— so similar to the way he rubbed his precum into your lips— that makes your tummy do somersaults. That mild sickly feeling that clouds your chest; uneasy yet simultaneously pleasurable and satisfying all at once.
As he repeats the action to the other side of your neck, you start to wiggle under him. Your pussy needy again, wet where he lays between your legs.
Jeongguk’s at your ear, right above where his fingers rub his cum into your skin. “You like this,” he murmurs, dull surprise lacing his words. “It’s so dirty, why do you like it so much, baby?” He nips gently at your earlobe. “Is it because you’re mine, and because you like whatever I do to you?”
Before you can reply, he’s straddling your waist. You choose to stay quiet, try and sit still while he racks his eyes over you again. He’s patient though, prompts an answer with a quirked brow as his fingertips trail through his cum, spreading it on your skin.
“Yeah, I like it because I’m yours…”
He hums, pleased. “Is there anything else you wanna say? Wanna ask?”
And you really thought the shame and humiliation was over for tonight. But evidently it’s not because you know that he knows what you want. That he can feel it in the way that you’re so tense under him in effort to stop the constant vibration thrumming though your body.
“Wanna cum again…” you whisper.
Jeongguk smiles lightly above you, keeps playing with his cum on your chest, swiping up the last little puddle with his thumb. And you’re sure this time he wants you to taste, your mouth being one of the only places he hasn’t marked as his today (with his cum), but he bypasses your lips, instead swiping his cum-covered thumb on your forehead.
You blink at him dumbly.
“Did you just Simba-mark me with your seed?”
He laughs loudly, the little rounds under his eyes making an appearance before he’s leaning down to kiss you, teeth clicking with yours as you both smile into it. “Let’s get you cleaned up. So messy,” he teases with a grin, as if he isn’t the one that soiled you.
And the denial of a second orgasm makes the need for it that much more apparent, the fluttery heartbeat between your folds pulsing. But you don’t complain, know that sometimes he does this. Usually only when you fight him excessively, but every once in a while he’ll be selfish with you even when you cave and hand over the control.
The water is warm and Jeongguk is already inside by the time you haul yourself off of the bed and meet him in the bathroom. You watch for a moment, through the clear glass of the shower door. His back muscles are rippled and his head is tilted back as he works his hands through his hair, the water cascading down his back. The slick wetness of his locks lets his undercut peek through, when he senses you and turns to look.
He pushes the door open, gestures for you to get in.
“Missed you,” he greets, making room for you under the spray.
You hum, rest your palms on his chest, as he works the water through your hair. You busy yourself by grabbing his body wash and squirting a little in your hands before lathering it up and spreading the bubbles across his body. It’s a Jo Malone scent, one that smells fresh yet woody at the same time; light enough to not be overbearing, but strong enough to linger for a while. He lets out a pleased little sigh at the feel of your hands on him.
He mirrors your actions except with your shampoo, something repairing to combat all the heat styling you do. With strong hands he massages the soap in, occasionally pulling back to see if it’s close to getting in your eyes, each time smiling fondly as the bubbles start to accumulate leaving your locks white and sudsy. He makes sure to wipe the itsy bit of cum off of your forehead.
You both rinse off the first steps in your shower routines, and you ask him if he wants you to wash his hair for him. He declines, says it’s not hair washing day.
With the soap on his body washed away, and nothing else on his list to do, he makes it his duty to tend to you again. He gets a dollop of conditioner in his palms, works his hands in your hair once more, making you purr a little as he rubs it into your scalp.
“Remember,” you say lazily, “leave it in for at least 5 minutes.”
You hear his smile more than see it, eyes blissfully shut. “I know, pretty.”
While he waits for the conditioner to seep into your hair, he goes for your body wash, but when he passes a different bottle, his fingers falter and twitch. He ends up opting to grab his instead.
You see the change, and you’re about to protest, so used to your habitual and particular steps, but he shushes you with a soft kiss.
“Just today, please?” he asks as he flips open the cap.
His kisses are convincing, and you’ve always been a little weak for him, so you nod.
While you tilt your head back to feel his trail of kisses on your neck, you also feel Jeongguk’s soapy hands on you, gentle, almost a little curious as he touches you. When he cups your tits in his palms, your nipples pebble despite the warmth in the shower. He rubs over them, rolls them in his grip, spreading the body wash. You act demure, like the feel of his hands on your body doesn’t reignite the spark between your legs. The one you’ve been trying to ignore since entering the washroom.
It’s not till he’s done washing you that the feeling gets to be almost too much. Especially when his wandering hands linger and continue to pet over you. He’s got your back to his front, his chin hooked on your shoulder, fingers dancing on the softest part of your lower belly before sliding down with the water droplets.
He doesn’t really touch you. Not the way you want.
“You’re teasing me,” you huff, frustrated at the way he’s just running his fingers over your folds.
He just hums, standing up straight, and removing his hand all together, instead going to reach for the removable shower head. “Am I?” he asks.
You can hear the click of the settings as he changes it to the jet stream.
“Tilt your head back,” he says.
With a hand shielding your eyes, Jeongguk rinses the conditioner out, leaving the jet at the nape of your neck for a second. You roll your shoulders as he starts to move the harsh stream over the muscles in your back, a soft groan sounding when he reaches a knot by your spine.
“Feels good?” he asks, gently. His voice has an airy lilt to it that it didn’t have a moment ago.
You nod, swallowing thickly when he brings the stream to your front, your back flush against his chest. He lets the stream hit all over your torso, the water warm against your skin, before he’s just briefly letting it hit right over your slit. You breathe out a tiny gasp.
“You use this sometimes, don’t you?” he asks, trailing the stream back up your body.
Again you just nod, your hand gently guiding his arm back down.
He lets you, pliant behind you as he whispers against the shell of your ear, “What do you want?”
One of your arms comes up and twines in his hair as you turn into him. He’s close, of course, so his mouth isn’t far and you only have to tilt your head up some to reach him and plead against his lips, “Please make me cum?”
You brush your nose against his cheek and he puffs out a soft breath against you before closing the distance between you with soft, wet kisses. The hand you have in his hair pulls, makes him groan into the kiss so that you’re able to slip your tongue into his mouth for a few moments, licking him up.
The free arm that he has wrapped around your waist tightens and you feel him pull you even tighter to his chest before it’s falling down to your thigh. He taps it softly as he says, “Put your foot on the ledge…”
It’s a little cutout in the marble wall, meant for a bar of soap or something, but it also doubles as a perfect place to rest your foot as you hoist your leg up.
The water is intense when Jeongguk finally brings the stream between your legs, but it’s good. It’s exactly what you’ve been craving, it’s enough to make your legs buckle, and enough to make your breathing hitch almost immediately.
“Oh god-” you whine, face turning into Jeongguk’s chest again, the hand that’s still in his hair tethering you in place.
“Is that right?” he asks, meaning the position of the jet.
He’s a man of many talents, one of them being knowing where your clit is in any and every sexual situation, so while it is right, it’s a little intense, so you place your free hand over his, nodding into him even as you move the stream a little up and to the side.
“Yeah, there- don’t move it-” you whisper, looking down your belly to where you can see the jet pulsing in between your legs, and the tattooed arm that’s holding it in place. The visual aids the already steady heat curling in your lower belly.
And fuck, water orgasms never take long, but its not even a few minutes before your starting to lock up in his hold, the leg you’re holding up starting to tremble and trying to close on the stream.
“Keep your legs open,” Jeongguk whispers, he sounds a little distracted, dazed maybe. But it could be the haze that’s starting to cloud your brain. “What’s it feel like, pretty?”
You know he wants dirty talk, that he wants to hear you struggle to form coherent sentences as your squirm against his chest— but frankly you don’t have enough time to struggle and fish for words, the only sentence running through your mind and past your lips being, “Feels like I’m gonna cum, fuck-”
Your voice is high pitched and whiny in your ears, and Jeongguk chuckles behind you a little, presses his cock that's plumped up again into the curve of your asscheek.
“Already?” he purrs.
The way he asks, almost like it’s a little pitiful and funny that you’re going to finish so soon, makes you whimper, but like you didn’t have time to think of words, you don’t have time to be humiliated either, the rush hitting you full force; the string in you snapping as the water gushes against your pussy perfectly. The strength of your orgasm takes your breath away as Jeongguk keeps the steady stream right where you showed him, until you're gasping in his hold and desperately pushing his hand away.
Your chest is still heaving when he appeases you, letting the water fall over your body once again. You feel him laugh into your neck where he’s placing sweet kisses.
“That was quick,” he teases.
“It always is with that,” you tell him, head slumped against his shoulder, “Plus you worked me up…” you add with a small pout.
He coos, “Was always gonna take care of you, you worked yourself up.”
You spin in his hold, draping your arms around his neck, and he gets back to letting the jet work into your muscles, his free hand settling in the curve of your waist while he looks down at you like he’s waiting for you to say something. His cock is hard against your tummy, and it makes a little idea sprout in your head.
“Have you…” you start, “have you ever cum with the water before?”
He laughs softly, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think it works the same as it does for you.”
“I think it could,” you muse, slipping your hand between your bodies. He flinches a little when you wrap your finger around him.
Then he sighs, hangs his head back. “Don’t know if I can cum again,” he admits, his hips slowly pushing and pulling in your loose fist.
“Try?” you ask, reaching behind you to take the shower head from him, and then dropping to your knees.
Jeongguk’s cock is thick and pink in your palm, the tip of it a bit more flushed and angry looking. You start by running the water over his thighs, glancing up at him every now and then. He’s got his eyes closed as you stroke him, his tiny pink tongue licking at his lips, as he runs his fingers lazily over his toned tummy.
You aim the stream at his cock, slowly dragging it up and down the length before putting it directly at the underside of the crown. Jeongguk breathes out a gasp, and the muscles in his belly contract and tense.
When you look up at him again, he’s looking down, watching you as you make him feel good, brows furrowed a little like he’s surprised that it feels good.
“Feels nice, huh?” you smile up at him.
Jeongguk grins back, nodding as he places a hand on your cheek. “Always make me feel so nice…” His thumb brushes your cheek and your water heavy lashes flutter a little as you press into his palm.
“Wanna make you cum,” you murmur.
His hand pulls away from your cheek, goes back to lightly teasing himself by running over his stomach up to his nipples. “I’ll try…”
He doesn’t really need to try. The constant stream almost feels like a vibration on the tip of his cock, except better in a way that he can’t explain. But like it wasn’t long for you— it’s not long before his breathing gets faster, deeper.
“I like this,” he tells you, voice lustful and soft, barely audible over the sound of the water.
You continue to pump him with a loose palm while the water does it’s magic. “Mmm, I can tell, love… you’re so hard…”
He was hard to start with, but after a couple minutes of the jet on him, he’s so much more so. So stiff that he’s standing straight up, the tip coming just below his belly button, rock hard in your palm. And he’s letting out these little noises. These little huffs and groans, like he’s working for it, pushing himself closer to the high.
“Mmf- fuck…” he stutters above you.
Glancing at him again, you see the way his eyes have squeezed shut, how he’s slumped against the shower wall like it’s getting hard to support himself, hands still raised, fingers still toying with his chest. His stomach goes in between tense, and the lower part expanding in that way that’s so unexplainably hot, just like it always does when he’s about to cross that point of no return.
“Gonna cum,” he mutters.
When he does, it’s so gratifying. Like making him feel good makes you feel even better as you watch the way he goes silent and rigid above you, and the way his overworked cock pulses and throbs in your hand, the littlest shots of white washing away as soon as they dribble from his slit.
It’s not until you wrap your lips around his tip and flick your tongue on the overstimulated under part of his head to suck the last little bit of his cum in your mouth that he starts to whine and twitch above you.
“Ah-” he grimaces, pulling at the hair at the back your head, “enough, oh my god- there’s no more-”
You hum against the tip for good measure, laughter filling your eyes, when he throbs in your hand again.
It’s when you’re in bed for an afternoon nap that you tell him the coworker that he got so worked up over is gay, and that you are the last person that he would be interested in. Jeongguk claims that he’s going to get rid of the mug that you religiously use every morning as payback.
But when you go out to make your Monday morning coffee the next day, the mug is sitting on the counter, ready for you along with your favorite spoon.
Some things, some feelings, are hard to shake. Like nagging, irrational jealousy, or the meticulous need to make sure a coaster is down, to be in control. But love is something you both indulge in, something you’re keen on.
bye the ending sucks but u came for the p0rn not my literary skills !! lmao!! anyway!! bruh 💀 the abo undertones i can't idk how this got so FILTHY like ?? nut as perfume ??? precum as lipgloss?? how tf does my brain even get to that point 😩 depraved and down so bad 🤧 but~~ i hope u liked it <3 pls reblog, like, comment, share, send an ask if u did~~ love talking to u and hearing ur brain thinks and opinions <3 muah~ :*
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kimnjss · 4 months ago
uncharted territory | kth
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⤑  series: kinda hot
⤑ pairing: campus flirt!taehyung x sweet girl!reader
⤑ genre: lmao i don’t even know... angst? smut?
⤑ rating: explicit
⤑ word count: 7.5K // unedited.
⤑ warnings: use of alcohol and weed, cursing, dirty talk, slight hair pulling, over-the-shirt nipple play, dry humping, ruined orgasms.
⤑ A/N: hihihi! just here to remind you how much i appreciate all of you guys reading this story nd getting as invested as you are!! don’t hesitate to let me know what’s on your mind - no matter what it is ., feedback is my favorite!!
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JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 19:07
Hoseok is leaning handsomely against the side of his car when you're stepping out. Arms crossed over his chest as his teeth nibble on his lower lip, eyes seeming to sparkle when he's looking at you. The shine only getting brighter when the corners of his mouth lift into a smile. Body lifting from the side of the car to pull the passenger's door open, gesturing to it with his hand.
“Ooh, check out the gentleman,” You're teasing with a laugh, ducking into your seat as he rolls his eyes. Jogging around the front of the car until he's sinking into the spot beside you, taking another moment to let his eyes travel over your body.
Nodding slightly to himself before he's grinning, “You look hot,” His warm hand landing on your thigh to give it a little squeeze before he's pulling from his parking spot and onto the road.
Compliments from Hoseok came sparingly, wasn't really one to gush over your appearance with mere words. He was more of a show-er than a talker in that sense. So when he was paying you a compliment, it was never anything all that deep. Never once compared the brightness of your eyes to the sunlight or whatever Shakespearean shit he could muster up. He was just going with what he thought and you appreciated that.
It kept things from getting confusing between the two of you. If he was constantly dotting on you and telling you how amazing he thought you were (and you were amazing, no doubt about that), but if he was telling you.. it would definitely put a damper on your whole arrangement. You were a simple girl to be completely honest. Words got to you, you'd be head over heels in love if he was calling you beautiful every chance he got.
Hot was good. Hot was fine. Hot was safe. Because catching feelings for Hoseok? You'd be better off standing in the middle of the road waiting to be run over. And then getting the driver to put it in reverse. Hoseok was brutal when it came to girls and relationships, didn't waste time on feelings or the overly emotional.
A bit of an asshole, but that was why you liked him. He knew how to keep things fun and exciting, loved being surrounded by people. But he wouldn't hesitate to tell someone to fuck off if the circumstances called for it. He was cool. To put it simply. A very cool guy taking you out on a date. Anyone would be giddy about that, it was Jung Hoseok for crying out loud!
“What you got a taste for?” His eyes don't move from the road in front of him. One hand steering the wheel while the other keeps its hold on your thigh. Skin easily warming under his touch, you force yourself to focus on what he's saying.
Having to keep yourself from suggesting, (for the first time in person but the eighth(?) to him) skipping dinner and going back to your place to make proper use of your time. You bite that down. He wanted to take you out to eat, so you planned to humor him. Eat with him so he can eat you out. Simple.
“Anything, really. You like pasta. Should we just go to that Italian place?” With a slight nod, he's directing the car toward the restaurant. The smile on his face lets you know that he had been secretly hoping to get to eat there tonight. It was his favorite place to go, knew the menu like the back of his hand.
So he's pleased that you're suggesting it.
The car ride is filled with soft music and playful banter about whatever comes to mind. He's challenging you, saying things that he knows will get under your skin just to hear you argue why he's wrong. Laughing as you outline all the reasons why mints and chocolate should be far away from each other.
He keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back as he leads you into the restaurant. Still egging you on with why he thinks you're wrong, laughing at the way your face twists up at him. Pausing only briefly to get your table, but the debate is in full swing the moment the two of you are settled across from each other.
There's a subtle type of competitiveness in his tone, paired with the playful smile on his face. Not even a full hour here with him and you were starting to see what Jimin was talking about. Being out with Hoseok, talking beyond where you should do it next, was something you never considered. 
It's nice.
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JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 19:59
Conversation between the two of you doesn't die down even after your food is being set down in front of you. You're only now noticing that you never really talked to Hoseok before. You were friends, of course, that's what the 'F' in FWB stood for, but you were more like group friends.
Never really hung out alone until some months ago when you were starting this whole thing up. And fucking didn't really account for all that much talking. You knew nothing about him aside from the fact he was Taehyung's asshole womanizer roommate. No idea how witty, how animated, how attractive he could be.
It made you want him even more.
He's in the middle of explaining the King Henry VIII drama he had seen the other night, which is also surprising. He almost seemed 'too cool' to be this interested in a period piece starring Natalie Portman. But he's speaking so excitedly, that you can't help but hang on to every word from his lips. All until your phone is flashing on the table beside you, Taehyung's smiling face lighting up the screen.
The buzz steals both of your attention from the conversation, your brow furrowing slightly. A part of you knows that he's only calling for nonsense, probably in the midst of a fight with his girlfriend and he's calling for you to tell him he's right. It's hardly ever an emergency when he's calling you, so there should be no problem with letting his call go to voicemail.
Especially this close to the end of your date, you'd be heading back home with Hoseok in no time. Plus he could just text you if it was something important. There was no reason to answer, and yet, you can't keep your hand from reaching for the device. Shooting an apologetic smile over at Hoseok.
“He knows I'm with you... he wouldn't call if-,” The nod of Hoseok's head cuts you off, waving you away with a smile to take your call. And you're excusing yourself quickly, pressing the phone to your ear once you're far enough away from the table.
He better have his dick caught in a mousetrap or something to justify interrupting your dinner. “Tae. What's going on?” You listen, for any telling sounds of things being out of the ordinary. All you hear is the hum of the TV and his heavy breathing hitting the line.
“Yn, you've gotta get over here.” There's an urgency in his voice that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing. “Why? What's going on?” It's probably something stupid, it usually is when it comes to Taehyung. But curiosity has already set in and you find yourself thinking of how to tell Hoseok you have to go. 
“I can't just tell you... you have to come,”
Groaning into the phone, your hand lifts to pinch the base of your nose. A deep sigh leaving your lips. “Tae. I'm out right now. If this isn't urgent-”
He's quick to cut your words, “It really can't wait.” He almost sounds serious, which has the slight annoyance you feel melting away. “Okay, okay. I'll be there in a minute,” Quick to hang up the phone and head back over to the table.
Hoseok has his head bowed, full attention on the plate of lasagna as he shovels forkfuls into his mouth. Reaching for his glass as you slip back into your seat, gulping down his water. And you're two seconds from telling him that you have to go when he's reaching for his napkin, wiping the corner of his lips.
“Taehyung needs you to rush over?” How he was able to just guess that is beyond you, but you're nodding your head a sheepish smile taking over your features. “He says it's urgent,” You genuinely feel bad. Even though things between Hoseok weren't any deeper than hooking up, you still had agreed to come out with him. To stay out with him.
To leave in the middle of it (not to mention before you could wrap everything up and go back home) felt shitty. You were having a good time getting to know him, but if you didn't go see what was going on with Taehyung, you knew it would bother you for the rest of the night.
Despite everything, Hoseok seems to understand. Insisting you finish the rest of your risotto before he's paying the bill. He even keeps up with the bubbly conversation from earlier, enjoying the sound of your laughter all the way to the car. Guiding you in with a gentle hand on the small of your back.
He lets you choose the music and hums along with the songs you play. It's not long before he's pulling up in front of his house, car staying on as he steps on the brake. You wait for him to put the car in park and when he doesn't, you're shooting a confused look in his direction.
“You're not coming in?”
He's quick to shake his head, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “I'm gonna go see what's up with those girls in building E.” Oh. Right. You almost forgot for a second who you were dealing with. Jung Hoseok, notorious fuck boy. If he wasn't sleeping with you, then he'd just find someone else to do it with.
Feeling bad for cutting your date short was useless. “See you later, then.” He meets your words with a nod, waiting patiently for you to get out of his car. Spares a moment to lift his hand in a wave before he's speeding down the road.
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JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 20:21
Taehyung is sat on the couch when you enter the house. Hunched over a bowl with chopsticks in hand. Torso bare and hair falling in a ruffled mess around his face. He doesn't budge at the sound of the door, too focused on pushing long strings of spicy noodles into his mouth.
He could've at least put together a fake emergency if he was going to call you over like this. Pretended his arm was broken or something, instead of coolly sitting on the couch trying to gulp down his beer around the mouthful of Ramen.
“Hey! What's so urgent? Why are you half-naked?” Your loud voice startles him, droplets of beer falling from his lips and rolling down his chest. He swallows, reaching forward to grab up a napkin, using it to wipe at his well worked on pecs. 
Your eyes follow the movement of his hand, long fingers brushing the droplets from his tanned skin. It must be the anticipation of getting fucked tonight because you're finding it hard to tear your gaze from the ripples of his stomach. “I'm in from the gym,” He explains the no shirt, the tightness in his arms that have fallen victim to your greedy stare. Flexing obviously as he reaches for his drink again, taking a few sips before he's picking up his bowl. His chest tenses with the movement.
Has he always been this... wow? Quite literally staring in the middle of the room, greedily enjoying the sight of your best friend without his shirt on. Yet, it's not the first time you've seen him sans shirt. Countless sleepovers and pool parties, but his bare stomach seemed different now.
Seriously. Did he always have abs like that?
You're forcing yourself to look away, face grimacing at the loud burp he lets out. Enough to snap you from your thoughts, wherever they were going was uncharted territory. And you had no interest in exploring that, especially when you were supposed to be annoyed with him!
“What's the problem? Why'd you make me rush over?” Wearily, you step closer to him. Eyes scanning over his body in a less pervy way, trying to detect any sign of injury. Maybe even a paper cut a little too deep. “Are you okay?” Your face inches from his, still searching.
He's laughing, hand lifting to rest on your forehead, pushing your head back slightly. “I'm fine. Want some?” Taehyung lifts the bowl between the two of you. And your gaze drops to the spicy scent. And normally you'd be letting out an excited whoop, accepting his generous offer and plopping down beside him.
But right now, all you are is annoyed. Annoyed and frustrated. If it wasn't for him, no doubt you'd be off somewhere with Hoseok, minutes from having your eyes rolled back, nails scraping against his skin. Instead, you're here, no emergency in sight. You shaved for this! Matched your lingerie for this! What a waste.
“Are you fucking kidding me!? I was out with Hoseok, Taehyung.” As if he didn't know. And he had the audacity, to sit there, slurping his noodles as if he wasn't at fault for this annoying ache in the pit of your stomach. Something that would've been long taken care of if it wasn't for him.
His shoulders lift in an uninterested shrug, jaw falling slack as he shovels another mouthful into his mouth. “Well... now you're not. It's extra spicy. Your favorite,” He's offering more food up to you and all you do is roll your eyes, letting out a frustrated huff.
“You're fucking ridiculous,” You scoff, hands rummaging through the contents of your purse until your fingers are catching onto your phone. “I'm calling Hoseok,” You announce for no real reason, especially because he acts as if he hasn't heard your words. Attention back on the hot bowl in his lap.
He's being weird and you don't know what it is. Noticed it in doses these past few days and assumed it would just blow over... but he just seemed to be acting more and more out of character the more time passed. It confused you. And you hated being confused.
Part of you was convinced that it had something to do with him now knowing that you're sleeping with his roommate. The side comments, inadvertently trying to cock block, and now this being proof enough. But there was another part of you... a much smaller, poorly trained part, that was convinced these were the actions of a jealous man.
What would he have to be jealous of, right? It wasn't like he wanted to be the one sleeping with Hoseok. Well, debatable... but seriously, the way he's been acting lately has led you to believe that there was something else going on that he wasn't telling you. Tae's known the guys you've fucked around with before and never has he acted so... stiff?
Something changed. Something was different. And you can't help but wonder if the picture incident had something to do with it. Highly unlikely, as Joon said, he has probably already forgotten about it. But, nothing else made sense.
Hoseok doesn't answer. Not like you actually expected him to. He went to 'see what's up with the girls in Building E'. No doubt busy with that, why would he answer his phone? “Come on, Yn.” Taehyung is beside you now, you're not sure when he stood up, but you can smell the sweetness of his body spray. Even after the time, he spent in the gym.
“Listen, I'm sorry I interrupted you.” His hand is reaching to lower your phone, halting your request for an Uber. “...but you're here now. Just stay. Relax.” Flashing that breathtaking smile of his and it's becoming apparent how he gets away with so much. This boy knew how to use his looks to his advantage, there was no denying that.
But, you're not easily fooled. “You can't just interrupt my dates because you're lonely,” Some of the bite is gone from your tone. Not entirely sure how upset with him you really were. Of course, calling you out when he knew you were with someone else was shitty... but it was Taehyung!
A terrible reason, but the best one you could come up with. There was no way staying mad at him was an option, when he has done the reverse many times with you involved. He's smirking at you, picking up on the anger melting away from your features. “So it was a date. You told me it was just dinner,” He teases.
Not entirely pissed at him anymore, but that didn't mean you'd just let his stupidity slide. This was the second time he's interfered with your much needed Vitamin D and it was about time he heard something about it. “Just dinner. A date. A fucking square dance. Taehyung, you can't just cut in because you want.” He's looking at you funny, this dazed expression that you've never seen directed to you before. From him.
It makes your heart stutter, so you ignore it. “What if I did the same with you? If you were out with Ailee and I called you up with some stupid excuse?” He doesn't even hesitate, dark eyes glued to yours. A stare so intense, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “I'd come running,” The deepness of his voice and the seriousness of his tone has your breath hitching.
There was no way this was happening. You were used to flirty Taehyung, got pretty good at compartmentalizing your feelings when it came to the Taehyung that you dealt with on a day-to-day basis. But this... this was different. Uncharted territory, indeed. The way he was looking at you? Talking to you? Nothing like you've ever handled before when it came to him.
No idea how you were supposed to react, so you decide to just leave to keep from making a fool of yourself in front of him. “I'm leaving. Goodnight, Taehyung. Call your girlfriend.” A halfhearted request, you're really just reminding yourself that he has one. And while 'The Other Woman' was a great song, that wasn't you.
“She broke up with me like an hour ago,” Again? You want to say, feigning disbelief. Their routine breakups were far from surprising and they always ended up in the same way: them back together and holed up in Taehyung's room for days on end. Only to end in a pointless fight that would repeat the cycle.
They were always broken up, but that didn't mean they were done with each other. It never meant that. “Please, stay.” He's pouting obnoxiously, so you're confused why you find it so cute. Fingers laced with yours as he lightly shakes your arm. “I miss hanging out with you,” Puppy dog eyes aimed right at your heart.
He's not wrong. It's been a little while since the two of you just hung out. Lounged around in sweats, ate, and watched bad TV. And it was very unlikely that Hoseok would be returning your call. Jimin is surely busy with Jungkook or something. You'd just be going home to sit around and do exactly what you could do here.
“Fine.” Eyes rolling to exaggerate your annoyance. “Go make another packet while I change,” Soft hair bounces as he nods his head, turning to pick up his half-empty bowl from the coffee table, carrying it into the kitchen.
You're halfway up the stairs before he's calling out to you, smiling when he sees your head poke around the corner. “I'm really sorry I ruined your date. That was not cool,” There's sincerity in his tone and in his eyes, every last bit of annoyance or frustration you felt dissipating at the sight.
“It's fine,” The prettiest smile he's ever seen pushes onto your lips, nearly stealing his breath away. “I'll just have to text Hoseok and explain your issue with separation,” Giggling at your own lighthearted joke and he's matching the sound. 
Silently praying you hurry upstairs so he can get his heart in check. So he could think. Something he's been skipping out on that since the moment he picked up his phone and decided to call you.
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JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 21:43
You're wearing basketball shorts. His basketball shorts. Paired with a sports bra that you must've left here for one reason or another. It takes everything in him not to zero in on the jiggle of your ass as you pass him. The pebble of your nipples pushing against the fabric. You always complained about how cold his apartment was.
He tries not to stare as you stretch to pull a bowl from the cupboard, laughing out loud when you realize that he's already taken one down for you. Thanking him as you move to stand close. Your cheeks are red and irritated from the quick way you removed your makeup with the dried-out wipes you left in his bathroom. Hair let out of the tight ponytail, cascading down your back in pretty waves.
It's not until you're pinning him with a furrowed brow and an upturn of your upper lip, does he realize he's literally gawking at you. With this unmistakable love-struck look in eyes. “Why are looking at me like that?” Spoken while plucking a piece of meat from the pan and pushing it into your mouth.
Caught and he doesn't even think of trying to backtrack. With a shrug of his shoulders, he's turning his attention back to the food in front of him. “I don't know. You just look beautiful or whatever,” He can hardly look at you as the words leave his lips, afraid you'll catch the blush on his cheeks.
“Or whatever?” You joke with a laugh, ignoring the flip of your stomach at the compliment. Instead, you move to the fridge, retrieving a couple of eggs while chastising him on forgetting the best part. Not sure what was up with him, but you refuse to let yourself get carried away.
You've spent so long accepting that he has and only will see you as a friend. Best friend, even. And just because he was throwing a few compliments your way didn't mean that everything all of a sudden changed. Nothing has changed. The two of you were still in the same spot you had been two years ago.
 Taehyung serves you with a smile ten minutes later, fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer than normal. Not long enough to be weird, but definitely long enough to get the wheels turning in your brain. And then he's plopping down across from you like nothing, head ducked as he takes the first steamy bites of his food.
It takes everything in him not to profess his unclear feelings. Trying to limit how often he looks at you, censoring his thoughts as they teeter between mushy and cringe. It's hard with the way you're joking between bites the way you always do, he can't help but notice how pretty you are.
He felt lucky to have you like this. Even if it wasn't truly having you. Just the fact that you were comfortable enough around him to be like this. Even if it had been years, it felt different now somehow.
Everything felt different since he's started to notice little things about you that he failed to see all along. Your cute habit of flicking and tossing your hair as you spoke, more often with how animated you got. How your eyes lit up when you were excited. That tiny dimple at the corner of your mouth, which only made an appearance when you were laughing really hard.
On top of it all, he was noticing how obvious you were. Not exactly sure when it clicked in his mind and it could very well be his ego talking, but he was starting to feel like he wasn't the only one keeping a mental scrapbook. The more attention he paid to you and your little mannerisms, the more he picked up on the fact that you were doing the same.
Whenever he'd bite his lip, rest his cheek on his palm, angle his head in a certain way – your eyes would follow. And how could he forget the lust-filled look on your face as your eyes devoured him, it hadn't even been a full ten minutes since you got there and you were so obvious.
A wonder he didn't notice it before, but now that he thinks back... all of the signs were there. Everything that he missed has been screaming at him for the past-however-many years. And as much as he wanted to do something about it, he knew he had to be careful.
Extremely careful.
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JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 23:52
Right now, you had your legs in his lap – ankle inches from his junk, but that's the least of your concerns. You're more focused on tucking every last crumb of weed into the paper, eyes flickering between your fingers and the TV screen. 
“How is she this oblivious?” You're commenting with a wrinkle of your brow and Taehyung has to act like he's been following the plotline all along.
From what he was able to pick up with your brief summary of the plot and the way you talked over every scene with backstory, the main character was set the be married to a man with much more experience than her. In life. In the bedroom. The scene playing in front of you right now she was just finding out that he had been lying about not being able to have children.
You had suggested starting from episode one, but he denied the offer. There was something about watching you explain a show while getting frustrated about the scenes that played out before you that he found endearing. Not a new feeling, but holding a new meaning now.
He can hardly hear what's being said because you're in the middle of a rant on how there was no reason for her to be so clueless and sent into a marriage. And how her mother should've gone into the nitty-gritty before shipping her off. And how her husband was just a compliment douche bag for taking advantage of her ignorance.
Taehyung is positive he looks like you just agreed to go riding off in the sunset. Leaned back against the couch and watching you with this dazed-dopey expression that you sum up to him just being high. You were working on rolling the second joint you'd share.
His eyes follow as you lean forward, hovering over his lap as you reach for the lighter on his side. Not even thinking to ask him to pass it over, not that he's complaining about the closeness. Elbows holding your body up as you fiddle with the spark, bringing it toward you when it stays.
You catch his stare as you exhale, handing the joint off to him before moving back to your end of the couch, legs falling back in his lap. He doesn't pull his gaze from you, letting the weed burn out between his fingers. “What?” You're asking with a soft laugh. He's hissing out a breath, bringing the smoke to his lips and inhaling.
“You're fucking gorgeous, it's annoying.” He says with a shake of his head, a thick cloud of smoke leaving his lips. “You're always talking shit,” Speaking through a burst of laughter, but he doesn't entertain the thought any further. Extending his hand to pass it over, eyes flickering up to the screen.
There had been something that he had paid attention to when you first turned this show on. The conversation that was being had on the screen about best friends and getting married and falling in love. And how that's how you should do it. Marry your best friend and it would work out.
No matter how many porn-like sex scenes appeared after that, he was still stuck on that one conversation. And the thought that if you looked so pretty next to him right now, there was no telling how much prettier you'd look done up and dressed in white. He has to laugh at himself, though.
Blaming his raging thoughts on the half-empty bottle of liquor on the table and the green you're handing back over to him. Which is why he doesn't bother to stop the question that slips out next. “Do you think that's really the key?”
Half forgot that even though you never left his mind, you couldn't read it. So you have no idea what he's talking about. “Key to what?”
“Being happy in a relationship?”
He hardly ever really talked about his feelings being with Ailee. You just knew what he told you and that was very limited. She annoyed him, but she was sometimes funny and knew what she was doing. That was pretty much it.
So you're a little shocked that he all of a sudden was bringing this up as if you knew their relationship from a hole in the wall. “Are you not happy with Ailee?” Someone who fought with their significant other as much as Taehyung did, couldn't really be happy. But you could be wrong.
“I'm sure I could be happier,” He's looking at you with those eyes again, flicking the ash off with his finger before bringing the joint back to his lips. “Do you think falling n love with your best friend is the key to all that?” He pauses, the blurts the last part out like he's lost control of his tongue. “Like you and me,”
You're letting out a harsh cough that has nothing to do with the smoke cruising through your lungs. Eyes tearing up while your back shakes. “Me and you?” You manage, letting out a gasped breath. “Like me falling in love with you and you falling in love with me?” Finger used to point between the two of you, just to be sure.
Taehyung nods his head, unphased by your dramatic reaction. “Yes, that's exactly how that would work. A money-less transaction,” You're letting out a laugh and a shake of your head, pushing the thought from your head. He was only joking, talking shit for whatever reason.
“Yeah, no. That would never work out,”
His words chase yours, “Why not?” You don't miss the small pout of his lips, as if he's actually asking. Wondering why you thought the two of you together wouldn't work out.
“I know too much. You know too much,” Going with the first reason that pops in your head, one that you've used countless times with convincing yourself. “There's gotta be some mystery,”
Taehyung is rolling his eyes, “Oh, come on. We're not the Scooby-doo kids, Yn. Mystery is overrated.” He's really pushing for this and you're not sure why. Most likely entertaining the thoughts that pop into his foggy mind, so you don't allow yourself to think too hard on his words.
Or what they could mean. “It's perfect,” He continues. “You meet someone, become best friends, decide to fall in love and now you're married to your best friend. That's the dream,” He says with a grin. And you're not sure if he's actually talking about you or if he's just talking.
“That's lazy,” Either way, you attempt to get the race of your heart to slow down. No matter how much closer he was to you now, backs of your thighs pressed against his. You're nearly seated in his lap and you just now noticed the mindless way his fingers drag over your knee. “You can't pick off from your existing friends. You meet someone, fall for them and then you become best friends,”
His laugh rings through your ears, then your entire body. Just the sound has you feeling warm all over, something that you were sure you had gotten under control a long time ago. “You just said the same thing as me, except you changed the last two steps,”
“It makes a huge difference,” It did. One was the two of you and the other could be any two strangers on the street. For the sake of you, your version was the one you'd go with. Anything else and it would be hard to talk yourself out of it.
But Taehyung has been a lot more attention, putting the pieces together as they appear. And one thing he was always good at spotting (except when it came to you for some reason) was when someone was into him. And judging from the subtle changes in your demeanor throughout this entire conversation, you were so into him.
With caution on his mind, he's shifting focus. Hand lowering to discard the dead bit in the ashtray. Leveling you with a squinted eyes and a purse of his lips. “What's the real reason you didn't want me to know about Hoseok?” Sort of had an idea of what this might be, but he wanted to hear it from you.
“What do you mean? I already told you,” You're reaching for the bottle on the table, taking a swig to keep your hands busy. And to keep you from having to look at him, no doubt the unfiltered thoughts in your mind would be slipping out with one glance. 
He doesn't pull his gaze from you, though. “No, you said you didn't want things to get awkward. I think that was a lie,” His face is much closer to yours now, you can clearly see the faint beauty marks scattered against his skin.
Just a simple stretch of his leg and you're pushed further on to his lap. Back resting against his arm now that he has his hand is pressed against the armrest. He's close, but not suffocating, has left enough space for you to get up and move if you wanted to. But that's the farthest thing from your mind right now.
“Wanna know what I think it is?” Voice so low he might as well be mumbling. His eyes flicker down to your lips, noting how soft they look. And he finds himself wondering just how they'd feel pressed against his. “What?” You sound breathless like you had been thinking about the same exact thing.
He's smoothly moving his arm from you, guiding the way your back falls against the couch. “I think you're into me, like how I'm into you... and you didn't want me to know because of that,” The risk of fucking up your friendship takes the backseat because he knows he's right. Took his time and put the signs together.
“Yeah, right.” You laugh it off, but he's learned how obvious you are.
A grin spreads over his features, hand dropping to your hip. “You're making the face you do when you've been caught,” The heat of his palm spreading from your side to your entire body. And you've come to terms with the fact that you've lost control of your heart. Wrapped up in the moment where Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, your best friend and former crush revealed he was into you.
His head bows, nose nudging against yours. It's embarrassing the way your lips instantly pucker, eyes falling shut as you wait for the soft press. Eyes fluttering open after a moment of waiting and receiving nothing, catching the devious smirk on his lips. 
“You're into me, aren't you?” While he was sure, positive after seeing how ready you were to have him kiss you, he needed to hear it. Needed to be sure that he wasn't missing something, he's been doing a lot of that lately.
The nod of your head is answer enough, followed by your warm hand reaching to rest on the back of his neck. Not sure who moved first, if you were pulling him down or he was lowering himself and you really didn't care. 
A tiny moan escapes from your lips as he shifts above you, the sound being sent straight to his crotch. His mouth is pulling from yours, brows raised and eyes wide as he stares down at you – surprised by the fact that you could actually sound like that. Before he's given a chance to comment on it, you're pulling him back down.
Kissing you is everything he's imagined it to be and more. The soft push of your tongue paired with the deliberate scrap of teeth on his lip. Your hummed moans fill the room and stir him on, his grip falling from your hip to your thigh. Easily pulling your legs apart to slot himself between them.
Fingers tangled in his hair and heavy breath hitting his lips each time you pull away, only to dive right back in. Mouths moving over each other messily, Taehyung can barely ask the groans that die on your lips. Free hand pressed against his chest, you can feel the hammer of his heart.
Thighs squeezed to his hips, bodies so close the thinnest of papers wouldn't fit. So it's no wonder you feel it. The twitch of his cock hardening against you, so enticing you can't help the way your hips lift to meet his just as he's dropping down to press into you. A hissed moan falling from your lips at the contact.
“Fuck,” He's groaning, a switch seemingly turning on inside of him. Mouth breaking for yours and hand moving up the toward your chest. His thumb brushes over your hardened nipple through the fabric of your bra as he rolls his hips into yours.
Just the heat from pressing against you like this was enough to rile him up, mind reeling with thoughts of what it would be like to really fuck you. And the sounds you'd make. You sounded so pretty with the simple rolls of his hips, what if he was actually buried deep inside of you.
His head drops, mouth latching onto the crook of your neck to suckle at the skin there. Your senses are fogged with nothing but him. The smell of him, the feel, the taste. Still lingering on your lips and hitting your taste buds as you lick them. There's a definite heat growing between your legs with each drag of his covered cock, angled perfectly that he's just barely tapping your clit.
You want more. So much more and it's making you delirious. Needy. Hips rolling up to meet his and he's pushing you down every time. Teeth scraping against your skin and fingers pinching at your chest. “Taehyung,” It sounds more desperate than you intend it to. He's groaning back in response, face lifting from your skin to admire the red mark he's left behind.
Tongue dragging over it, soothing it with a simple swipe. Hands re-positioned on either side of your head, his gaze drops to watch the way your hips move in order to meet his, a smirk pressed on his lips. “Fuck, look at you... such a mess.” He's pushing forward, cock meeting your clit perfectly.
Strained whimper ripping through your throat as you brace your hands on his side, back arching into him. “Grinding that pretty pussy all over my cock, didn't even let me get undressed. You're so wet, huh?” Now you knew what the boys were on about when they clowned him for being mouthy. Had laughed along before, but having his words directed to you was no laughing matter.
You knew what you were doing. You could feel the effect of what you were doing but something about having him point it out in that breathy tone of his was hot. What you didn't expect was for him to want you to talk back, but the slow of his hips is quickly warning you of your role.
“Don't stop,” You're gasping, hands reaching out to him. “I could cum like this,” Your whispering, cheeks heating up at the admission. How embarrassing, losing it over dry humping, you half expect him to laugh it off as a joke.
But he doesn't, instead, he's lowering his body back onto yours, the movement of his hips picking up in speed. “Me too,” He breathes out, fingers tangling in your hair as his tongue teases against your covered lips. “Wrap your legs around me,”
His words are muffled, but you understand him enough to lift your legs, ankles locking behind his back. He drives into you like he's balls deep inside of you, pulling gasps and moans from your lips. Nails pressed into his skin as you beg him not to stop, chanting your near release. And just as you feel it bubble up in your stomach, his low pants of your name getting to you. Just as you're about to be knocked over the edge you've been teetering on, Jin's voice is breaking through.
His loud laughter bleeding through the door behind you, followed by the low grumble of Joon's voice. The jingle of his key is what snaps Tae out of it, body freezing as his head lifts to glare at the door.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You're quick to push him off, looking away as he adjusting the throbbing bulge in his pants – leaving you to wipe at the slobber-dampened mark on your chest. Jin and Joon are stepping in just as you're rushing upstairs for a shirt. Their laughter filling the downstairs as you rummage through drawers for something to pull on.
All while shoving your raging thoughts out of your mind. Still in shock that that actually happened... whatever that was. Taehyung was into you. He had said it and then kissed you. God, he kissed you. Would've been to be able to fully enjoy it if you weren't so damn greedy.
Just one taste and you were wanting the whole thing and from the look of it, he was willing to give it to you. But what if it had been a fluke. A one-off because of whatever happened to Ailee and the fact that you were there. Into you, but what did that really mean? Would that change anything?
You dare to hope, even though you're sure you're wrong. There was a lot going on tonight. Him fighting with Ailee, you being torn away from Hoseok before you can do anything properly. You were high! Still, high to be honest. Would he still be into you when he was sobering up?
Finding out is the last thing on your list. Fitting yourself as his best friend after your quiet crush was one thing. Doing that after he's taken back being into you was another. You didn't want to think about what a disaster that would be, you'd rather just go home and sleep.
Jin is turning to happily greet you as you make your way downstairs, while Joon makes room for you on the couch. Taehyung doesn't look up, cheeks flushed and eyes glued to his knees. You'd give everything to know what he's thinking.
“Yn! Tae said you were here. We're gonna open Monopoly, wanna play?” It's an invitation from Jin that you'd usually be jumping at. Claiming your designated money bag piece without a thought, so he's shocked when you're shaking your head. “Think I'm gonna just head home, turn in early.”
Tae looks up at the sound of your departure, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He had hoped you would want to stay, so he could have a chance to talk to you properly. Tell you how he was feeling even if he didn't fully understand it yet. He wanted to tell you that he liked you and he wanted to hear you say it back.
Let you know that he wanted to try to be good at relationships because he wanted to try with you. He's standing with that in mind, shrinking back when you're looking at him. There before did he feel nervous around you, but with all this weighing on his chest, he doesn't know how else to feel.
“Let me walk you home,” He offers, it's a twenty-minute walk across campus. Enough time for him to talk to you... or just be around you for longer.
You're shaking your head, though. Pushing an easy smile onto your lips. “It's fine. I texted Jimin,” It's a lie and he knows it is, but he doesn't call you on it. Obvious that you didn't want to be around him. Most likely regretting the whole thing.
Nodding as he plops back down beside Jin. He watches as you pull your shoes back on, throwing a quick goodbye over your shoulder before stepping out. Not even sparing a proper look in his direction. A huff leaves his lips as he sinks into the couch, hands tugging through his hair.
He really screwed up.
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— you’ve always been cute, soft, tiny in taehyung’s eyes. but that’s changing one night when you’re accidentally sending him a naughty picture. forcing him to realize, maybe his best friend is kinda… hot?
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noteguk · 2 months ago
bad habit | jjk | m
[ ! ] this is part of the bad influence collection. This part cannot be read as a stand-alone. 
— summary; in which your little secret starts to get out of hand. 
— contents and warnings; smut, sprinkles of fluff and angst, mutual pining, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits/enemies to lovers, smoking, mentions of alcohol, mention of vomit, jk and Jisoo are mortal enemies, Taehyung gets his eureka moment, and for the smut warnings: dirty talk, spit kink, dom!jk x sub!reader, breast play, rough sex, mild possessiveness, grinding, so much kissing, oral (fem receiving), cum eating, spanking, manhandling, bondage (using a belt… anyways so-), unprotected sex (don’t be dumb!!! this is fiction), very vague corruption kink, creampie, cockwarming (no one is surprised), praise, degradation makes a comeback (+ use of the word “slut”), the long awaited return of jk being mean, orgasm control/denial, oc kinda cries out of frustration but she’s having a good time, they are in love but are too dumb to realize 
— words; 16,7k
— author’s notes; did y’all think you’d get rid of mean jk like that? Ha! Think again. As promised, this specific chunk of the story ended up being very relevant for the following parts, so this is why I decided to post this first. Probably all big parts will be in chronological order from now on, with only the drabbles going back and forth in time. Also, this one focuses a lot on a few side characters as well, so allow me to dump a lot of lore into this series at once lmao. This happens mid-semester, after bad reputation/bad attitude. 
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Jungkook hated your friends sometimes.
Now, he tried not to be a complete douchebag about it: you obviously cared about them a lot, and they made you happy. Jungkook liked when you were happy; he wasn’t planning on dragging you away from them or anything insane like that. No: the fact that he hated your friends was more of a reaction than an action, most likely catalyzed by the fact that your friends really fucking hated him too. 
It didn’t use to bother him so much, but, as things between the two of you continued to progress at a dangerous pace, he saw the shadows of your friends expanding behind you more and more. You, bless your heart, still cared too much about what some of them thought and, as much as you had grown quite fond of Jungkook, their venomous comments still held you back. It seemed as if everyone around you already had a clear-cut plan of who should or shouldn’t enter your life and, well, old habits are tough to break. He understood one or two things about that. 
It was a chilly night in an overcrowded party when Jungkook’s cigarette break was utterly ruined by your best friend, Jisoo, stumbling out into the backyard. He could only follow, with an expression of disgust plastered all over his face, as she fell to her knees and decided to ruin Hoseok’s pristine grass with the remnants of her dinner.  
Still, he couldn’t care too much about her well-being when she almost fell facedown in a puddle of her own puke, because the fact that Jisoo, Miss Perfection Herself, was there (in a party, of all places) only meant one thing: you probably were too. And it also meant that she and her poor reflux control had just ruined his chances at being with you for the night. 
And, sure enough, you quickly showed up on the doorway, sighing as you saw her catastrophic state. “Oh god, Jisoo,” you called out, graciously stepping into his field of vision, “not again.” 
Hoseok’s house was near campus, courtesy of having two renowned college professors as parents, and his parties were well-known amongst students. Jungkook was somewhat close to Hoseok, especially considering that the boy helped him cheat a few too many times, and had grown dangerously familiar with the parties that he used to throw every time his parents went on a trip. It was almost a semestral occasion, considering that his parents seemed to be complete addicts to the scientific congresses in their fields, and didn’t miss a single one. 
Those parties were often tricky situations for everyone involved, because there were the people who just wanted to have a good time, and there were the ones who took it upon themselves to get revenge on the fact that his parents might have fucked them over during their classes. Jungkook started attending them because Hoseok needed someone else to help him take care of the place and, since he considered Jungkook to be someone that looked “scary enough”, he became his makeshift security for the night. In turn, of course, of catching a glimpse at the future test of his choosing. It was a good enough balance. 
Point was: Jungkook had witnessed a lot coming from those parties. And, still, seeing you must’ve been the strangest thing of all. 
Not because you didn’t look good — in fact, his heart almost jumped out of his chest the second that you appeared into frame — but because that entire context was just so… unlike you. He had seen you frequent bars in the past (well, only once, but it was something), and you had briefly mentioned that you had been invited to a frat party once, but you said that you didn’t go. Apparently, you didn’t like the environment, which he thought was fair: it was you. He didn’t think the day would come that he’d see you in a place like that. 
But, well, it was you. Even if he was sure that you were thrown into that dress as a happy accident and that something grave must’ve happened to drag you to that place, you were right there, in arm’s reach, and yet so far away. Jungkook had the momentaneous pleasure of seeing you simply existing outside of his own bubble, of witnessing your worried expression and hear your soft words as you tried to help your friend. Just like that, he was sure it would be a strange night.
He had his back against the asperous wall, standing a few steps away from the door that led to the backyard. Most people didn’t notice him there as they walked out, directly at their blind spot, and you didn’t seem to be any different. Jungkook wanted to reach out, though, to insert himself into that nightmare you were living through, try to make that sad face of yours better. But Jisoo was also right there, ready to snap at him — drunk or not. 
Frankly, Jungkook only kind of hated your friends, but it was a better crutch to think that than to actually face his obstacles head-first. 
Truth was: he was starting to have issues when it came to approaching you. Things were slightly different now, shifted and off-balance, and Jungkook couldn’t tell which rhythm to follow. It was much easier when the two of you would just bicker at each other and then move away, allowing for those ephemeral encounters to dissipate from your minds until, at last, you’d cross paths again. Now that was mostly gone, instead replaced by a layer of intimacy that hadn’t been there before — rather, that he had never been faced with before.
It was difficult to think when he was around you, mostly because he’d get lost in you — and, when he tried to pull away, he’d fall back into his own cyclical thoughts. 
And it was that exact situation that he found himself in. As he watched your delicate fingers brushing Jisoo’s hair away from her face, Jungkook noticed himself fumble around for the right thing to say, but there was nothing. So, completely out of options, but still wanting to talk to you, he limited himself to one dumb question at a time. “Is it her first time drinking or something?” 
You furrowed your brows, turning around. An expression that he could not classify— relief? Preoccupation? — crossed your face as you recognized him. “Something like that,” was all that you said before you turned back to your friend. “Jisoo, honey, are you okay? Yongsun is already calling you an Uber, alright?”
Jungkook scoffed — honey? That girl was anything but sweet. She was probably the enraged bear that destroyed the hive. “Damn.” He chuckled, taking his cigarette to his mouth. You followed as the faint cloud of smoke curled out of his nostrils like tentacles, vanishing into the cool atmosphere. “Did she fail a test or something? Why is she like that?”
The glare you gave him was so cold that Jungkook was ready to backtrack when you spoke up again. “None of your business, Jungkook,” you said, just as emotionless. He was somewhat used to you treating him like a stranger around other people, but you were never rude to him. “If you could stop talking now, I’d greatly appreciate it.” 
“I’m just asking,” he murmured, his voice muted by the disgusting sound of Jisoo returning her food to the land. Jungkook turned his face away so he wouldn’t have to look at that mess anymore. “No need to get all pissy.” 
You scoffed. “I’m not pissy,” you told him. Jungkook wanted to laugh because you were for sure angry, but he didn’t want to make the situation worse. Lucky for him, your attention was dragged elsewhere as your other friend — the roommate, if he recalled correctly — stepped into view. “You were right about it. She puked again.” 
Yongsun looked and sounded like she had just been dragged out of a hurricane — during moments like those, she really went complete mom-mode. “The Uber is here. I asked him to wait a bit,” she told you as she approached the two of you, watching as you struggled to get Jisoo back on her feet. It seemed as if she wasn’t even trying to keep her body stable at that point. “Also got a plastic bag from the kitchen in case she needs to… you know.”
“Yeah.” You signaled towards your drunk friend with a short movement of your head. “Help me out here, please.” 
Yongsun agreed, going on the other side and wrapping one hand around Jisoo’s waist. Jungkook was starting to feel a bit bad now — not because of them, but because you seriously looked like you needed a break from all that. 
And that was the sole reason why he decided to insert himself in that situation one more time. “Need some help?” He asked nonchalantly, a thick cloud of smoke leaving his lips. 
Yongsun’s eyes snapped in his direction, apparently noticing Jungkook for the first time. She glared at him for a second before saying, “No. We’re good,” and looking away. 
He found your gaze, waiting to see if you were going to say anything. You simply shook your head and broke eye contact, shattering something inside his soul. 
Yongsun sighed in relief when the two of you finally managed to place Jisoo on her feet. “That’s it, Jisoo. Take it slow.” You two gave an experimental step towards the house, which she thankfully followed. Apparently, the hardest part was to get her up, because the rest was completely based on inertia. If she was moving, she’d keep on moving. “Let’s go to the car, okay? So we can get home.” 
And it wasn't a surprise that Jisoo’s first words ever since she started to feel sick were, “God, this is so embarrassing,” she whined, pulling down her skirt. It hadn’t moved up, but you guessed she probably felt exposed in more ways than one. “I don’t wanna go through the party.” 
“There’s no way around the house. Only through it,” Yongsun spoke softly, as if she was scared of saying the wrong things. You could understand her reluctance, Jisoo was extremely hard to deal with when she was in that headspace. “Come on, baby, it’s not that bad.” 
She paused her uneasy steps. “I don’t wanna be seen like this.” 
Maybe an angel had its hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, maybe he was seriously feeling bad about what you were having to deal with, but he decided to be the bigger person and help your friends. “You should go through the kitchen,” Jungkook interjected. Both you and Yongsun looked at him in confusion — hers was probably more genuine than yours. “There’s another way to the front door and practically no one is there by this point of the party. Everyone’s either upstairs or in the living room.” 
You nodded, alleviation washing over your face. “Okay, sounds good,” you breathed out, looking at Jisoo to get her permission. “We can do that, right?” 
Jisso agreed with a nod, and you three finally managed to get her inside the house after a few extra missed steps. As you did, Youngsun looked at Jungkook and uttered a simple, “Thanks, by the way.” 
He nodded, not making eye contact. “No problem.” 
You could never quite tell what Yongsun thought about Jungkook, and you weren’t planning on asking her anytime soon. You knew that she wasn’t especially fond of him — or the smoking, really, since she ranted about that almost weekly — but she wasn’t even close to the level of disapproval that you encountered when you talked to Jisoo. If you had to guess, you’d say that Yongsun probably feared him a little, taken aback by the brooding stares and sarcastic remarks he always had ready to share. 
Also, there were the rumors about him. You had heard a few already, but, the more you came to know Jungkook, the less you believed them. From where you stood, privileged enough to see both sides of the situation, it looked like the classic case of things being blown out of proportion as they circulated. Jungkook spray painting somewhere on campus? More likely than you think. Jungkook being an arsonist? Absolutely not. 
It was strange how simultaneously everyone and no one knew him. Jungkook had gathered a bit of fame for himself — or infamy, depending on your perspective — and you weren’t ignorant as to why. He seemed and acted cool, he looked as smoking hot as they come, and he glared at people like he was ready to break hearts (or faces) left and right. The overall male-attracted population of campus came flocking around him in no time. 
Rather, people knew of Jungkook. They just didn’t know him. And you were slowly finding out who he was beneath all that. 
The sound of Yongsun’s shoe sliding against the wet concrete caught your attention and you braced yourself for a catastrophe that, thankfully, never arrived. She managed to regain her balance, cursing under her breath as you two gave your final steps towards the parked car. 
“Come on, sweetie, let’s go to your place. Just a bit more.” Yongsun was far more delicate than you when it came to situations like that. You often didn’t know how to deal with people when they were shitfaced (or with yourself, frankly). Lack of practice. “You have your apartment keys, right?” 
Jisoo nodded, but she still looked out of it. Half because of the booze, the other half because of shame. 
“You sure you don’t wanna take her to our place?” You asked Yongsun, opening the car door. The driver gave a quick glimpse at Jisoo and widened his eyes, probably praying to all the gods above that she wouldn’t ruin his precious leather seats. “I can help too.” 
“No, it’s fine. She’ll be more comfortable at home anyways.” Yongsun struggled to place the girl on the backseat, with Jisoo’s nails digging to her forearm in a terrible attempt at grounding herself. “Besides — fuck, girl, relax — besides the fact that she’s gonna kick me out the second that she sobers out. It’s better if she’s already in her own place when she tries to do that.” 
“Fair,” you commented, unsure of what to do with your hands — or with yourself in general. “Sure you don’t want me to go?” 
“Yeah, it’s better if it’s just me. I’m pretty used to it.” After finally managing to buckle Jisoo up, Yongsun shut the door, already moving towards the other side of the vehicle. “See you tomorrow, alright? Text me when you get home.” 
You nodded, and your friend got in the car. “You too.” Swiftly, you lowered your upper body so you could lean on the window, looking at the two of them. “Jisoo, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Take a shower and go to sleep, alright?” 
“___, wait.” She grabbed your hand and pulled you in, almost making you hit your forehead against the roof of the car. You decided to give it a pass, since she was clearly out of it. “Did someone see me like this?” Her words were slurried together and you needed a few seconds to pull those syllables apart. When it all clicked, her terrified gaze was all that you could focus on. “Please tell me that no one saw me. This is a nightmare.”
You sighed, removing your hand from her own. It was better to lie in a situation like that. “Just Yongsun and I, it’s fine. No one saw you,” you told her. Jisoo simply nodded, face melting with relief. You leaned back, taking a step away from the car. “Be safe, okay? You two.” 
As the vehicle sped away, you still caught a few fragments of Yongsun’s speech as she tried to convince the driver that she had a plastic bag, so it was all under control. It was such an odd situation to be placed in, you realized, such an unreal moment that developed from your best friend being completely unable to deal with any sort of societal disapproval. It almost felt like a joke. 
Jisso was kind of a strange character, you thought. There was something inside her that ached to be accepted — to be the very best at everything, to have the biggest amount of friends, to be liked by everyone. You were used to it and, frankly, you could see a lot of that toxic trait in yourself as well. You just didn’t know it could get to that level, in which she’d drink beyond the point of reasoning just to blend in. 
It wasn’t exactly a surprise when Jisoo asked you to go to a party with her, but it was a bad sign. Jisoo had only gone to a handful of parties in her life (still more than you, if you had to guess) and, every single one, it was because of peer pressure. Because of a guy that she liked that was going; because a friend at the time manipulated her into keeping her company; because everyone else was, so she had to go too, so she wouldn’t be let out. As much as you accepted the fact that you spent a good chunk of your life seeking approval, it didn’t get close to what Jisoo went through. It was a much more distorted, intense mirror of yourself, one that didn’t allow her much self reflection. 
Jisoo hated Jungkook for a lot of different reasons, some more personal than others, but they were all covered by a thick layer of disgust for the fact that he, unlike her, didn’t care about anything — and he still ended up in the same place as her. Jisoo spent her entire high school studying like a madwoman, only to be in the same college as someone who took the “high” in “high school” way too personally. She cared about her social life, cared about making friends; stretched herself thin to make everyone happy — only to see Jungkook doing it effortlessly, all kinds of people flocking around him like vultures to a carcass. She could not comprehend how someone so different could end up with the same general outcome; thought that it was unfair that she had to work so hard for so much when Jungkook simply sat around, waiting for a miracle to fulfill his shallow wishes, and it often happened. 
She had constructed her own black and white narrative in her head, because that was far easier than to be faced with the fact that people are made of several shades of grey. Again: you kind of understood that. You had been there once, and were still fighting against a few flashes of that entitled mindset on the daily — most of which applied to Jungkook himself. 
Speaking of the devil, you found Jungkook in the same spot, stepping on what was left of his cigarette. “Sorry about that,” you told him, leaning your back on the wall next to him. There weren’t so many people in the backyard (most of the party was concentrated inside the house), and the few present ones seemed to be too distracted to bat an eye at either one of you. “Problems at home. Long story.”
“It’s fine,” Jungkook guaranteed, even if he wasn’t so sure about it for a second. There was something bitter burning its way up his esophagus, and he didn’t like that one bit.  “Didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”
“I didn’t plan to, really.” You shrugged. “It just kind of happened. Jisoo is having a rough time, one of our friends gave the idea and well… you saw how that turned out.” You signaled towards the dirty grass. “I wasn’t planning on sticking around, though.”
He raised one eyebrow, glimpsing at you. “Past tense?”
“Yeah. Past tense.” You smiled, looking down at yourself. The dress that you had borrowed from Yongsun wasn’t too revealing, and yet it made you feel like you were naked. You didn’t know if it was the way the fabric held to your waist and breasts, or if it was the way that the hem was far higher up than you were used to, but you felt strange. Not bad, necessarily, just strange. “What about you?” You looked back up at him. 
“Taehyung dragged me over here,” Jungkook said, focused on the strangers that danced around the pool. It was just a matter of time before one of them lost balance, and he didn’t want to be there to see it — he had better ideas brewing amongst his thoughts. “He pretty much vanished in three minutes, though. He always does that.”
You pouted. “Aw, poor thing. Your friend left you alone?”
He scoffed. “Look who’s talking.”
“Fair enough.” You crossed your arms, trying to shield yourself from the coolness of the night. “Sorry if I was rude to you earlier, by the way. I was pretty mad at that entire situation. I also didn’t have the best week, but that’s a  completely different story.” 
“It’s fine, shit happens,” Jungkook said, sounding as if he was only half-present in the conversation. “You don’t look like you wanna talk about it.” 
“Yep. Not at all.” 
And that was when he decided to strike. “Do you have plans for the rest of the night, by the way?”
You turned to look at him, a knowing smile already curling up on your lips. Good to know that some things didn’t change so easily, and that Jungkook still was direct when it came to getting you alone. “Something in your mind?” 
“Maybe,” he spoke slowly, testing the waters. You had that malicious glint in the depths of your irises, but he also knew that things were often not that easy. Just because you were interested, didn’t mean that it would happen. “What are the chances I’ll get you alone around here?”
Much to his inner despair, you didn’t respond to that question right away, instead hitting back with a, “Why would you want that?”
“You know why.” Once again, Jungkook didn’t allow any room for interpretation. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood to skirt around the subject either. “Wanna get a room upstairs?” 
You took a deep breath, uncrossing your arms. “Not sure, do I?” By that point, you were buying yourself some time. At the same time that you wanted to, all those people around you were more than enough to make you reconsider. “Seems kinda risky.”
He scoffed. “We’ve done worse things in worse places.”
“None as crowded as this one though,” you threw back, signaling with your head towards the backyard. Not to mention the inside of the house, which probably constituted a fire hazard at that point. “Anyone can see us together.” 
Jungkook didn’t care at that point. Some part of him almost wished that someone would, so you didn’t have an excuse to continue with that suffocating secret any further. Instead, what he said was, “We’ll lock the door.” But you didn’t seem convinced. “Seriously, everyone in Hoseok’s parties is far too drunk or too high to care. No one’s gonna notice, and the ones that will won’t give a fuck.” 
You paused. “You know Hoseok? His mom was one of my teachers last semester.” 
Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, we’re… friends, I guess.” He didn’t know how to classify his situation with Hoseok: they were more than acquaintances, but not even close to actually being friends. Probably partners in crime. “Long story.” 
“How mysterious,” you teased, the ghost of a smile crossing over your features. Jungkook melted slightly under your gaze, so he rushed to find solace somewhere else, choosing to look at the intoxicated, loud-talking guests near the pool. You apparently took that as a silent admission of guilt. “It’s okay, I know he steals tests. You can tell me that.” 
Jungkook laughed at that, taken a bit off guard. He had no idea that people like you — as in, people who studied for tests — knew that kind of information. It was even more amazing that you didn’t snitch. “I never said a word,” he said playfully. “And you have no way to prove it.”
You giggled. “Wouldn’t dream about it,” you told him. Jungkook was staring at you now, expectation glinting inside his eyes. You raised one eyebrow. “What?” 
The light brush of the back of his hand against yours was almost imperceptible, fingers bumping against each other before they fell back into place. “Come on, let’s go somewhere else,” he tried again, much softer this time. “I miss you.”
You smiled at that, heat building up on your cheeks. Truth was: you missed him too. “I’m here right now,” was what you told him instead.
He sighed. “You know what I mean.”
Yeah, you did. Things were a bit rough when it came to seeing each other now. A few weeks after your post-winter break fiasco, Jungkook had unceremoniously decided that he wouldn’t take another semester of immunology (technically, he had already started it, but he felt no guilt when he decided to drop it). It was already a heaven-sent miracle that he managed to pass with the exact required grade the first time, and he wasn’t pushing his luck: if the basics were that horrible, he couldn’t even imagine the advanced subjects. And so your tutoring sessions with him went down the drain. 
So it was clear to see how your situation was getting a bit trickier, since you had lost your primal excuse for, well, basically everything. Before, you could blame anything on the fact that you were tutoring him. Caught sneaking somewhere strange? Just a shortcut to the library. Your friends couldn’t reach you for hours? Last minute help, with no distraction. Why did you talk to Jungkook (and why did he talk to you)? The tutoring, obviously. Nothing more. 
Of course, you two still saw one another, but it was under different, more dangerous circumstances. Perhaps that was why you were so swiftly swept away by his pleading puppy eyes, even if you didn’t believe that was the best decision.
“Fine,” you accepted with a sigh, “I’ll go upstairs and text you where to find me. Wait a few minutes, though. Don’t make it super obvious.” 
“Have a little faith in me, princess.” Jungkook smirked, placing his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. “I’m a master when it comes to sneaking around.” 
You rolled your eyes. “You better be.” 
One amazing fact about Hoseok’s parties was that a good chunk of his guests were far too worried about his parents’ status to dare to do something in their room, and that fear spread out just enough to keep his own bedroom empty as well. Every once in a while, someone would adventure inside one of those places and, lucky you, you were the chosen one for the night. Jungkook almost laughed out loud when he got your text — you were blessed enough to choose Hoseok’s room, at least. That one he could deal with, if necessary. 
Like you had told him to, he waited a little before following you upstairs. In those moments of expectancy, however, his thoughts once again got the best of him. Jungkook was never someone to overthink — if anything, it was the opposite, merely letting life follow its course — but, when it came to you, it was different. That scared him deeply, and so did the contents of his poderations: he always felt so much lighter after he talked to you, even if it was something so simple, so ephemeral, as the conversation the two of you had shared that night... but there was something off. 
He couldn’t pinpoint what it was at first, so it grew and grew inside his heart, clawing at his soul, burning its way up his stomach. There was sadness in it, he noticed, a bizarre melancholy that walked side by side his other thoughts — you were so pretty, he said to himself, so bittersweet; he wanted to hug and kiss you until he was out of breath, until there was nothing else in the world but the two of you. 
Unfortunately, though, the world was still so crowded. There was nothing he could do about it. 
Jungkook walked inside the house, diving into the overwhelming heat and the loud beating of the song. He was lost in his own world, trying to figure out what the demon on his shoulder was whispering to him, but being unable to do so. Out of options, he let it go. For now. 
He entered the bedroom about ten minutes after you — the sound of the party growing into a thunderous roar as the door opened, then morphing into an indiscernible humming as it closed. Jungkook stood there for a moment, looking at you for a couple seconds, before his eyes darted around the dark ambient.
 The moonlight was dripping past the thin curtains, accumulating in silver puddles on the floor. You had decided to leave the lights off so as not to receive any unnecessary attention from anyone else, but it was having the opposite effect when it came to Jungkook. If he thought that, if stared at you for long enough, he might lose his composure completely. 
“Haven’t been in this place in so long.” He placed his hands inside the pockets of his black jacket, following the details of Hoseok’s band posters all over the walls. His room was tidy, filled with trophies and honorary mentions that almost made Jungkook burst out laughing. Instead, just as he was about to do so, he met your inquisitive gaze. He instantly folded. “Okay, okay, I paid to get a stolen test from him. Happy? Go ahead and call the cops.” 
You smiled. “I’m not saying anything.” 
Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Like you need to do that,” he replied, walking towards the bed. You looked so beautiful under those pale lights that he could no longer avoid it, succumbing into  the magnetic pull you had on him. “You’re judging silently, you’re like a pro at that.” 
“Fair,” you acknowledged, body bouncing up a little as he sat down next to you. There was a thickness permeating the atmosphere now, a cloud of heat that surrounded you, booming inside your chest. It had been some time since you two were that close and it showed. “I’m full of talents.” 
He smirked, leaning back on one hand. The other one found its way to the nape of your neck, thumb caressing your skin. “I know you are,” Jungkook mumbled, stare flickering towards your lips. “Come here.” 
No need to tell you twice. You met him halfway, a sigh of relief leaving your lungs as his lips found yours. One second later and your hands were finding support on his broad shoulders, fingers gripping on the fabric of his jacket as Jungkook held you up, guiding you towards his lap. A long time ago, he had told you that having you straddling him was the best position to kiss you in, and you had to agree. 
The new angle allowed him to deepen the kiss with ease, a grunt vibrating inside his throat as his tongue played with yours. It was all so fast-paced, so needy — merely a byproduct of your accumulated sex drive, which wasn’t even held back for that long. More and more, however, you realized that the issue came directly from him, and the ghostly touches Jungkook left behind. It was easy to miss him when he kissed you like his life depended on it, hands exploring your body as he moaned against your tongue; it was easy to want more when he was always eager to provide; when you gave him everything and he still wanted more. 
And Jungkook didn’t know what worried him the most: if he continued to ask for more and it pushed you away, or if you actually gave him what he asked for. Because, in the end, there was still an annoying fly of insecurity buzzing around him, telling him that he’d never be enough for you; never would make the cut to be part of your life. Every time he made out with you, he felt like he was playing the world’s most dangerous game and that he was just too deep to back out now. It could be the last time he kissed you, the last taste of your tongue before you realized you deserve someone better than him. And he would be left behind to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart off the floor. 
Still, every time that you proved to him that it wouldn’t be the last time, he felt equally desperate. That made him realize what his previous anguish was about, made him see that there was a shadow being casted over him for some time now, and he simply didn’t know when he’d hit a brick wall, but he was positive that he would. What would change if, against all odds, the two of you continued together? What would change if people knew? Would the thrill be gone, or would your connection be better, more genuine? Could he actually handle being that close to someone? 
All those thoughts crashed into each other inside his brain, flowing like tempestuous waves as his hands gripped onto the flesh of your hips. You felt so soft above him, with your breasts pressed against his chest and your nails scratching on his scalp, that he never wanted to let you go. 
He groaned when you slowly moved your hips against his, searching for friction. You wished that he would continue making out with you like that until the stars burned out, but Jungkook had other plans in mind. “Fuck, I missed kissing you,” he cursed as he pulled away, his lips meeting your jaw straight away. He smooched and licked his way down your skin, his breath heavy and warm against the small wet spots he left behind. His hands were on your ass, squeezing as you pressed yourself down against his growing erection. “Whose dress is this, by the way?” 
“Yongsun’s,” you told him, fingers digging amongst the strands of his dark hair. He only hummed in return. “I didn’t have anything to wear to a party, so she let me borrow this.” 
He chuckled against your skin. Your neck seemed to be terribly sensitive that night, because it didn’t take long until you were gasping at the feeling of his lips and tongue against it, “Shocker,” he mumbled. Jungkook’s hands slithered under the hem of said dress, groping your ass beneath the fabric. Your back arched, center rolling against his covered cock once more. “I like it.” 
“Yeah?” You breathed out. 
“Yeah,” Jungkook agreed, moving down to your clavicles. “Is driving me crazy. I should thank her next time I see her.” 
“You should not.” You giggled. “Just don’t ruin it, since it’s not mine.” 
He hummed, one hand flying up to the zipper. “Don’t worry, baby, it’s not gonna stay on for long.” 
Jungkook, of course, was a man of his word. It took him a few failed attempts to successfully pull the zipper down, allowing for the soft fabric to slide away from your body, and another couple seconds of fumbling and shifting around until the piece of clothing was fully removed. He was especially eager that night — his mouth attacking your neck every time you pulled away from his kisses, sucking and biting on the flesh until you were whimpering. 
With that out of the way, he held you tightly by the waist and turned you around, his figure closely following your own as your back crashed against the bed. You tried to move upwards, closer to the pillows, but Jungkook tugged you back into place by the hips. 
“No, no,” he teased, positioning himself between your legs, “you stay here.” 
You rolled your eyes, but didn’t protest when he pushed your thighs apart. “You’re so rude sometimes.” 
Jungkook nodded, fingers hooking around the hem of your panties and pulling it down, throwing it somewhere behind him. “You love it,” he said. 
When it came to that, your body betrayed you straight away. It only took one glimpse at your pussy to know that you were already wet, and the uneasiness in which your hands grasped the sheets didn’t help you disguise your anticipation at all. Jungkook, of course, already knew that, and he was ready to give you whatever you asked for. 
Air got trapped in your lungs as he started placing wet, sloppy kisses on the inner side of your thigh. You gasped at the tingling feeling, goosebumps spreading through your body as Jungkook’s lips gradually approached your mound. “D-Did you lock the door?” You asked. 
“Yes,” he answered, his voice muffled against your skin.
But your paranoia was getting the best of you, so another question soon filled the stuffy atmosphere. “And what if someone hears us?”
“They won’t.” He breathed out, mildly irritated. Jungkook didn’t know why you were thinking so much about other people when he was right there, his mouth so close to where you needed him the most. “Music’s too loud.” 
It was loud, you just didn’t know if it was loud enough. Your attention was called towards the closed door, somewhat expecting that someone would burst it open at any given second. “And you don’t think your friend is going to be pissed that we’re doing it in his bedroom?” You tried again. 
Jungkook raised his head just slightly, staring you down. He was impatient, that was clear, and your constant doubting was starting to get on his nerves as well. The door was locked, the music was ridiculously loud, and no one would see the two of you. You had let him fuck you in far worse places, he didn’t know why you were suddenly so self conscious about being in a private room. “Seriously couldn’t give less of a fuck about what he’s gonna think about this,” he groaned. Much to your dismay, Jungkook moved straight past your pussy, kissing his way up your lower abdomen. “I can fix that later.”
“That’s a terrible life motto.” You smiled, but there was an anxious edge to your voice that he didn’t miss. His hands squeezed your waist as he pulled your body forwards, mouth hovering over your covered breasts. You got the cue, and raised your torso just enough so his hand could unclasp your bra. “Can get you in a lot of trouble.”
Jungkook scoffed, mindlessly throwing your underwear away. You were completely exposed now, while he hadn’t even removed his jacket. “I have the basic common sense to know when to use it,” he responded, his mouth clinging to your breasts straight away. Jungkook could probably die with his face between your tits and he’d be a happy man, just sucking on your nipples and listening to those whiny, soft sighs you produced for him. 
However, even that you managed to ruin. “I have my doubts about that.” You chuckled. 
Jungkook groaned, finally putting an end to his ministrations. “Can you be quiet for a second?”
You smirked. It was always fun to get under his skin. “Thought you like it when I get loud,” you teased. 
He didn’t miss a beat. “Not like this.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Like what?” 
“___,” Jungkook breathed out, shutting his eyes for an instant. Oh he was pissed pissed. Got it. “I’m not in the mood for this shit tonight.”
Every new question coming from you was another shot in the dark, not knowing what you would hit. “For what?” You pressed further. 
“You being bratty,” he growled, his hands sinking to your hips as he pulled your body closer to his. You could feel his erection straining against his pants, poking your inner thigh as he pressed his weight down on you. “Seriously not in the fucking mood.”
“That’s too bad.” You pouted — in all honesty, though, you were already starting to second guess that demeanor of yours. Just because it was fun to play with fire, it didn’t mean that you should. You should’ve learned your lesson by that point. “What has gotten into you?” 
Jungkook hesitated, wondering if he should say it or not — if it would actually solve anything, or only make it more complicated. It wasn’t only one thing: it was the fact that he hadn’t seen in you in some time, the fact that he missed you, the fact that he couldn’t even show you that he cared without being afraid of pushing you away. Also, the manner in which you had acted earlier around your friends probably didn’t help his case at all. 
That was why you were so insecure, he realized: because, yeah, you were fine with public spaces as long as they were mostly empty, as long as no one you knew could find out about the two of you. And now, even with a locked door and basically no way to be discovered amongst a sea of intoxicated strangers, you were anxious, thinking that it would all go up in flames. 
However, he realized that he didn’t want to discuss any of that. Especially knowing it would lead him nowhere, considering he was still battling against his own incoherent thoughts, trying to make sense of the emotions dancing inside his soul. 
“Doesn't matter right now.” His large hand held your face in place, fingers pressing down on your cheeks as he made you stare back at him. Your eyes were wide and expectant, flickering all over his face in a way to try and understand what was happening inside his brain. “All that matters is if you can behave for me tonight.” 
You blinked a few times, digesting his words. “I always behave,” you said softly, testing the waters. It had been a long time since he acted like that with you — kind of mean and rough in more ways than one — and it instantly threw gasoline into that bratty flame inside you. “Why do you say that?” 
He clicked his tongue. “Not always,” he corrected, apparently not falling for the faux-innocence in your tone. “And I don’t want you talking back.”
You pouted. “Not even a little bit?” 
Jungkook pressed a bit harder on your cheeks — it didn’t hurt, but it sent a clear message: you needed to shut the fuck up. “Not even a little bit.” 
And, well, you know what they say: if you can't beat them, join them. “Okay,” you agreed. “I can do that, if that’s what you want.” 
“Good.” Jungkook got closer, but the grip on your face didn’t subside. His lips were two petals brushing against yours as he spoke up again. “Can I be rough with you, princess?” 
Now that was an agenda you could get behind. “Yeah,” you promptly replied. “Want that.” 
“That’s my girl,” his tone softened, but his eyes were still malicious, watching the oscillation of your own as he finally let go of your face. His gaze burned on your skin, following the dainty movement of your tongue as you wetted your lips. “So perfect for me.” 
Before you could respond, his lips were on yours once more, swallowing your moans when he eagerly pressed himself down on you, rolling his hips against your center. Even through the fabric of his pants, you could feel how hard his cock was, brushing between your folds as his tongue explored your mouth. He was kissing you fast, thoughtlessly; leaving you gasping for air as he grunted, before moving away like nothing had happened. 
Jungkook looked down at you as if he was reading every line in your face, watching closely for any reaction that would displease him. In some strange, masochist way, you liked when he got like that — it always left you tipping around the edge of nervousness and anticipation, unaware of what he would do next. More often than not, you couldn’t really predict it. 
That time, it wasn’t any different. His hand rapidly returned to your jaw, thumb caressing your lips. “Open.” He commanded. You did as he told you to, heartbeat quickening when you realized what he was about to do. Jungkook leaned forward and allowed for a glob of saliva to drip down your mouth, a satisfied hum leaving his throat as you closed your mouth. The whole situation left you just as confused as aroused. “Swallow.” He told you. Once again, you followed his orders. “That’s it. What do we say?”
You blinked up at him, rummaging around your head for the answer that he wanted. “Thank you?” you tried, unsure. 
Jungkook smirked down at you, leaning in to trap your lips in his. He inserted his tongue inside your mouth straight away, drowning out your whimpers. It was a messy kiss, one that left you struggling as you tried to follow his pace, just barely managing before he was deepening it, sucking the air away from your lungs. By the time that he moved back, your heart was drumming, beating like a caged bird against your ribs. “You’re lucky you’re a fast learner,” he said. “Want you to do something else for me.” 
You didn’t hesitate. “Anything.” 
“Dangerous thing to say,” he teased, but didn’t seem to dwell in those endless possibilities much further. He had already outlined his plans for the night. “Hands and knees for me, baby.” 
He got out of the way so you could get in position, his heat leaving you behind. Eager to please him, you turned your body around and crawled a bit closer to the headboard — which he finally allowed you to do. 
Jungkook clicked his tongue, one hand coming down to press onto your upper back. “Lower. Ass up, princess.” He guided you until you had your cheek pressed against the soft white pillows, breasts resting on the mattress. He moved back so he could take a better look at you, the hand that was on your back now sliding up the curve of your spine and resting on your ass. “Perfect. Hold just like that.” 
Jungkook started to unbuckle his belt, his tattooed fingers working fast to remove the black leather. Instead of moving on to his pants, though, he slid the object off, measuring it for a second before looking back at you.
“What are you doing?” You asked. 
He ignored your question. “Hands behind your back.” 
And because the nervousness of being unable to predict his actions got the best of you, you let a stupid joke slip. “Are you going to arrest me, officer?” You smiled. 
But your smile didn’t last long. Jungkook’s hand was hitting your ass the next second, earning a soft whine from you. It wasn’t too painful, but it was enough of a warning shot to shut you up straight away. “I said no talking back,” he reminded you, serious as ever. “Hands behind your back.”
It was a very uncomfortable position to have your face pressed down against the pillows, with nothing else to support your upper body, but you followed his command regardless, placing your hands together. You had to bite back a gasp when Jungkook circled your wrists with his belt, moving it around until he was buckling it tightly. He gave it a last pull to make sure it would stay in place, smirking in content as your body followed it, bouncing back a little.
“Too tight?” Jungkook asked carefully. “Tell me if it hurts.” 
The thin sides of the harsh leather stung your skin a little, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. “No, it’s okay,” you told him. 
“Good.” He exhaled, stepping out of the bed. “Eyes on me. And don’t move.” 
Obedient, you nodded, watching as he removed his jacket, soon followed by his shirt. Your attention instantly fell to the rise and fall of his toned chest; the beautiful outlines of his muscles standing out against the pale luminescence. When it came to Jungkook, you were a bit perverted: all that you wanted to do was to kiss and bite your way down his body; to lick his abs and tease him until he was gasping under your touches