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badbhye · a year ago
feels like summer (m)
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You only have one question on your mind this summer: when did Jeon Jungkook get abs?
pairing: jungkook x reader
genre: neighbor au, smut, fluff, angst (if u squint)
warnings:  alcohol mention, drinking, explicit sexual content; voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, dom/sub-themes, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral sex (m/f receiving), throat fucking, cum play, grinding, gagging, oc has a muscle kink, jungkook’s character doing a whole 180 halfway through the plot
word count: 16.6k
A/N: This was originally written for the BSC Drabble Exchange and obviously I’m two months late...but also....this spiraled out of drabble territory so fast. But to the person who originally requested this, I hope you see it and enjoy it! Please don’t forget to send in some feedback, and I apologize for any mistakes!
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"You're drooling a little there," Yoongi mumbles, nudging your arm.
"Will you shut up," you glare, trying to focus on the article you're supposed to be reviewing but it's difficult. How can you focus on Market Upheavals when Jeon Jungkook is doing pull-ups in his backyard.
You don't know how it happened but when you came back home from college one fine day, Jungkook had just changed. He wasn't just the kid who stuck to your brother like a second skin, following him around like a lost puppy anymore. He had grown up. A little too much, you think to yourself when he lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat that had collected on his forehead. You think you're mistaken, but you catch him looking right where you're sitting, and when he does, you have to hold back the jolt of shivers that threaten to go down your spine.
"Hey, hyung," he calls, waving his hand to Yoongi before making his way over the short fence. "I wanted to ask if I could go over some of my compositions with you later."
"Yeah, stop by sometime before 8, my shift starts at 11," Yoongi responds without looking up from his phone. Jungkook lets out a non-committal hum in acknowledgment before he leans over to you, invading your personal space so all you can see is his sweaty torso. Your eyes budge at the way his muscles flex and follow the way a drop of sweat trails down the side of his jaw, down to his neck. He's so close you can feel his breath on your skin, his eyes noting your reactions and you swear you see a corner of his lips twitch. "Noona," he says, voice lower than normal. Your eyes jolt to meet his own, mouth suddenly very dry.
"You're sitting on my towel," he points towards the offending cloth placed snugly between the dock chair and your thighs.
"Oh," you let out, voice uncharacteristically weak but you comply nonetheless, moving so he can slide it out from under you. He grazes the skin of your thigh lightly, and you know he's doing it on purpose. You don't know when he got so bold, last time you were home he'd barely even look at you for more than a minute before he was reduced to a blushing, stuttering mess.
But that was two summers ago and the scrawny, awkward boy you used to know is no longer there.
All too soon, he shuffles back as if the interaction never happened. You're ashamed enough to peek a glance at Yoongi, who is still focused on his phone. If he noticed anything, he's feigning ignorance which you're thankful for. When Jungkook's done obnoxiously drying off the sweat off his body, going as far as to take off his shirt completely and flinging the flimsy cloth on his shoulder as he finishes drying his hair. You're left in utter shock, shamelessly ogling his movements, especially the way his shoulder blades flex with every shift of his arms. When he bids goodbye to Yoongi with a promise to meet up later, he turns once more to catch your gaze. His expression dancing with playful mirth, "Bye, noona!" He calls, almost sweetly, and you gulp. When he's gone, you feel like you can finally breathe again, you turn towards the dreaded article you should have been done analyzing by now when you notice Yoongi's eyes on you.
"What do you want?" You say, not sparing him a glance.
"You know..." he yawns a little, almost bored. "I really didn't need to see you and Jeon eye-fucking each other like that," moving to leave his spot on the adjacent dock chair.
"I don't know what you're talking about," you try to busy yourself once again but the flush of your cheeks gives you away. Plus, it's Yoongi. You could never hide anything from him, even if you wanted to.
"Please," he rolls his eyes. "Cut the crap, you think I don't know about your little crush on him?"
You can't help but sputter at his blunt words though it shouldn't be surprising to you anymore. He doesn't wait on you to answer him before he makes his way back inside and you try to focus on your work again — the keyword being try.
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 The list of work you'd made when you were feeling especially productive glares at you from your desk. Clearly, the thought of being ahead in your classes, or even catching up to your current courses was not something you'd be able to pull off this time. The reason for this belated realization: Jeon Jungkook. It wasn't as if you weren't used to him being at your house all the time, you'd practically grown up together. Well, in the neighborly sense. He never spent too much time with you, opting to accompany Yoongi instead. You always wondered whether the boy had an issue with you, maybe he just didn’t like you. It never bothered you too much, you had eventually brushed it off because you had your own thing going on. It wasn't until high school that you and Yoongi's social circles merged but Jungkook still kept his distance.
But now, it's like he's always there. Always in your field of vision. It's not like you try to seek him out (you tell yourself) but it's like he knows where you'll be. It's almost domestic seeing him help your mother bring in the groceries or mowing the yard for your father. And when you pass by him, he always makes sure to acknowledge you, and boy, do you. Ever since he's grown out of his lanky body and filled out a bit more, he's started wearing more form-fitting clothes. Like the white shirt, he's wearing right now. He's been watering the plants in his backyard and because of the heat today washed himself off too. You're conveniently sitting on your porch, laptop in tow but you're not working. How can you when you have the perfect view of how the material of his shirt sticks to his abdomen. The only question in your mind right now is when did Jungkook get abs? You haven't been away from home for that long... or maybe you just didn't notice before. Just then, he lifts his wet shirt over his head and you find it impossible that you couldn't have noticed. And you swear he maintains eye contact with you when he does it, the fucker even has the audacity to smirk.
The silent staring contest is shattered when Yoongi comes out, probably trying to sneak a smoke before your mom gets home.
"I really can't get a moment of peace, can I?" He settles against the porch railing, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket.
You and me both, you begrudgingly think but you keep that thought to yourself, forcing your eyes away from Jungkook to look at Yoongi instead.
"What's up?" You ask, concern evident in your voice. Yoongi wasn't one to complain.
He takes a long drag. "They're giving me overtime for the entire week...won't have time to compose."
You frown, Yoongi barely had any free time on his hands. He worked at the local radio station during the dead hours of the night along with helping out your mom with any housework and composing music whenever he could on top of it all. You feel terrible because you're barely home because of college and you know that's affected Yoongi. You're aware that he most likely regrets dropping out but you know it wasn't his calling. He was wasting his talents by sticking to studying business so you still support his decision. But, maybe staying home wasn't as good as you thought it would be for him. If you could take his place, you would in a heartbeat but you know he'd never let you. He was always like that.
"If you need any help..." You offer, but you know your attempt is futile, "I can take mom out for errands when I'm here."
"Do you think she'll let you drive Petunia?" He laughs, putting out the cigarette before he's even done smoking half of it.
"I'm good at driving," you defend yourself. You admit you were never the best driver but you had gotten your license fair and square.
"I'm happy you want to help," your mother says placing heaps of food onto a plate she especially prepared for Jungkook. "But I'd rather you not drive my car."
You glare at Yoongi when he laughs at your expense.
"I have a license," you remind them quickly but all it does is give a non-committal hum from your mother. It’s rather embarrassing to have your family ridicule your driving skills, especially when Jungkook’s joined you for dinner tonight.
“I’m happy to help out,” Jungkook meekly pipes in. “I drive my dad’s truck for errands all the time, so it won’t be an issue.”
“You’re such a helpful young boy, any girl would be lucky to snatch you up,” your mother coos, ruffling his hair causing him to let out a small laugh, briefly meeting your eyes before he’s too busy trying to keep your mother from adding even more food onto his plate.
The subject on your part, unfortunately, is dropped for the moment and you angrily eat the rest of your dinner.
A couple of days go by and you've forgotten about the whole thing altogether. You find yourself busy with yet another reading you had until you hear your mom come through the front door.
"Just set these here, sweetie," she motions towards the counter in the kitchen. And in tow, you see none other than Jungkook carrying three big bags of groceries with such ease. You don't know if you're jealous that he can carry that much in one go when it probably would take you two trips, but you can't lie and say you didn't just ogle at the way the muscles of his arms flex.
"So, they said the shipment of those Torx screwdrivers were coming in at 4, so they should have them by now," your mother informs him while she's unloading the fresh produce.
"Ah, I can go now then," Jungkook responds, putting the cereal away. By spending so much time here, he'd become to familiarise himself with how things were in your house. He probably had a whole system set up by the way he was moving so quickly. You manage to bring your focus back to your work successfully, although it proves to be a difficult feat. It isn't until you hear your mother call out your name that your focus breaks once more.
"___," she repeats, coming into the living room where you're seated. "I need you to go run some errands with Jungkook."
Your head whips up so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. "H-huh? Didn't you just get the groceries?"
Your mother pins you with a look that indicates not to ask questions. "You said you wanted to help out around the house."
The complaint that threatens to spill out is quickly stopped in its tracks when you see the expectant look on Jungkook's face when he peeks in from the kitchen. Your resolve is so easy to break. You huff, roughly putting away your books before you go to put on some shoes — you can't look too eager now.
It's silent in the car for a couple of minutes, but it's a long drive. Leave it to your mom to stay loyal to the hardware store that's all the way across town. It's a little awkward sitting in close quarters with Jungkook after the way you've been thinking about him these almost feel guilty. So, you focus on the radio instead, listening to whatever mindless pop song that plays next. It's when Jungkook clears his throat when he's stopped at the red light, slowly lowering the volume of the radio that you're reminded of your situation. You're alone with Jungkook.
"So," he begins, eyeing you briefly, "How have you been, noona?"
You peer over at him, " same old, I guess."
He hums, "...Are you still seeing uh, Joonho?"
"Junho," you correct him. "And no, we split after he graduated."
"Oh good," he mumbles under his breath but backtracks immediately when he realizes you heard him. "Ah, I mean I hope you're doing good after the split..."
"Nice save," you chuckle as he rubs the shell of his ears nervously. "I'm fine," you clarify, eyeing the radio. "It was a mutual decision."
When he doesn't respond, you sigh, moving to turn up the volume again so you don't have to deal with the silence. Jungkook's just doing your mom a favor anyway, it's not like he wants to be alone with you.
Soon enough, you become hyper-aware of the fact that Jungkook is in the car with you and god, why did the hardware store have to be all the way across town? You stare at him from the corner of your eye but have to stop yourself when your thoughts start going south once again.
"So," you clear your throat, talking loud enough so he can hear you over the radio. "How have you been?" You redirect his question back to him. "How's college been?"
"Oh, um," Jungkook stammers a bit as if he's embarrassed. "I'm thinking of dropping out..."
You shut the radio at that and turn to face him completely, "Why?"
He looks over to you at your bluntness. "Huh?"
"Jeon Jungkook, please don't tell me you're dropping out because Yoongi did," you accuse, sounding almost angry.
"Noona, how could you think so lowly of me?" He pouts. "It was just something I was thinking about," he admits, turning to park the car.
"This isn't something you can just do, Jungkook," you explain. "It's a big decision that has real consequences...have you talked to anyone about this?"
"No..." he mumbles, "You're the first one to know."
You sigh, putting a hand on his knee. Immediately, he stiffens under your hold so you begin to move away but he quickly takes a hold of your hand before you can. There's silence for a minute until you very awkwardly clear your throat.
"Jungkook," you begin, "Are you happy?"
"What do you mean?" His eyes widen at your very personal question.
"I mean...are you happy with what you're doing, is it your own decision or did something happen?" You switch your words around because you realize Jungkook probably wouldn't want to tell you something as personal as this.
He stays silent for a while, contemplating what to say, his eyes not leaving your hands, he intertwines his fingers with yours without thought. Your breath hitches but you don't pull feels nice.
"I don't know," he admits, a little wistfully.
You frown and wait for him to continue, thumb rubbing soothing circles on his hand.
"I just think I'm doing something wrong, wasting my father's money...especially after-" he catches himself before he can tell you the extent of his problems. Clearing his throat, he looks away but doesn't let go of your hand. "It's nothing," he concludes.
"It isn't nothing," you defend him. "Jungkook, I understand if you're uncomfortable with me because we've never been close, but I want you to know that I'm here for you, okay?" You pass a reassuring smile at him. "I care about you a lot, you're like to me."
You feel gross lying to him like that but you need to put your needs aside, Jungkook's wellbeing is way more important than some sexual fantasy. But to your surprise, he doesn't respond the way you thought he would, at most you expected him to shyly laugh. Instead, his brows furrow, and he frowns. He doesn't say anything, just lets go of your hand and moves to get out of the car. You don't dwell on it too much because just then you receive a text from your mother.
 Honey, I forgot the coffee your brother likes, would you please grab it on your way back?
 "Hey, I'm going next door," you call out to Jungkook as you get out of the car. You're a little thankful that you don't have to be next to Jungkook because, right now, all you can think of the way he reacted. It was probably the most aggravated you'd seen him react in such close quarters. You quickly grab the brand of coffee Yoongi prefers and continue to browse the aisles of the store, not really paying attention to what you're looking at.
"Can't decide between boxers or briefs?" Jungkook chuckles and you flush a deep crimson.
You hadn't realized you were staring at men's underwear.
"...It's for Yoongi?" You grimace, already regretting your words as you're saying them.
Jungkook bursts into loud laughter, nose scrunching and all. You can't help but smile at that, glad that the tension has ebbed away.
"Okay, the jig is up!" You raise your hands in surrender. "...I wear men's underwear."
"That's sexy, noona," Jungkook grins leaning down so the two of you are eye to eye.
Your laugh dies in your throat because, once again, you find Jungkook in your personal space. You can't stop the way you inhale sharply, eyeing at how close his lips are to your own. He's so close, you can feel his breath on your skin, and you're sure he can feel yours on his too. It feels like forever before he moves back, but not before his own eyes fall down to your lips. The corners of his lips lightly lift in a smile smiles before he breaks the moment and walks towards the counter. You meekly follow behind, clutching the coffee tightly in your grasp, mind still reeling from what just happened.
You're dazed. The ride back doesn't even seem that long compared to the ride there. You lean back on your seat, head leaning against the window, focusing on the low hum of the music.
"You're wrong, noona," Jungkook says after a couple of silent minutes go by. You peer at him in question, silently urging him to continue.
"I'm not uncomfortable with you," he turns to look at you before eyeing the road again. You hum in acknowledgment, "That's nice to hear, Kook."
It's silent again but you hear Jungkook mumble something so softly you think you might've been mistaken.
"I care a lot about you too."
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 After the whole grocery store ordeal, you notice Jungkook begins to spend a little more time with you. He still retreats to Yoongi like before, but it's still progress in your books.
You're lounging around when Jungkook comes by and takes a seat close to you, he doesn't say anything but smiles in lieu of a greeting.
"What's up?" You ask, eyes not leaving your phone. Not that you're doing much on it anyway, you'd just gotten done feeding your virtual cats. "If you're waiting on Yoongi, he's out...probably with Namjoon," you continue.
"I wanted to spend time with you," Jungkook admits, a shy smile playing on his lips.
That's one thing you appreciate, as much as Jungkook has weakened your resolve a significant amount, there are still moments where you see the same lanky, shy boy you admire so much. Or maybe you just like to see him squirm.
"Sure, what do you wanna do?" You look away from your phone to smile at him. The two of you had hung out a handful of times after the car ride, and it ended up being quite nice. You realized that you two had a lot more in common than you originally thought.
"It's nice out today so why don't we go out for a walk?" He suggests.
"You trying to get me to exercise more, Jeon?" You tease, peering out the window to assess the damage you'll be suspecting yourself to.
“Come on, noona, you've been cooped up in here ever since you've come home,” Jungkook whines, poking at your side. “You're getting lazy.”
“Hey, I am not cooped up in here, and this is my vacation, I deserve to be lazy,” you playfully glare from your spot on the couch, laying back further so your legs are spread on his thighs.
He laughs but doesn't make you move your legs off him. Instead, he places his hands on your knees and slowly begins to massage them. You try to feign ignorance to his touch, to keep your eyes glued to anything but him or his hands but it becomes so difficult when one of his hands moves up to your thighs, fingers putting light pressure on the muscle as they slowly begin trailing up your legs.
You don't move, eyes transfixed to the way his fingers ghost the skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Even though you try to act like his touch doesn't affect you, your body immediately betrays you when a shudder wracks through you. And you swear you see the corners of Jungkook's mouth lift a little before you awkwardly cough, disrupting the moment.
"The only way you'll have me outside is if you carry me the whole way," you decide.
"I'll happily carry you, noona!" Jungkook laughs, grabbing your hand to pull you up. You greatly misjudge his strength and in a blink of an eye, he has you sitting up and trapped in his grasp. Your eyes widen in shock at your sudden close proximity and you nervously clear your throat before scampering to your feet.
"Let's go then," you briskly walk towards the entrance to put on your shoes.
 Once you're standing on the street you grew up in, you turn back to Jungkook who had wordlessly followed your lead. "So, where are you taking me?"
Jungkook laughs nervously before taking ahold of your hand and dragging you towards the park at the end of the street.
"Are you seriously taking me to the park," you laugh as you let him drag you. His pace is faster than yours so you have to move quickly to keep up with his long legs.
"Jungkook! Hold on," you pant, pulling at his wrist to make him stop in his tracks. He looks back and flushes. “Sorry noona,” he responds, slowing his pace to walk in sync next to you but not letting go of your hand.
It’s when you reach the middle of the park that you let go and take a seat on one of the swings.
“God, I haven’t been here in so long,” you say, sitting limply on the swing.
“You haven’t been back in so long,” Jungkook says, taking a seat on the swing next to yours.
“Okay, that’s fair,” you quip, giving him a side-eye before smiling. “I had different plans for the future back then.”
“With Junho?” Jungkook asks, a little cautious when you don’t respond immediately.
“...Yeah,” you say, kicking your legs so you start swinging slowly.
“What happened between the two of you?” He asks, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me unless you want to,” he stammers, backpedaling a little.
“It’s okay, Kook,” you reassure him. “We just grew apart. Fell out of love, I guess,” you try to explain. “It was a good relationship but we were in different places in our lives, so we decided to break up. Simple,” you shrug.
“What about you, though,” you peer over to him. “You got stuff out of me, it’s your turn now.”
“That’s fair,” he chuckles, kicking his legs so he’s swinging too. “What do you want to know?”
“Why are you considering dropping out?” You turn to face him once the swing stops.
“Wow… you’re blunt, noona.”
“I don’t beat around the bush,” you sniff and wait for him to continue.
Jungkook chuckles, ruffling his hair, “I think I’m gonna end up being a disappointment.”
“Jungkook…” you begin, actually surprised to hear those words from him. “I don’t think you can be more wrong, you know Yoongi’s been telling me just how talented you are for years. He barely calls or texts when I’m not home and when he does, it’s always to tell me how proud he is of you.”
He’s silent for a while, letting the swing stop on its own before he looks up at you again. “Have you heard any of it?”
“I haven’t,” you respond, moving to get off the swing. “Come on, there’s a place I want to go to.”
You two walk towards the trees that line one side of the park, leading to a clearing surrounded by a thicker layer of foliage. It’s a comfortable sort of silence that sits between you as you make your way through the path. When you reach the familiar tree, you smile, moving to sit where you used to spend most of your evenings as a child, Jungkook gingerly taking a seat next to you.
“You remember this place,” he says after a few moments.
“Uh, this is my spot,” you clarify, pointing towards the tree bark where fourteen year old you had carved out your initials.
“Sorry to say, noona, but you’ve been gone too long,” Jungkook sniffs, motioning towards another carving on the tree trunk. You follow his movements and see another dull indentation of the initials “JK”, not far from your own.
“Jungkook, how could you!” You say trying to sound angry, even though the telltale signs of a smile started ghosting your lips. “How dare you not follow the sacred rules of finders keepers losers weepers!”
Jungkook laughs, shrugging. “It’s free real estate, plus I hung out here just as often as you did.”
“Oh yeah, this is where you’d follow me to and then ignore me all day,” you laugh, remembering all the times you’d sit by the tree to read whatever trashy romance novel you’d stolen from your friend’s mom’s closet and he’d come by, sitting on the opposite end, doing whatever he always did. You’d barely talk, you’d sometimes offer him a juice box and he’d sometimes place a peanut butter sandwich next to you before scurrying off. The both of you chuckle together, reminding each other of memories you’d shared there until you fall into another comfortable silence.
 “I want to, by the way,” you say, when the sun starts to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. “Listen to your music,” you clarify when he raises a brow in question. “I know it’s a very personal thing to ask for, and even Yoongi barely lets me listen to his pieces, but I’d like to,” you smile, resting your hand on the plush grass, watching the way your fingers are swallowed by the long blades. “If you’d let me.”
Jungkook smiles, cheeks dusting a light pink before he places his hand on yours. “I’d like that.”
It's dark out by the time you get home but it feels like barely any time had passed. You're fairly certain that nobody's home but that doesn't stop you from calling out when you slip off your shoes.
"In here," you hear Yoongi's voice from the living room.
"Don't you have work tonight?" You ask when you spot him lounging on the sofa. You stop in your tracks when you notice Hoseok's presence.
"When did you get here?" You gush, running to crush him in a hug.
"Picked him up an hour ago," Yoongi responds before Hoseok can answer you, though you doubt he'd be able to because you still have him tight in your grasp.
"If you missed me this much, babe, why don't we take this to the bedroom?" Hoseok chuckles, swiftly dodging the pillow Yoongi throws his way. You laugh, used to Hoseok's incessant flirting, almost missing it.
"Why don't you take me right here, right now," you challenge, taking a seat.
"God, if you guys were gonna be fucking gross, I wouldn't have brought him here," Yoongi groans, grimacing at your shameless flirting.
"It's been a while, hyung," another voice calls, and that's when you remember Jungkook was here too. He's still standing in the doorway, face impassive, a clear contrast to how he was smiling at you just moments ago.
"Jungkook! How've you been?" Hoseok goes to give him a hug, you don't miss the way Jungkook's eyes meet yours in their embrace.
Hoseok promptly takes a seat next to you, grabbing your ankles so your legs rest over his lap.
"How long are you here for, Hobi?" You stretch your legs a little more.
"Hmm, probably for two weeks? I'm giving a class in the studio, also have to visit my sister."
"Oh, is Jiwoo still married?"
"Thankfully," he huffs, "Otherwise she'd be stuck up my ass all the time."
"That's a shame," you hum, "Let her know whenever she's ready to leave that husband of hers, I'll be waiting."
"So, you're gonna cheat on me...with my own sister?" He jokingly accuses, already closing the distance between the two of you.
“How else will I bring drama into my life?” You justify as he pulls you closer to grab hold of your waist and begin his attack.
Your cries are violent as you immediately thrash in his hold, tears streaming down your face as you can't hold back your laughter. In the midst of all the chaos, nobody notices Jungkook leave.
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  A couple of days go by and you don't see Jungkook as often anymore. Sure, you catch him doing some chores here and there but it's not the same. Shockingly, you've been significantly more productive these days with most of the list crossed out already. So, there's not much left to do. So you decide to do the first thing that comes to mind — barge into Yoongi's room. Surprisingly, he's awake and flinches when he hears the door burst open. You ignore his curses and ungracefully flop down on his bed.
"What do you want?" He sneers from his place on the desk, headphones propped away from his ears so he can hear you.
"I'm bored," you sniff, turning to face him.
"The fuck should I do then?"
"When did you get so boring?" You whine. "Let's get drunk or something...since Hoseok's here too," you reason.
"Yeah, we could..." he says, eyes going back to his laptop screen. "But I think I've seen you and Jung hook up enough to last me a lifetime."
"You know he'd blow you before he'd as much as kiss me," you challenge, laughing when he bristles at your words.
"Get the fuck out of my room!"
You easily dodge the balls of dirty socks he flings your way, laughing as you make your way out of his room.
It's a pleasant night and you find yourself sitting in your backyard once again, drinking wine you swiped from your mother's stash. It's quiet, and you're humming to yourself, enjoying the buzz of alcohol in your veins. That's when you see Jungkook in his own backyard and you wave him over, showcasing the bottle of wine as temptingly as you can.
"You know I got that for your mom," Jungkook takes a seat next to you, but still takes the bottle from you.
"Are you trying to woo my mother?" You raise an eyebrow, trying to bite back a smile.
"I plan on becoming your second dad by the end of the year," he takes a swig, grimacing at the bitter taste.
"Well, I'd suggest you get Pinot Noir and I guarantee you'll have her by the end of the month," you wink, taking the bottle back.
He laughs and the two of you settle into a comfortable silence, passing the bottle back and forth until it's half empty. The headiness of the wine finally gets to you and you begin to sway a little.
"Where were you?" You ask rather bluntly.
"I was here," he responds, confused at your sudden question.
"No," you sigh, pushing the stray hair out of your face. "I mean...were you avoiding me or something?"
"N-no," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "...Okay, maybe a little."
You scoff, appalled at his answer. "You know you could have just lied so I wouldn't feel bad," You sniff, turning away from him. "What did I do?"
"You didn't do anything, I just..." he clears his throat, and it feels like you're back at square one when he couldn't hold a conversation with you for the life of him. "I just needed some time."
"Oh," you respond, taking his words a little differently. "I get it, Kook, everyone needs time."
"Noona, I don't think you do," he sighs, not looking at you. "I've actually been meaning to talk to you for a while...I just-" He pauses when you put a reassuring hand on his knee, you would've aimed for his shoulder but you're practically slumped in your chair. He pauses, staring at your hand for a moment before he threads his fingers with yours, soothingly rubbing patterns on the back of your palm. You take the time to look at his face then, the way his hair bounces over his eyes, you can't help but follow the slope of his nose and direct your attention to his lips. You must be blatantly staring because he notices when you begin to sit up straight. You can't help yourself when your drunken mind can only focus on how beautiful he looks in the moonlight. His eyes also soften looking at you and you swear you catch his gaze drop to your lips.
"Noona," he whispers, "I-"
You swear he's moving closer and you can't help but lean in until you're only inches apart. Your breath hitches. "Yeah?" you ask, peering up at him. He gulps at your sudden close proximity, his eyes falling down to your lips before he catches your gaze once again.
"Noona, I-" He begins again but he's cut off by your blaring ringtone which somehow is still Apple Bottom Jeans like it's been for the past eight years. You almost fall back trying to answer the call, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.
"H-Hoseok!" you shout. "Shit, I was gonna call you later, wait, Jungkook's here too let me put you on speaker!"
"Kook! Where've you been?" Hoseok's voice drifts over, a little static from the signal.
"Ah, just busy, hyung," Jungkook meekly replies.
"Don't work yourself too hard, kid," Hoseok chuckles, "Enjoy your youth!"
"Stop talking like you're an old man, it makes me feel old," you tease, "Jungkook's a good kid so the last thing he needs is you to influence him." You reach out to ruffle Jungkook's hair affectionately but he doesn't return your affection with a smile as you expected, instead, you see his jaw clench before he lets go of your hand.
"Oh, so you think I'm a bad influence?" Hoseok asks, trying to sound appalled. "When you sound drunk, ___, did you give the kid alcohol?"
"No," you hiccup. "Technically he gave it to my mom and I stole it from her!"
"Who's really the bad influence then, babe," Hoseok laughs.
You lean back in your chair, drunkenly laughing.
“But listen,” Hoseok continues once you've calmed down. “I’m calling because I heard someone can't get enough alcohol in her system.”
“So drinking my problems away is wrong when I do it?”
“Aw, you can drink as much as you want, babe,” Hoseok chuckles. “Namjoon and I are throwing a party at your request.”
“Wait,” you jolt up. “You got Namjoon to agree? Mr. I have a 9 to 5 job and too many Bonsai tree children to feed.”
“’s more of a hangout,” his voice changing in pitch at the last word. “But I’m sure I can pull some strings for you...I can do anything for you, babe,” Hoseok adds, still laughing at your Namjoon impression
“Mm, that sounds hot Jung,” you coolly respond, moving to take another swig of wine but you can't find the bottle. When you turn to ask Jungkook, you see him taking a long swig, finishing off the remaining wine.
“Jungkook that doesn’t come cheap, you know?” You berate, frowning at the lack of wine in the bottle.
“I know,” he huffs, leaning back on the dock chair. “I am the one who bought it."
"Will I be expecting to see you there, kid?" Hoseok's voice calls out. "Because it seems like you need a drink too."
"Yeah, sure," Jungkook responds. "See you later, hyung, I'm heading out."
"Wait, Jungkook," you call out with a playful lilt to your tone. "You're leaving after you buy a girl a drink? That's not how it goes!"
To your dismay, Jungkook doesn't turn back or even acknowledge you as he walks back to his side of the fence.
"Don't tease him, ___," you hear Hoseok's laugh from the static of your phone, making you flinch at your forgotten company.
"So it's okay when you do it but not when I do it?" You repeat your earlier words. "You know what they call that, Jung? Sexism."
"No, you dumbass," Hoseok groans. "I mean don't lead him on."
"Wait what?" You sputter. "How are you calling me a dumbass when you're the one saying something like that!"
"Come on, ___," Hoseok sighs. "The kid literally wears his heart on his sleeve, it's harder not to notice."
"Why do I feel too drunk for this but also in need of a drink after hearing this," you groan, leaning back. "Don't play tricks on a woman when she's drunk, Hoseok. You should know this."
"That's called alcoholism," Hoseok easily responds. "And ___, trust me, everyone can see it. But I guess you're just not ready to have that conversation."
You're at a loss for words after hearing that. What the fuck? You're brought out of your panicked thoughts when your phone vibrates in your hand, only then realizing that Hoseok had hung up on you.
"That damn Aquarius," you mumble to yourself as you scroll through your phone to check the aforementioned text message.
 Hoseok [23:18]: Everyone can see you too, but you aren't ready for that conversation either.
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“___,” you hear your mother call. “Can you give this to Jungkook before he leaves?”
"He's here?" You peer over your mother's shoulder as she packs dinner for him inside some tupperware. "I haven't seen him around."
"Oh he mentioned coming by to see Yoongi, as usual, he should be in his room I suppose," she hands you the box before making her way out of the kitchen. "And remind Yoongi to eat something, he's been cooped up in his room all day!"
You begrudgingly make your way to Yoongi's bedroom, knowing well that he dislikes it when you barge in when he's working so you decide to do the decent thing, and barge in.
"What the fuck do you want now?" He seethes, whipping his head around to glare at you. You mindlessly peer around his room and huff. "Jungkook's not here?"
"No," Yoongi says, turning back to face the glowing screen of his computer once more. "He didn't show today."
"Huh," you hum. "Well, don't rot away in front of your computer screen, take a shower," you scrunch your nose in disgust. "And eat something so you don't die before you get to drunkenly make out with Hoseok."
You're quick to make your exit before you can hear Yoongi's retort. You end up busying yourself in your room for the next couple of hours, humming the tune you've heard come out of Yoongi's room for the past two days as you work, happy that you're actually getting something done for a change. It's when you lean back to stretch your stiff back that you realize that the sun is close to setting.
"So you showered," you grin at Yoongi when you enter the kitchen. Leaning down next to him, you steal some food off his plate. He passes you a glare before shoveling more into his mouth. "Jungkook still not here?" You ask, looking for the tupperware your mom had given you earlier.
It's Yoongi's turn to smirk now. "Why do you care so much?"
You snort at his words, "I'm just asking because mom told me to give him some dinner. Guess I'll have to go next door."
"Yeah the only dinner you'll be serving him is your —"
You've shut the door before Yoongi can finish that sentence, grateful that he doesn't get to see the growing blush on your cheeks.
You peer over to Jungkook's backyard, hoping to see him outside but it's empty. Huffing about the fact that you'll have to go to his house, the conversation you had with Hoseok still running in the back of your mind.
Shaking yourself out of it, you trudge your way across the fence but you once again find yourself nervous. Nervous that you're going to be seeing him.
You hadn't seen Jungkook much after the night you'd gotten drunk together. You'd think he was purposefully avoiding you, but you also know that he'd been helping his father with work for the past few days and had seen him through the window once or twice. Other than that, you'd had no contact with him.
You frown, standing outside the back entrance of the house, unsure of what you should do.
Confused about whether you should go to the front door and ring the doorbell or just go through the backdoor, leave the food in the kitchen and make a prompt exit. You snort, what the hell were you doing? This nervousness was so unlike you, you're always the one with the upper hand, you're an adult for god's sake, and you're far above this coy behavior. With a sudden burst of confidence, you push back your doubts and quickly find yourself inside the kitchen. Peering around, you don't spot Jungkook anywhere, not even his parents but that's not out of the ordinary, they're usually not home around this time anyway. You decide to leave the food out in the living room instead, where he'll spot it quicker. Deciding to send a quick text letting him know that you stopped by, you're about to leave until you're stopped in your tracks.
It's a dull thump that causes you to pause, making you peer in the direction of the noise in confusion. It's repetitive, coming from down the hall. Jungkook's probably working out, you think to yourself. His muscles didn't just pop out of nowhere after all. Deciding to walk further, you're met with a sliver of light falling on the floor, faintly lighting up the otherwise dark hallway.
 That's when you hear it.
 You're far too close when you realize — you would have never come if you had known (you tell yourself). Though you don't stop walking until you see the girl who's caught your attention. Her wails much clearer now that you're closer. "F-fuuuck, Jungkook," she cries, voice breaking at every syllable.
Jungkook is towering over her form, legs propped on his shoulder as he pushes into her. His occasional grunts taking away your focus, his voice reverberating through the walls and sending shivers down your spine. It takes all of your strength to keep standing at the scene, your mind screaming at you to make a move, to leave but your body stays rooted in place, taking in every detail of the scene in front of you. You're too shocked to take a breath as you see the way his muscles flex at every movement he makes, the way he so easily contorts the girl's body, drilling into her as she shrieks in pleasure. Soon enough, he has her flipped over on all fours with great ease, her head pushing down into the mattress. Your eyes barely rest on her until your eyes find their way back to him. A wrack of shivers goes down your spine once again when you notice the way begins plowing into her, with even more vigor than before. The way his jaw is clenched, letting out a grunt every time his cock is deeply lodged into her. Your eyes follow the sweat dripping down his forehead, down to his neck, following down until you see the ridges of his built form. When you look up to him again, it takes all your power not to fall down to your knees when you realize that he's looking right at you.
You gasp when he pushes her head further down into the mattress, her moans now muffled by the linen underneath. His grunts are the only thing you can hear now, sounding deep and guttural every time he pushes back in. His pace is faster, stronger and it feels like you can feel the way his cock pushes in. The way he's looking at you, it's like he's fucking you and not the girl who's currently blubbering underneath him.
Your thighs rub together at the sudden need for friction. Jungkook's eyes follow your movements, a smirk filling his features. "You like the way I'm fucking you?" He asks through clenched teeth, pushing into the hilt and pressing his pelvis into the back of her thighs.
"Mmf, yes," the girl grits out. "I love the way your cock is fucking me!"
Although she's the one answering him, you know the question was directed to you as his eyes haven't left you yet, even for a second. His hum of approval has your knees shaking and you swear your panties are sticking to you uncomfortably. You're shocked you haven't made a sound even though your breathing is labored, heart-rate accelerated. You must have gone completely insane to still be standing here when you know Jungkook is aware of your presence.
"Jungkook!" The girl cries, her legs shaking. "I'm gonna cum!"
"Come on, baby girl," Jungkook grunts, pushing into her even further. "Cum all over my cock."
It's like you're in a trance, following the way he moves his hands between her legs, making her cries get louder and shakier. At this point, its Jungkook holding the poor girl up as he drills into her. Her moans increase in pitch and it would honestly bother you but you're far too distracted looking at Jungkook that you don't even notice her cum. It's only when his own hips stutter and his head falls back that you get ahold of yourself.
As quietly as you can, with shaky knees, you make it out of his house and back to your room. Your heart hammering in your chest because you just saw Jungkook fuck the life out of some girl. Oh my god, you just saw Jungkook fuck the life out of some girl! Jungkook, your neighbour, the kid who idolizes your brother. Jungkook, who was always too shy to talk to you, who'd always get red-faced when you were around. Jungkook, who works out in his backyard. Jungkook, who sometimes holds your hand. Jungkook, who apparently can fuck the soul out of you. You shudder at that thought, your mind reeling from what you just witnessed, the wetness between your thighs still evident. You shake yourself away from wandering thoughts, you can't, you chastise yourself as you bury your face into your pillow. But the image of him doesn't stray from your mind and you feel like your body is working on overdrive, your nerves so sensitive that you can't help but shakily place a hand between your thighs.
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"Yoongi's been complaining that you've been inside more than usual," Hoseok takes a seat next to you when you find yourself lounging around your house yet again.
"I've been busy," you quip, eyes not leaving the textbook in your lap.
"Come on!" Hoseok laughs, "Your lack of flirting is worrying, what's up?"
At your non-committal hum of acknowledgment, he yanks the textbook, prying it away from your grabby hands.
"If it takes me longer to graduate, it's going to be your fault, Hoseok," you groan, folding your arms across your chest after a feeble attempt to get your book back.
"___, why are you studying when you're on vacation," he raises an eyebrow. "More importantly, when I'm here?"
"Clearly, you've mistaken me for someone who gives a shit about you, Jung," you retort, "I've been using you to get to your sister this whole time."
Hoseok scoffs at your refusal to comply before bringing a backpack to his lap. That piques your interest as you raise your eyebrow expectantly.
"What's in there?"
"I was going to give this to you as a peace offering, but you're being a little bitch," Hoseok sniffs, taking out a bottle of vodka from the bag.
"I think you're the one pushing me towards alcoholism, Jung," you snort but pause when he takes out a carton of cranberry juice.
"Don't act like you're not the one who got us all booze with your fake ID in high school," he laughs, raising the bottle in his hand. "So let's commemorate and drink cranberry vodka like a bunch of freshmen."
You stare him down for a while before a smile slowly creeps up on your lips.
"God, I really need to stop using alcohol as a crutch," you grin before taking the bottle from his hand.
It's after you've drunk almost half the bottle between the two of you that Yoongi comes home, groaning as he takes off his shoes to announce his arrival.
"Get in here, you toad," you drunkenly giggle, almost sliding off your couch in between. "I have two surprises for you!"
Yoongi slowly makes his way into the living room, a scowl on his face at your obvious inebriated state.
"I'm here. Now give me a drink," he says, making you move so he can wedge himself between you and Hoseok.
"Surprise number one!" You say, handing him a haphazard mixture of vodka and cranberry juice. "And surprise number two!" You shove him lightly so he's even closer to Hoseok. You giggle as he nudges you with his elbow.
"Hoseok's helping me drink my problems away," you say, moving to the adjacent couch when Yoongi won't let you drape your legs across his.
"What problems, noona?" You hear from the doorway and immediately stiffen.
 There is none other than Jungkook, standing at the entrance, innocently smiling at you before he makes his way into the living room.
"Oh yeah, Jungkook's here too," Yoongi says, sipping on his drink and grimacing before shooting you a nasty glare for not putting in enough juice.
"I hope you guys don't mind," Jungkook says before sitting on the couch you're on, a little too close for comfort.
"What were you guys doing?" Hoseok asks, taking Jungkook's attention away from you.
"Yoongi hyung was treating me to dinner for finishing a song," Jungkook says, showcasing his teeth while smiling.
At that moment, you decide that Jungkook is the devil incarnate. He has the audacity to look like the sweet, innocent, helpful Jungkook you've known your whole life. But you know the truth, you know how he is anything but that. You can see through his facade easily, how he has everyone fooled.
He shifts in his spot, causing him to bump his thigh with yours and you immediately clamp your legs shut and move away from him, leaning as close to the corner of the sofa as you can get. You hear him huff but he maintains his distance. Even though there’s about a person’s gap between the two of you, you can still feel the heat radiating from his body.
"You know glaring at your empty cup won't put more alcohol in it," Yoongi says, finishing his own drink before moving to make himself another.
"Uh, yeah," you say, distracted still as you pour a hefty amount of vodka in your cup.
"Slow down, babe," Hoseok snorts at your antics. "What's got your panties in a twist."
"Please don't talk about my sister's panties when I'm here," Yoongi groans.
"He means don't talk about my panties when you can talk about his panties," you smirk, settling back down on the sofa.
"What if I want to talk about your panties, ___?" Comes Jungkook's whispered voice next to you, his breath hitting your neck and you almost choke on your drink, coughing loudly.
"Are you okay, noona?" Jugkook asks, loud enough for everyone to hear this time. "Here, drink some water."
You begrudgingly accept the offered cup and gulp it down so you don't have to look at his face and just recall the way he was looking at you the other night.
"Look at Jungkookie taking care of his noona!" Hoseok drunkenly giggles, slapping Yoongi's arm to get his attention. Hoseok's intentions are as clear as day and you're not amused. You feel even more on edge now, knowing that even Yoongi was in on it — if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.
You hear Jungkook laugh beside you and put an arm around your waist. You jolt up at the contact, feeling extremely sober suddenly.
"Uh...I'm going to the kitchen. Bye," you stammer and run towards your safe haven.
He's the devil, you can't believe you hadn't noticed it before.
"It really is all men," you mutter to yourself, pacing in the kitchen.
"I take it either you and Jungkook finally fucked or that you and Yoongi are fighting...which isn't new or exciting so please tell me you and Jungkook finally fucked," Hoseok says casually as he leans onto the kitchen island.
"No we did not...and will you keep your voice down?" You whisper-shout, peeking into the living room to make sure nobody heard him.
"Then why are you here talking to yourself like a madwoman, are you trying to prove that there are ghosts in this house again because that's not funny and I will scream."
"God, I wish my ghost boyfriend was still here...I miss Taemin," you groan, taking Hoseok's cup and downing it in one go. "He wouldn't torture me like this...why did he have to cross over?"
"You really need to get laid," Hoseok dryly comments. "Especially if you're pining over a clearly non-existent boyfriend."
"Oh my god, Hoseok!" You say, eyes wide as you quickly turn to face him. He flinches ready to get hit with the plastic cup in your hand but instead, you grab both of his shoulders and pull him closer.
"You're right! I do need to get laid...that explains everything," you let go of him and start pacing again. "But the question now is...who?"
"That's easy-"
"Don't you fucking dare, Jung Hoseok," you interrupt, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Don't even try."
"I'm just stating the viable options here."
"I would take this from you any other day, but right now, I need you to help me set up a dick appointment."
"God, we're both not drunk enough for this conversation...and I'm pretty sure I'm seeing double right now," Hoseok slurs a little to accentuate his drunken state.
"It can't be you...because Yoongi would annihilate me," you begin to mutter your thoughts out loud, "Obviously Jungkook is a no go, that's just my sex-deprived brain malfunctioning."
"So you admit it!" Hoseok excitedly shouts, pointing at you with his eyes wide.
"No, shut up!" You gape, pausing in your tracks.
"Something happened, you don't do that weird saying your thoughts out loud thing unless something happened," Hoseok grins. "And don't think I didn't hear that little panties comment he made."
Fuck, it really be your own that betray you, and for you, it's your stupid inebriated self.
"Okay, if I tell you what happened," you begin, inching closer to him. "You have to promise not to laugh at me."
"You know I'm a whore for gossip," he smiles, leaning back to the counter.
"Okay..." You begin, nervously peering at the entrance to make sure that you're both alone. "I may have seen..." You purposefully keep your voice as low as a whisper, as a further precaution. "Jungkook...fucking a girl... and I can't stop thinking about it Hoseok, so you understand the severity of the situation."
He stares at you blankly as his drunken mind processes what you had said to him before, his eyes comically wide, and he barks out a loud laugh.
"Hoseok you promised you wouldn't laugh!" You sniff, looking at him with pleading eyes in hopes that he'll take pity on you.
 He doesn't.
 "Okay, you can't tell me something like that and not give me details... How much did you see? Did you see his dick? What's he like in bed?"
Hoseok's busy listing out detailing questions but you can't hear him anymore as your cheeks heat up at a significant pace when your mind starts to wander...
"Oh my god!" Hoseok balks at you. "You saw all of it didn't you!"
You don't respond, only gulp nervously when your mouth gets too dry.
"Shit, ___, not gonna lie... That's so hot." You see his eyes beginning to crinkle and scamper to shut him up before the man in question hears that you're currently talking about him getting his dick wet in front of you.
 Unfortunately, luck hasn't been on your side for the past couple of days.
"What's hot?" Jungkook says as he peeks his head in the entrance before making his way to where you are awkwardly holding onto Hoseok.
"Kim Taehyung!" You shout the name abruptly before you can even think of an excuse.
"Huh?" Jungkook tilts his head and you have to inhale deeply at the way his hair flops with his movement. Demon, you remind yourself.
"I invited Taehyung to the party this weekend, ___ thinks he's hot," Hoseok winks at you before looking back at Jungkook.
You look between the two of them before quickly stammering, "Uh, yeah! He's really hot... totally fuckable!"
Jungkook looks at you, his face blank before he hums. "I see," he says, before turning to Hoseok. "Yoongi hyung was calling you."
Hoseok passes you an apologetic look before grinning wildly and making his exit — effectively leaving you alone with Jungkook. Fucking Aquarius bastard.
 You awkwardly clear your throat when you notice Jungkook silently looking at you.
"So, Kim Taehyung?" He asks, slowly stepping closer to you.
"Yeah," you stutter, "...Kim Taehyung," backing away from him until the back of your legs hit the counter.
"What about him?" He smirks, eyeing you down and you have to peer up at him to maintain eye contact. Fuck when did he get so tall?
"You know..." you begin, "he's a good looking guy...what can a girl do?" You grimace at your words as they leave your lips but Jungkook doesn't react, just keeps his lazy smirk.
"Hmm… what can a girl do?" He grins, leaning down so he's face to face with you, his breath hitting your face. Your eyes widen before they fall to his lips and your mouth goes dry. You subconsciously lick your lips and his own eyes follow your movements before he moves towards the left to grab a spare mug that was sitting behind you on the counter.
He doesn't wait for your response before he's making his way out of the kitchen and back to the living room to Yoongi and Hoseok... and alcohol. God, you need more alcohol but you really can't make yourself sit in his presence anymore.
"Fuck Jungkook," you angrily mutter as you make your way back to your bedroom before groaning at the choice of words. You slam the door in the midst of your frustrations before launching yourself on the bed.
"I can't believe booze has failed me," you mumble into your pillow before falling into an alcohol-induced sleep.
"You can cancel your party," you say over the phone, in lieu of a greeting right as Hoseok picks up. "I'm quitting alcohol."
"I'm guessing you didn't hydrate last night," Hoseok responds, sounding much better than you.
"I couldn't and you know it!" You seethe, soothing your aching head after downing two pills of aspirin. "Anyway, how do you sound okay, I'm sure you drank way more than me."
"I may or may not have puked my guts out an hour after you left," Hoseok admits, sounding a little ashamed.
"It's what you deserve," you remark blandly, making your way out to the backyard where the warm sun welcomed you. You groan in appreciation of the warm dock chair as you get comfortable. It's only when you open your eyes again, you see Jungkook working out in his backyard once again.
"If there's a god," you mutter to yourself, "When will you let me catch a break?"
"What's up?" you hear Hoseok ask over some crackling, probably making himself breakfast.
"The bane of my existence this summer..." you whisper just in case Jungkook doesn't over-hear even though he's clearly out of earshot — but you can never be too cautious.
"Our little Jungkookie's working out isn't he," Hoseok snickers, "Why don't you just sit back and enjoy the show?"
You hum, "You know what, Hoseok?" you say thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right... maybe I can get some sort of sexual gratification by just staring at him... doing those pull-ups... and then I'll get it out of my system" You silently watch the way his muscles flex every time he does one, getting a full view of those godly pectoral muscles because he decided to forgo a shirt today.
"Clearly, it’s working," Hoseok snorts.
You groan loudly, "It's not fair Hoseok! When did he get the upper hand, how did I let this happen?"
"Come on, ___, you seriously thought Jungkook was gonna stay coy this whole time? The kid's got game, you'd know if you’d come home more often."
"Don't say that! Don't call him a kid when I saw what I saw!" You angrily whisper into the phone.
"Don't act like you didn't enjoy the show." You can practically hear the god-awful smirk accompanying Hoseok's tone.
"This is why men don't deserve rights," you mutter, still angrily staring at Jungkook finishing up his work-out. "Anyway," you sniff, "you owe me a favor."
"And what is that?" He chuckles.
"Call Taehyung to the party for me."
"Oh? So now you're coming to the party?" Hoseok asks. "I thought you swore off alcohol...well you lasted ten minutes, I'm proud of you."
"Just invite him, will you?"
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 You’ve managed to successfully avoid Jungkook, occasionally seeing him around the house but your plan was foolproof: flee. But it’s the day of the party and your otherwise foolproof plan is going to fail, because he’ll be there, and you’ll be there, in the same space.
Hoseok [9:45]: I won’t let u in unless u have at least one bottle of booze with u.
Hoseok [9:57]: That was Namjoon but yeah, the rule still stands.
 “I thought this party was for me,” you mutter to yourself as you make your way up the stairs, pulling on your dress nervously after every couple of steps.
You pause when you reach the apartment, a dull throb of music cascading through the walls, staying still for a while before kicking the door once to announce your arrival.
A few seconds go by and you’re ready to kick again but the door swings open to a clearly drunk Namjoon, cradling a bonsai tree close to his chest.
“___!” He grins, pulling you into a tight hug but he misjudges and proceeds to stuff your face in his pit. You awkwardly stand in his grip, letting him hug it out because it’s been a while since you’ve seen him
“Thank god you shower regularly,” you grin at him when he lets you go. “I come bearing gifts,” you hold up the lone bottle in your hand. “So, please put my coat in Hoseok’s room for me.”
“Tequila...” Hoseok slithers his way in at the mention of alcohol. “Someone’s here to make regrets!”
“It’s silver so you better have lemons in your kitchen,” you push past him and are met with enough people to be considered a party and not the hang-out Namjoon had planned.
“So I take it your persuasion worked,” you look at Hoseok as you make your way into the kitchen.
“I told you I’d do anything for you, babe, do I ever disappoint?”
“Okay, get off your high horse,” you jab, rolling your eyes. “Alcohol please,” you cup your palms in front of your chest.
“___,” Hoseok rolls his eyes. “It’s like one foot away from you. Make your own drink.”
“I don’t have my research on me right now but I have proven that your drinks get me drunk faster,” you sniff. “So, alcohol please.”
 Once you’ve downed two shots of tequila and now nurse once of Hoseok’s special drinks, you happily stroll to the living room where you’re met with Yoongi and Namjoon, bonsai plant still in hand.
“What is he doing?” You ask Yoongi in lieu of a greeting as you wedge your way between the two of them on the sofa.
“I’m cradling my daughter,” Namjoon sniffs, gripping the plant closer to his chest. “She can’t fall asleep otherwise.”
You pass Yoongi a look who just shrugs. “I think you have more pressing matters at hand, ___,” he says cocking his head to the side. You follow his line of sight and curse under your breath.
 Lo and behold, Jungkook is already there, surrounded by a bunch of people you recognize as his friends, not like you could recognise anyone besides Park Jimin...and the girl you saw him fucking who is busy clinging onto his arm and laughing at something he just said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say taking a large gulp of your drink. “Anyway, is Taehyung here?”
“Oh god,” Yoongi groans. “Don’t tell me you got Namjoon to agree to a party just so you could schedule a booty call with Taehyung, you know you could just text him instead of orchestrating a giant ruse.”
“Hey, this ruse is for you and Hoseok to get down and dirty too, I’m doing you a service,” you sniff, downing the rest of your drink. At the rate you’re going, you’re pretty sure you’ll blackout but sneaking a glance at Jungkook again, makes you forgo your concerns and move to get yourself another drink.
“Long Island iced tea?” You hear and turn around, drink sloshing in your cup. “You haven’t changed,” Taehyung smiles, eyeing the drink in your hand.
“Kim Taehyung!” You smile, tipsy already, and move to hug him, burying your head in his neck. “Why did everyone go through a growth spurt and not tell me,” you sniff when you fall back onto the heels of your feet.
“I like towering over you though,” he easily says, taking ahold of your waist and pulling you towards him. “Come dance with me.”
You easily agree, letting him move you to the living room where a couple of people were dancing to the music. You’ve never been a good dancer, always the one with two left feet but get some alcohol in you and suddenly your body just knows. Sure, you can’t call what you’re doing dancing, moving more towards fucking with your clothes on, if the thigh Taehyung has wedged between your legs and the way he’s gliding you on it has anything to go by.
You thank alcohol for giving you the confidence that surges through your body when you feel a twitch against your own thigh, making you smirk. The two of you dance to the music for a couple more minutes until he bends down, lips touching the shell of your ear. “Meet me on the balcony in five, yeah?”
“I thought you’d never ask, Kim,” you pull away. “Let me go grab my coat.”
 You’re quick to whirl around, moving towards Hoseok’s room, giggling to yourself at the prospect of your plan coming to fruition. Maybe this will let you see clearly and not drool thinking about Jungkook anymore. Clearly, you just need to get a good dicking down and Jungkook will be Jungkook again. 
Thankfully Hoseok’s room is unlocked and empty, you peer around the dark in search of your coat.
A hoe never gets cold but she does need her jacket when she has to make a quick run for it, just in case.
You aren’t there for long when you hear the door open again.
“I thought you said to meet on the balcony,” you laugh, turning around but your laughter dies in your throat when you realise it’s not Taehyung standing behind you.
“Jungkook?” You stutter, “what are you doing here?”
“You know, ___,” Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek as he stalks his way towards you. “Hoseok I kind of understood… but Kim Taehyung?”
“Wh-what are you talking about?” You stutter, all the alcohol running through your veins suddenly evaporating. 
“I’m tired of playing games, ___,” Jungkook responds, ignoring your question. “I don’t want to hear any excuses anymore.”
“What do you mean, Jungkook?” You shrink under his gaze. He looks so different right now like a whole different person.
“I mean,” Jungkook chuckles, stepping closer as you inch back, the back of your thighs hit Hoseok’s desk. “I’m going to fuck you now.”
“Jungkook!” You shriek, “Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t want to f-fuck me.”
Jungkook closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath and immediately bends down so his face is a mere inch away from your own. “Oh, you have no idea just how much I want you, ___,” Jungkook says, his eyes falling to your lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you. And I know you want me too.”
In a blink of an eye, he’s lifted you up and seated you on Hoseok’s desk.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you let out, eyes wide when you see the look in his eyes, the way his eyes roam your body with this innate hunger.
“Stop kidding yourself, ___. Don’t pretend like you didn’t see anything,” he says, leaning so close to you that he’s all you can see. Everything about him is so different now, it’s surprising that you just recently noticed the raw sexual appeal Jungkook exuded. You nervously lick your lips when you find his gaze drifting down once again, trailing your body with hunger you now recognize as the look he gave you when you found him fucking that girl a couple of days ago.
“It’s okay, noona,” he chuckles, the word sounding nothing but condescending coming out of his mouth this time. “I like being watched.”
"J-Jungook!" you gasp, shocked at his obscene words. He's so close to your vicinity that you're unable to think straight.
“And it looks like you like to watch, don’t you noona?” He teases, his hand gripping your waist to hold you into place.
“Tell me, noona,” he asks, licking his lips and you shudder when you see the wet sheen of saliva coat his lips. “Did you touch yourself that night? Did you get off to me fucking her?”
Without thinking, you find yourself nodding to his words, eyes wide, breathing hard and shallow. He groans, separating your legs to wedge himself between your thighs. He’s so close, pressing his body into yours, and you let him, gripping his shoulders to press him even closer to you.
“Do you even know what you do to me, ___?” He groans into your neck. He presses his hips into your stomach. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me?”
You whimper, feeling the thick shaft of his dick pressing into your skin. All too soon, the feeling is gone and he’s standing back looking at you with half-lidded eyes.
“Take off your clothes.”
You don’t even hesitate and slip your dress off, left only in a pair of lace panties. Jungkook groans at the sight, palming himself through his jeans. His eyes roaming your body, from the swell of your breasts down to the lacy material of your panties.
“Didn’t even wear a bra, you’re so naughty noona,” Jungkook smirks, shamelessly eyeing your breasts.
“I want to know what you did.”
“W-what?” You ask, peering up at him with confusion.
“I want to see how you touched yourself thinking about me.”
You shudder under his watchful gaze and you let out a shaky breath.
“Go on then.”
You slowly inch your hands down your body, sliding down your panties gently enough that they stick to the wetness of your core. You hear Jungkook curse under his breath at the sight.
“So wet, and I haven't even touched you,” he looks entranced, the way his eyes widen at the scene between your legs.
“You did this,” you mumble, swirling the wetness of your folds and spreading it across the expanse of your pussy. Biting your lips when your finger grazes your clit.
Jungkook moves to take a seat on the chair, getting a better view of your fingers working on yourself.
You ghost your fingers across your clit, breath shuddering every time the movement sends small a small wave of shock through your body. You should feel embarrassed, being watched so closely but the fact that Jungkook is here, watching you so intently just eggs you on. You circle your finger along your entrance as another gush of arousal flows through, glistening the tips of your fingers, and you gather the wetness, shoving it back in. A small moan leaves your lips when you curl a finger inside yourself.
"You're doing so well, noona," Jungkook whispers. His jeans are unbuttoned but he doesn't bother touching himself, too busy watching you. And you're in awe of him yourself, biting your lips as you slowly begin to grind onto your finger, slowly adding another digit. You shudder when you scissor them inside of yourself, your legs beginning to close into themselves but Jungkook pushes them apart, so he doesn't miss a single movement.
"Fuck, fuck! Jungkook," you gasp, "It feels so good!"
Your movements begin to get more erratic, faster as you start to lose yourself to the pleasure. Your thighs twitching when you press onto your clit. You sputter when you add another finger, slowing down your movements to get used to the pleasant feeling of feeling so full.
"J-Jungkook!" You moan out, your other hand reaching to grab ahold of the one that's grabbing your thigh, "I'm gonna-"
"Are you cumming already, ___?" He tilts his head, looking at you with a teasing smirk. "Did you enjoy the show that much?"
"Yes!" You grit out, biting your lips as you fuck yourself. "Wanna feel you so bad!"
You groan, hips lifting off the desk when you crook all three fingers inside of you, thumb rubbing against your clit. "Jungk- fuck, I'm cumming!" You cry out before your words taper off to strangled moans. You keep fucking yourself until you've ridden out the waves of your orgasm, panting by the time you come down from your high.
When you lazily open your eyes, you find Jungkook's eyes wide, staring between your legs.
"Fuck," he says before he peers up at you. "That was the hottest thing I've seen in my whole life." Before you can respond he's shoving his head between your legs and licking a long stripe up your slit before he latches onto your clit and begins to suck gently.
"Ah, Jungkook," you groan, head falling back and hitting the wall behind you. "It's too much Jungkook," you whimper, feeling oversensitive from your orgasm but he doesn't listen, eagerly lapping up your release like a man starved. He groans when his tongue probes at your hole, fucking it with shallow thrusts, sucking up the wetness. "Noona, you taste so good," he groans before diving back in. The oversensitivity has you sobbing, tears falling down your cheeks but you still find yourself pressing yourself against his tongue as hard as you can. The fact that it's Jungkook’s head between your legs has you tumbling towards a second orgasm at an embarrassingly fast pace. Without warning, the tight coil snaps once more and you're coming undone, grinding yourself onto his tongue, moaning out his name. This only spurs him further as he licks into you with even more vigor, lapping up whatever dribbles out of you like it's his only life source.
When the waves of pleasure settle down, you slump against the wall, utterly spent. Your thighs still twitching at the intensity of your orgasm.
"Fuck," Jungkook mutters, looking up at you, his breath hitched. You gasp when you notice his lips, cheeks, and chin dripping with your release. "You're so fucking hot," he mutters before moving to stand up. He strips himself of his shirt quickly, and your eyes widen once more over how toned his body is. You shamelessly ogle his body, eyes following the ridges of his muscles.
"When did you turn into such a muscle pig," you scoff when he flexes.
"Feels good when you cream yourself watching me work out in the backyard," Jungkook chuckles. You bristle at his words, flushing a deep crimson.
"You noticed?"
"Why do you think I put on such a show, noona?" He winks before he's standing close to you once again. "Now be a good girl, and suck me off."
You're quick to pull his jeans down, grateful that he had undone the button earlier, you're sure you would have fumbled with it the way your hands are shaking in anticipation.
The moment his cock is free from its confines, your eyes widen. It's a mouth-watering sight. His cock beautifully glistens as precum leaks out of the tip, sliding down the curved shaft and you lick your lips, following the trail with your eyes. Gingerly, you grab the shaft, spreading the wetness on the head and he hisses when your thumb digs into the slit. At his reaction you grow more bold, kissing a line on the side of his length, licking his skin more and more after each kiss. When you reach the head, you press another kiss on the tip before encasing it between your lips, swirling your tongue before you suckle on it lightly.
"F-fuck, ___!" Jungkook hisses. "Be a good girl and take it all in, okay?"
You easily comply, slowly sinking on his length, inch by inch you swallow his length as far as you can go before going back up to catch your breath. Once you get used to the length and the thick girth, you loosen your jaw and eagerly stuff him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you take him in.
"Oh god, you're doing so well, baby," Jungkook grits, taking a hold of the hair that falls onto your face. His praise just makes you more eager and you go even further until your nose touches his pelvis. You stay in that position, nose hitting the base of his cock, and you inhale deeply, groaning when the heady scent invades your senses. Tears stream down your face as your throat constricts, jaw aching from the girth but feeling the weight of his cock on your tongue makes you moan. Jungkook's head falls back when he feels you moan around his cock, and when he finds you peering up at him with wide eyes, teary from the abuse of his dick, his cock twitches in your mouth.
"I'm gonna fuck your face now, can you take it?" He asks, pulling your face back by your hair and you nod eagerly.
"I didn't know you were such a cockslut, noona," Jungkook grins before he shoves his length down your throat. You immediately choke but he doesn't relent, shoving it down until you're pressed against him. You swallow wildly around his length, making him groan.
"Fuck, you're such a sight, noona,” he rasps, “With my cock stuffed down your throat."
He pulls out a little before thrusting back in, abusing your throat and you enjoy every minute of it. You gag every time he has you pressed against him, your eyes trained on the way his muscles go rigid.
"Look at you, getting your throat fucked like a whore," Jungkook says, enthralled by the way you swallow around his cock. "You're gonna have me cum before I've even fucked your pussy."
You hum, hips beginning to grind on the desk at the prospect of Jungkook fucking you.
Jungkook pushes his entire length into your mouth once more, letting it sit there as you sputter, the sides of your mouth dribbling with a mixture of your spit and his precum, before he pulls you off completely, his hand replacing your mouth as he slowly fists his cock.
You're breathing hard, gasping to catch your breath but your eyes don't leave how he's slowly working his shaft, hissing when squeezes at the base. You eye the way his abdominal muscles clench every time he thrusts into his hand.
"Can I-" You begin but stop, a surge of shyness falling over you and you avert your eyes.
"Hmm? What was that?" Jungkook asks, bending down so he's in your field of vision.
"I...I've been fantasizing," you explain, turning towards him again, slowly lifting your hand to have it trail down his chest. "About riding your abs... can I?" You ask, peering at him with your eyes wide.
"And you ask me why I work out so much when you have such a muscle kink, noona," Jungkook teases but moves to make you stand on your feet. You wobble on your feet a little but catch your balance quickly when Jungkook takes your seat on the desk, leaning back against the wall.
You quickly scamper to straddle him, his face so close to yours. Without thinking, you close the distance between the two of you and catch his lips with your own. He moans into your mouth, grabbing ahold of your waist to push you onto him, tilting your head to lick into your mouth. You start slowly, experimentally rubbing your abused pussy on the hot skin of his abdomen. You moan loudly when your clit rubs against the flexed ridges of his muscles.
"Mmm, as much as I love the sounds coming out of your mouth, ___, you have to be quiet," Jungkook says, kissing down your neck. "Unless you want the whole party to hear what you're doing."
You nod eagerly, biting your lips to muffle the sounds of your moans but the idea that anyone outside could figure out what the two of you doing sends a jolt of excitement down your spine and only make you move faster against him.
"You're so dirty noona," Jungkook bites your neck, making you whimper. "You want everyone to hear you, right, you want them to watch me fuck you."
You shiver when he slides a hand down your back and whine when he makes you sit up. At your dejected expression he chuckles, "Noona, do you want me to stuff you full of my cock or not?"
At his words, you move at lightning speed, standing on your shaky legs in anticipation. He's quick to stand up, moving behind you. You watch him sift through his jeans until he brings out a condom but you shake your head. "I-I'm on the pill," you clarify. "Want to feel you inside me."
“Fuck,” He groans, fisting his cock, "I can't believe how perfect you are, ___."
He moves behind you again, grabbing you until he's had you bent over the desk. "Now, you have to be a good girl and keep quiet, okay?" He says, smoothing a hand on your back and you eagerly nod, spreading your legs so he can stand between them. He drags his cock over your entrance, slowly sliding it down without adding any pressure so it slips down your entrance and nudges your sensitive clit. You yelp as streams of pleasure zap down your legs.
"I thought I told you to be quiet, noona," Jungkook chastises, "I bet you want Taehyung to walk in and see, don't you? Or is it Hoseok hyung, want him to see me fucking you in his room?"
You moan loudly at his words, eyes falling towards the door, where anyone could walk in an see the state you're in.
"Or should I stuff your panties in your mouth if you can't listen."
Unable to answer, you let out a breathy moan when his cock slides down your slit again, biting your lips to hold it back but ultimately fail.
"Guess, I have no choice," Jungkook says before stuffing the black lace into your mouth.
"Can you taste yourself, ___?" He asks, nudging your entrance with the head of his dick and you let out a muffled moan, nodding when your flavor hits your tongue.
"Do you taste how sweet you are, noona?" He pushes the head in and you groan, your walls clenching down, making Jungkook hiss.
"Fuck you're so tight, noona or is my cock just too big for your tiny pussy," Jungkook grits out, pushing in until half of his dick is lodged inside of you. Your legs are shaking at this point, walls convulsing at the intrusion but it feels so good to have a cock — Jungkook's cock —  inside of you. There's no guilt to the realization like you had been expecting, it feels nothing but right, like you were meant to have him filling you to the hilt. The sudden realization has you pushing back on his length, silently asking him to stuff you full, and he easily complies, pushing in until his length seated completely inside of you. Both of you still for a moment, you're left a whimpering mess, feeling so utterly full that you could just snap in half. Jungkook is no better, he shudders when he feels you convulse around him, cock twitching inside of you.
"F-fuck," he grits out, voice wavering. "You don't know how long I've wanted this for," he groans, leaning against you until his body is molded perfectly above yours.
You peer up at him and are shocked to see how fucked out he is, sweat beads his forehead, slowly sliding down the side of his face as he bites his lips raw.
"Noona," he groans, burying his face into the crook of your neck. "I can't believe I'm inside of you."
You shudder when he presses himself even further inside of you, and you feel like you might explode when he hasn't even started moving yet. You clench down on his length once more that has him break out of his thoughts and he pulls out before he's slamming into you again. You shriek into the lace at the brute force of the pace Jungkook's fucking into you. He's relentless with his thrusts, his thick cock filling you to the hilt before he's pulling out again. It's obscene, the way he's grunting and the way the slap of skin against skin reverberates through the room. You're lucky that the music is loud enough that nobody can be privy to what's going on inside.
You moan and drool against the fabric, hands desperately finding purchase onto the desk. You feel like the whole table might break apart against Jungkook's monstrous pace. His hold on your hips is so strong that you're sure he's leaving bruises on your skin, and that only makes you groan in delight at the prospect of having his marks branded on your skin.
"I won't last long," he grits out, voice deep and tinged with a guttural groan. You nod against the wood, eyes watering, letting him know that you're in the same state. Even if you didn't have your mouth stuffed full, you're sure you wouldn't be able to make a coherent word leave your lips. It's like every cell in your body is on fire, igniting every time Jungkook furiously fucks into you. Even after having this on your mind all summer, nothing could have prepared you for the sheer pleasure of actually feeling his cock inside of you, the way pushes into you. Without even having the realization of your impending release, the coil snaps and you're hurtling headfirst towards the strongest orgasm you've ever had in your life. Every muscle in your body goes rigid as you clench down onto his length with all the strength you have, stars glittering behind your eyelids as your walls flutter and convulse relentlessly around his cock. The feeling has Jungkook moaning, his forehead resting on your neck before spurts of hot cum begin to fill you up even more. He fucks you with even more vigor until you've milked out everything from him. He fucks his cum back into you one last time before he stops in his stuttering pace and collapses on top of you.
The two of you stay like that for a while, catching your breath. His body encases you in a sweltering heat, crushing you but you relish in the feeling of the sticky heat between the two of you. He presses chaste kisses on the base of your neck, his breath still heavy. It's silent but you feel complete, like a part of you had been missing and you just found it. You feel perfect.
Before he moves to get off you, he takes the lace out of your mouth and meets your lips in a deep kiss. Helping you stand up, his eyes follow the way his cum dribbles out of your pussy before he's quickly stuffing it back inside.
"Keep that in there, okay?" He says before he's kissing you again.
 Both of you change quickly and in silence, you tie your hair back haphazardly, hoping you can play it off as being far too drunk to care about your appearance.
When you look back at Jungkook, you notice him shoving the ruined pair of panties in his back pocket. Raising an eyebrow in question, he chuckles. "It's my souvenir for waiting this long to get to fuck you."
You scoff, looking back at your reflection to look at your ensemble once more before you're heading towards the door. Jungkook stays back so you can make your exit first. The music is still loud, even though the crowd has thinned out since you were last out there. You move towards the kitchen and grab yourself whatever cup you see to make your lie more believable. Peering out into the living room, you don't spot Hoseok or Yoongi anywhere, though you do notice a passed out Namjoon, bonsai tree still clutched tightly against his chest.
You don't move from your spot, even when you see Jungkook emerge from Hoseok's room, and he doesn't come to you either, opting to move back to his group of friends where the girl he was with eagerly clings onto him again.
You frown, even though it hadn't bothered you before, seeing her with him leaves a heavy feeling in your chest. You watch on as he easily laughs and blends into the crowd once more until you can't ignore the feeling anymore. Shaking your head, you're quick to move towards the entrance, suddenly feeling the telltale signs of an oncoming headache.
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The following day, least to say, goes by seemingly uneventfully. Unless you count the fact that you catch Yoongi and Hoseok sitting in the kitchen when you make your way down the stairs. He’s quick to greet you with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows.
“What?” You squint, taking a seat next to him on the kitchen island.
“So you and Jeon finally get to do the nasty or what?”
“W-what?” You blanch at his words, choking at the piece of toast you'd stolen from his plate.
“Come on, don’t even try to hide it, I saw him go into my room after you, gotta admit, I really thought you'd end up with Taehyung last night but I guess I was wrong,” Hoseok shrugs, taking the stolen piece of toast back from you.
“If you thought she’d end up with Taehyung, why'd you bet on Jeon?” Yoongi grumbles, shoving a couple of bills in Hoseok’s open palm.
“Wait!” You snap, “you guys actually bet on it?”
Hoseok completely ignores your dramatic exclamation and turns to Yoongi. “Call it my own personal spidey sense, I can sense when people fuck…like I sensed that you were getting fucked yesterday.”
Yoongi’s quick to smack Hoseok across the back of his head.
“So… my grand plan worked out,” you pass a smirk to Hoseok, and hold out your palm.
“Wait you guys bet on me?” Yoongi looks between the two of you, eyes wide.
“Hey, gotta make a living and stay jobless at the same time somehow,” you shrug, counting the bills in your hand.
“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about you and Jungkook,” Hoseok points his fork towards you. “You still have to tell me the gruesome details.”
“I’m not telling you any details, that ship sailed when you started bumping uglies with my brother.”
“Hey, I’m willing to spill, you’re the one who was so against it,” Hoseok shrugs, “Plus, I need to know if I have to burn my sheets or not.”
You pause, giving him the side-eye before you smirk. “Not your sheets… but you may want to get yourself a new desk.”
The next few days followed by slowly. You find yourself finishing off all your assignments with little to no distractions — unless you call watching the entirety of Instant Hotel a distraction. By the third day, you’re back to your normal routine and you decide that the whole thing with Jungkook was the cause of your lack of sexual gratification, and you’re totally over it. It kind of sucks that you had to literally fuck it out of your system to stop lusting over your dongsaeng, but it happened and there’s nothing you can change about it. That’s what you decide —  that you were completely okay.
Except that, you’re not. On the fifth day, you have a meltdown over the whole ordeal, and even Hoseok can’t make your anxieties go away. You avoid the backyard at all costs and don’t even turn to steal any more alcohol from your mother’s stash because, just as you blame your lack of a sex life that landed you in this situation, you also blame alcohol. This time, though, you’ve truly quit alcohol.
It’s on the seventh day that you actually see Jungkook, he doesn’t see you but that’s mostly because you duck out of sight before he gets the chance. It’s not like he was on his way to seek you out either, you see him jogging towards his dad’s truck, probably out on his way to run some errands. At least he hasn’t been hanging around your house these days, which makes the whole thing less awkward. Now, all you have to do is go through two more months just like this and you’ll be back in college, far, far away from here.
A week. It’s been a week and approximately three hours since you had gotten a glance at Jungkook. With your more recent research, you declare that you are indeed not okay. And to your luck, you have no effective distractions — Yoongi —  to your disposal. You’re home alone, having exhausted your last remaining brain cells by watching reality tv for seven hours straight. You’re casually perusing through Netflix once more because one more episode couldn’t hurt, when the doorbell rings.
You huff, wondering if you’d ordered a pizza and had forgotten about it, which seems quite impossible, but still, you don’t cancel it out completely. But what you find after opening the door is even more shocking than a forgotten pizza delivery. None other than Jeon Jungkook stands outside your front door, sheepishly smiling at you.
“Yoongi’s not home,” you say, immediately grimacing at your harsh tone, not expecting it to hold that much malice.
Jungkook’s eyes dart to the side before he nods, “Uh, yeah I know,” he clears his throat before looking back at you. “I came here to see you.”
“Okay...” you say, moving to the side so he can walk in. You make your way into the living room without waiting for him, trying really hard to appear casual but end up standing in the middle of the room with your arms crossed. “Why’d you ring the bell?” You ask once he’s inside, “And why’d you come through the front door?”
He rubs the back of his neck nervously, “I-it’s because I wanted to do things properly,” he shifts on his feet, “And I don’t think barging into the room will do us any good.”
It’s not difficult to understand what he’s referring to, making you frown at his choice of words. “Listen, if this is about that night, it’s all good okay? You don’t need to worry about that, we were drunk and these things can happen to anyone so you don’t need to bother yourself over something like that. I don’t expect you to do anything about it, I’m a big girl and I can take it,” you ramble on even though your mind is screaming at you to shut up!
“It’s not about that!” Jungkook blurts out, “Uh, I mean, is it technically about that but not what you think,” he reassures right after.
The two of you stare at each other in awkward silence for a few seconds before he breaks. “Listen, ___,” he begins, sighing. “I just wanted to apologise—”
“Like I said Jungkook, you don’t need to,” you interrupt him.
“Will you let me finish, ___?” Jungkook asks, smiling at you and the look alone has you shutting up. “As I was saying, I’m sorry for how I left things last time. I should have been more clear about my feelings.” The more he talks, the more he flushes. It’s so strange seeing Jungkook stammer around you now as if he didn’t stuff your own panties in your mouth a week ago to get you to shut up. But you can’t complain, you’ve always loved to watch him squirm.
“What I mean to say is, noona... I meant what I said that night,” he continues, “About how long I’ve waited to-” He clears his throat awkwardly. “How long I’ve waited for you.”
You still blankly stare at him, not sure where this is going at all. Was he trying to have another round? He’s probably figured out that no one was home, and honestly speaking you wouldn’t be opposed to it either…
“I like you, ___,” he blurts out. “I’ve always liked you but I never thought you even saw me as a... man… until recently. And I know we, uh, have done it, but I still wanted to formally tell you.”
A smile starts lighting up your face as he continues to stutter and stammer out a confession.
“Jeon Jungkook!” You exclaim, “Are you… asking me out?” You ask, fully grinning at him now, even though you know the answer already.
He’s bashful under your gaze, moving to rub at his red ears, “Um, yeah I am,” he says before handing you a paper bag you hadn’t noticed before. “It’s the end of the month, after all, so I guessed might as well shoot my shot.”
You take the bag, peering at it curiously until you take out what’s inside: a bottle of Pinot Noir.
7K notes · View notes
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
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honeymoonjin · a year ago
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𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 taehyung x reader ft yoongi || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 8.5k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 smut
𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 riddled with insomnia, you’d just about do anything to get a good night’s rest. enter sandman. 
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 masturbation (m), voyeurism, exhibitionism, public sex, mile high club, oral (m receiving), choking, deepthroating, cockwarming but in her throat, throat bulge, way more male oral than i’ve ever written oop, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, dirty talk, unprotected sex, riding, tentacles, yes you did read that correctly user honeymoonjin is expanding her wares, buckets of cum, like really a ridiculous amount of it, is it somnophilia if they’re fucking in her dreams?, cum eating, rough nipple play, hair pulling, belly bulge, creampie
many thanks to @jamaisjoons for the gorgeous banner, she really outsold xx many thanks as well to @honey-boyyoongi​ for beta reading and helping a lot on plot. i wouldn’t have finished this fic without her xx this fic is a part of the monster smash project at ksmutclub : )
It’s a shit fair. 
You make sure to tell Yoongi this several times throughout the afternoon, more emphatically as the hours drag on, but he’s too focussed on giving heart-eyes to the young man tending the water pistol stall. The man, who has held an unbelievably cheery grin all night, at some point got caught in the stream of a kid with poor aim, and though it’s warm his shirt still hasn’t dried, leaving a rather promiscuous set of dark spots on his chest behind the translucent cotton. You think Yoongi might be drooling. 
You’ve just about given up wandering around aimlessly waiting for your friend to get the courage to actually approach the guy, when a stall catches your attention. Unsurprising, considering how gaudy and kitschy it is. Heavy embroidered tapestries form a makeshift curtain across the entrance to the booth, and above rests a sign with neon striplighting that reads Enter Sandman. You bite your lip, ignoring Yoongi’s impatient tug on your arm. You don’t remember seeing it on any of your other turns around the small fairground, though you can’t imagine how you could’ve possibly missed it. 
Without breaking your gaze, you address Yoongi. “I’m gonna check out some stalls.”
“Come on, you’re gonna ditch me in my time of need?” Yoongi’s voice is playfully lilting, the kind that lets you know it’s okay to leave while simultaneously promising that he’ll complain about your abandoning him later, probably at four in the morning when neither of you can get to sleep. 
“Yup,” you mumble blankly, and shake off his grip, making your way across the slightly uneven dirt and trampled grass to reach the stall. You feel drawn, strangely, to the narrow dark triangle of shadow between the folds of the curtain. It’s only once you get nearer that you make out the patterns of the delicate stitching: swirls of gold thread weave around figures, horizontal or curled up, all in dull shades of brown and beige. Entranced, you reach out your fingers to follow the swirls of gold. The tapestry, instead of ending in edges over the entrance, is folded so that the pictures trail around the edge. Without thinking to politely announce your presence, you simply slip inside, feeling the late summer humidity lead to a shady coolness.
It’s dark inside, and silent. Nothing illuminates the small room except for a single candle on a table, a black tall taper, drops of wax running cleanly down the sides to stain the golden tablecloth. It’s luckily enough to just make out the reflective glint of the gold thread, and you follow the tapestry slowly as it runs all the way along the walls inside. Part of you feels this is futile, and you shouldn’t be poking around in an empty stall when the owner was out, but still you walk deeper into the booth, the texture of embroidery teasing the tips of your fingers. 
At one point, closer to the back of the room, your shadow begins to block the candlelight, and you squint, barely making out the trail of golden swirls. An odd protrusion in the wall causes you to step back, losing the trail for a moment but picking it up, a bright gold patch, perfectly circular and shining like-
“What are you doing in my tent?”
You gasp and jump back, bumping your lower back on a wooden chair tucked into the table. A hand shoots out, latches tightly onto your wrist. You freeze, following the arm up a sleeve, and to a chest, black silk with a pendant dangling just below his collarbones, a single gold coin. Your eyes jump up, apology on your tongue, but you can’t force your mouth to move when you’re greeted with two gleaming eyes, trained solely on you. 
No, not gleaming. Glowing. 
You swallow hard as he blinks slowly, eyebrows narrowed and partially blocking what looks like swirling irises of molten gold, a depth that draws you in. “I- sorry,” you croak finally, feeling his grip around your wrist loosen, the delicate bones aching. “It did say ‘enter’.”
You can’t be sure in the dim lighting, but a slight flash of white makes you think he’s smirking at you. “My sign says ‘Enter Sandman’. Are you a sandman?”
You blink slowly. “No.” 
“Hm, I didn’t think so. I am the sandman. And you are the trespasser.”
Your mind feels hazy, two beats too slow. “Do you want me to… leave, then?”
His hand lets go of yours completely. It leaves you feeling oddly unmoored. “You could leave,” he offers lightly, “but then you’d never get my help.”
You want to turn around, some illogical urge to make sure the exit is still free, that the fair is still in full swing outside. It feels so quiet in here. But you don’t want to turn your back on him. The hairs on the back of your neck are at full attention and your instincts are going haywire like a faulty compass, unsure what to feel. You swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Your help?”
The gilded glow of his eyes - some modern fashion contacts, no doubt - gently illuminate the dark eyelashes that frame them. They narrow at the corners, like he’s grinning at you. “My help,” he echoes. “You look tired, little girl. Can’t get to sleep?”
The blood in your veins runs cold. In the cool shade of the tent, goosebumps break out along your arms. “How did you know that? Are you meant to be a psychic or something?” 
His tongue clicks in irritation. “I’m a sandman. I believe I told you that. I can promise you restful sleep every night. For a price.”
You scoff, the reality of the situation dawning on you. Cool shtick, you allow. The dude certainly had a good way of setting up atmosphere. “Let me guess, $29.99 plus tax? Or buy a whole week for a hundred? Thanks, but no thanks.”
You turn before he manages to reply. In fact, he remains still in the time it takes you to stumble around the table in the dark, making your way to the bright sliver of light streaming in through the folds of the tapestry. Your hand is on the rough fabric before you hear his honeyed voice again. 
“My price isn’t currency,” he states simply.
Your hand remains frozen in the air. Damn you and your constant curiosity. “What is it, then?” you ask, twisting around. Now that your silhouette isn’t blocking the candlelight, you can make out a vague outline. He’s tall, but you already knew that from the height of his eyes. “Your price, I mean.” 
He steps forward, just one foot dusting the exposed ground, but it’s enough to bring him closer to the light, enough for the dancing flame to shine upon his face. 
With the lighting from below, heavy shadows are cast below his brows and his hairline, but you can see the warm bronze tone to his skin, and the fine bone structure below it. He’s still smirking, just the slightest quirk to his lips, and his chin is jutted forward smugly. He’s gorgeous. 
You can’t help but swallow again as his piercing eyes stay fixed upon you, the slight pink of his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth as his grin widens. “Dream of me.” 
You feel like you’re floating. You’re in a bathroom, looking in on a shower. Although the glass should be fully fogged up, with the rest of the room humid with steam, you can see through perfectly, to the naked form inside. 
In real life, you would leave immediately, at the very least turn away, but in the hazy logic of your dream, you simply observe. 
His head is against the wall, forehead pressed to the tile as water pelts down his tanned back. One hand props him up; the other is between his legs, fisting at an angry red erection. It drips precum with every jerk of his wrist, disappearing amongst the slightly soapy water that circles the drain. You can’t see his face with how the sodden bronzed locks of his hair cling to it.
Although the showerhead seems to be spraying full power, his pleasure-filled groans are what fill your ears. The way they trail off shakily every time he twists his wrist just below the tip, the gruff curses under his breath. You listen and watch as he falls apart from his own ministrations, the muscles in his buttocks clenching as he begins to thrust into his hand, panting slightly. 
Like hearing from underwater, you slowly becoming aware of a murmur that the man chants, louder and faster each time, as his hand speeds up. Your mind runs slower than treacle, but you do your best to focus. 
“Y/n! Y/n, fuck, yes! God, right there, I’m not gonna last, fuck!”
You mentally recoil, though your body simply continues to watch, honed in on the way his whole body undulates, chasing the pleasure with every fibre of his being. He moans your name, panting onto the slippery tile. He’s close; you can tell by the way his hips shudder. 
With a shout, he spills himself onto the floor of the shower, spurts of it catching and running down the wall, pooling at the bottom before washing away. He jerks himself languidly until the last drop runs down over his knuckles, and then lets out a satisfied exhale, using his toes to wipe away the last of it, before straightening up again, rinsing his face in the stream. 
“Fuck, Y/n,” he says one last time with a relieved sigh, “mm, thank you.”
Finally, he stretches out an arm blindly to reach for the metal nozzle, cutting the flow of water short. He tips his head back, pressing at his scalp to wring out some of the water, and you catch your first real glimpse of his face. A face you recognise very well. As you stare at the man you had met in the tent, the details of the bathroom blur away, fading into wisps of steam. His eyes, glowing gold, are the last two pinpricks of detail before the dream dissolves into nothingness.
You wake up with a jolt, the sheets underneath you sticky with sweat. It was real. You dismiss the thought with a shake of your head the moment it occurs to you. If anything, it was probably just your mind playing on what had happened as a way of processing it. But then again, you had slept the night through for the first time in almost a year. Speaking of...
Sitting up and stretching languidly, you curse upon viewing your alarm clock. You’d slept through your first class. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” you mutter in resignation, frowning when you become aware of a prickling sensation in your eye. 
You rub at it, only to hiss when a sharp stinging sensation attacks the sensitive nerves. Blinking away the tears that spring up, you kick off your blankets, jogging barefoot to the bathroom to inspect it in the mirror. 
Leaning in close enough that your breath creates little foggy patches on the glass, you make out some substance clogging up the inner corner of your right eye. There’s some on the left too, though not as much, and you use a wet wipe to carefully brush it out. 
In confusion, you pull away the wipe and inspect the grit that’s come away. Like something you might find at a luxurious beach (though you haven’t been to one since you were a kid) a clump of golden sand sits on the moistened fabric, finer and more delicate than caster sugar. The colour reminds you of the hair of the man in your dream, of the man you met the day before. What the fuck? With a deep breath, you force yourself to clear out the rest of the sand from your eyes and clear the worry from your head.
“What sand tent?”
You stare at Yoongi in something mildly related to disgust as he shovels an ungodly amount of beef wrapped in a lettuce leaf into his mouth, dark dipping sauce gathering at the corners of his mouth. “A sandman tent. You know, the big neon sign? It was right beside the little homemade fudge stall.” 
He chews noisily, brows furrowed in thought. “The one old Jeanie set up? That was right at the end of the row, Y/n, there wasn’t anything past that.” You go to protest, but Yoongi makes a sound of disagreement. “Seriously, Y/n, there wasn’t. I remember because she was complaining to me about the organisers trying to hide her stall since she’s taking all their business. I went there for some of her earl grey fudge but that certainly wasn’t the tea I ended up getting.”
You roll your eyes at his joke, but your heart isn’t in it. “I went in the tent, though. There was a dude there and everything. He said he’d give me a good night’s sleep if I dreamed of him, and I said sure, and for the first time in fucking ages I actually managed to sleep properly.” 
Yoongi’s chopsticks hover over the beef sizzling on the barbecue. “Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Dream of him,” Yoongi clarifies. 
You think back to the sight of him in the shower, streams of clear water washing away the cream he spilled on the floor, of the way his eyes pierced into you right as you woke up. Your cheeks heat at the lewd imagery. Normally your memory of dreams faded over the day - at least, when you were a kid they did. But every detail seems branded in your mind in full definition. Ducking your head, you reach out for a strip of cooked meat and avoid your friend’s gaze.
“Oh my god, you did! Was he hot?”
“What? If he was, I wanna go track him down and get a dream. Why does all the cool shit happen to you?”
You sigh, though a reluctant smile tugs at your lips. You can never stay mad at him and he knows it. “Shut up and eat your damn lettuce wraps,” you mutter petulantly. 
Over the lunch spent with Yoongi, you find the thought of the mysterious man slip from your mind, instead feeling reenergised from your good rest and cheered up from the good food and company.
You dream of him again the next night. Not a bathroom this time; an airplane. At the start, it feels like reality, only slightly more...fluid. The strange quality of a dream where everything is simultaneously crystal clear and blurred. 
He’s beside you, the middle seat as you take the window. Outside, clouds melt into blue sky and in the cabin there are faceless individuals filling the seats.
“You dirty girl,” the sandman whispers, a hand on the inside of your knee. “You’re soaked for me.”
You widen your eyes and look down. The moment you see the dark patch forming in the crotch of your pants, a wave of arousal hits you as if it’s on a delay. “Yeah,” you breathe in awe. “Want you.”
His eyes sparkle behind thick lashes. “Oh, do you really?”
You bite your lip. “Please.” For a moment he looks remarkably casual, commonplace. He tilts his head at you and leans back, drawing your attention to his dress shirt and tie, and perfectly ironed pants, but when you drop his gaze to look over them, you gasp. 
His shirt is unbuttoned all the way, gaping open to reveal his unclothed chest. The tie dangles down his bare skin, guiding your eyes to his crotch, where his pants are lewdly spread open, zipper parted to reveal the waistband of his underwear. A delicate trail of golden hairs dip from below his belly button to underneath the fabric, and without thinking, your hand stretches out towards it, fingering the edge of the waistband. 
Rather than speak, you give him a questioning glance, but what greets you makes you suck in a breath. Just like the first time you met, he’s radiant; godlike. His hair is a silken warm blonde, gentle waves that frame his delicately arched brows. And his eyes. When you meet his gaze, his irises glint and shift, a brilliant gold that swirls around dilated pupils. This is the first time you’ve seen him properly in the light.
He narrows them slightly in amusement, drinking in your reaction. With a barely-there background of the airplane cabin, general shapes and blurs, the man sitting beside you is in startling clarity. Everything seems to revolve around him, a fixation you can’t shake. “Please,” you mumble again unconsciously, hand slipping below the elastic of his underwear. 
He’s hard as a rock, though his face shows no desperation, only mild amusement with the way you lick your lips. As you massage him indulgently, you can’t help but recall the sight of him in the shower. Would his cock be the same in this dream? 
“Watch out,” he warns, before breaking your gaze to face the aisle. Belatedly, you hear a squeaky wheel, a trundle cart being pushed down towards you. As the figure of an air hostess slips into view, you attempt to quickly retract your hand, though it seems your brain and body aren’t on the same track anymore. Even as you mentally strain with the want to take your hand out of his pants, it refuses to cooperate, wrapping your fingers fully around his length, running your thumb over his head. 
He chuckles lowly, head tipped back luxuriously on the head rest, devoid of any shame. The air hostess is talking to the two of you, but your cheeks burn and you can’t bear to look at her. The sandman calmly orders a hot tea, only pausing to groan in relief when your rogue hand slips him out of his pants and into the cool air of the cabin. He’s making conversation with her, discussing landing times and stopovers, and your eyes fill with embarrassed tears as you feel yourself bending down, dipping your head to take him in your mouth. 
Unlike any men you’d been with before, he tastes slightly sweet, a flavour that satisfies your tastebuds. The moment your tongue dips out to swipe up the bead of precum that’s gathered, it’s like your humiliation melts away, and even though you feel yourself regaining control of your hand, you continue to pump the base of his cock, lapping up as much of the moreish taste of him as you can. 
“Now that’s a good girl,” his honeyed voice soothes, a reassuring palm brushing your hair out of your face gently, “just give in to me.”
You moan around the head of his cock and suck him down deeper. As you lower your head more, it seems your perverted dream-logic has taken away your gag reflex, and soon you’re removing your hand, nose pressing against his hip bone. He lets out a low, purring groan, and you grip the flesh of his thigh through his pants in response. You can feel him in your throat as you begin to bob your head, but instead of feeling like you’re being suffocated, you just feel deliciously full. A wave of wet heat rushes between your legs as you picture how it would feel to be that full somewhere else. 
“Yes,” he sighs, “god, it’s been so fucking long, don’t you dare stop.” You pull off him with a pop quickly to look up, expecting the air hostess to have moved on by now, your dream sequence having gone down a different path, but she stands there, perfectly put-together and professional as she stares down at you. Behind her, you notice with a jolt that everyone in their seats have turned to look at you; countless generic faces that blend into nothing the moment you look away. 
“They’re all watching,” you comment with a raw throat, though arousal at the thought of it slides through you like a hot knife, feeling your pants cling to you, impossibly soaked. 
His smile is radiant and the gold in his eyes darkens to burnished bronze. With a hand on the back of your neck, he guides you back down. “Then give them a show.” He moans low in his throat when you take him in your mouth again, tongueing at the veins that run along the underside. His fingers slip around the other side of your neck, pushing down on your voicebox. You can feel the way his constriction traps his cock in your throat. You can’t breathe, but it is no longer necessary, your heart thrumming gently in your chest even without oxygen to pump it. 
He presses down more firmly, an iron grip around your throat that closes your throat around his length. “I wonder…” he muses. With a dark laugh that sounds almost inhuman, the man pulls slowly, lifting you off him until only the tip sits on the back of your palate, barely inside your throat. Though you don’t understand what’s going on, or how your mind has gotten so depraved to picture this, your clit throbs in your panties and you remain obediently in his grasp, waiting for his next move. “Mm, so you are going to be a good girl for me.” You feel pressure around your throat again, though this time he’s pushing you back down. With your throat cinched inside his grip, his cock pushes at the cartilage, completely blocking your airway. Your eyes water, but somehow you remain still, the only part of you moving being your head as he uses your throat as a cocksleeve, pushing you down until your lips touch the skin around the base of his cock. 
He isn’t overly vocal, but his indulgent grunts and moans seem amplified in your ears. He moves faster once you continue to take it, fucking up into you every time he plunges you down. He reaches his end quickly this way, and when he flattens his other palm over your scalp and holds you there, a warm release sliding down your throat, sweet like condensed milk, so much that it bubbles up and pools in your cheeks, spilling down your chin. 
When he finally releases you, you come up, sucking in a shuddering breath. The spectators are still there, though it looks like the scene around you is melting, falling in on itself. The lines between things become blurred, colours on their faces merging into dull greens and browns, like mixed paint. With a horrified gaze, you watch the morphing shapes begin to clap slowly, applauding your performance. 
“I guess they liked it,” he plainly remarks. You turn to face him again, but his forehead is creased, eyes clenched shut in focus. “Fuck, that was so… I can’t hold it, shit-!” 
The moment he swears, all detail begins to fall away faster than before, the vibrant gold of his hair and tanned skin blending away into a black nothingness with the rest of the plane, and you gasp, cracking your eyes open with the sound of applause still ringing in your ears, slowly sounding out into the buzzing phone on your bedside table. You fling your arm out from the warm covers, batting it around until you can turn off the alarm, and let out a groan. 
Your eyes feel dry and crusty, like you’ve been sleeping for days, and when you rub at them the same gritty sensation from the night before stings the inner corners. You pull your fingers away and squint at what’s resting on the pads of your fingertips, unsurprised when you’re greeted with those fine grains of perfectly golden sand. Tearing up at the irritation, you gingerly remove as much as you can, swallowing the dryness in your throat. A small price to pay for decent rest, you promise yourself, though a slight curl of doubt rests stubbornly in the back of your mind.
That night, as you drift off blissfully early in the evening, you’re ready. Upon admitting to Yoongi that they were sex dreams - your friend was beyond jealous - he had managed to convince you that you were cursed by the mysterious stranger, that he was a witch or an incubus. His plan, which you are determined to execute tonight, involves confronting the man himself - “Don’t forget to ask him if he’ll give sex dreams upon request!” - and demanding that he releases you from the curse. 
Though you were still a little sceptical that it was anything more than an overactive subconscious, you feel assured going to sleep that at least you know what to do should he return. 
And return he does. 
Not a bathroom this time, nor a plane. In fact, it’s an environment completely foreign to you, all the more hinting at the fact that this maybe isn’t just your mind conjuring strange scenarios. Like the other two times, you feel hazy and sluggish, and it takes you a while to distinguish the scene around you. 
You become slowly aware of lush carpet fibres beneath your feet, the gentle hum of an air conditioning unit, almost totally drowned out by unintelligible murmuring, a television left on. 
He is in the room with you, on a couch. Head tilted to the side, locks of thick gold rumpled and messy. Bare feet up on the coffee table and black sweatpants riding low, exposing a narrow strip of tanned flesh below his t-shirt, he looks unbelievably… domestic. 
You swallow hard, steeling your nerve. “Hey.”
He remains unresponsive, eyes locked on the television. No, not completely unresponsive; the corner of his lip quirks just slightly. You tamp down a rising streak of irritation.
“Hey,” you repeat emphatically. 
With a sigh, the young man reaches out for the remote that rests on the arm of the couch, muting the television. He flattens you with an unimpressed look. “Yes?”
“What are you doing in my dreams?” The question seems unbelievably childish once you say it, so you cross your arms petulantly. This does not help.
He quirks an eyebrow, grin widening to reveal his teeth. “Enjoying myself,” he answers simply.
You huff. “Your stupid tent thing at the fair, was it even real?”
“Did it feel real to you? Did I feel real?” When you simply press your lips closer together in annoyance, he drops the cockiness, leveling an impatient stare at you. “You gave me permission to be here, I hope you remember. Words have power, Y/n.”
You frown at him, unsettled. “I never told you my name.” 
He barks out a condescending laugh. “And I never told you mine, but you know it, don’t you?”
You run your tongue over the edges of your teeth as you ponder this. His name comes to you like a fact once-forgotten. The moment you think it, you know wholeheartedly it’s right. “Taehyung. But- How do I know that?”
His eyebrow twitches down, like he’s tiring of your lack of understanding. “Because I’m in here, Y/n,” he hisses, pointing a finger to his temple. “I’m deep inside you, inside your subconscious. I can access every thought in that pretty little head of yours and you can’t do a single thing about it because you were the one that let me in.” 
You balk at the fiery steel that has entered his expression, the molten gold in his iris darkening as a sneer stretches across his face. You swallow away your nerves, though your chest continues to flutter uncertainly. As if Taehyung is the focal point of this plane, which you suppose he is, colours and textures shift around him, blurring into shapeless swirls at the edges of your vision. Even as he sits in front of you in startling clarity, just as malevolent in sweatpants and a tee as he was standing over you in the dark of the tent, you find your eyes unable to move off of him. You clear your throat, tears pricking. “I didn’t know what I was agreeing to,” you defend weakly. 
He laughs, one short bark that contains no real humor. “Yes, you did. I said ‘dream of me’ and you agreed. You just thought I was some fake scam artist, didn’t you?” With one swift movement, he stands up, and you falter back when you realise just how tall he is. He steps forward once, twice, three steps and his chest almost touches yours. While the swirling sands in his eyes normally jumped and flickered teasingly, now they churn in tight circles, belying his intent. You’re reminded of a shark circling in bloody water. “Well, Y/n,” Taehyung taunts, “do you believe me now?”
Though you tremble, you force yourself to push your chest forward and your chin up. “I believe you,” you allow, voice wavering only a little bit. “So, what are you?”
His lips tighten, eyes lifting to the ceiling in exasperation. You jump when you feel his hand brush your elbow, clasping your upper arm loosely. “Y/n, little Y/n,” he chastises, “stop asking questions that you already know the answer too. How terribly boring.”
You want to shake your arm out of his grip, but his touch is hot, like the heavy warmth of a fire, and you can’t help but want more of it. Judging by the way his fingertips tease at the sensitive skin of your shoulder, he knows it too. “Fine, you’re a sandman. What the fuck does that even mean?”
He sighs shortly, head tipping back down to catch your gaze. His arm drops, and you tremble at the cold air, feeling oddly put-out. “Sit down,” he commands simply. Without waiting for a response, he turns his back to you and flops his body onto the couch, kicking his feet back up onto the coffee table, eyes lazily following the characters on the muted television.
You bite your tongue, doing as he says. It’s strange; you’re barely aware of your own body in the dream, can barely feel the texture of the couch underneath you, yet every nerve in your body is hyper-fixated on the tingling remaining warmth from his hand on your shoulder. You feel yourself wanting to lean in to him in the hopes that he’ll put his hands on you again. You can’t help but wonder if it feels that electric if he touched you somewhere else. 
Fuck. Snap out of it. “I’ve sat down now. Can you actually be serious and answer my questions?”
Like a switch is flipped, his grin drops and his eyebrows flatten. “Fine,” he allows in a chastising tone, “let’s be serious.” You watch in amazement as the scenery around you drops away. Like melting wax, the television, walls, coffee table, everything but the couch the two of you are on morph and fade away. “This is my terrain now,” he states calmly, “I choose what you see, what you experience, what you feel. So if I were you I wouldn’t be so rude to me.” 
Your jaw moves for a few moments before you can voice anything. “Why are you doing this?”
His eyes flicker, though the mischievous glint is gone. “I’m a sandman,” he explains simply. “I only exist in this dream realm. I can only interact with things in the dream realm. Out there, in your world, I have no sensation, no feeling. But if I can get a naive little human like you to give me access into your mind, then your dreams are my playground. And I fully intend to play.” 
With a dry mouth, you clear your throat. “Fine,” you say, “you can do whatever the fuck you want in my dreams but leave me out of it.”
The smirk returns to his face, lips pulling back to reveal teeth. He runs his tongue over them as he sits forward, placing a hand on your knee, fingers wrapping around. You try not to jerk at the sudden touch, the burst of heat. “No can do, sweet thing. You see, if I did something without you around it wouldn’t exactly be your dream, would it? And besides,” he breaks off, grip tightening around your leg as he leans in to press his cheek against yours, teasingly nipping at the skin of your earlobe before he murmurs, “where’s the fun in that?” 
Your bed mocks you. This morning, wanting a clean slate, you had washed all the sheets and now it lies before you perfectly neat and pristine, just begging for you to hop in. 
But you refuse. You won’t be falling asleep tonight. If Taehyung thinks he’s in control during your dreams, then fine. You just won’t dream. 
“I thought you’d be making the most of your newfound ability to sleep,” Yoongi comments curiously, feet kicking at the edge of the mattress. You knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the exhaustion that pulled at your eyelids without reinforcements, so you had called in your favorite insomniac to keep you company. 
Swaying aimlessly back and forth on your desk chair, you shrug. “I haven’t hung out with you in ages, I felt like a good, old-fashioned sleepover.”
He narrows his eyes at you, though it’s not particularly intimidating. “I’ve never once slept over at your house, idiot. What’s the real reason?”
You avoid his gaze, studiously focusing on picking a movie on Netflix. “Fine, then. I wanted the goss on that fair boy. You got his number, right? But you never told me how it went.”
Mission successful. Yoongi lights up, suspicion forgotten. “Hoseok! His name is Hoseok, and he’s amazing. We actually… went out for coffee the other day.”
Your eyebrows lift, shutting down your laptop lid to fully give your attention to the boy across from you. “Like a date?” Yoongi grins and nods enthusiastically. “You casanova, you! What’s he like?”
Yoongi’s eyes flicker strangely in the dim evening glow that peeks through your curtains. “He’s great,” he gushes, “friendly, and bubbly, and has the most beautiful smile. But… actually, I guess you could say there’s something I need to tell you.”
You frown. “What? What’s up?”
He pouts, kicking his heels more insistently against the edge of the mattress. “The date was really nice, and Hoseok is really nice, but I couldn’t stop thinking that… that maybe I just liked him because he was like you.”
Your face freezes in an expression of pure confusion. “Huh? What do you mean?”
Yoongi ducks his head. “I’ve been trying to deny it for years. I figured you saw me as a friend and nothing else, and I thought if maybe I focused more on guys instead of girls I could separate myself enough from the image of you, but clearly that isn’t going so well for me.” He laughs, bitterly, and you’re overcome with the urge to rush forward and hug him. Nevertheless, you stay rooted in your spot.
“Yoongi, what are you saying?”
He shrugs, body hunching over like it always does when he’s shy. “Hoseok is nice, but he’s not you. And I think it’s time that stop lying to myself.” He looks up, then, eyes soft. “I think I’m in love with you, Y/n.”
Your lips are parted, jaw slightly slack in shock. “...okay,” you state eventually. Well, this is one way to stay awake. “So, uh, I don’t- What do we do now?”
Scratching behind his ear nervously, Yoongi bites his lip. “Maybe I… Can I kiss you?” When you don’t respond, he shuffles forward a little on the bed so that his feet rest on the ground. “Just once, to see if you feel anything. And if you don’t, we never have to bring it up again.”
You sigh out a rushing breath. “Okay. Yeah, okay.” Fighting the erratic pounding of your heart, you stand up on shaky legs and sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder and nose to nose. 
Now that you’re right in front of him, something foreign rises up in your chest. It feels like he’s the only person in the world, like you can’t look away from the tender look in his eyes. You can practically feel the warmth of his skin through the thin cotton of his shirt. He leans forward, and you reflexively suck in a shallow breath, eyelids fluttering shut. 
His lips are featherlight when they first brush against yours. You feel a palm come up to cup your cheek, and his fingers tentatively fiddle with your hair. Like you’re magnetised, you lean in, and that small sign of reciprocation is enough for him. 
Yoongi deepens the kiss, mouth slanting to get a better angle as he urgently moves his lips against you, tongue dipping out to swipe at the seam of your lips, encouraging you to open up to him. You gasp when his teeth nip gently, tugging the sensitive skin before letting it go with a kitten lick to soothe the bite marks. You’ve never felt this alive before, and it’s a wonder to you that until now you had never looked at Yoongi this way. Now it almost feels like he’s pure, euphoric oxygen and you’ll die if you break away for a second. 
His hand has dipped into your hair, gently pressing the back of your head to hold you against him, and his other arm insistently grips your hip, encouraging you to get even closer. A searing bolt of need rips through you, and you swing a leg up, straddling him. He’s hard beneath you, and the feeling of him makes you groan, gingerly grinding your hips. 
His tongue is in your mouth now, flicking against yours and sucking it back into his mouth like he wants to envelop you in his embrace. His fingers tighten in your hair, gripping a handful. You whimper, hips still working against him. 
“Yoongi,” you make out in a hushed tone, “that hurts.” You sigh in relief when the sharp tugging on your scalp relaxes, his palm soothing the sting. Relaxing against him, you moan into his mouth when you feel him slip his hand under your shirt and palm at your breast, seeking out an already-stiff nipple, no bra to obstruct him. He rubs it, rolling the peak between two fingers, and you feel wet heat gathering between your legs. 
Out of nowhere, he roughly pinches and twists your nipple and your legs jerk in response to the pain, your instincts wanting you to back away from the harsh sensation, but before you can sit up off him he’s yanking on your hair again, twisting your neck back enough that you can feel the muscles twinge and your scalp burn. Your eyes fly open in shock, only for you to freeze. 
Taehyung sits beneath you, dressed in the same shirt and basketball shorts that Yoongi was in, though his much broader chest makes the baggy fabric look fitted. He stares up at you with spit-slicked lips and blown pupils, almost completely enveloping the gold of his irises. With a shit-eating grin, he releases your nipple and pats it, chuckling under his breath when you twitch. 
“Wha- What did you do with Yoongi?” you demand, as forcefully as you can while your legs are still around him. 
He drops his gaze, sliding his hand over to your other breast, the fabric moving over his hand your only warning before he begins to flick your other nipple, every few seconds as you jump and try and twist away. Though he only has one hand in your hair, you feel completely anchored in place, like your arms and legs are too heavy to move even if you tried. “Yoongi is at home, my little human. Haven’t you worked it out yet?”
“You pretended to be him,” you guess, “he probably never came over, then.” He quirks his eyebrows once in affirmation, still teasing roughly at your chest, dragging a fingernail over and over the abused nerves of your nipple, the other one still aching. “But you said you couldn’t feel anything in my world. So what, you’re just doing this to fuck with me?”
A bewildered grin lights up his face. “My god, you’re dense,” he remarks in wonder. “Let me spell it out for you. Yoongi never came over because you never texted him earlier tonight. And you never texted him because you’ve been asleep since you got up onto your bed to put on the washed pillowcases. This is a dream, sweet thing. You’re in my world.” 
“But-” You splutter for a few moments, glancing around at your room. Everything seems in perfect order. “This isn’t like the other ones, I… The dreams you create are always messy at the edges like an unfinished painting, but I can see everything fine now. This exactly what my room is like.” 
“Convenient, then,” Taehyung teases, “that I can make dreams as realistic or rudimentary as I want.” The levity vanishes from his face, leaving behind a dark grin. “You’re out of your depth, Y/n. Stop assuming things just because you don’t know any better.” 
His grip on your hair loosens as you do, realising shaking out of his hold is futile in a plane he completely controls. “Then how am I supposed to tell if something’s a dream or not?”
He leaves your nipple alone, hand dipping to fiddle with a pant hem of your pyjama shorts, calloused fingertips running lightly along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His smile is brilliant, wider than you’d ever seen on him before. “That’s the beauty of it, little human. You can’t.” 
You shiver as his hand disappears below the fabric of your shorts, rising up to brush against the front of your panties, thumbing at your clit through the cotton. You feel the tension leave your body, and though a part of you is terrified by this knowledge, a different side takes over. The side that’s indulging in the warm pleasure unfurling in your stomach as his uncharacteristically gentle touch stimulates you. The side that says, you already know you’re dreaming now. Fuck it. 
Taehyung watches in bemusement as you relax above him giving in. Only once you sigh out in pleasure, hand resting on his shoulder for stability, does he remove his thumb from you just enough to grip onto the elastic waistband. He tugs, and you feel the strangest sensation of the fabric dissolving, being pulled off you from the side even though you never hear or feel a tear. By the time his hand emerges from your pant leg, the fabric is whole again, and he bunches it up in his hand, chucking it away from you. With your panties gone, the sewn hem in the crotch of your pyjama shorts drags against your clit, and you heave a shuddering breath, rocking your hips to chase the friction. 
“Do you want a hint?” 
You blink, staring down at Taehyung in confusion. The golden silk of his hair hangs low over his forehead, but you can’t mistake the glitter of his piercing gaze on you. “What?”
His hand leaves your hair, sliding down your back until it rests on your ass, gripping the flesh and pushing you down onto his crotch. “A hint,” he repeats, “for knowing if this is a dream.” 
You stare down at him, eyes lidded. “What?” As you speak, you feel something begin to move beneath you. You frown, looking down, and suck in a horrified breath when you lean back and see his crotch. The tented erection from before is...shifting beneath the fabric of his shorts, creating a rippling effect. You watch it entranced, as one bump slides upwards towards the waistband, prodding at it, before it manages to slip underneath, peeking out to show something that glitters in the dim lighting… 
“The real world doesn’t have this,” he reveals, leaning back slightly as a rounded, blunt end of a golden appendage draws out of his shorts, rising in the air between the two of you. It’s smooth, fleshy yet entirely inhuman. He grips your ass tighter and pulls you forward, the tentacle feeling surprisingly cool as it lays down, curling around your thigh. It clashes with the heat from his hands on you, and you feel yourself sighing out, basking in the contrasting sensations.
“Is that...your real form?” you ask tentatively, curiously reaching down to touch it. It’s firm yet moving, much like muscle, and when you run a finger down the tapering length of it, it flicks in the air, seeking more of your touch.
“I suppose,” Taehyung allows, “though when I can become anything I like, a real form doesn’t matter much.” He stares intensely at the tip of the appendage as it winds around, sliding underneath the fabric of your shorts just as his hand did earlier, though this time with your panties gone there’s nothing between him and your core, and you let out a surprised moan when you feel it begin to massage your clit, pressing its way lower to try and get between you and his crotch, seeking your entrance. Your mouth falls open, too shocked to react to anything except the pleasure, and the sandman hums in response. “You see? These things don’t exist in your world. Your world is dull, basic, human. In here, anything is possible. This doesn’t have to be a fight, Y/n. Give in to me.”
You sigh out, your stomach thick with pleasure, and you nod slowly, lifting your hips to leave some room for the golden tentacle, which doesn’t hesitate before pressing deep inside you, more and more of the tentacle slipping out of his trousers and up into your cunt until you feel a pressure deep inside, the tip poking at your cervix. 
Your legs are jelly and your fingers are iron tight on his shoulders as you moan, the sound broken up by choked gasps. “So...deep,” you pant out, mind unable to string together anything more than that, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind, as his brows are knitted together in pleasure too, huffing out groaned breaths in a beautiful baritone. 
“God, it’s been so fucking long, you have no idea,” he curses deep in his throat. He closes his eyes in concentration, and you feel the thick muscle shift inside you, recending from your wet heat like waves in low tide, before slamming back up into you, striking your g-spot with a change in angle. You keen, head falling forward to rest on his shoulder, wishing you were out of the restricting fabric of your shirt and shorts already, wishing you could run your hands over his bare chest and shoulders, hot like a furnace even as his golden member cools you from the inside. 
It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced. The cock inside you moves and writhes like it has a mind of its own, but it’s addictive; almost like the deft flicks of a tongue, the tentacle navigates you from the inside out, stimulating parts of you you didn’t even know could feel pleasure. You find yourself mindlessly grinding into it. Since it gets thicker the closer to the base it gets - though you still haven’t seen where that might be with how long it is - you rock yourself against it, your clit receiving delicious stimulation that has you almost drooling. 
Taehyung’s tanned skin is glistening with perspiration and the glow of his irises is so dark it’s almost amber below his lids. With his hands gripping your ass and hips tightly, he lifts you up onto your knees again so that he can begin to rut his hips up into you, the tentacle splitting you open with every thrust. You tremble and buckle but you’re somehow kept aloft, top half leaning heavily on his chest as the stretch and the deep warmth of pleasure bring you closer to the edge.
On this angle, your clit no longer grinds against the gleaming gold of his slick-covered cock, but Taehyung’s thumb blissfully finds it and you cry out in relief as he quickly rubs it, speeding up your high. “‘m close,” you moan out deliriously, feeling desperation at your impending orgasm shorten your breath. 
“Thank god,” the sandman breathes, his face increasing as he grunts with exertion, “I need to fill this perfect pussy of yours up already.”
Your mouth drops open as the constant stimulation paired with his words pitch you over the edge. Your orgasm takes you by storm, seizing up and shuddering violently on top of him. When you clench around him, Taehyung swears throatily and lowers you down again, both hands firmly planted on your ass as he grinds deeply into your core, reaching his own end.
You’re slowly on the come-down of your powerful orgasm as he begins to spill into you, and you hiss at the sudden warmth filling you up. Streaks and streaks are milked from him, and when you finally get the energy to sit up a little and look down, your eyes widen. 
Your stomach is a little rounder than normal, a bulge just below your belly button that you can see as your shirt’s ridden up. And below that, your pyjama shorts, absolutely soaked with cum. Your hands grip his shoulders as you feel him continuing to move inside you as the fabric turns dark with moisture, until you see it flood past, wetting your thighs with deep bronzed gold, rich and gleaming. When he finally twitches and goes still, the thick substance has begun to slide down your knees and stain the bed, an exorbitant amount of it that spills more and more every time you shift. 
In wonder, you lower a hand and tentatively swipe your fingers through it, marveling at the way it reflects the light and glosses thickly, dripping down to your wrist. Unable to resist the curiosity, you wrap your lips around the tip of your pointer finger and suck, letting the taste of him fill your mouth. Immediately, you hum as the rich taste of dark chocolate fills your mouth, at odds wth the metallic colour. You raise your gaze to Taehyung, who’s propped back on his elbows, staring up at you with his cock still buried deeply inside. His eyes are dark, pupils blown even wider than before as you systematically lick off each finger, being sure to flick your tongue between them before catching the drip that runs halfway down your forearm, indulging in the deep flavor. 
“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Taehyung swears, groaning when you lean forward to press your mouth to his, sharing his taste between your lips. 
You let your tongues lazily dance around each other for a few languid moments before he curses and breaks off.
“I can’t hold it,” he admits, and you look around  to see the walls and furniture in your room crystallising and morphing together, losing detail until the colour begins to melt away, the black void slowly creeping inwards. “I don’t want this to end already, fuck.” 
You place one last kiss upon his swollen lips. “Don’t worry,” you remark with a playful grin, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
6K notes · View notes
jamaisjoons · a year ago
love alive ⤑ jjk | m.
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⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party. 〞post break up au. exes to lovers au.
❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: jungkook x reader
❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut
❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 17k
⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: mentions of alcohol, swearing, so much angst, pining? i guess, they’re both broken up but still love each other so there’s that lmao, reader emotionally cheats a fair amount, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, sub!reader, pussy eating, hair pulling, fingering, dirty talk, this was supposed to be soft sex but idk what happened, okay it’s kinda soft but also feral, tender feral sex, aka the seraphjoon vibe, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, multiple orgasms
➵ 𝑎/𝑛: YEEEHAW LOOK I DID SOMETHING !! i had sudden inspo for this fic and while it HURTS it doesn’t hurt too bad i dont think. anyway, i hope you enjoy it but its like 3am so i’m going to bed now hawyeet
⇥ part of the mixtape series
⏤ edited by my wonderful beta @shadowsremedy​
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One late Friday evening, Jungkook finds himself in his apartment. He’s currently sat on the sofa, simply staring off into space as he waits for his date to return. Jungkook doesn’t really remember much about her, they’d just been to dinner and try as he might, he just hadn’t been able to focus on the conversation. One reason being none other than it had been a completely stilted conversation - first dates were always awkward - but paired with the fact he barely knows her, and that he’d been on about seventeen different first dates in the last three months, he’d found himself unable to really keep the conversation going.
Of course, the second - and more major - reason, would be that she’s not you.
But Jungkook would rather not think about that right now.
“Do you have any wine?” Jungkook’s date calls out. Breaking out of his daze, Jungkook’s eyes come back into focus as he trains his attention back onto her. Eyebrows slightly furrowed, he scrambles for her name. Jiha? Jihyo? Jihye! That’s it. Jihye looks at him expectantly, waiting for his answer.
“Uh, maybe. I don’t know,” comes Jungkook’s distracted answer, “there may be some in the bottom cupboard on the left-hand side,” he continues nonchalantly - not really thinking about it. He thinks he remembers seeing an open bottle there, but again, he doesn’t drink wine all that often so he doesn’t really care. He watches Jihye rummage around in his kitchen, her short black dress riding further up the backs of her thighs - and Jungkook knows he should feel some sort of attraction towards her - she’s incredibly beautiful - not to mention her body’s practically perfect - and yet, he feels… nothing.
Why is he on a date with her again? Oh yes, because she frequented the same gym as he did and had asked him out randomly earlier in the week. Jungkook lets out a little sigh, his head falls back onto the back of the sofa. Staring up at the ceiling, his mind casts back to all the dates he’s had recently. Most of them approach him and he doesn’t really know why he keeps saying yes - but he has an inkling it’s to do with the fact that he’s still not over you. Though, that doesn’t really matter.
You’re long gone, and the last Jungkook had heard about you, was that you’d met someone else - someone willing to give you more than he could - someone willing to give you what you want. His heart constraints at the thought of you, but he shakes the thoughts out of his head. He needs to move on - it’s been long enough. Almost a year. Well, it’s been exactly seven months, twenty-three days and nine hours since you walked out on him, but who’s keeping count? Certainly not him.
“Oh! I found some. It’s already open - do you mind if I have some?” Jihye asks, and reflexively, Jungkook finds himself rolling his eyes. If he hadn’t wanted her to have some, he wouldn’t have told her where the wine was. Biting his tongue, however, Jungkook just lets out a non-committal hum. Once done pouring herself a glass of wine, Jihye returns to him while taking a sip of her wine. Suddenly, she stops, her face twisting in disgusting as she spits her wine back into her glass. Own features twisting in disgust, Jungkook regards her through guarded eyes, wondering what was going on.
“Gross! Why does this wine have pieces of cork in it? Also, I think it’s gone off - it tastes weird,” Jihye gripes as she takes her glass back into his kitchen. Barely paying attention to her words, Jungkook stares in unsettlement at the bottle. The dark green glass glints under the warm kitchen lights, his heart lurching as he recognises the bottle.
With unfocused eyes, he stares at the bottle, unmoving as his mind buzzes with what feels like static. Hazily, he registers that Jihye is speaking, but through the thick fog of his memories, Jungkook’s mind barely notices what she’s saying. Nonetheless, the exact moment Jihye begins tilting the bottle over the sink, attempting to flush its contents, Jungkook jumps to his feet.
“No! Don’t throw it out,” Jungkook’s voice thunders, his long legs carrying him into the kitchen swiftly. Jihye startles, looking at him in dumbfounded incredulity.
“What? Why? It’s got pieces of cork in it, and it tastes funny,” Jihye replies, turning back and beginning to pour the wine again. Abruptly, Jungkook snatches the bottle out of her hand, causing Jihye to jump.
“It’s not off, it just tastes like that. It’s bad wine,” Jungkook mutters as he puts the stopper back in the neck of the bottle.
“All the more reason to throw it out?” Jihye suggests, Jungkook’s jaw flexing at her words.
“I’m not throwing it out,” Jungkook replies, his voice hardened. Jihye cocks an eyebrow at him.
“Come on Jungkook, I think you should throw it out,” Jihye says coyly, a smile crawling onto her face. Imperceptibly, Jungkook’s eyes narrow. The flirtatiousness in her demeanour isn’t lost on him, nor is the fact that she likely thinks he’s joking. But Jungkook isn’t joking. He’s not throwing the wine out - whether it has pieces of cork in it, whether it tastes bad, or even if it had been off, he’s not throwing it out.
“No,” Jungkook says, his voice full of resolve. Jihye startles as she realises he’s not being playful. She raises her eyebrow once again, cocking her hip to the side.
“What’s so special about it? It’s just a bottle of wine,” Jihye points out. Of course, to anyone, it would be just a bottle of wine - but to him, it’s so much more.
It’s the last thing he has left of you.
When you’d broken up with him, ending your five-year relationship, you’d moved everything out of his apartment. The stupid cushions Jungkook hated - really, they only took up more space on the sofa, meaning he couldn’t lounge about properly - your hundred and one towels, even the sheets: the ones that had smelled like you. They’re all gone, along with all your clothes and belongings, leaving a half-empty apartment, and a hole in Jungkook’s heart. Every and any trace of you had slowly been removed from his flat and consequently his life. And now, he’s left with just this bottle of wine. - the one you’d forgotten about because it’d been hidden at the back of the cupboard.
“Jungkook? Are you listening to me? What’s so great about this bottle?” Jihye asks. Once again, however, Jungkook’s mind wanders to you. Unable to pull away from the bottle, Jihye fades from the world, her voice becoming distant and hazy as he recedes back into his memories.
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Flashback - three years ago
A knock resounding at Jungkook’s door, he takes a deep breath. Looking at himself in the mirror one last time, he brushes the non-existent lint off his blazer. Then, running his fingers through his hair, he nods at himself and leaves his bedroom. Approaching the door, he swings it open, a large smile painted on his face as he spots you.
“Hello, beautiful,” Jungkook greets the moment he spots you. However, the moment he actually sees you, he finds himself stopping. Dressed in a flowing sundress, a dazzling smile on your face and bright, twinkling eyes - you look positively radiant. A loud whoosh of air escapes his nose, his eyes softening at you, “you look gorgeous,” he breathlessly says, his voice low.
Your smile brightening, you grin up at him, “Happy third anniversary!” you call out cheerily. Jungkook bites his lip, and unable to stop himself, swoops down and presses a kiss to your lips.
“Happy anniversary,” he mutters back, his lips brushing yours with every movement. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you chew on it while giving him a smile. Even three years into your relationship, Jungkook still managed to set butterflies aflutter in the pits of your stomach with the slightest touch.
Swiftly, you step into his apartment, easily navigating your way towards his kitchen as you place the bags of food and wine onto his counter. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” you ask curiously, peering at your boyfriend through the corner of your eyes.
However, Jungkook only steps up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Nope!” he happily replies, popping the ‘p’ sound, “you said you’d rather just have a quiet night in. Besides, we went out for the cruise-ship dinner thing last year,” Jungkook continues, humming in thought at the memory. A smile curls on your own lips and you twist in his arms, winding your own around his waist as you place your head on his chest.
“Mmm, that was a good anniversary. But if I remember correctly, someone ended up being seasick from drinking too much,” you say pointedly, tilting your head to look up at him, your chin resting on his sternum. Despite his cheeks flushing a rosy shade, Jungkook scowls.
“It’s not my fault… the alcohol was stronger than I thought it was,” he mumbles under his breath. You shake your head in fondness, but then, your lips curl into a slight frown. Every anniversary, Jungkook had taken you somewhere - your first, he’d taken you on a ski trip, your second, he’d taken you on a weekend break to Jeju island, and of course, your third had been a cruise-ship dinner. This year, however, you’d been recently promoted to the department head of your company, but that had meant additional stress and weight to an already heavy workload. As a result, you’d asked Jungkook if he was okay with just a quiet night in - because there was nothing you wanted more than to just spend some time with your loving boyfriend.
“Are you sure this is okay? If you want to go out or something, we still can,” you ask. However, Jungkook only shakes his head once again while pulling you closer into him.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay. Honestly. I just want to spend some time with you. Whether that’s here in my apartment, or in yours, or on an expensive date, or even in a garbage dump, it doesn’t matter. I just want to be with you,” Jungkook grins before smacking a sloppy kiss on your forehead. Face twisting in disgust, your earlier doubt about Jungkook being happy with your choice of date fades away, and you playfully smack him before pushing him away.
“Ew gross! You just slobbered all over me,” you gripe, rubbing the wet spot on your forehead.
Waggling his eyebrows, “and there’s more where that came from,” Jungkook playfully teases. A light snort escapes your lips as you shake your head before turning around.
“Yeah, whatever. I bought wine and steak for dinner. It’s not much but I don’t know, I felt like being classy,” you casually shrug while turning to the bag of groceries Jungkook hadn’t noticed. Head cocked to the side, he grimaces at the bottle of wine. Suddenly, you stop, your lips curling in a frown, “Although… in hindsight, I should have bought more food - knowing your bottomless stomach,” you sigh, looking at him from the corner of your eye.
“Yeah, you probably should have,” Jungkook deadpans. Lips twisting into a pout, your shoulders deflate at his words. Jungkook sees your disappointment, his heart dropping in his chest at the thought of upsetting you. He’d meant it as a joke - really, he had - but you’d clearly taken it seriously. Stepping up to you, Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist once again, his chin resting on your shoulder and hands clasps around your belly.
“I was only joking, sweetheart,” Jungkook says lowly, his face nuzzling into your hair while he presses a kiss to the outer shell of your ear. “Wine and steak sound good. Very classy,” he continues, pressing another kiss to your flesh - this time the column of your throat.
Instantly, your lips curl into a victorious smirk, “Okay, great!” you say, your shoulders immediately perking up. Jungkook blinks at your sudden change in demeanour, his nose scrunching when he realises what’s just happened.
“Hey! Did you do that on purpose?” he asks, his eyes narrowing into slits, his gaze full of accusation. Face twisting into a picture of innocence, you smile at him coyly - and if he didn’t know you as well as he did, he’d buy it - but Jungkook sees the sparkle of mischief in your eyes.
Before he can open his mouth, however, you’re already cutting him off, “Where’s your corkscrew?” you ask, rummaging through his drawers. Jungkook watches you search through the utensils, your lips curling downwards in concentration.
His own lips twisting, Jungkook approaches you, helping you look for the corkscrew. However, after a few moments, “Oh. I don’t think I have one,” Jungkook finally says. Eyebrows furrowing slightly, Jungkook wonders if he ever even bought one, but he doesn’t think he has.
“Kook! How are we supposed to drink this now?” you whine, a pout forming on your face again. Shrugging, Jungkook whips out his phone.
“I’m sure we can like, find another way,” Jungkook replies, already googling a way to open the wine bottle. Curiously, you peer over his shoulder, Jungkook’s arm instinctively wrapping around you as he scrolls with one hand. Head tilting upwards, you smile at your boyfriend, his features slightly scrunched in concentration. Unable to help yourself, you lean up and press a kiss to the bottom of his jaw. The moment your lips brush his skin, the corners of Jungkook’s lips twitch before he twists his head and presses a kiss to the temple of your head.
Arms wrapping around his waist, you lean your head on his bicep, “find anything yet?” you ask, Jungkook humming in response.
“We could use a blowtorch,” he replies casually.
“Do you have a blowtorch?”
“Fair enough. We could smack it against the wall using something to cushion it.”
“And risk breaking the bottle? No thanks.” Like that, Jungkook continues reading out suggestions: from pumping it out using a bicycle tire pump, all the way to slapping it out with a shoe, only for you to refute them. Eventually, however, with no other option, you and Jungkook eventually try using a screwdriver. Which brings you to now, almost fifteen minutes later.
“Oh my god, I think I’ve got it,” Jungkook yells in triumph. You’re currently sat on the kitchen island, your legs dangling as you watch your boyfriend struggle with the bottle. About five minutes after attempting to open the bottle, you’d conceded defeat. Your boyfriend, however, is much more competitive than you are, and he’d downright refused to let the bottle win. Thus, for the last ten minutes, you’d watched your boyfriend futilely dig, and twist, the screwdriver into the cork.
Quirking your eyebrow at your boyfriend, your eyes rove over him. He’s currently stood with a victorious grin, the apples of his cheeks bunched up around his eyes. He’s holding out the wine bottle, the metal head of the screwdriver stuck into the neck of the bottle. Hell, the cork isn’t even in one piece anymore - bits and pieces of it littered on the floor around him from where Jungkook had dug it out in an attempt to bury the screwdriver into the wood stopper.
“Have you now?” you drawl sarcastically. It certainly doesn’t look like he’s got it. For one, the cork is still in the bottle.
Sneering at your snide tone, “Watch this!” Jungkook calls out, and then, grabbing the handle of the tool, he pulls as hard as he can. A loud pop resounds through the air and you startle slightly, watching as Jungkook holds the screwdriver - with half the cork attached to it - in the air.
“Oh my god! You did it!” you call in surprise, jumping off the table and walking towards him.
Puffing out his chest, “and you didn’t believe in me! But I did it anyway,” Jungkook says proudly.
You roll your eyes before gesturing to the half-broken cork, “yeah barely.”
“Tomato, tomato. Potato, potato. The point is, I did it, and we can have wine now” Jungkook replies. With another roll of your eyes, you cross his kitchen and pull two wine glasses out of his cupboard.
“Yeah, yeah. My knight in shining suit. Now come on! I’ve literally been waiting twenty-five minutes to drink this,” you say, holding out the glasses towards him. Nodding, Jungkook pours the wine, filling the tumblers halfway before placing the bottle back on the island.
He takes the glasses from your hand, placing them on the dining table and you follow him, placing the plates of food onto the table. The two of you take seats opposite each other, Jungkook raising his glass towards you in a salute. For a few moments, the two of you tuck into your food, the muffled sounds of your joint chewing filling the air.
Then, “this steak is cold,” you grumble, a grimace settling on your face. In hindsight, after spending all that time trying to open the wine, the two of you should have heated your food - but in the triumph of actually opening the wine, you’d both forgotten.
“Yeah, and this wine is fucking gross,” Jungkook gripes, his own features twisting in disgust. Blinking owlishly, you reach for your own glass, sipping the burgundy liquid. The minute it washes over your tastebuds, you find yourself gagging. It’s sour - the acrid stench of it only burning your nasal cavity and intensifying the bitterness of the wine.
Forcibly, you swallow it down before spitting and sputtering into your hand, “yeah, and it’s got pieces of cork in it. Gross, what a waste of a hundred and fifty thousand won,” you scowl. Immediately, Jungkook baulks.
“A hundred and fifty thousand won? For that trash?” Jungkook yells in incredulity. You look at him in surprise, the two of you simply staring at each other. Then, all of a sudden, the two of you burst out laughing. Neither of you has any real reason for why you’re both laughing. Perhaps it was the ridiculous price of the incredibly poortasting wine, perhaps it was that Jungkook had spent a good fifteen minutes struggling with said wine or perhaps it was because even after all that struggle, neither of you could stomach the taste. Either way, the absurdity of the situation isn’t lost on either of you, and you both can’t help but laugh hysterically.
“Man, I can’t believe you spent that much money on that shit,” Jungkook giggles, wiping away at his tears.
Lower lip pulled between your teeth, you grin at Jungkook, “I can’t believe you spent so much time trying to open it,” you quip. Shaking your heads, you both resume eating your food, forgoing the wine.
Once the two of you are done, you help Jungkook clear the table. Jungkook watches you throw out the leftovers before placing the plates into the sink. The kitchen lights are dimmed low, the amber light reflecting off of your skin and silhouetting you in its glow. The bright walls off his kitchen only help to highlight your body, the hem of your dress swishing around your thighs with every movement. His darkened, lust-filled gaze rakes over you and he can’t help but swallow thickly when his eyes rest on the smooth curve of your ass.
Helpless against his desire for you, you feel Jungkook’s arms wrap around your body. Loosely, his hands rest on your hips, the pads of his fingertips gently digging into your flesh. “Do you wanna head to bed?” Jungkook asks, his voice breathy as he begins peppering kisses along the column of your neck. You raise your eyebrow at his sudden change in demeanour. Nevertheless, you’d be lying if you said his light, attentive touch wasn’t clouding your head in hazy lust.
“All of a sudden?” you ask, your tone light and teasing. Jungkook responds by digging his fingers harder into your hips, pulling them back so your ass is flush against his crotch.
“If I’m being honest, I’ve wanted to get you out of this dress as soon as I saw you in it. You look beautiful. I love you so much,” Jungkook rasps in response, lightly nipping at the sensitive flesh just below your earlobe. Twisting in his hold, you wind your hands around his neck, carding your fingers through his hair at the back of his nape before lightly playing with the locks.
“I love you too,” you breathe out, “take me to bed and I’ll show you how much,” you breathlessly whisper back. A shuddering exhale escaping his lips, Jungkook’s mouth descends onto yours. Instantly, the two of you lose yourselves into each other; the wine bottle long forgotten.
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“Jungkook? Are you even paying attention to me?” Jihye suddenly calls out, her hands waving in front of his face. Blinking blankly, Jungkook’s vision comes back into focus. He looks around his apartment - it’s still the same as it was two years ago. The kitchen lights are still low, and his walls are bright, and that same bottle of wine sits on his marble counter - practically mocking him - but you’re not here. It’s not you standing in his kitchen.
“I- you need to leave,” Jungkook chokes out, his voice hoarse and his throat thick with emotion. Jihye looks at him in dumbfounded bewilderment. She opens her mouth to argue, but then stops, her words dying on her lips. Taking in Jungkook’s distant gaze, Jihye notices his attention is once again on the bottle. With a scoff, she rolls her eyes before snorting. Then, grabbing her purse, she stalks out of his apartment - but not before slamming the door.
Jungkook doesn’t care.
Instead, he stares at the dark bottle of wine. His reflection glints back at him, his distorted face mirroring the despair and sadness etched onto his face. Once again, he loses himself into his memories. Memories of when the two of you were still together, memories of you smiling at him, of you kissing him, memories of the two of you, when you were both happy - and together. But not anymore. Now, those memories that he’d once cherished - once taken for granted - are tainted: bruised and tarnished with the restless memories of you leaving; of you walking out of this very same apartment and leaving him all alone.
The warm memories that had once been his saving grace, now leave him cold, with a deep ache in his chest.
With one final glance at the bottle, Jungkook buries his head in his hands, and then lets out a heartwrenching sob.
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In the comfort of your own home, you lie in your bed, staring up into nothingness. The bedroom is completely bathed in darkness, not even a single sliver of moonlight peeking in through the blackout-blinds you had installed. After your third anniversary with Jungkook, you’d moved in with him, and your ex-boyfriend had hated any and every inkling of light while he was trying to sleep. He simply couldn’t sleep unless he was in complete darkness. Of course, after two years of living with him, you’d also gotten used to it - and now, you aren’t able to sleep without complete darkness either.
Yet, you still aren’t able to sleep. There are many reasons for your lack of sleep. Many of them are to do with your ex-boyfriend. It’s been just over half a year since you and Jungkook broke up. Almost eight months now since you walked out of his life. Eight months since you reluctantly broke off your five-year relationships. But you had no choice. You and Jungkook had wanted different things in life and though heartbreaking, you knew it was best for the two of you to go your separate ways then and there.
Of course, knowing that didn’t make it any easier. Nor does it help qualm the crushing bitterness, nor the misery, you feel at Jungkook’s absence in your life.
Though, you figure, those feelings are a given. After all, the two of you had been together for five whole years. Five years is a long time to spend with someone - and for the entirety of those years, Jungkook had been your one and only - the man you had loved with your entire heart. The man you still love with all your heart. It’s not like you could just forget five years of love in a day - nor in eight months. Hell, you don’t think you could forget him, nor the love you feel for him, in your entire lifetime.
Thus, in the absolute dark of your bedroom, you stare up at the ceiling. Though, you don’t really see it. No, all you see is darkness. A low sigh escapes your lips and you shift on your bed, trying to find a comfortable position. But try as you might, you simply can’t find one. And it has every reason to do with the man occupying your bed - if you remove your residual feelings for Jungkook out of the picture. Tilting your head slightly, you turn to your side. Even in the darkness, you can make out the obscure outline of your current boyfriend’s - though you use that term loosely, because really, he’s a family friend you’ve known a while and your mother had set you up with - face as he snores lightly. With another sigh, you turn your head back to stare at the ceiling.
Other than thoughts of Jungkook, one of the main reasons you can’t sleep is: you’re on the wrong side of the bed. For as long as you’d been with Jungkook, even before you lived together, Jungkook had always slept on the left, and you’d slept on the right. It wasn’t like you’d purposely decided on that, it’s just how it had worked out. Jungkook always slept on the left, and you on the right - before the two of you had even met. And after you’d met? Well, it had just clicked - as if the two of you were made for each other.
But now, you’re on the left.
And Minhyuk is on the right.
And it’s not right. Nor does it feel right. In more than one sense of the word.
Shifting once again, you lowly groan when a sting of pain shoots through your lower abdomen, bringing you to another reason you can’t sleep. You’re on your period, and with your period, comes the cursed cramps. No matter how much you try, you simply can’t seem to find a comfortable position to lie in. That, paired with the fact that you’re on the wrong side of the bed, and the plaguing thoughts of Jungkook, has insomnia gripping at your head. Momentarily, you’d considered getting up and heating up a hot water bottle to soothe your pain, but you simply can’t find it in yourself to get out of bed - not when moving only seemed to fuel the fire in the pits of your uterus.
Once again, you turn to Minhyuk. Briefly, you consider waking him up and asking him to bring you the hot water bottle, and you even open your mouth to call him. But then, you pause, the words dying on your lips as your throat constricts. This scene is almost too familiar to you, and in the dark of your bedroom, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the past.
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Flashback - two years ago
Shifting uncomfortably, you’re woken from your sleep by the searing pain in your lower abdomen. Through the haze of your sleep, you let out quiet whimpers and continue shuffling in bed, trying to find a comfortable position to fall back asleep in. However, try as you might, you simply can’t seem to find one. This time, when you shift again, you feel Jungkook’s arm lazily wrap around you.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Jungkook asks while shuffling closer towards him. His words cause you to still, your shoulders relaxing as you feel his warm presence surround you. Your boyfriend moves his head to just over your shoulder, his hand sluggishly rubbing circles over your stomach. He nudges your t-shirt to the side - really, it’s his - and presses a tender kiss to the skin of your shoulder that he’s just exposed. Before you can even say anything, or alert him to exactly what is wrong, “do you have bad cramps again?” he sighs out. Despite your pain, you find your face softening, a soft smile curling on your lips at the sleepy tone of his voice.
“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t wanna wake you up,” you reply lowly. Jungkook only shakes his head, his long hair tickling the flesh of your collarbone.
“Tis okay,” Jungkook slurs sleepily. Then, before you can tell him to go back to sleep, Jungkook is already crawling out of bed. You hear a loud thud, followed by a pained groan, “I’m okay. I just- didn’t see the end of the bed,” Jungkook mumbles through the haziness of his sleep. Instantly, his words cause concern to well up in your chest, however, before you can ask him if he’s okay, he’s leaving your bedroom.
Left alone, you flick the lamp on your bedside table on and sit up in bed with a wince. You take in short, deep breath, trying your best to soothe the vengeful cramps in the pit of your stomach. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think your uterus was tying itself into knots. Another sharp sting and you let out a low whimper, doubling over in pain as you clutch your stomach.
Moments later, you feel a hand soothingly rub your lower back as your boyfriend - now more awake - crouches down beside your side of the bed. Large, doe eyes stare at you in concern as he passes you your hot water bottle. “Here you go, baby,” Jungkook says softly, placing the fuzzy bottle on your lower stomach. The warm heat instantly soothes your cramps, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you feel the pain begin to subside.
“Thank you,” you rasp out, but Jungkook only shakes his head. Then, he thrusts his hand and a glass in front of your face.
When you quirk your eyebrow at him, “painkillers,” Jungkook merely responds. Your face crumples, your heart speeding up in your chest. Gratefully, you accept the pills from him, popping them in your mouth before chugging down the glass of water. When you’re done, Jungkook takes the glass from your hand and places it back onto your bedside table. Once done, he helps you shift back down into a laying position as he tucks you into bed. Then, he crawls under the sheets himself.
You feel the left side of the bed shift before Jungkook slides in. Rolling closer to you, he presses his chest against your back while throwing an arm to rest loosely over your waist. Lazily, he rubs his hand over your hips, soothingly massaging the skin while pressing tender kisses to the back of your shoulder. “Are you feeling better?” Jungkook mumbles. His voice is low, heavy with sleep, and you can’t help but shudder as it reverberates through your eardrum.
“Mmm. Much better. Thank you,” you whisper back, more than grateful at his thoughtful gestures. If there was one thing you absolutely adored about Jungkook, it would be his utter thoughtfulness. More often than not, you just wouldn’t need to tell him what was wrong; after almost four years together, he could simply read you like a book. He knew what you wanted and when you wanted it. He knew when to leave you alone, or when to help you. He could read your moods as if he was well versed in all things that surrounded you. More than anything, however, Jungkook was simply empathetic towards you - and it made you fall for him all the more.
“I love you,” you whisper, the words easily falling from your lips. You feel Jungkook’s lips curl against your shoulder, an indolent smile playing at his lips.
Without even a moment of hesitation, “I love you too,” he mumbles back. Then, the two of you fall back into silence: with you clutching the hot water bottle to your uterus, and Jungkook genially rubbing circles into the flesh of your hips.
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Another sharp pain ricochets through your uterus, pulling you out of your reverie. A low whimper escapes your throat and you shift in bed again. However, unlike Jungkook, Minhyuk stays fast asleep. Once again, you contemplate waking him up and you don’t want to, but the pain is almost too much. Before you can stop yourself, “Minhyuk?” you whimper out while gently shaking him.
Minhyuk lets out a groggy groan before, “what’s wrong, ____?” he asks, his voice heavily laden with sleep.
“C-can you go into the kitchen and get me my hot water bottle, please? I’ve got really bad cramps,” you whisper hoarsely. Minhyuk only groans in response.
“____… I’ve got to wake up for work in three hours. Can you not get it yourself?” Minhyuk asks sleepily. There’s no malice in his tone, nor upset or anger, just drowsy question - and you know he doesn’t mean anything by it - but still, you can’t help the way your stomach drops at his words. Biting your lip, you suck in a sharp breath, the movement making you whimper in pain again. Clearly, Minhyuk hears the sound escape your lips, because he’s sliding out of bed - albeit begrudgingly - and leaving your bedroom.
Five minutes later, he walks back and passes you the hot water bottle. With a small voice, you thank him, Minhyuk grunting in response. The right side of the mattress tilts and you feel Minhyuk slide back into bed. “Goodnight,” Minhyuk mumbles, though you can tell he’s already falling asleep again. Briefly, he pecks your cheek before turning his back towards you. Short moments later, his light snores fill the quiet air of the night, leaving you alone once again.
Chewing your lip, you place the hot water bottle onto your stomach, allowing the warm, soothing sensation to assuage the pain of your cramps. Your mind casts back to Jungkook, and the way he took care of you on nights like this, and then you turn to Minhyuk once again. You can still feel his lips on your cheek - from where he’d kissed you - but it’s not the same. Minhyuk is nice, and though reluctantly, he still got out of bed to get you your water bottle.
But it’s not the same.
It’s not the same when he kisses you on the cheek, or brings you your water bottle. It’s not the same when he buys you flowers, or takes you out to dinner. It’s not the same when he kisses you, or when you sleep together. It’s not the same, because while nice, all of his gestures are empty. There’s no love in them, no thoughtfulness, no passion. Minhyuk is nice - and he does things out of nicety - but he also does them out of obligation.
And it’s not the same.
Because there is no love in them.
Because he’s not Jungkook.
Because he won’t ever be.
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A month and a half later, you find yourself nervously staring at the brass-gold number plates of your brother’s apartment. You haven’t seen Hoseok in a few months - well, nine months to be exact. Nine months on this day. Wow. It’s really been nine months since you broke up with Jungkook, huh? It definitely feels like it’s been longer. If anything, it feels like an eternity. Though, you suppose, it must, since you’d gone from spending almost every day with him to suddenly not seeing him. It had been hard, and multiple times, you’ve wondered if you should just go back - but you know you can’t. You’d broken up for reasons - serious reasons - reasons that had meant a lot to you.
All these months, you’ve tried avoiding him as best as you could. Anything and everything that was within your power, you had done: from avoiding all of your friends because they reminded you too much of him, to moving to a different part of the city just to avoid running into him by chance. It had been hard, and god had it hurt - stillhurts - but you knew you had to do it. But now, standing in front of your brother’s apartment, you know you can no longer run from him anymore. Today is Hoseok’s birthday - and you know he’d be heartbroken if you didn’t turn up.
But you also know Jungkook will be here - because there’s no way Hoseok hadn’t invited him.
Funnily enough, you’d met Jungkook because of Hoseok. The two of them had met at the swimming club in your university, and the two had gotten along well. At first, you’d been fearful of admitting to Hoseok that you were seeing Jungkook - but to your utter surprise, your older brother just hadn’t cared. He liked Jungkook and he trusted Jungkook to treat you right - and he had. For five years, Jungkook had been the best, sweetest, most perfect boyfriend anyone could have asked for. Until that day. That fateful day, nine months ago, when you’d walked out of his apartment - and consequently his life.
“____? You okay?” Minhyuk asks, waving his hand in front of your space. Pulled out of your thoughts, you stare at your boyfriend - though once again, you use the term loosely. Minhyuk stares at you in confusion before gesturing to the door. The very same door you’d been blankly staring at while reminiscing about your brother and boyfriend. Looking at Minhyuk, you can’t help the way your stomach tosses at the sight of him.
Momentarily, you wonder what Hoseok would say. Hoseok absolutely adored Jungkook - to the point where you’d find your brother cuddling with your boyfriend, or kissing his forehead. You shudder just thinking about it. That had been a funny day. One day, you’d decided to surprise your boyfriend by spontaneously turning up at his apartment. However, to your utter surprise, you’d turned up just to see your boyfriend and your brother snuggling while watching Netflix. Sure, it was a cute sight, and ordinarily, you would have been touched. If it weren’t for the fact that your brother was cuddling your boyfriend.
So yes, suffice to say the least, Hoseok absolutely loved Jungkook - and throughout your entire relationship, he’d completely rooted and supported the two of you. Even when you and Jungkook would fight, even when you’d drive each other crazy, Hoseok would speak to the both of you and calm you down and make you see reason. Reason being that you both loved each other. Which is why, dread settles in your stomach as you stare blankly at Minhyuk. Once again, you wonder what Hoseok would say. You know he knows that you’re seeing Minhyuk - your mother has to have told him.
But knowing and seeing are two different things and you have no idea how he’ll react to Minhyuk. You love your brother, you really, really do - but Hoseok has a bad habit of not being able to bite his tongue - and that paired with the fact that he absolutely loved Jungkook - and still does - has trepidation settling deep within your stomach. It doesn’t help that it’s so soon after you and Jungkook broke up either. Nor does it help that Hoseok already knows Minhyuk - he is the son of your mother’s friend after all. But you’re twenty-seven now and you’re not getting any younger and you have to move on with your life. Whether that be with Jungkook or not. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely distraught that it turned out to be without your sweet boyfriend. Or well, ex-boyfriend, you remind yourself.
Once again, Minhyuk looks at you expectantly. Drawing in every ounce of courage you can muster, you take in a deep breath and then knock on your brother’s door. You don’t know how long it takes Hoseok to answer. Realistically, you know it’s only mere moments - but that doesn’t stop it feeling like an excruciating eternity.
The moment Hoseok’s door swings open, you’re met with the sight of your brother. Smiling shyly at him, you awkwardly wave, “Hey Hobi,” you greet. However, Hoseok isn’t looking at you. No, he’s looking at the taller man stood next to you. Shuffling from foot to foot, your gaze flits back and forth from your brother to Minhyuk. Minhyuk for the most of it, looks a little lost and unsure of himself or what to say. Oppositely, your brother simply stares at Minhyuk, looking him up and down, his face a picture of passiveness and his usually warm gaze completely guarded.
“H-Hobi?” you choke out, clearing your throat as you try to get your brother’s attention. Hoseok blinks for a minute and then turns to you.
Momentarily, he regards you with his passive gaze before his lips quirk, and then suddenly, he’s beaming and pulling you into a hug. “____! I’ve missed you!” you brother practically screams, and despite the slight wince as he almost bursts your eardrums, you find yourself letting out a breath of air you hadn’t even known you’d been holding. The minute your brother envelops you in his arms, you feel yourself getting choked up - you’d missed his warmth. You’d desperately craved his affection when you’d broken up with Jungkook, but you had no idea what to say to him - or even how to approach him.
“Come on in. It’s a pretty quiet thing. There’s booze and snacks in the kitchen just help yourself to it, music’s mainly in the living room if you just wanna chill but if you need somewhere more quiet, the balcony or spare bedroom are available. ____ will tell you where to hang up your coats,” Hoseok says, smiling at Minhyuk. You bite your lip at Hoseok’s tone - it may not be obvious to others, but you know your brother like the back of your hand, and you can see the stiffness in his smile, and the chilled politeness in his tone. “Let’s catch up later on, yeah?” Hoseok says, turning back to you. Stiffly, you nod at him, already knowing he wants to talk about Jungkook.
Both you and Minhyuk enter Hoseok’s apartment and you can’t help the dismay that streaks through you. Hoseok wasn’t kidding when he said it’s a pretty quiet affair. About twenty people are milling about, the low thrumming bass of Hoseok’s music vibrating through the air. It’s loud enough to be heard throughout the apartment; not enough to cause the neighbours to complain, but more than enough to not really be able to have a decent conversation with someone.
Scattered about the crowd are a few people you recognise - Namjoon: Hoseok’s best friend from high school, and of course, Seokjin and Yoongi - his other best friends from college. Momentarily, you spot Jimin and you find yourself reeling at the familiar face. He’d been Hoseok’s friend from dance school when your brother was still in middle school. Your eyes continue scanning over the crowd before you find yourself stopping.
A rush of heat courses through your veins, the rushing of blood resounding through your eardrums when you spot Kim Taehyung - Hoseok and Jungkook’s other friend from swim team. But it’s not Taehyung that has you stopping. No, it’s who he’s speaking to.
Knees buckling at the mere sight of him, your face crumples with the weight of your emotions. It’s only been nine months, and yet he looks so different from the last day you’d seen him. His hair is much longer now - so long that it falls into his eyes and you watch how he flicks the soft strands of hair out of his face. The motion of his hair practically mesmerises you and you can’t find it in yourself to look away from him. With his smooth caramel skin, soft features and gently sloping lips, he has your heart constricting between your ribcage.
Then you spot it. The black leather jacket. The same one you’d gotten him as a birthday gift four years ago. It’s still preserved beautifully, not a single piece out of place. The leather still shines like it’s brand new, and it still sits on his body as well as it did the first time you gifted it to him. Taehyung says something and Jungkook laughs in response, and the moment that he does, you let out an inaudible gasp. His head falls back, his features twisting into an expression of pure joy while his bunny-esque teeth are put on display. He looks happy - carefree - and you can’t help the sting of nostalgia that spikes through you. The music is loud, and you can barely hear anything. But somehow, his laugh resounds in your ear: ingrained in the memory of your eardrums as it plays like a record, over and over, while you watch him.
“You wanna get a drink?” Minhyuk asks. Instantly, your world comes crashing around you, and you turn to your current paramour. Blinking owlishly, you stare at him in confusion. He’s awfully close to you - a mere hair’s breadth away from you and instinctively, you find yourself backing away. Minhyuk looks at you oddly, and with a sheepish look, you nod to him. You’d gladly accept something to drink - you know you’ll need it if you wanted to survive the night.
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An hour later, you find yourself standing over the Seoul city skyline. Leant up against the glass railing of Hoseok’s balcony, you simply stare at the sunset painted across Seoul. The large skyscraper buildings obscure most of it, the artificial bright lights dimming the dusky colours of twilight - but you don’t mind so much. Even obscured by the towering modern glass buildings, the dark shades of amaranth, copper and violet vividly paint the sky enough for you to take it all in.
“You okay out here?” comes a soft voice but you don’t need to turn around to see who it is. You could recognise your brother’s voice in a heartbeat.
Humming non-committally, “fine. I just... needed some space, I guess,” you mumble out with a sigh. If you’re being completely honest, you wanted space from Minhyuk. The minute he noticed your gaze on Jungkook, something in him changed - he’d become a tad overbearing, not to mention that he hasn’t left you alone all night. His sudden attachment wouldn’t have been a problem - if it weren’t the fact that you’d been maudlin about seeing Jungkook again. Thus, while he was busy entertaining a small crowd of Hoseok’s friends, you’d slipped out from under his nose and isolated yourself onto the balcony.
A loud chorus of laughs rolls across the quiet balcony and you let out another sigh. Hoseok leans against the railing next to you as he faces his apartment. “Minhyuk seems to be doing well,” comes Hoseok’s casual voice.
Another sigh, “please don’t,” you whisper. You already know where Hoseok’s going with this. Turning his back to his apartment, Hoseok joins you in basking under the quickly setting sun.
“What happened? You never told me, and Jungkook… well, Jungkook refuses to talk about it. To talk about you,” Hoseok sighs. Through your peripheral vision, you note the almost defeated look in Hoseok’s eyes. Heart clenching at his words, you grip your beer can tighter while staring dully into the distance. You don’t blame Jungkook for not talking about you - you haven’t spoken about him either. Sure, you think about him. Every. Single. Day. But thinking about him and speaking about him are two different things - the latter of which is far too painful.
When you don’t respond to his question, Hoseok simply sighs. “Okay fine, we don’t have to talk about that. But-” he begins.
Before he can continue, however, you turn and look at him, “Hobi, can we just not speak about this?” you ask quietly. Your brother looks at you pointedly, his eyes scrutinising you. With your slumped shoulders and the desperation in your eyes, Hoseok finds his eyes softening. Instantly, he wraps his arms around you, pressing your head to his chest. Automatically, you own arms wrap around him and you bask in your brother’s comforting embrace.
“You still love him,” Hoseok breathes out. There’s not a single hint of accusation in his tone, just plain understanding. More than that, it’s not a question; it’s a statement. One that has your fists curling tighter into his shirt, your shoulders tensing. You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t say anything else. Rather, he just holds you, letting you seek as much solace as you need from his hold. Frozen in his hug, you breathe deeply as you try to hold yourself together.
Eventually, you find the strength to pull away. Hoseok looks at you with gentle eyes. “Are you happy, at least? With Minhyuk?” Hoseok asks. Opening your mouth, you move to reply, but find yourself stopping. Eyebrows furrowed, your face contorts marginally as you consider Hoseok’s question. Are you happy? Honestly? You have no idea. You haven’t felt any real happiness since you walked out on Jungkook - but you’d chalked it up to the fact that you were still getting over him.
Hesitancy evident in every fibre of your being, Hoseok looks at you pointedly. “Alright. You don’t have to reply because I already know the answer to that,” Hoseok  sighs. He pauses for a moment, and you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. Yet, he continues anyway, “I know mom pushed you towards Minhyuk,” Hoseok begins, causing your eyes to widen. You open your mouth to reply, however, he cuts you off once again, “But I trust you to do the right thing. Not for anyone, but for yourself. You’re strong, ____, but you’re also smart. Smart enough to know what you want,” Hoseok finishes. Before you can reply to him, however, you hear the balcony doors sliding open.
The two of you turn around to the newcomer, your heart fluttering when you see Jungkook. “Oh. Sorry, I’ll leave,” Jungkook quickly says, already turning around. Abruptly, however, Hoseok walks up to Jungkook before clapping him on the back.
“Nah it’s okay. I was just heading inside. You can keep ____ company if you want,” Hoseok says brightly. Internally, you despair at your brother’s words. What the fuck was he thinking? Nonetheless, before either of you can say anything, Hoseok disappears back into his apartment, consequently leaving you and Jungkook alone.
Jungkook turns to you nervously, and you can practically feel the hesitancy exuding off of him in thick waves. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you send him an awkward smile before gesturing for him to join you. Jungkook looks at you in a mix of worry and trepidation, but ultimately, takes Hoseok’s space beside you. The two of you stand in silence, facing the Seoul city skyline as you stare at nothing. Frazzled by his presence, you internally grasp for something to say, anything to break the thick awkward tension that surrounds the two of you.
Then, all of a sudden: “How have you been?”, “So, what’s up?”, you and Jungkook ask at the same time. You stare at each other in surprise for a couple of moments. Then, all of a sudden, you both burst out laughing.
“God, this is so weird,” Jungkook says, running a hand through his hair. Biting your lip, you nod in agreement before turning back to look at the cityscape.
With the tension broken, “so, how have you been?” you find yourself asking. From the corner of your eye, you notice Jungkook shrug listlessly.
“I’ve been… okay, I guess. How about you?”
“Fine. Alright. I guess,” you reply, mirroring his previous sentiment. They’re simple niceties - and you both know there’s a hint of deception in both your words - but neither of you says anything about it. Once again, the two of you fall into silence. Though, this time, the atmosphere isn’t thick with floundering awkwardness. Rather, it’s thick with confusion and uncertainty. Where do you go from here? What do you even say to your ex-boyfriend - one you still have feelings for?
Deciding to take a chance, “how’s work? I saw that your company released a new game,” you finally say. Jungkook’s head snaps towards you, his eyebrow rising at your question.
“You keep up to date with my company?” he asks. The incredulity in his voice surprises you and you look at him pointedly.
“Of course I do. That company means a big deal to you,” you reply easily. Despite the situation, Jungkook finds himself chuckling, even as his heart constraints at the thought of you checking up on him - even if it’s from afar.
“Yeah. It’s doing really well. Made me a lot of money. How about you? Dohyun from your department still being an ass because you’re the one who got promoted or?” Jungkook questions casually, causing you to laugh.
“Ah, man. Gotta love Dohyun. No, yeah. He’s still being an ass - but at least he doesn’t openly question my authority anymore,” you reply with an easy smile. Then, “actually, I have you to thank for that,” you softly say.
Jungkook looks at you in surprise, “me?”
Nodding, “yeah. I took your advice and threatened to fire him if he ever publicly undermined me again. That shut him up pretty quickly,” you chuckle. Jungkook snorts, the two of you laughing.
“Good! He deserves it. I know he has a problem working under a woman, but man, you deserved that promotion. You were far better qualified than him,” Jungkook compliments. Ducking shyly, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears before smiling gently at him.
“Thanks. It means a lot,” you mumble under your breath, making Jungkook shake his head.
“No. ____, I’m serious. No one deserved it more than you. You worked so hard for it. There were days I was even worried about the stress you were under because you’d forget to eat, or you wouldn’t sleep. But I guess it was worth it in the end, because you got the promotion,” Jungkook responds. Then, he pauses, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips, “even if it meant there were days you’d ignore me,” Jungkook sighs dramatically. That causes you to snort, and before you can stop yourself, you playfully smack his arm.
“Hey! I gave you lots of attention. Or did you forget that time when I skipped work just so we could play hooky and go snowboarding?” you ask. Jungkook bites his lips, a tinkling giggle escaping his lips at the memory.
“Oh, that was good. You were terrible, and you fell so much I was worried you’d break something,” Jungkook reminisces, a soft sigh following his words.
Giggling to yourself, “Yeah, well we can’t all just pick up a sport and instinctively be good at them,” you snort in response.
“You’re right. Really, it’s a curse being perfect at everything,” Jungkook nods sagely in agreement. Jaw dropping, you look at him in amazement before the two of you burst out laughing.
Suddenly, a new voice breaks “What’s going on here?”
Turning around, you freeze at the sight of Minhyuk. Alternating between looking at you and Jungkook, Minhyuk’s face is a picture of passiveness, his lips set in a thin, grim line. At the sight of Minhyuk, you sense Jungkook deflate, the easy atmosphere once again thickening with tension.
“Minhyuk… this is-” you begin, ready to introduce the two. However, Minhyuk snorts.
“Yes. This is Jungkook, your ex-boyfriend. I know. Which begs the question, why are you alone out here with your ex while I’m inside?” Minhyuk asks. You reel at the accusatory tone in his voice as you double-take.
“Excuse me? We’re just out here speaking,” you exclaim and once again, Minhyuk snorts.
“It looked a little more than that,” he points out. Jaw dropping in bewilderment, you scoff at him, your eyes narrowing into thin slits.
“Uh, I think I should leave the two of you alone,” Jungkook says quietly as he begins making his way towards the balcony door.
Seeing him walk away breaks your heart, and you want to tell him to stay. Nevertheless, you know you have no right to. Not now anyway, when you have bigger problems at hand. Bigger problems namely being Minhyuk. “What’s your problem?” you ask, directing your attention to your boyfriend.
“My problem is that despite the fact that you’re going to be marrying me, you’re out here with the ex that you were seeing for five years. How do you think that makes me look?” Minhyuk argues back. At Minhyuk’s words, Jungkook finds his blood freezing as he’s brought to an abrupt halt - just before he can escape the balcony. You, yourself, are at a loss of something to say.
“We’ve barely been seeing each other for two months! Why are you bringing that up now?” you cry in astonishment. Really, where had the come from?
“But isn’t that why our mother’s set us up? Because we’re both looking to get married? Isn’t that where this is supposed to be going? Yet, here you are. With your ex-boyfriend. Who you’ve paid more attention to than me this entire night, by the way,” Minhyuk points out. Spluttering at his words, your cheeks heat as you know you’ve been caught. The hairs on your arms stand erect, and immediately, you know that Jungkook is staring at you - but you refuse to look at him. You don’t want to see the expression on his face right now.
Instead, you decide to keep your attention directly on Minhyuk, “yes, this is where it’s supposed to be going, but-” you reply, only for Minhyuk to cut you off once again.
“But nothing. I like you, a lot. And I know we’ve only known each other two months, but I can see us having a life together. Is that not what you want? Isn’t that the reason we’re together in the first place? Do you not want to marry me? Say you’ll marry me and I’ll drop this right now,” Minhyuk finally says, his previous anger and insecurity at seeing you and Jungkook together dissipating. He levels you with his sincere gaze, the unanswered ultimatum heavy in the air.
Unable to help yourself any longer, you momentarily shift your gaze to Jungkook. It’s brief - barely a second - but it’s all you need. The utter look of despair is clearly evident on his face, a mixture of heartbreak and anguish painted so very clearly across his features. It reminds you of the day you’d broken up with him; reminds you of how he’d looked when you’d walked out on him.
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Flashback - nine months ago
One lazy Sunday, you find yourself in the apartment you share with your boyfriend. The two of you are sprawled on the couch, barely dressed: Jungkook with only his boxers and socks, and you in his large t-shirt and panties. You’d both considered getting dressed, but had decided against it - especially since neither of you had any plans to leave the house. Hence, you find yourself pressed against Jungkook, your back comfortably flush against his strong chest, your head easily finding the perfect resting spot in the crook where his collarbone meets his neck.
Absentmindedly, Jungkook plays with the hem of your underwear, fiddling with elasticated lace as you scroll through Netflix. The film titles pass in a blur as you look for something to watch. Catching the attention of one title, you can't help but fixate on it for a bit. "Kook?" you call out to your boyfriend softly. You angle your head to look up at him while shifting your head onto his shoulder, so you can see him clearly. Jungkook hums non-committally as he glances at you from the corner of his eyes.
"What's up, sweetheart? Wait- if this is just to ask me if we can watch Zootropolis again, you know my answer is always yes," Jungkook says, his eyes twinkling in excitement. A light giggle escapes your lips but you shake your head.
"No. I just- we've been together five years now, yes?" you ask, turning your head back to stare at the TV. Jungkook's eyebrows furrow slightly, and he moves his head so he can better look at you.
"Yes? What about it?"
"Well-" you begin. Briefly you pause, worrying your lower lip, "do you think we'll get married?" you breathe out. Jungkook stills, the hand that had been mindlessly playing with the lace material of your underwear coming to a halt.
"What?" he asks, his chest rumbling under you.
"Well, have you thought about us getting married? Like, we've been together a while now, but I don't think we've ever really spoken about it," you sigh out. Ideally, you wanted to marry Jungkook - because, after five years, you're sure he's the one for you.
"Honestly?" Jungkook asks. Anxiousness pools in the pits of your stomach as you hear the slight trepidation in his voice. It's barely there - but you know Jungkook well enough to spot the tell-tale sign of his worriment.
"Honestly," you reiterate his statement, letting him know you want nothing but the truth.
Jungkook sighs, "honestly, I've never really thought about it," he breathes out. Immediately, you jerk, sitting up as you twist to look at him. Shifting so you're in a more comfortable position, you sit on his stomach, your thighs straddling his waist. Instinctively, Jungkook's hands fall onto your thighs. You look at him in a mixture of shock and disbelief, Jungkook returning his own expectant gaze.
"You've never thought about us getting married?" you sputter out, completely baffled by his words. How has he not thought about it? You've been together five years now. That's an awfully long time - surely, he's thought about it at some point. Not to mention, you're both twenty-seven now, almost thirty. So how has he not thought about it? You know you have. In fact, you dream about the day you walk down the aisle, Jungkook on the other side. Hell, you dream about a life with him; a family - because you know he's all you want.
"Sweetheart-" Jungkook starts, and you look pointedly at him, "listen- it's nothing to do with you. It's just, we're still young. I do love you, you know that, but I just never really thought about it," he continues. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you cock your head in question.
"Never?" you enquire. Jungkook simply shrugging.
"Not really," comes his simple reply.
“How?” you question, looking at him in confusion. Distinctly, you remember having light conversations with Jungkook. Conversations where you’d joke about being married, conversations about your wedding or your future together.
“What do you mean how?” Jungkook asks dumbly, causing you to frown.
“I mean- I know we’ve joked about it before. I’ve mentioned wanting to get married before, I know I have,” you point out.
“Yeah… but I thought you were joking and other than that, I’ve never seriously thought about it,” Jungkook says casually. You suck in a sharp breath at his words. He hadn’t ever seriously considered it? Fear settles in your stomach at his words. You’d always just assumed you and Jungkook would eventually get married - but he hadn’t ever seriously thought about it?
"Well... do you want to get married?" you ask plainly. Jungkook smirks at you, the corners of his lips twisting into a teasing, lop-sided smile.
"Are you asking?" he jokes. However, you're in no mood to play games. This is important to you - because your boyfriend of five years just admitted that he hadn't ever considered a future with the two of you together.
"Jungkook, I'm being serious," you say - your voice is soft, yet firm. Sensing the seriousness to your tone, the smile on Jungkook's face falls and he sits up. His movement displaces you from his stomach, and you find yourself moving to sit on the couch while looking at him expressionlessly.
"____, I don't know. As I said, I've never really thought about it," Jungkook reiterates.
"Well think about it now! Do you want to get married or no?" you ask, anxiousness bubbling in your veins. This conversation certainly hasn't gone the way you had expected it to. When you'd first asked Jungkook, it had just been an off-handed question, because really, why wouldn't he have thought about getting married. Now? You're not so sure.
"I- I don't know," Jungkook mutters. Face falling in despair, you get up off of the couch and walk into your bedroom. What did he mean he didn't know? Five years. You've been together five years, and he still doesn't know? Without a second thought, Jungkook follows you into your bedroom, watching in confusion as you begin getting dressed.
"Sweetheart? Are you mad at me?" he asks, causing you to snort derisively.
"Are you really asking me that right now?" you snap in response. Jungkook reels back at the irritation in your voice.
"Why? Because I said I don't know if I want to get married? Why is that a problem? I still love you- you know that," your boyfriend argues.
"The problem isn't that you love me Jungkook. It's that you just admitted you haven't thought about our future together," you cry back. Sensing your upset, Jungkook quickly walks up to you. He places his hands on your arms, gently rubbing up and down as he cooes gently at you.
"Baby, that's not what I meant. It's just, we're still young you know? And it's not like we have to get married to each other to prove anything. I love you, and you love me, isn't that enough?" Jungkook asks softly, trying his best to placate you. Tears forming in your eyes, you shake your head and push his hands away.
"But I want to get married Jungkook. But you don't even know if you want to get married," you reply back, your bottom lip quivering. You take in a deep breath in an attempt to hold yourself together.
"But I could... maybe," Jungkook replies. Though, you both hear the clear uncertainty in his voice. His words, paired with his tone, only has your heart breaking.
"Do you? It doesn't have to be now, but do you see us getting married? A simple yes or no. That's all I'm asking for," you breathe out.
Through tear-filled eyes, you watch your boyfriend contemplate your question. One minute passes. Then two. But he's no closer to giving you your answer. With every second that passes, your anguish grows into grief-stricken distress. Multiple times, Jungkook opens and closes his mouth, and each time, hope blooms in your chest, only to die when he closes his mouth. Long, excruciating moments pass, and you all but abandon hope, when finally he says something.
"I don't know," Jungkook replies. The very moment his words ring in your ears, that small inkling of hope within your chest in crushes. A sob escapes your lips and you feel your knees buckle. Distress painted on Jungkook's face, he reaches out to comfort you, but you back away from him, causing your boyfriend to flinch.
"Will you ever know?" you whisper hopelessly.
"I don't know," comes Jungkook's answer once again.
"Then I don't know if I can do this," you whisper back. Jungkook's head snaps up to you, his eyes wide as he looks at you in disbelief.
"What? What do you mean?" he chokes out, barely able to get the words out. Throat constricting, you swallow thickly as you choke back a sob.
"I don't know if I can still do this. Jungkook, I want to get married. I want to marry you. I dream about walking down the aisle to you, I dream about children - our children. I dream about a life with you. But you-" you stop as your voice cracks with emotion. Taking a deep breath, you pull yourself together once again, "but you don't know if you even want to get married and that... that just tells me you haven't thought about our future together," you finally manage to say, your voice strained.
"We're still young. We have so much time to think about that," Jungkook argues, causing you to shake your head.
"We're twenty-seven Jungkook. We've been together for five years. That's a long time, so why haven't you ever considered us getting married? Not even moments ago you admitted that you've never thought about it. How do you think that makes me feel?" you cry.
"I don't know! It wasn't on my mind. I think about you but I- I just don't know if I want to get married. Why is that a big deal?" Jungkook asks, even as anguish colours his veins at the sight of your heartbreak.
"It's a big deal to me! It's a big deal because like I said, that's what I want!" you practically yell. Taking another deep breath, you sniffle, "I don't think I can do this," you repeat once again. Again, your voice cracks, but Jungkook despairs at the resolution in it.
"What are you saying?" he chokes out, not wanting to believe it. You can't mean it. You can't be saying what he thinks you're saying.
"I'm saying- I'm saying we should break up," you finally say. You practically have to force the words out of your mouth - because, despite everything, every fibre of your being is still in love with Jungkook - still wants to be with Jungkook. But this isn't something you think you can compromise on.
"No," Jungkook blurts out. "N-no. Please, no," he practically begs. Once again he steps up to you, and once again, you step away from him - desperately needing the distance between you. "W-why? Why can't we wait until I know? Please, why can't we wait until I'm ready?" Jungkook pleads. Sucking in a deep breath, you shake your head as you look away. You want to. You desperately want to take his word for it, want to fall into his arms and forget this conversation. But you just can't.
"I c-can't," you express, "because what if we continue for another two, or three or five years, only for you to tell me you still don't want to get married? I don't want to start all over again in my thirties, Jungkook. I don't want to be in love with your a few more years, only for you to eventually decide you still don't want to get married," you reply softly.
"But we don't know if that'll happen!" Jungkook tries arguing and this time, you turn to him. Jungkook freezes at your face, the resolute sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. His heart constricts in his chest as he sees unwavering stubbornness, mixed with heartache and sorrow, in your eyes.
"Exactly Jungkook. We don't know. If you don't know now, after five years of being together, I don't know if you'll know in another few years. And I can't take that chance," you finally utter.
"____, please don't do this. I love you," Jungkook sobs brokenly. Unable to look him in the eyes anymore - unable to stand the utter devastation written on his face - you look away.
"I'm sorry," you whisper softly.
And then, you walk away.
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By the time you’re drawn out of your reverie, Jungkook is long gone. In his stead, stands Minhyuk, who looks at you expectantly. ‘Say you’ll marry me.’ Minhyuk’s voice once again rings through your head and you can’t help but feel queasy at the statement. You had broken up with Jungkook because you wanted to get married - and you do. But, is Minhyuk who you want to marry? As harsh as it is, marrying Minhyuk feels like… you’re settling - and that doesn’t sit well with you. But what do you do now? What if this was your only chance? You’re twenty-seven now and you hadn’t lied to Jungkook when you said you didn’t want to wait another five years only for things to fall apart if he decided he still didn’t want to get married.
But this doesn’t feel right.
You and Minhyuk stare at each other, Minhyuk patiently waiting for your answer. Except, you have no idea what you want to say. Your skin flushes with heat and you feel panic set into your bones while your stomach flips. Blood rushes through your ears, the sound drowning out everything else as you simply stare at Minhyuk. Though, you’re not really looking at him. No, because even now, with Minhyuk standing in front of you and Jungkook long gone, there’s only one person on your mind.
The same person who’s been on your mind the entire night.
Abruptly, Hoseok’s words ring through your head. ‘You’re strong - but you’re also smart. Smart enough to know what you want.’ Your brother’s voice plays over and over in your head - like a broken vinyl - until it’s all you can hear. Then, a spark of epiphany courses through your head, and the dawning of revelation washes over you.
You do know what you want - more than anything.
And you know what you have to do now.
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It's almost two in the morning when Jungkook finds himself outside of your apartment. He doesn't know how long he's sat there, back against the wall and knees up to his chest as he stares at your flat door. After he'd left Hoseok's apartment, he found his feet walking to a bar, and after about an hour of drinking, he'd walked home. Well, he'd meant to walk home. But, somehow, in his tipsy-fogged mind, he'd automatically walked to your building and then up to your flat. A while after that, he'd just sat outside your door, contemplating whether he should knock or not. The largest part of him desperately wanted to knock - and multiple times, fueled by the courage of the alcohol - he almost had. However, each time, the smaller part of him would stop himself, unable to actually follow through. What if you'd said yes to Minhyuk? What if you didn't want to see him? What if you're with Minhyuk? Jungkook doesn't know what he'd do if he knocks, only to find Minhyuk on the other side of the door.
Head repeatedly banging against the wall behind him, Jungkook stares at the gold plated numbers of your door. With every second that passes, the alcohol in his system slowly fades away and Jungkook finds himself sobering. But still, he doesn't leave. He can't bring himself to get up and walk away. It's late enough that sleep should begin fogging his mind, but again, not knowing whether you said yes or no to Minhyuk would eat away at him - and he knows he'd be restless and unable to sleep until he finds out. Yet, he just cannot bring himself to knock. So, instead, he just sits outside your apartment. Waiting for something. Anything.
For you.
Another hour passes and you still don't come. Jungkook lets out a shuddering breath, his head falling into his hands. Mentally, he draws up a pros and cons list of knocking - and yet, each time, he scraps them all. Even with all the cons: you could be engaged to Minhyuk, you could be with Minhyuk, you could be moving on with Minhyuk; Jungkook can't help but consider the pros: you could have said no, you could be alone, you could be waiting for him. It's that last one that he dreads. There's a small chance you couldbe waiting for him and that has hope flaring in his chest. But in this situation, hope is the most crushing thing in existence - because it's only a small chance - and his hope could be crushed the minute you answer the door.
A part of him believes you had to have said to yes - you just had to have - because that's what you wanted, wasn't it? You wanted to get married. So, what reason would you have to say no? But that small, niggling voice in Jungkook head won't stop speaking - won't stop telling him that he's a reason you would have said no. Nevertheless, Jungkook knows that voice comes from his hope - and as he's mentioned - hope is the worst thing he has right now.
"You can't keep doing this, Jungkook. It's been nine months. You should move on- like she is," Jungkook mutters to himself out loud. He has no doubt that if anyone sees him, they'd think he was some sort of crazy person, but Jungkook also doesn't care. Over and over, he repeats the sentences to himself and eventually, he gets up, ready to leave.
But then he stops.
Turning back to your door, he takes in a shuddering breath, and before he can stop himself - or even rethink his spontaneous decision - he finds himself knocking. Because he desperately needs to know if he's lost you once and for all. Then, he waits again.
And still waits.
Time moves excruciatingly slowly - the seconds agonisingly passing away. Momentarily, Jungkook considers knocking again - maybe you're asleep, maybe you didn't hear him. But the adrenaline-induced courage has long since faded after he knocked, and once again he finds himself turning away.
However, then, he hears it: the clinking of a chain.
The door creaks open slowly, Jungkook sucking in a sharp breath as he spots you. You're dressed in a large hoodie - and hope flares in his chest as he recognises it. It's hishoodie. He thought he'd misplaced it a while ago - but no, apparently it was just with you. But why? Why hadn't you returned it to him?
As soon as the door is wide open, you stare in disbelief at the sight in front of you. Rubbing your blood-shot eyes, your mouth drops slightly as you realise you're not imagining it. Jungkook is standing in front of you. Why is Jungkook standing in front of you?
"J-Jungkook?" you stutter out, bewilderment heavy in your voice.
"I'm sorry," Jungkook blurts out. Taken aback by his sudden apology, your eyebrow furrows.
"W-What? Why are you sorry?" you ask, unsure of what's happening. You'd just been crying in bed - desperately wishing for Jungkook - so, when you'd opened your door only to see him, you'd thought you were dreaming. And now? Well, now you're just confused. What does he have to be sorry about?
"I made a mistake. You were right- I didn't- I never thought about our future together. I never considered getting married, or whether we'd have a family together and it's because I was comfortable. I grew comfortable in our relationship and I took it for granted. I took you for granted," Jungkook breathes out. His words fall so quickly from his lips, he practically rambles, and you really have to strain to understand his words. "After five years together, I just got so used to us. I thought I'd always have you, and so, marriage or a family didn't even cross my mind - but it should have. I should have thought about our future together. I'm sorry that I didn't, and I'm sorry that I thought about it too late," Jungkook continues. Once again, he pauses, taking a deep breath as he thinks about what to say next. But if he's being honest, he doesn't really know what else to say.
Shoulders deflating, Jungkook runs a weary hand through his hair, and suddenly, he looks more harried than you've seen him in a long time. "I'm just- I'm sorry I didn't think about it back then. I'm just sorry," Jungkook finishes lamely. There's more on the tip of his tongue: I miss you, I want you, I love you; but he can't bring himself to say them. Not when you could be happy with Minhyuk. He can't do that to you - he'd broken your heart that day - when he'd openly admitted he'd never thought about a future with you - and now, you have a chance with someone else. And he can't take that away from you, even if it breaks his heart to let you go. Left reeling by his words, they play over and over in your mind, and it takes all your brainpower to reallyunderstand them - but in your stunned daze, you don't say anything - and Jungkook doesn't know what to make of it.
So, instead, "I guess, that's what I wanted to say. I- I hope you're happy with Minhyuk," he chokes out. Sluggishly, you realise that Jungkook is walking away - and that's all it takes to restart your brain.
"W-what if I'm not happy? What would you do if I wasn't happy?" you rasp, your voice straining. Jungkook freezes at your words, his blood running cold. Then, he whips around so quickly, you fear he'd get whiplash. However, Jungkook doesn't care. Rather, his eyes swiftly rake over your face, searching for something, anything to confirm what'd he'd just heard. He finds it in your eyes; in the way they silently beg him to continue, plead with him to say everything on his mind.
Helpless under your imploring gaze, Jungkook finds his tongue unravelling as he lays his feelings at your feet. "I'd ask for a second chance. A chance to make you happy and give you what you want," Jungkook breathes out. Your eyes widen in the slightest at his proclamation.
Is he saying what you think he is?
Incredulity painted as clear as day on your face and sliver of hope evident in your eyes, Jungkook's face softens slightly. He wasn't lying - when Minhyuk had proposed the ultimatum, Jungkook had felt his heartbreak - and when he'd sat in the bar, all he could think about was you. More importantly, all he could think about was the missed opportunity. He imagined what you'd look like on your wedding day. How happy would you be? Would you look as radiantly beautiful as he imaged you to be? Would you smile in that carefree, captivating way that you did? But then, he grew maudlin - because he realised that if you did, it wouldn't be for him - and that broke his heart. It broke his heart to imagine you marrying someone that wasn't him, smiling for someone who wasn't him, creating a family with someone that wasn't him.
Nothing but sincerity in his voice, Jungkook continues, "I'd ask for you to take me back and to marry you. Because that's what I want - as long as it's with you," Jungkook finishes.
Throat clogged up with the heavy weight of your emotions, you swallow thickly, "then ask," you choke out. Your words are simple - and practically inaudible - but in the stillness of the empty corridor, and the quiet of the night, Jungkook hears it as clear as day.
"But- But what about Minhyuk?" Jungkook asks, unsure about whether he should or not. Hope flares in his chest at your words - but he doesn't want to believe them. Not yet, at least.
"Ask anyway," you simply say.
"Will you-" Jungkook begins, but the instant he opens his mouth, you're cutting him off.
"Yes," you reply - not even waiting for him to finish. It doesn't matter what he said. It doesn't matter if the words to follow are 'give me a second chance' or 'marry me' because all that matters is that he's back. All that matters is that he's willing to think about your future together - and right now, that's enough for you.
"You don't even know what I'm going to say-mpf," Jungkook begins, only to be stopped short when you pull him in for a kiss.
The instant his lips touch yours, you feel your entire body become electrified. Your veins are set afire with love, Jungkook's soft lips pressed against yours in a sweet kiss. Instinctively, Jungkook's arms wrap around your waist, his hands pulling your body flush against his as he feels you for the first time in months. You taste the same as you always have - temptingly sweet - and your body against his feels exquisite: your curves and contours fitting perfectly against his body. Sinking into this kiss, and consequently Jungkook, you sigh against his lips while you let your hands wander across his broad shoulder, before carding them into his hair.
Brief moments later, Jungkook breaks off your kiss; his forehead falling to rest against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes. His hands move to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek tenderly as he lazily peppers soft kisses against your lips. Despite the softness of the moment, Jungkook can't stop wondering about Minhyuk - a sentiment he expresses to you in concern.
"I couldn't do it. I couldn't say yes," you reply, your eyes holding nothing but the truth. Jungkook's eyebrows knit together, and you find yourself giggling at the adorable expression. After a light peck against his lips, you move to rest your head against his chest, your eyes slipping shut as you feel his steady heartbeat under your ear. "I couldn't do it, because even then, you were all I could think about. I thought I wanted to get married, and I did - I do - but I realised, I didn't want to marry just anyone. I wanted to marry you," you confess. Jungkook's heart soars in his chest and helpless under your spell, he finds himself pulling you in for another kiss.
However, this time, it's different. This time, your kiss isn't slow, or soft. No, it's needier - Jungkook’s pouring out his entire heart into your kiss as he bruises his lips against you. Gasping against his lips, your fists clench around Jungkook’s leather jacket - using the material to pull him closer into you. You pull away from Jungkook’s lips, breathing heavily against his lips as you stare up at him through the thick of your eyelashes.
“Do you want to come in?” you breathily ask. Jungkook pauses for a moment.
“Are you sure? We don’t have to-” he begins refuting. However, you’re already pressing kisses against his jaw - lightly nipping the sensitive spot just above his Adam’s apple.
“I’m sure. I’ve missed you,” you rasp out, your voice coming out breathier than you anticipated. Jungkook’s eyes dilate at your words, and before you know what’s happening, he’s leading you into your apartment.
The both of you barely make it into your apartment, before Jungkook is slamming the door shut and pushing you up against the hard wood. Caging you between his arms, Jungkook’s lips fall upon yours again, his lips moving in a frenzied fashion this time. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer into you. Jungkook lets out a soft growl against your lips before pulling away. Peppering kisses along your jaw, he trails down the column of your throat before nuzzling his face into the juncture of your shoulder.
“God- I’ve missed you,” Jungkook whispers as he breathes in your calming scent. Own hands threading into his hair, you lazily play with the locks at the nape of his neck.
“I missed you too. A lot,” you moan out as Jungkook begins to suckle bruises onto the tender flesh of your throat.
“Is that why you’re wearing my hoodie?” Jungkook asks, curiosity winning out on him. Not that you don’t look good in it - in fact, seeing you dressed in his clothing is one of Jungkook’s favourite things.
“Maybe,” you reply coyly, “what are you going to do about it?” you continue. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath at the teasing lilt to your voice and immediately, drops to his knees. You jerk at the sudden movement, your eyes widening marginally at the sight of Jungkook on his knees.
“If this was any other time, I’d teach you a lesson. But right now, I’ve missed you too much, and you look good enough to eat,” Jungkook groans out as he runs his nose along the exposed flesh of your inner thigh. Your breath hitches at his words, Jungkook’s large hands slowly wrapping around your thighs before he parts your legs. Tenderly, his hands run up the back of your thighs, and gripping the flesh of your ass, he pulls your hips further into him.
Running his nose against the cotton of your panties, Jungkook takes in a deep breath before groaning as the heady scent of your arousal runs through his nose. He pushes his hoodie further up your hips, his lips gently tracing his way up the length of your thigh. Positioned just over your hip, Jungkook places a tender kiss above where your bone is. Then, he bites down on the waistband of your panties before slowly sliding it down your legs. When he gets to the crooks of your thighs, he lets go of it, letting the material drop to the floor.
You step out of your underwear and spread your legs - making more room for Jungkook. Gripping one of your thighs, he pulls it to rest over his shoulder, exposing your pussy to his gaze. Dark, lust-filled eyes rove over your folds, Jungkook shuddering as the scent of your arousal deepens. Your sex is slightly dewy, glistening in the low lighting of your living room. Biting his lip, Jungkook edges closer to your folds before tentatively licking a line: all the way from your core to your clit.
“Oh fuck,” you groan out, your head lolling back while one of your hands shoots out to tangle into his thick hair. Hearing your low groan, Jungkook smirks against your pussy before repeating the action. Spikes of pleasure run up and down your spine, your eyelids fluttering as you lose yourself into the pleasure he brings upon your body.
Moving one hand, Jungkook presses two fingers against the petals of your sex before parting his digits in a ‘V’ shape and consequently your folds. With your pussy exposed, Jungkook once again licks a thick line from your dripping, honeyed entrance, all the way to your engorged bud. He licks harder this time, his tongue lapping in a broad line as he gathers your heady essence onto his tongue. Your arousal bathes his tastebuds, and with his nose pressed against the hood of your clit - all he can taste, all he can breathe is you.
Soft lips wrap around your clit, Jungkook pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth before lightly suckling on it. His ministrations cause you to gasp - the sound quickly morphing into a heavy moan when his nips your throbbing clit. Tangling your fingers further into his hair, you slowly undulate your hips, pushing them further into Jungkook as you tug on his hair, trying to get him to move fast.
Sensing the urgency in your movements, Jungkook rakes his teeth over your clit in warning once again. Then, breaking away with a pop, “Be patient, darling,” Jungkook breathes out. The lusty fog of your desire rolls thickly into your head, clouding your mind and setting your flesh aflame with want and through your wanton need, you barely hear Jungkook’s words. Instead, the feel of Jungkook’s warm breath wafting over your wet folds has you shuddering in pleasure.
“Kook,” you whine needily, desperation heavy in the high pitch of your voice.
With his face buried between your thighs, you can’t see his face. But you don’t have to. You can feel the smirk on his lips. Not that you really care - because he’s currently swirling his tongue around your clit tantalisingly and subsequently driving you to the brink of insanity. Lightly, he moves the two fingers that have you spread open. You shudder at the featherlight touch, feeling him softly ghost his fingertips over the outline of your folds before circling your entrance. His touch has your core clenching, your pussy walls fluttering around his fingertips.
“Fuck- I forgot how fucking sensitive your pussy is,” Jungkook moans against your clit. His words are slightly muffled, and the vibration of his voice shoots straight from your clit to the pits of your belly. Loins heating with pleasure, you feel your stomach twist and knot as Jungkook laps kittenish licks against your clit. Teasingly, Jungkook continues circling his fingertip against your entrance, feeling the way strings of your sticky wetness drip out of you before they cling to his digit.
Drawing away from your clit, Jungkook slowly pulls his finger away; his throat drying as he watches the thin, filmy strings of your arousal drip from your pussy and onto his finger. The thick rivulets stretch as he pulls away - and the moment one of them snaps - Jungkook is unable to stop himself from pressing his head back between your thighs. Tongue plunging into your core, his swirls his wet appendage around your cunt, groaning as thick streams of arousal drip onto his tongue.
“Oh fuck- Kook,” you mewl, your head falling back and hitting the door with a light thud. The pain barely registers in your mind, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as your pussy flutters around his tongue. Helpless against your needy whine, Jungkook pushes two fingers into your depths, your body jerking at the sudden intrusion as you tug at his hair reflexively. Twisting his fingers into you, Jungkook pumps his digits in and out, relishing in the feel of your silken, pulsating walls around his appendages as he continues eating you out - almost ravenously.
Gripping his locks tightly, you gyrate harder into his mouth. Waves of pleasure flit over your skin, your blood boiling with ecstasy as you feel the warmth in your belly begin to heat up. When Jungkook spreads your entrance using his fingers, his tongue plunging deeper into you, you let out a cry of pleasure. God, you’d forgotten just howgood Jungkook’s mouth was. Mouth and throat running dry, you swallow thickly before panting out his name over and over again. The once dull warmth begins burning your loins; searing, white-hot pleasure running up and down your flesh, your skin prickling with goosebumps as you feel your orgasm approaching.
“Please-” you groan out, the guttural sound intermingling with the wet, sloppy sounds of Jungkook eating you out. Thighs quivering against his ears, Jungkook pushes his fingers deeper into you. Expertly, he finds the sweet spot inside you, his fingers crooking at the knuckle as he strokes the spongy spot. Reflexively, your hand tugs his hair harshly while your knees buckle under the euphoria of your approaching orgasm.
“Are you cumming, baby? You wanna cum on my tongue?” Jungkook taunts, a teasing lilt to his voice. Swallowing thickly, it’s all you can do to simply rasp out his name. Knowing he has you on the verge of ecstasy, Jungkook doubles his efforts - his fingers pistoning inside you quicker as he wraps his wet lips around your clit.
“God, your pussy tastes so fucking good. I missed you - missed the way your pretty little pussy feels around my tongue,” Jungkook grunts out. Another whine of pleasure escapes your lips, your hips jolting into his face when the pads of his finger stroke your g-spot.
“Cumming-” you gasp out, your voice cracking under the pleasure.
“Then cum baby- cum all over my tongue. I wanna taste you- wanna drink you up,” Jungkook urges. The filthiness of his words, paired with the way he harshly sucks your clit, instantly has you cumming.
A loud mewl escaping your lip, you whine out his name. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your visions filled with white spots as your orgasm ricochets through you. Feeling you come undone above him, Jungkook rips his fingers out of you, his hands gripping your flesh and fingers digging into your skin as he holds your violently trembling thighs. The scent of your arousal thickens deeply, and Jungkook watches with dilated eyes as thick ropes of cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs.
Placing his lips against your entrance, Jungkook slurps at your cum, swallowing it thickly and relishing in your taste. You whine out his name, your knees buckling from the power of your orgasm - and if it weren’t for Jungkook’s strong grip, you’re sure you’d drop to the floor. Gasping for air, you slowly come down from the high of your orgasm, Jungkook patiently waiting for you to descend down to reality.
Tenderly, your boyfriend places affectionate kisses along the length of your thigh, softly cooing at you while he whispers sweet nothings against your flesh. A soft smile tugs at your lips and you untangle your fingers from their vice-like grip on his locks. Instead, you softly play with the strands, marvelling at their silk-like texture. Jungkook always had beautiful hair, but with how long it is currently, you can reallyadmire it.
“Kook- want you,” you mew. Jungkook chuckles at the soft neediness in your voice.
“Come here, sweetheart,” Jungkook says before he gathers you in his arms. Gently, he brings you to the floor with him. Still swimming in the haziness of your orgasm, you feel Jungkook swiftly divest himself off his clothing, until he’s left naked. Once done, Jungkook gathers you into his arms once again. He shifts you so your thighs are straddling his, your body propped against his strong chest as his back rests against the door to your apartment.
Unable to help yourself, you rest your head against his shoulder, your hands indolently running over his skin as you finally feel him under your touch. You trace every muscle of his upper body - from the corded flesh of his biceps, to the taut skin of his abdomen; and then towards his broad, defined shoulders. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist, his hands running up the hem of his hoodie and flitting up your skin before he divests you off the article of clothing - leaving you both naked.
Shuddering at the feel of the night’s crisp air against your skin, you snuggle closer into Jungkook’s warmth, letting his presence wash over you. “I missed you,” you mumble against his skin. Jungkook’s face softens and he nods, his head dropping so he can press a kiss to your shoulder. His long hair tickles your skin and you relish in the featherlight touch.
Not wanting to wait any longer - and more than desperate to feel him inside of you - you flex your thighs, picking yourself up. One hand feels out for Jungkook’s cock, and easily finding the shaft, you grip the base before pressing it against your entrance. Feeling the bulbous head push against your entrance, you let out a soft whine before slowly descending down onto him. Slowly, he spreads out your walls, his thick girth stretching you out for the first time in months. It’s been a while since you’ve had Jungkook and the sheer size of him has a dull pain stinging at your pussy walls - but you don’t mind so much. No, in fact, you cherish it - because you’d sorely missed how transcendent he’d felt stretching out your pussy to its brim.
“Oh fuck- God, you’re so fucking tight. You feel so good,” Jungkook groans out, his cock twitching with every inch he sinks into you. Jungkook’s arms wrap around you, holding your naked chest flush against his as you continue your descent onto his cock. When he finally bottoms out, his balls resting just under your ass, you let out a little whimper, your fingers clawing into his shoulder.
“You good, baby?” Jungkook asks, his lips skimming the outline of your collarbone.
“Yeah- you feel- so good,” you gasp out. Jungkook gives you a couple of moments to adjust to the feel of him - and then, he’s gripping your hips before lifting them up for you. You cry out in pleasure as you feel his cock retreat out of you, only for Jungkook to thrust upwards, plunging the entire length of his shaft.
The two of you begin moving in tandem with each other: Jungkook helping you move on top of him while simultaneously impaling his cock into you. With every one of his movements, you feel pleasure run through your veins. Every time he plunges the entirety of his cock inside of you, you let out short gasps, your toes curling in pleasure. Moving slowly, you take the time to simply feel each other - the ardent fire of your lust and love burning bright in the pits of both your bellies as you sink into unadulterated pleasure.
Your slow, sensual pace continues for a little while longer - but you can slowly feel Jungkook’s desperation increasing with each thrust. His hands begin wandering over your hips and around to hold your ass. Fingers digging into the soft flesh, he grips your ass tightly before bouncing you harder ontop of him. Need fills his every movement - Jungkook’s thrusts becoming rougher. You bounce on top of him, your entire body shaking as Jungkook thrusts harder and harder into you. Changing the angle of his hips, Jungkook plunges his cock against your sweet spot, the head of his cock brushing it with every impalement of his hips.
“I’m cumming, baby,” Jungkook warns. Not that he really needs to, you can feel his cock throb erratically inside you, twitching every now and then as your walls clench rhythmically around his shaft - massaging his entire length.
“Cum, baby. Cum in me. Wanna feel you deep in me,” you say softly, your hands softly massaging his shoulders. Jungkook lets out a little groan, pulling your hips harder down onto him as he tries to push his cock as deep as he can into you.
“Cum with me. Play with yourself. Wanna feel you cum around my cock,” Jungkook urgers, and you find yourself growing wetter at the authority present in his voice. Unable to deny him anything, you twist one arm between your body and begin expertly playing with your clit. The additional pleasure has you crying out in ecstasy. All of a sudden, you feel heat rush through your veins, your lips parting in a silent scream as you cum for a second time.
Feeling your walls clamp around him tightly, paired with the gushing of your cum around his cock, Jungkook let’s out a little groan. “Oh fuck,” he moans. Then with two stilted thrusts, he plunges his cock as deep as he can into you before cumming with a soft roar. His cock twitches inside your walls before he shoots rope after rope of hot cum inside you. You groan at the feel of his warmth, your toes curling in pleasure as the base of your spine tingles.
Jungkook holds you to him tightly, clutching your body to his as you both gasp and pant for air. The haziness of your euphoric high slowly abates, until you’re both left clinging to each other. Eventually, the white spots in your vision clear and you slowly pull away from him. You take in the sight of Jungkook, completely spent and sweat-soaked locks clinging to his forehead. Hearing you giggle, Jungkook opens one eye to peek at you.
“Stop laughing at me,” he pouts. Once again, you giggle at him, and then let yourself fall against him. Exhaustion weighs down your muscles and you find yourself snuggling into Jungkook’s chest, sleep already replacing the lust-filled fog that clouds your head.
“I can’t help it if you’re so cute,” you mumble sleepily. Jungkook bites his lips, lightly snorting through his nose. However, he simply doesn’t have the energy to argue with you. Instead, he sits quietly while attempting to catch his breath.
Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of a rest - but when he turns to you, you’re already deeply asleep, a small smile on your lips. Tenderly, Jungkook tuts, but there’s no real ire in it. Gathering you in his arms, he picks you up, wincing when his muscles protest the movement. Ignoring the pain, he carries you into your bedroom before gently depositing under the cover.
Fatigue quickly overcomes him, and it’s all Jungkook can do to not collapse beside you. Holding off, however, he manages to sluggishly pull himself under the cover. Once under the thick sheets, Jungkook shifts closer to you before he pulls you into his arms. You’re both sticky - your skin covered in a light sheen of perspiration - and it’s slightly uncomfortable, but Jungkook doesn’t care.
He’d be damned if he spent one more night without you in his arms.
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a/n: owo i hope you enjoyed it! please don’t forget to tell me what you thought 🥺
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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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angelguk · 2 years ago
→ on my mind — jeongguk scenario pt.1
Jeon Jeongguk - BTS
word count: 8.3k
genre: domestic!au + established relationship + fluff + smut
warnings: slow build / oral sex (fem receiving) / fingering / toys / multiple orgasms / over-stimulation / breeding kink / mild choking / creampie
soundtracks: eyedi, luv highway + olivia nelson, smother me
special thanks to @gukkheaven for beta reading this. you’re an absolute gem! 
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Jeongguk has no idea how Namjoon is going to clean up this mess. Confetti scatters the dark wooden floorboards like leaves burying the sidewalks during autumn. Silver streamers accompany the coloured flakes of paper and he swears that there’s a glob of ice-cream somewhere on the ground because the bottom of his slipper is suspiciously wet. He instinctively wants to put everything in order, make sense of the chaos surrounding him, but it’s a futile effort that’ll only be thwarted by the hordes of children occupying his friend’s house. So he settles for the garden instead, lounging by the towering lemon tree Namjoon planted a few years ago, where he has a scenic view of Taehyung almost burning the burger patties on the grill.
“Taehyung!” Seokjin comes storming out of the glass doors, slippers slapping the ground ferociously. “What are you doing? Those look like bits of coal. Do you want the kids to lose their teeth?” 
“They barely have any and I was trying to help!” Taehyung retorts defensively. Jeongguk can hear the sincerity in his voice, the conversation nearly being drowned out by Baby Shark blaring in the background. He’d quickly gotten tired of the song after the tenth time he’d heard it, but, at the children’s behest, the song had stayed on the speakers for a majority of the party. Even if it drove everyone person over the age of ten closer to the brink of insanity.
“Jeongguk!” Seokjin’s glaring at him now, seemly forgiving Taehyung’s efforts at cooking. “Are you on holiday over there?” Jeongguk can’t even get a word out of his mouth before he continues. “No? Well then get your butt here, we’ve got hungry children to feed and I won’t hesitate to offer you as the first course.”
Jeongguk moves like lightning across the lawn, reluctantly taking the spatula Seokjin shoves in his hand. The burgers are burnt but still salvageable so he gets to work before they become truly inedible and Seokjin makes true of his words.
Meanwhile, Seokjin grabs Taehyung by his collar and drags him inside, muttering under his breath. Taehyung’s bewildered face draws a chuckle out of his chest. But then they’re gone and Jeongguk is alone, manning the grill under the pleasant gaze of the late afternoon sun. He loses himself for a moment, blocking out all sounds as he flips patty after patty and then dumps them on the whole wheat buns Namjoon insisted on.
The sound of the doors sliding open once more briefly catches his attention, his eyes flickering towards the figure emerging. He suspects its Seokjin coming to berate him once more and then his eyes fall on you and Jeongguk nearly falls face first into the grill.
There’s a sea of children desperately clutching to the hem of your yellow sundress. As you step out you drag them into the garden, carefully trying not to step on their little feet. Your features look worn, yet there’s still a soft smile gracing your face and the sunlight that lingers in your eyes lights up your whole face. But his eyes aren’t drawn to that, the thing that makes his heart flip in his chest is the baby in your arms.
“Alright guys, you can play here for a bit, right?” He can hear the strain in your lilted voice but your tone is still cheery. It hurts to look away from you but if he doesn’t he’ll char the burgers. Yet, from his peripheral vision, he can tell the kids are reluctant to let you go – especially Soomi, Jimin’s oldest.
“Unni, you’ll play too?” She grasped the concept of speech faster than the rest of the kids. She’d also learned how to manipulate people’s emotions pretty fast too thanks to her good old dad and it’s evident she’s whining more than she needs to. He can hear the pout in her voice. She’s exactly like Jimin in the best and worst way.
“Hmm,” You shuffle away, gently shaking their grubby hands off your dress. “I need to get Yeseul-ie to sleep first, is that okay?”
Soomi isn’t happy, but she can’t protest against that so she nods her head then flits off with the other kids. He’s already envisioning the grass and dirt stains but then you slide up beside him, Yeseul drifting away in your arms, and shove your elbow into his rib cage.
“Aw! What the f-”
“Language,” You berate, lightly bouncing Yeseul in your arms.
He wants to snap back but he can’t. Instead, his gaze involuntarily softens and his heart slightly melts. You’ve got baby drool stains down the front of your dress and Yeseul incredibly small head is resting against your chest. He’d never realised just how much Yeseul resembled Namjoon but he can see it now, the sunshine basking upon her small features. Her eyes are exactly like his and even with her falling half asleep, it’s evident that her mouth and nose are exact copies of Namjoon’s too. But there’s something about how serene she looks in your arms, the dark tufts of hair on her head shifting with the cool breeze and the small little sighs she makes as she shifts deeper into sleep, make his heart ache with emotions he didn’t know existed until this moment.
He glances up, having abandoned cooking because his brain can’t focus on anything else but this right now, to find you gazing at Yeseul too. There’s clear adoration in your eyes and when you sway your dress flits around your figure. The sight makes him pause, eyes flickering between the two of you; paired with the distinct smell of baby floating in his nose, the ecstatic screams of children in the background and the child in your hands, his brain goes blank. And then, suddenly, it clicks.
“She’s adorable, isn’t she,” You say, cutting off the rush of images playing in his head. Because as soon as the word clicks in his head he sees everything – the little hands, the first steps, the gurgles, and small smiles, the way your tummy would swell from the bump. It’s maddening. He’d never truly thought that far – well of course he had, children would come one day, but this was an overwhelming crushing rush of emotion that was blossoming in his chest and threatening to suffocate his heart. 
“Huh – what? Yeah, she’s cute. Looks a lot like Namjoon too.” He briefly wonders who his kids would take after. He hopes it’s you – your face is probably his favourite thing in the world to look at. 
“Literally a carbon copy.” Yeseul’s sighing in your arms and Jeongguk is blatantly not looking at you anymore. “Guess I better take her back inside. Don’t burn the food, Seokjin will have your head on a stake.”
“Yeah, yeah I know, fully aware of the threats, baby.” He doesn’t want you to leave, or to take Yeseul away, but he doesn’t know how to say that without exposing the new feelings that are currently wreaking havoc in his mind. 
“Hmm, okay. If the kids are still out when you’re done, bring them in.”
He hums and when you turn away his eyes trail after your retreating figure. He can’t take his eyes off you for the rest of the evening either, even when Soomi digs her fingers into Yeseul’s cake and playfully wipes vanilla cream on your face (retribution for not playing with her earlier). You grin despite the mess and he can see it already, what type of mother you’d be. It doesn’t help that literally everyone keeps shoving a child into your arms. Seokjin’s wife, Seoyeon practically dumps ten-month-old Chansook in your arms while she runs after the twins. The kids cause chaos but he’s suddenly not bothered by it anymore, not when you have that faint smile on your face (there’s a smidge of cream on your cheek) and a content sleepy baby in your arms.
For a split second, he wishes that that baby belonged to the both of you.
Jeongguk never realised there were so many small families roaming Seoul. He was fully aware that his best friends didn’t know what the term ‘pulling out’ meant which is why they had so many damn kids, but he’s surprised to find that more and more couples were having kids. Case in point, the quaint little cafe he was currently sitting in. He’d chosen a table relatively close to the entrance so he wouldn’t miss you but by doing that, he's also surrounded himself by parents and their kids looking for a little relief from the warm sun outside. Across from him sat a young mother who had a little baby bouncing in her arms. Jeongguk couldn’t discern the child’s face but it looked soft and squishy. Yeseul immediately came to his mind, dragging back the memory of you holding her that he had successfully repressed for one whole month. It was making his heart do funny swoops, so he grabbed his iced Americano, stuffing the straw in his mouth and tried his best to ignore her cooing.
“Is that for me?” Your voice clouds over the thoughts consuming his head. When he glances up, you’re sliding into the seat before him, conveniently blocking the other woman from his view.
“Of course it’s not, go buy your own coffee.”
You scoff, drawing the cup to your lips. “Cute. Thanks for buying this though, really needed it today.”
“Seungmin’s being a dick again isn’t he?” Jeongguk replies, eyes taking in the cotton pink dress that loosely caresses your frame. “When did you change?” He remembers you leaving this morning, black slacks and white blouse - a stark contrast to the burst of pink sitting before him.
“When is Seungmin not being a dick?” Your fingers drum against the cup. “I think it’s because I took a half day off. The thought of me relaxing physically hurts him,” You pause once more, eyes narrowed at the table below you before your brain registers what Jeongguk asked. “The dress? Carried it to work. Yoona insisted on half of us wearing pink and the other half blue. Do I look bad?”
There’s a small smile on his face when he shakes his head. “You look amazing. Leave Seungmin, his heart is bitter for no reason.”
“I don’t know. I feel kind of bad. There’s a lot going on in the office right now and a few extra hands would help everyone.”
“You feel bad for taking time off so you can go for a baby shower? Which is for your childhood friend?” Incredulity clouds his eyes. “What did Seungmin say to you?”
“Nothing,” You murmur, eyes downcast. Your fingertips are now drumming against the table. as you slowly lose yourself in your head. His warm hand that is now wrapped around your own, stops the drumming and pulls you right back to reality.
“Hey,” Jeongguk is closer than before, the side of the table pressing against his ribs. His thumb grazes against the back of your palm, eliciting a river of calm through your body. You keep your gaze trained on his, feeling awfully seen by his wide doe eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with taking this day off. It’s important to you isn’t it?” You nod because it is. Yoona was your longest friend and this was her first pregnancy, you wanted to be a part of this milestone. “So, you have every right to go,” He continues. “Seungmin is just a bitter old fuck who wants to work you to death. Forget about him. Alright?”
The urge to kiss him rushes through your chest, but Jeongguk leans forward before you can even think about doing so. It’s a chaste peck but he still leaves a warm imprint of coffee and sugar on your lips. Part of you wants to pull him closer, deepening the kiss, leave his lips tinged red. But you’re in public so you shove the thought away for later. Maybe for tonight.
But you’re still smiling when he leans away, cheeks hot. How he managed to make you feel like a loopy lovesick teenage was lost on you.
“Have you bought a present?” He asks, still holding onto your hand.
“Nope. Was gonna buy it now actually. There’s a store for babies around here.”
“Cool. Wanna go? We might get stuck in traffic on the way there.”
“Yeah. I think it’s a ten-minute walk.” 
Jeongguk helps you up, slipping his fingers between yours. His eyes catch a glimpse of the woman who was sitting behind you. Her child is deep asleep within her arms but she’s smiling softly at the two of you, gaze focused on your intertwined hands.
He can’t stop thinking about it during the short walk to the store. Inside, his mind slightly deteriorates because there are baby things everywhere. Its piles and piles of miniature items of clothing in every pastel colour available. There are little shirts that say silly phrases like ‘momma’s boy’ and ‘daddy’s girl’ in the front section that catches his eyes but before he can suggest you anything, you make a beeline for the onesie section, leaving him stranded and overwhelmed in the centre of the store. 
“Excuse me, sir. Do you need any assistance?” The clerk who’s staring at him has a trained welcoming face but her surprise is apparent in her eyes. “Shopping for your wife?”
“Uh, no. My girlfriend-”
“Oh, your girlfriend! What exactly are you looking for? Is she here?”
“Yeah, we walked in but I just lost her. We’re looking for something for a new born? Do you can carry clothes in that size?”
“We do, follow me. We’ll find her along the way, I'm sure. Pregnant women can be fast on their feet sometimes!”
It takes him a moment for him to piece together her last sentence. “No - uh - we’re not, I am mean, she’s not p-”
“Jeongguk!” You come spinning around the corner, conveniently right before him and the clerk, a white onesie in your hands. “Come here, I found the cutest thing ever.”
The clerk’s eyes are trained on your very not pregnant belly. She looks beyond confused and the only thing Jeongguk can do is blush very hard. His head feels like it’s going to explode.
“Um,” The clerk says, carefully mulling over her words. “Some people tend to show quite late.”
“Show what?” You’re ambling towards them, the bright smile on your face fading as you take in the red tinge on your boyfriend’s ears. “What are we being shown?”
“Sorry, ma’am, I meant-”
“We’re looking for a present!” Jeongguk blurts out, ignoring the look of disdain the clerk gives him and the still confused expression sitting on your face. “For a baby shower. It should be gender neutral. Could you show us something like that?”
The clerk smooths her features, pointedly not looking at Jeongguk. She gestures to the onesie in your hands. “That’s a good choice. It’s soft and fluffy. Perfect for all genders and any new born. May I suggest getting a stuffed toy as well?”
You nod, falling in step with the clerk while Jeongguk tries to calm the heart slamming against his chest. He doesn’t know why he was so nervous, why the thought of someone assuming you were pregnant was making his palm sweat and his mind cloudy. But as he trails after your retreating figures, he’s reminded of Yeseul once more. And how beautiful you looked holding her. It’s getting harder and harder to push the thought of you, holding a child that was both his and yours, in your arms out of his mind.
“How’s this?” You shove a miniature giraffe in his arms. “You think a baby would like a giraffe?”
“Babies don’t know what animals are. I doubt they care too.” He knows he sounds like Yoongi but he really wants to leave this store. Like now.
The displeased frown you give him makes him sigh. “Fine, it’s cute. Any baby would like it.”
“Giraffe it is.”
You’re at the counter, idly chatting with another store clerk when his eyes land on them. They’re small, so very tiny, that his mind can’t comprehend how any human being could have feet that small. Fascination drives his legs towards them. In his hands, they look like a speck of dust. But they’re so soft, impossibly so, and he can already see the tiny feet that would go inside them. Those small ten little toes and those short stubby chubby legs that all babies have. And those squishy cheeks and gummy smiles.
 His heart is doing weird things in his chest and he’s not sure how he feels about it. 
“That’s cute.”
Jeongguk twists around to find you clutching a white gift bag, you’re eyes locked on him and curiosity sitting on your face. His heart leaps in his chest and he holds onto the booties like they’re his only lifeline.
“Yeah,” His ears are burning red and he knows it. “They are cute. Should we get them?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Sure, why not. Peach is pretty.”
He’s tight-lipped when you return to the counter. When you move to pay for the booties, Jeongguk gently pushes you aside and offers his card, a blank expression on his face but his eyes are oddly wistful. You choose not to comment, silently lacing your fingers together as you amble back to the street. You make a point to thank the clerk that assisted you on your way out, she’s staring at Jeongguk in a manner that makes you almost suspicious. But you brush it aside - it’s not like he’ll be visiting a shop like this anytime soon.
“Do you want to pass by a store and get her a card?” He says softly. The walk back to the car had been serene. Jeongguk had stayed silent, gently swinging your intertwined hands between the two of you as you ambled through the bustling city streets.  The contemplative look in his eyes was a clear indicator that something was bothering him. You want to probe, figure out the problem on his mind so that you can smooth away the furrow in his eyebrows. But you know how Jeongguk is. He’ll say eventually, and it’s better to let him say it rather than forcing it out of him. 
You shake your head, pulling the seat belt over your chest. “Nope. Got her one yesterday. You know the location, right?”
The car hums beneath you as he pulls out from the parking space. “Yeah, I’m good.” His wrist is draped over the steering wheel, the silver chain bracelet you gave him for your three year anniversary tapping against it. The date engraved on the silver plate at the centre of the chains stares back at you. It’s the date you first met and just the thought of it brings a smile to your face. His face is set, he’s still lost in his thoughts, but you lean over the gear stick and press a soft kiss against his cheek.
“What was that for?” There’s a discernible lift in his tone and the smile that greets you makes your heart feel too big for your chest.
He huffs. “I would kiss you back but I would like to get to our destination alive.”
“You could pull over.”
“Tempting,” He muses but his foot doesn’t ease on the gas. “Unfortunately if we do that I might not let you go to the baby shower after all.”
“Well then, I’ll cash in on that kissing offer later. Maybe tonight.”
“Whatever you want m’lady.”
The tense atmosphere that was hanging over him lifts after that, and you both fall into a steady conversation. It’s been a while since you just talked, and with the driver being nearly two hours, there’s ample opportunity for Jeongguk to tell you about all the drama wreaking havoc over his department. But, for some reason, the drive feels shorter than it actually is. When you pull up to the botanical gardens Yoona booked for her baby shower, you’re almost reluctant to get out the car.
“You have arrived at your destination,” He says in a clipped, GPS navigator voice. The engine cuts and Jeongguk twists around to the backseat to retrieve your presents. He hands them to you gently, giving you a small peck on your lips as he does so. “Looks like you can’t cash in on that offer anymore.”
“You’re stupid, never kiss me again.” But you don’t get out of the car. The stupid grin on his face keeps you planted to your seat.
“Call me when you’re done,” He states, oblivious to your hesitation. “But an hour before, so I pick you on time.”
“Don’t stress, I’ll just call an Uber. Sorry for bothering you on your day off.”
“It’s no biggie. I don’t mind being your personal chauffeur, what else is a boyfriend good for.” Jeongguk’s eyes are staring at the spectacle behind you. Yoona went all out for her first baby shower but she’s always been overly extravagant so you’re not surprised. He clearly is though. “That’s quite a baby shower.” You’re about to reply but then his eyes narrow in a manner that makes you alarmed. “Everyone…. Is everyone there pregnant?”
You turn, eyes landing on Miyeon and Gyeong who were starting to show, their bellies pushing against the loose fabric of their dress. Although they don’t compare to Yoona’s stomach. She has a bright smile on her face and the evident pregnancy glow about her. The music playing mingles with the laughter and endless chatter coming from your friends. The sound flows like a stream to your ears, propelling your hand to unlock the door.
“Yeah. Miyeon and Gyeong are in the first trimester. Or they just finished, I’m not sure. Kind of cool how they got pregnant at the same time though.”
“Yeah,” He mumbles.
You reach over, the hand not clutching onto your gifts squishing his cheeks. “See you later, baby. Drive safe okay.”
“Yeah, see you. Love you.”
Jeongguk watches you walk towards your friends, acutely aware of the fact that you looking like the only one without a child on your hip or in your womb. On the drive back, he kept mulling it over. You’d never said you wanted kids, like outright. Of course, you’d talked about starting a family, potential names, and all the stuff infatuated couples muse over. But you’d never suggested that you wanted a family. You both had boxes of condoms stored in the house and they were put to use more often than not. But you were growing old and kids had to come at some point. Right? Right.
At least that’s what he tells himself.
The click at the door tells him you’re home.
Jeongguk has a blanket draped over his legs, a bowl of grapes tucked against his thigh and his laptop perched on his lap. He wants to get up and hug you but the spot he’d been cemented to for hours was far more comfortable than the prospect of standing up. But he pauses his current episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and watches you shuffle into the living room. Your lipstick smudged and your eyes are kind of red. You keys are tossed onto the coffee table as you approach, sinking into the couch beside him.
“Are you drunk?” He asks. He doesn’t expect the reproachful look you give him.
“Who serves alcohol at a baby shower? And hello to you too.”
“No - I didn’t mean it like that. Your eyes are really red and your face looks blotchy, babe.”
“Blotchy?” You laugh. “Thanks for the compliment babe. I look like this because I was crying.”
He’s upright and holding you in an instant. “What? Why? What happened? Are you okay? Babe look at me.”
His thumb caresses your cheek and the wide fearful look of concern in his eyes makes you feel warm. 
“No, not like that,” You smile but you can tell Jeongguk isn’t buying it.”Just – just Yoona. We talked a lot today and she reminded me of all the silly promises we made to each other when we were kids. They were good tears, I swear.”
“Oh.” He leans back but his fingers don’t leave your skin. “But you’re okay.”
“Very fine. Great actually. The baby shower was really nice. Still can’t believe my best friend is having a kid.” You get up from the couch, you’re face suddenly feeling very sticky from the copious amounts of makeup on your skin. “I’m gonna go shower and I can’t believe you’re watching season five without me.”
“Sorry, we can rewatch the episodes you missed now if you want.”
You shake your head. “Tomorrow maybe. I’m feeling drained.”
Jeongguk finds you burrowed in the sheets thirty minutes later. Your eyes are closed but the subtle shifting beneath the blankets is a dead give-away that you haven’t fallen asleep yet. While he’s undressing, Jeongguk can’t shake off the events of today. They run through his mind so fast that he feels dizzy. First the lady at the cafe, then the clerk at the store and of course him finding out that practically everyone but you was pregnant at the baby shower. It’s an exaggeration - only like three people were visibly pregnant - but still, it was starting to feel like everyone in the world but you were knocked up.
He slides into bed with a weight on his chest, the concept of you carrying his child sitting in his mind. You’re body slots against his and Jeongguk absentmindedly snakes his hand to your waist, resting his palm against your stomach. He’s staring hard at the dark wall, the words he wants to stay heavy on his tongue.
You beat him to it.
“Are you okay?” You can feel him ruminating behind you.
He’s silent, but you can hear the rush intake of breath and his heartbeat is wild against your back. You stay quiet too, hoping he’ll fill the empty air with his word eventually.
“I,” There’s a pause and you can tell he’s apprehensive to share what he’s feeling. “I have a question.”
“Ask away.”
“Would you have kids with me?”
The question throws you so off guard that it takes you a moment to think of a reply. 
“Yeah, of course – uh – where is this coming from?”
The pad of his thumb trails against your tepid skin, tracing patterns that leave a pit in your stomach. His bare back is pressed against yours and there’s already a small warmth ebbing from your core. You’re suddenly awake and you twist around to face him. His eyes glimmer in the dark. You try to decipher the wistful look in his gaze but the wisps of his hair obscure your eyes from his.
“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Us? I don’t know – I’m not really sure where I’m going with this. I just-”
“You just what?”
The blush spilling on his cheeks tinges his ears. “I don’t know - maybe - I just want to start a family.” 
You blank at the thought, mind reeling from the confession that has just slipped from his lips. He senses the uncertainty that descends upon you and wishes he could take his words back.
“Now?” Your voice sounds small even too you.
“I would like too. But we can wait, or whatever you want. I’m okay with waiting. Completely fine with waiting.” The words rush out of his mouth so fast he trips over them.
“No, it’s not that. I wouldn’t mind starting a family, you’ve just never really said you wanted kids. So I’m surprised – that’s all.” You’d been together nearly five years now and he’d never explicitly stated he wanted kids. You’d just assumed they’d come later, naturally. Jeon Jeongguk asking if he can start a family with you right this instant was not something you’d ever expected.
“Guess I’ve changed my mind on that.” The nervousness from before melts away from his voice and you can hear the smile on his lips. You cuddle further into him, a weird warmth ebbing from your heart. Jeongguk holds you tighter, pressing his mouth against your forehead, a kiss that tugs a grin on your lips.
“When would you like to start trying?” You ask, revelling in his touch.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“And if I’m ready now?” You press a kiss against his collar bone, aware of how his gaze instantly changed. He’s staring at you in a way that makes you want to squirm. The blanket suddenly feels like a furnace.
“Are you sure?”
“Very.” You lean forward, brushes his nose against yours. “But you’re going to have to do all the work. I’m kind of tired.”
Jeongguk smiles so hard that your heart feels like it’s going to combust. “I’m fine with that.” And then he leans in.
It’s a soft kiss, a gentle one where you’re both pliant and willing, moulding and sighing into each other because the day has been tiresome and neither of you have the energy to push back or nip at each other’s lips. You unravel in his arms, exhausted from having to deal with infuriating people and their opinions.  But Jeongguk holds you together, keeping you safe in his arms, his chest plastered against yours. His hands' journey down your waist, landing on your hips were he gently tugs your forward, rocking his hips against yours. When you come up, you’re dizzy, slightly intoxicated from how Jeongguk always managed to make you feel things that you couldn’t put into words with his lips only.
“I love you,” He murmurs against your lips.
“I love you too.”
He rolls onto his back, dragging you onto his lap. Your hips meet instantly because you’re wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and your underwear. You don’t miss the way he twitches beneath you or the way he squeezes your hips when you lean back down for another kiss. When you pull apart, Jeongguk looks at you like you’re the only star in the universe.
You can’t help but slip your fingers through his dishevelled russet locks. He reacts instantly, pushing his head into your palm, little sighs falling from his pink lips with every scrap of your nails against his scalp. His eyes flutter shut, lashes brushing against his rose-tinged cheeks. He’s got bags under his eyes from overexerting himself at work and you wish you could kiss them away but the only thing you really can do is hold him like this. Jeongguk is putty in your hands, his own gripping at your hips like they’re his only lifeline. The way his arching, hips bucking into your own, makes him expose the expanse of his neck. You trail a finger across the veins there and his physically jolts, shifting so he can press his body further against yours. He’s half hard but you don’t roll into it, despite the faint ache building up in your core. Instead, you keep dragging your hands through across his burning skin, watching him slowly fall apart in your hands.
When you press a chaste kiss against the span of his neck, Jeongguk surges forward and moulds your crotch against his own, bucking gently against you. You can feel him hardening beneath the taut fabric of his boxers, cock brushing against your own clothed cunt, searching for some form of release. 
Jeongguk’s body is hot and hard beneath your fingertips and you marvel at every dip and curve of the muscles in his chest and arms. He trails after your touch, mouth red and bruised from all the kisses you’ve given him. His lips kept pulling you in, catching the bottom of your lip between yours and slipping his tongue into your own mouth. It’s hard not to fall in love with him all over again when he’s watching you drag your fingers across his body with complete adoration in his lidded dark eyes. The gaze alone sends a jolt of desire through your core, slick slipping from your wet pussy. You keep kissing him and touching him until there’s blood rushing in your ears and you’re blatantly fucking each over your clothes. His hands roam over your own body too, searing you with each dig of his fingertips into your skin. 
“As much as I love the way you look right now,” He says between pants and stolen kisses. “I kind of want to eat you out.”
You’re flipped onto your back without further ado. Jeongguk’s crowding over you, his hair swaying before his eyes as his knees force your own legs apart, making room for himself. You reach out, brushing back his hair a small smile on your face. He grins back, leaning down to press his lips against your own as his hips roll against your cunt. His boner nudges against your clit, sending fireworks shooting through every nerve in your body. Your legs fall further apart, hips canting upwards to meet his own movements. You’re panting in the dark, small sighs slipping from your lips that Jeongguk devours in harsh kisses. 
He groans against your ear when you wrap your legs around his hip and grind upwards, the way his dick rubs up against your panties has a heat rising in your core. You can feel him twitching and there’s a damp stain on his boxers that matches the wetness on your own underwear.
“Fuck, babe. Stop - let me - let me go down on you.” His thrusts forward, shifting the pillows beneath your head. “Don’t make me come in my pants - please.”
You drop your legs, watching in awe as he moves down your body. Your top is tugged off so fast, the night air caressing your bare skin. Your thighs are wet with slick, sheening in the glow of the moonlight slipping through your curtains. For some reason, the idea of Jeongguk, the love of your life, fucking a baby into you was making you incredibly wet. And judging from the way his dick was straining against his boxers, it was affecting him too.
His eyes were dark as he took you in, your thighs held apart from his large hands. You can feel his fingers embedding themselves there and the thought of the marks you’ll find tomorrow was making you drip. You expected him to dive right in, the anticipation of his tongue on your cunt making you warm all over. But when you glanced down, Jeongguk was staring up at you, a different look in his eyes that you can’t decipher.
Then he moves up again, his lips landing on your neck. 
“Fuck,” You moan, eyes fluttering.
His mouth was doing wonders on your skin, biting and dragging his tongue against the sensitive nerves there with finesse. He hadn’t returned his hips to yours so you were left bucking into the air, your walls clenching around nothing, a desperate need to be filled burning in your core.
He moves slow, savouring the way your whine and whimper with every drag of his tongue against your skin. He’s so hard it hurts but he can’t stop looking at the way your chest shudders as he dips further down the expanse of your skin, journeying towards the place you need him most. 
Then he’s pressing a kiss to your clothed cunt and you swear you see stars. You arch into it, the curve of your stomach dipping when he tugs your underwear off. The first lick has his name falling from your mouth. It’s a kitten lick, carefully flicking against your clit. You try and squirm, attempting to direct his mouth further down but he pins you to the bed. You don’t try to use your hands to shove his head down - he’s not in the mood to follow your orders and you can tell. So you slip your hands into his hair and hope Jeongguk doesn’t make you black out from pleasure.
He opens you up slowly, tongue teasingly toying with your folds until it dips into your cunt. He gathers you onto his tongue, lips coated with your slick as he places another kiss on your cunt. You’re moaning shamelessly now, back curving when Jeongguk swirls his wet tongue around your clit. He eats you out like your life depends on it, fucking you open with his mouth until you’re fisting his hair, your toes curled and your heels digging into the mattress.
It’s maddening, how his swift quick movements have a wave of please steadily rising in your guts. You can’t think, can’t formulate any words, apart from his name that floats from your lips like a saccharine melody. 
His hums against you, a smile on his wet lips. “Such a pretty pussy. And it’s all mine. Want you to come on my tongue, can you do that for me, baby?” You’re about to answer when his tongue slips back inside you and the only thing you can do is whine helplessly. He has your legs hitched over his shoulders now, lifting you up slightly so he can devour you from a better angle. And it’s working because his tongue is deep inside you, but you want him deeper - need him deeper. 
It’s almost as if he can hear your thoughts because two fingers slide into your cunt just as he pulls his mouth away. You clench around them, hard, not missing the soft “fuck” that drifts from Jeongguk’s lips. The sound itself hits your core, sending another wave of pleasure through your system, more slick slipping from your wet cunt and coating his fingers.
He doesn’t neglect your clit when his fingers pound into you. It feels good. The edge is there, and you can see into behind your half-closed eyes, a hot white heat that promises to leave you boneless. But you need more.
“Another, add another finger - fuck! Jeongguk!”
“Anything you want princess.”
The stretch burns but you relish in it, hips racketing off the bed. Jeongguk’s sucking hard on your clit, his fingers pounding into your cunt. It’s good and the heat building in your core feels like it’s going to tip over any moment now. Then his fingers slam into that spot and oh – oh.
You’re coming so hard that you swear your vision vanishes for a second. Jeongguk is still licking your clit, fingers twisting inside you as your seize up, walls tight around his fingers. It's too much, too fucking much but you still can’t say anything, your mouth feeling foreign and heavy in your mouth. Your throat is hoarse, and it only dawns on you, when his pulls his fingers out from your pussy, licks them clean and rises up to give you a kiss, that you realize it was because you were screaming his name.
“God, you’re so perfect.” Another kiss. “So beautiful. Love you, love you so much.” His palm is grazing against your thigh and you shiver, suddenly aware that Jeongguk is still wearing his boxers. They’re damp and his boner is pressed against your thigh, throbbing with need. You want him in your mouth now, want to make him come as hard as he just made you.
“Love you too babe. Let me suck you off.” 
He shakes his head, his hand coming down on your throat. “Not tonight. Want to see you come again.”
You groan, twitching when Jeongguk rubs his clothed cock against your still very sensitive clit. “You’re going to fuck me brainless.”
He grins. “That’s the goal babe.”
Then he’s rising from the bed, moving to your drawers. He returns with a small pink vibrator in his hands, a tame item from the collection of sex toys you’d both curated over the years. But your thighs are still shuddering from the orgasm he just coaxed out of you and you’re not sure if you can take another one just yet.
“Kiss me,” You say and Jeongguk does. It’s hot and heavy, sparking a flame in your core that you were sure had been doused out. You tug on his lip, the groan that emits from his mouth vibrating through your chest which currently feels too small for the love it’s supposed to hold. If Jeongguk wants to see you come again, you’ll give it to him. Because you’re stupidly in love with him and you can tell he’s stupidly in love with you too.
When he grazes the vibrator against your clit, you jolt, already moving to get it off because it’s too much for your fucked out brain to comprehend. But he holds you down gently, easing you into it with tender kisses to your inner thighs that leave you breathless. 
Your orgasm builds up faster than the first one, the heat in your core sparking through your veins. It doesn’t help that Jeongguk tongue is lapping up your slick, coating your folds with your essence while your clit is brutally assaulted by the vibrator. He’s playing with it, pressing it directly on your sensitive bud then moving it around so that the vibrations hit you in different intensities. It’s driving you over the edge again, a wave of desire threatening to rip through you. When he holds it at an angle, the vibrations hitting your core hard, it does.
“Shit - Jeongguk, oh, oh fuck. I’m going to come. Babe, fuck!”
“Do it, princess, come for me.”
And you do, clenching around nothing because he hadn’t dipped his fingers in. You feel so empty despite the euphoria radiating through your body and you hate it. Your legs tremble around Jeongguk and you swear hard when his tongue darts forward, playing with your wet empty hole. It takes a moment for you to gather your breath but when you do you're pulling him up to you and slamming his mouth into yours. He tastes like you and you love that he does. But you would love it even more if he was deep inside you instead. Your last orgasm was great but you wanted to feel full.
“Thought you were meant to be fucking a baby into me,” You murmur, eyes infatuated with the way his lips were bruised and wet. His breath hitches at that and you know you’ve got him because his eyes darken and his boxers come off in a flash.
He’s hard, painfully so and the tip is red, dripping cum down his cock. You wish he’d let you blow him but the only thing on your agenda right now is getting fucked.
“From the back,” You ask.
“Nope, like this. Could you just bend your leg a little?” You do so, slinging your leg over his shoulder so that he has you spread open beneath. His hand grips on the leg still on the bed, holding you in place as his naked body descends upon you. It doesn’t hurt now but you can tell the position will hurt sooner than later. But judging from the harsh swear that leaves his lips when his cock grazes against your cunt, you doubt either of you will last long tonight.
You’ve gone raw before, your bare walls weren’t foreign to him, although most nights he’d slipped a condom on before fucking you. But this was different. Different because Jeongguk intended to put a baby inside you tonight - his baby. He wanted you to bear his children, wanted to make them with you. Your skin was buzzing at the thought, body a livewire that only responded to his touch. And suddenly it made sense to you, why all your friends were having kids. It hadn’t occurred to you before, but seeing a little human that both you and Jeongguk made together, living breathing evidence of your infinite love for one another, was something that you really really wanted. And the look in his eyes tells you he wants it just as much as you do.
When he slides in, your brain stops working. The stretch is familiar and welcomed, making your toes curl with ecstasy. The way he’s holding you give him room to go deeper, slipping in until you can feel him in your gut and his thighs are pressed against your own sticky ones. He’s panting in your ear, muscles tense because your pussy is warm and wet and you swallow him right up with no resistance. He can’t believe it, that you’re all for him and you’re allowing him to do this. His dick is beyond hard and when you flutter around him, a sigh escaping your mouth, he nearly comes right then. But he grits his teeth, swells down the desire that has his stomach caving in and slowly pulls out.
When he slams back into you, you scream.
It’s fast and hard. Jeongguk is fucking you like he wants to stay between your legs forever, make room for himself there, as he did in your heart. The next thrust has you swearing and whining into the heavy sex scented air. Your hands claw against his back, pulling a deep groan from Jeongguk, one that makes you squeeze around his dick. The snap against your pelvis stutters.
“Fuck!” He muffles against your sweaty skin “Baby,” His voice is hoarse and rough against your ear. “You’re going to make me come if you keep doing that.”
“Thought that was the point,” You say, giving another sharp pulse of your walls around him. You can feel him twitching against you and the whine that slips from his throat goes directly to the blazing heat in your gut.
“Not,” He sighs, “Not yet. Want to see you come again for me.”
“Again? Jeongguk-” But then you keening, slamming your hips down hard on his because he’s slipped a hand between your bodies, the pads of his thumb is cruelly circling your clit.
His mouth is against your ear and he doesn’t slow down, hips pistoning against your own as you desperately search for the release that you can taste on your tongue and see behind your eyelids.
“My beautiful baby, look at you. So fucking,” He hits at a spot that has you shuddering down on him and Jeongguk loses his breath for a moment. “So fucking perfect. Perfect for me. Want me to come inside you, fill you up?”
You nod, shaking slightly because it’s all too much and your eyes feel damp. “Please - fuck, please. Want you. Want all of you.”
He moans, his stomach quivering and his hips picking up momentum until he’s pounding you into the mattress. Your leg shouldn’t be able to take this angle yet it does because every nerve in your body is focused on the rapid bursts of pleasure hitting your system. Jeongguk can sense you’re tipping over the edge because he leans back, releasing the hold on your leg so that it falls back to the mattress. Your wrap your legs around his waist, hips canting upwards wildly because you’re almost there. 
Jeongguk wraps his hand around your throat, fingers digging into the side of your neck just as they were digging into the back of your thigh as he held you up. Your brain feels fuzzy, the air from your lungs diminishing but it’s good - so good. You’re whining and gasping into the air, a surprised ah falling from your lips when his cock repeatedly slams into that spot and holy shit -
“Jeongguk!” His name leaves your mouth like a desperate prayer. You come around his dick so hard you see stars, your bones feel like they’re melting and you know you’re crying because your cheeks feel wet. It’s like he unravelled you into pieces and then moulded you right back together. Your heart swells, euphoria and love swimming through your system. 
“There we go baby,” He leans in, hips still brutally pounding into you but they’re erratic now.  “My baby, my princess. God, I love you.” You can tell he’s close, so you hold him, planting a kiss on his lips. His hips stutter widely, a deep groan filling your mouth and he spills himself inside. You can faintly feel it, a hot warmth that coats your walls. He holds himself there, faltering against you as his warmth breath pans your mouth. 
It takes a while for you to pull yourselves apart. Jeongguk seems reluctant to leave your pussy but you gently shove him off. Your vagina feels broken and your knees are mush.
He’s beaming, pressing a steady stream of kisses to your forehead while you ruminate on whether you have the strength to take another shower. Your legs felt incredibly sticky, Jeongguk’s come and your slick staining your thighs.
“Carry me to the bathroom and clean me up?”
“Who said we were done?” His eyebrow is raised and you kind of want to smack him.
“You just screwed my brains out, let me recover.”
He’s pouting but he’s up from the bed, returning quickly with a warm cloth that he swipes across your skin until you feel like you’re somewhat clean.
“How long do you think it will take?” He asks, crawling back into bed. He tugs your body close, slinging his leg over your own and tucking your head into his chest. The palm of his hand settles against your stomach.
You sigh, feeling blissfully content. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to check my ovulating days.”
“When should try again really soon though, shouldn't we?”
“What’s your goal? To get me pregnant by the end of the week?”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” He says, dragging the pad of his thumb against your skin. “Kind of want you pregnant now if I’m being honest. I was thinking about it – when I was fucking you. You’d look really pretty pregnant. So pretty.”
You shove him in the gut, trying to hide the way your cheeks warm and your thighs twitch at the thought despite Jeongguk having screwed you senseless a mere moments ago.
“There’s tomorrow. And the next day. There’s no rush.”
“If you give me twenty minutes I can try again right now,” He offers, the smile in his voice clear in the night. 
“Sleep, you caveman.”
5K notes · View notes
honeymoonjin · a year ago
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𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 yoongi x reader || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 24k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 smut, fluff, angst
𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 it may be misfortune that brings you to min yoongi’s door looking for a place to stay, but luckily holly lodge has a vacancy.
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 explicit sexual content, cursing, unintentional voyeurism, non-explicit mxm (taejin side pairing), protected sex, kinda-sub!yoongi, oral (m receiving), fingering, yoongi lowkey being a pillow princess, smut with a whole lot of feelings, body worship (m receiving), praise (m receiving), this was more vanilla than expected, cowgirl/riding, hand-holding during sex, this isn’t jerk-off material it’s slow burn softness so be warned
many thanks to @jamaisjoons for the gorgeous banner
A distant crunch of gravel is the only warning you get. You look around absentmindedly, down the steep slope of the hilly fields, and see a bus pulling away down the windy path that had brought you here several hours ago.
"Oh, fuck-!" You make it less than a third of the way down, half-stumbling, half-running, before you give up, realising it's no use. "Oh, fuck," you repeat with a sullen sigh, sinking down to the dirt path.
What was meant to be a day-trip to the renowned Boseong Green Tea fields was apparently going to be longer than a day.
The sky was steadily growing darker, and through the vibrant hedgerows of green tea plants that lined the hillside, a fog was starting to collect. Consulting your phone tells you it's later than you thought.
You stand up again, brushing the dust off the back of your jeans, and slowly plod your way back up to the peak of the hill, where a flat area with some benches provides a decent lookout. The several small cafes and restaurants at the base of the fields have no lights on, and a metal grille has been slid down over the windows of the ticket booth. It's deserted.
Your roaming data works up here, although it's a little more patchy than you'd grown used to around the rest of the country, and you use the last of your dying battery to google some places to stay. With any luck, you'd be able to phone in to a hostel or motel and book in a place. You just hoped the walk wasn't too far in the dark. But as the sun slips lower and lower in the sky, and you call a seventeenth number, you begin to lose hope.
"Even just for one night?" you barter nervously, biting on your nail as the older lady on the other end sighs.
"I'm sorry, dear, we're all booked out. You should've called in advance. Spring is a busy time of year."
You pinch the bridge of your nose. "I wasn't even meant to stay. I missed the bus back."
"Are you at the Boseong-gun bus terminal? I'm sure there are other busses coming in no time."
"I'm still at the tea fields," you admit, "it was a bus from out of town. Please, I'll walk down to the main street myself, I just don't want to stay outside all ni-"
"Wait- At the plantation? Have you tried Holly Lodge yet?"
You frown. "No. I didn't see that name come up when I searched online for accommodation."
A laugh rings out, though you sense it's not directed at you. "No, dear, Min wouldn't have put it online. But it's far closer to the fields, and I would venture a guess that it's the one place in Boseong that won't have been flooded with guests."
You feel yourself inflate with hope. "Do you have the phone number? Thank you so much!"
"I don't think the owner even has a phone. If he does, I certainly don't know the number. But- Where on the plantation are you right now? Can you get to the top?"
"I'm at the top," you answer reflexively, "but are you sure there's room there? I'd hate to show up unannounced."
The lady on the phone laughs again, slightly condescending. You get the vibe she's not the biggest fan of 'Min'. "He won't have any customers. It's just a small bed-and-breakfast, but he's so far away from the town centre, and he makes no effort to advertise. It's a wonder he's still open, to be quite frank. Anyways, if you're at the top, turn around away from the entrance."
You bite your lip uncertainly but do as she says. You haven’t looked back this way, but you see now that there’s a winding path down the other side, a skinny trail of flattened grass leading into the distance. “Do I go down the other side of the hill?”
“Away from the main fields, yes,” the motel owner replies in a slightly impatient voice. You imagine she can’t appreciate the late-night call for such a busy time of year. “Down at the bottom, there’s a patch of trees.”
Feeling your toes beginning to go numb in your shoes from the cool, damp fog rising, you begin to pick your way down. “I see them.”
“Just beyond them is Holly Lodge. It’s not far. Why he chose to open a bed-and-breakfast behind Boseong Fields is beyond me. I imagine he couldn’t afford anywhere else. I’m sorry dear, the place is probably poor quality, but I’m sure it’ll do for a night.”
Stumbling down the hill in the dark, picking up momentum as you go, you squint into the small thicket of trees in the valley. Perhaps it’s desperation making you see things, but you swear there’s the slightest glow coming from between them. “Thank you so much for your help!”
“It’s fine,” the older lady assures you, “and if you happen to stay longer, I’d be more than happy to reserve you a room for tomorrow night so that you don’t have to stay at that place any longer than necessary.”
You scrunch up your eyebrows. How bad was this place? “I appreciate the offer, but is it okay if I call you back in the morning? I might be able to get tomorrow’s bus back.”
“Alrighty, dear. Best of luck to you. Bye now.”
You pull your phone back and swear lowly when you see your battery life on its last legs. You have a charger in your backpack (along with some water and snacks, something you’re relieved you packed last-minute before coming) but it’s no use unless the Holly Lodge has a place to plug it in, and at this point, as you make it to the foot of the hill and start winding your way through the trees, you’re not expecting anything.
What you do know is that you were right; the light you saw peeking through the trees is growing steadily closer, warm and flickering. It’s unsteady underfoot, but you doggedly push ahead, the glow being the only thing lighting up the landscape. The sky is a deep black, slightly murky with cloud, and you very nearly crash into a few trunks on your way, but after a little over ten minutes, you break into a grassy clearing and sigh in relief.
In front of you lies a modest house, barely more than a cottage, attached to civilisation by a gravel road that pulls away at a 90-degree angle from where you came from, running adjacent to the side of the hill. At its foot, a little wooden sign with white paint reads, ‘HOLLY LODGE, visitors welcome.’ It seems that you’ve entered through the backyard - if that’s what you could even call it. The side of the house is covered in an expansive trellis, lined with vibrant pink azaleas. They’re lit up from below by a tiny campfire, casting a tall shadow on them of a person sitting-
Your eyes fly wide and a stranged sound comes out of your throat. There’s a man crouched over the fire, frozen, a wooden skewer still hovering over the flames that lick at it. He’s wrapped a tartan blanket around himself, bunched up under his chin, and the light of the flames cast an orange glow over his clear skin and brown hair, which hangs low over his brow in soft curls.
You blink. He doesn’t move. “Your meat’s burning,” you point out.
That shocks him back into action, and he whips it back out of the fire, but the damage is done. The entire underside of what looks like lamb is completely charred. “Fuck,” he growls bitterly, “thanks a lot.”
Your eyebrows lift in surprise. Perhaps the lady on the phone was right, and this place really wasn’t ideal. “Excuse me, I just… Do you have any rooms available?”
His mouth dangles open, lips just plump enough for it to be a pout, and you wait as his catlike eyes look over you, glancing back through the trees where you came. “ want to stay?” he asks finally, the sour edge gone from his voice.
You point at the sign out front awkwardly. “This is a bed-and-breakfast, right?”
He stares for a few moments more, then jumps up off the ground suddenly, letting go of the blanket. It tumbles to the grass around him, revealing a matching set of white-and-grey striped pyjamas. He bounds over to you, hopping barefoot in the grass, and comes to a stop in front of you, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why didn’t you go to any of the other motels? You- you came from the fields instead of from the road.”
You bite your lip nervously. If he turns you away, you’re fucked. The moon is high in the sky, a waxy blot lighting up a patch of clouds, and you know that sky will be your roof tonight if he doesn’t let you in. “Yeah, I missed my bus back home and since it’s spring, there’s no space. Do you have a room?”
He twitches his nose and lifts a hand up, fiddling with his ear. “The power went out,” he admits, “so you can’t have a hot shower or anything.”
Your chest inflates with hope. “That’s okay,” you reassure quickly, waving your hands at him, “I just want a bed for the night, I’ll pay anything.”
He scrunches up his face at this. “I can’t charge you; it’s past midnight. You’re barely getting a proper night, and like I said, the facilities aren’t really working. Come on, let me show you to your room.”
He leaves the tiny bonfire burning away on its bed of rocks, and grabs a flashlight that was lying on the grass beside his blanket, before scurrying around to the front of the house, gesturing with a blanket-covered paw for you to follow.
You do with a quirk of your lips. This man, who couldn’t be older than his mid-twenties, was stomping about like he was grumpy, yet he looked sweeter than anyone you had met so far. Was this really the same Min that the lady had spoken so lowly of on the phone?
You can’t see much detail inside when the two of you enter. He guides the torch straight down a hallway, not bothering to show you the bathroom or kitchen or anything except a small bedroom with a single bed and a bedside table.
“Here it is,” he states awkwardly, pressing his lips flat into a half-smile. “It’s not much, I’m sorry. If you get into pyjamas, I could handwash your clothes for you.”
Your eyebrows raise. “Oh, wow, you don’t have to do that! Besides, I don’t have any other clothes with me. I’ll just have to sleep in this.”
His eyes go round with concern. “That won’t be very comfortable.” He scratches behind his ear. “You could, uh, I mean, I could give you some comfier clothes to wear?” You can’t bring yourself to say anything, only staring at him dumbfounded. The man loses his composure and laughs awkwardly, shaking his head and staring at the floor. “Sorry, that’s crossing the line, I shouldn’t-”
“I would really appreciate that,” you cut in, “sorry, I just… That’s really kind of you. Thank you.”
A shy smile tugs at his lips, and if the torch was facing him more, perhaps you could recognise his cheeks pinkening slightly. “Oh, I-” he falters and laughs breathily again, gathering himself. “No, I’m not- I-” he tamps down his grin by biting down on his bottom lip, fixing you with a flustered look of gratitude. “I’ll go grab something now. Just wait here. You can have the torch.”
He disappears into shadows, then returns immediately, passing over the blanket. “And this. Just a minute.”
And then Min is gone again. You listen in bemusement at the pitter-patter of his bare feet on the wooden floorboards, fading into nothingness, a few thuds of drawers opening and closing, and then him returning with a bundle of clothes. You school your expression when he gently reaches out to hand over the clothes.
“It’s just a t-shirt and some basketball shorts,” he apologises, “but they’re clean and they’re comfy. I assume you’ll be needing the torch when you get changed? I can shut the door behind you.”
You give him your most grateful smile. “If it’s not too much bother. Thank you so much.” Once he makes it to the door, he begins to swing it shut, but a thought strikes you. “Wait!” He pauses, head sticking out in the crack, the wooden door pushing his cheeks out. You force yourself not to smile at the cute image he provides, but instead clear your throat. “Oh, uh, what’s your name? Min, right?”
His eyebrows lift below his curls in surprise. “How did you know that?”
“Oh, I called a lady on the phone when I was looking for a place to stay; the Boseong’s Best Motel? She said you were in the area.”
His gaze lowers to the floor, and his voice flattens. “Mrs. Na? What else did she say?”
You sense it’s a sore topic. “Just that… that you might have a free room.”
He smiles sadly, like he knows that’s not all, but nods. “Well, Min is my surname.” His face disappears further into the shadows. “My name’s Yoongi.”
You sleep well that night.
Better than you have in years, in fact, and with heavy curtains drawn across the one window in the room, the break of dawn doesn’t rouse you like it normally would. Instead, you drift in and out of consciousness all morning, happy to kick off the blankets as it warms up and stretch out.
It’s not until you hear a loud clatter that you’re snapped out of it, and you jump up, eyes flying open and wandering around the room.
The pyjama-clad man from last night, Yoongi, is hunched over the bedside table just beside you, eyes and mouth wide open as he watches you wake up and stretch. You raise your arms high over your head and let out a groan as your muscles ease.
“Goo’morning,” you murmur, hands dropping by your sides again. It’s not until he stays silent, swallowing hard, that you look down at yourself and swear, grasping at the sheets.
The basketball shorts he gave you were so old that the elastic was spent, and they wouldn’t stay on, so you had opted for the simple option of your underwear from earlier, and the baggy off-white t-shirt he gave you. However, that meant that your legs were fully exposed, and two points peaked the fabric on your chest.
“S-sorry,” he stutters, and ducks his head to pick up the cutlery he dropped on the floor. You clutch at the heavy cotton sheets, tucking them under your chin, and wait as he delicately places the cutlery on a fabric napkin that sits beside a plate of steaming eggs on toast, sunny side up, and a small mug of what smells like black tea. “I can get you a new set of cutlery if you want.”
“It’s okay.” You try and send him a grateful smile, but his gaze is fixed on the floor, cheeks bright red.
“I didn’t mean to look,” he confesses in a voice so hushed you almost miss it.
“It’s okay,” you repeat. “Thank you for bringing me breakfast.”
He shrugs. “It’s nothing much. I, uh, I’ll be outside if you need me.” When he leaves, it’s like he’s in a rush, shuffling his feet on the floorboards, knocking his leg on the foot of the bed and his shoulder on the doorjamb in his haste to leave.
After he stumbles out, your stomach growls, and you take that as a sign to enjoy the breakfast he’s so generously prepared you. After quickly opening the curtains and the window, you return to your bed. The eggs are perfectly salted, with a sprinkle of paprika, and you place the plate on your lap, munching away slowly as you look out the window.
The sun’s streaming in, and with the added light you can make out the details on the plate as you clear it. The edges aren’t perfectly round, and by the way the egg yolk pools in one corner, it’s not level either. On the brim, faded teal lettering spells out H O L L Y  L O G D E, with a little cartoon drawing of what looked like a dog’s face. You finish your final mouthful and replace the place with the cup of tea, noting the uneven thickness of the handle and the same careful painting on the side. Did he make these himself? With the state of the property, and it’s apparent lack of success, you can’t imagine he had the means for official branding.
You blow onto the surface of the liquid gently, and take a tentative sip. It’s the perfect temperature to warm you up inside, and while you’re not usually a fan of tea, this one seems to have a unique taste; not quite black tea, not quite green tea, with a sweet tang to it. It’s delicious, and it’s gone quicker than you would’ve liked.
When you emerge into the back garden, still wearing his shirt, but with your jeans back on, you spot him squatting over a brown planter box against the exterior wall. The trellis of climbing azaleas provides a gorgeous backdrop; the vibrant shades of pink petal and green leaf bask in the sun’s warm rays.
He hasn’t noticed you yet, and you take the time to quietly hover just behind the corner, out of sight. With golden heat on your face, lush grass under your feet and birds singing in the trees, you could almost convince yourself you’re in paradise. Min Yoongi, the one person in town who would give you a place to stay, certainly fits within that ideal. You had assumed he’d be in a baggy t-shirt and shorts, if the clothes he gave you were anything to go by, but you’re pleasantly surprised to see him in a thin pastel purple sweater, poking out from a worn pair of overalls.
In the silence of the morning, you can hear what sounds like muttering, and you strain to listen in to his pouty voice as he squats over the planter box, brown curls ruffling slightly in the breeze.
“...probably thinks you’re rude,” you think you hear him say, “or a pervert. The one customer since opening and you scare her away. Silly Min Yoongi. What if she shuts us do-”
You duck back and cough noisily, before rounding the corner, pretending like you weren’t just eavesdropping. “Good morning,” you say to him again brightly, and the young man does a double-take at your attire. You probably should’ve put on a bra underneath the shirt.
“Good morning,” he responds reflexively, “are you, uh, heading off now? Did you enjoy breakfast?” His voice trails off cutely at the end, like he’s unsure he should even ask.
“It was great, you’re so generous. I’m curious, though, what’s the brand of that tea? It’s really good.”
Yoongi’s eyes go wide, his pink lips rounding into a surprised ‘o’. He swallows, and stands up, brushing some stray soil off on the front of his overalls. “You liked the tea?”
You nod hesitatingly. “Uh- yeah. I couldn’t recognise the flavour, though. Is it green tea?”
“Oolong,” he clarifies, mouth quirking in a disbelieving smile. “You really liked it?” You nod again, and his eyes sparkle, a shy smile lifting to reveal his gums. “I made it myself,” he reveals, “here! I’ll show you my tea plants!” The sudden burst of joy dissolves away, and he deflates. “Oh, but you probably need to head off, huh?”
A strange yearning stirs inside you. The feeling that you’d do anything to keep that smile on his face a little longer. “There are actually no busses on a Sunday, so I’m stuck here for another night anyway.” You immediately regret your word choice. He flinches when you say ‘stuck here’ and loses your gaze, frowning at the grass.
Before you can revoke your statement, he’s shrugging gloomily. “I, uh, I know this place isn’t as well run as the others. I’m really sorry, you know, about the electricity. I used the hot coals from the fire last night to make your breakfast, I hope it was warm enough. Like I said yesterday, it’s not fair to charge you for subpar service, so...”
“No, no! That’s not what I meant at all, honestly! It was just a bad choice of words.” He’s not convinced, kicking his foot against the ground and tugging at his earlobe uncertainly. “The whole missing-the-bus thing was a real nightmare, and I’m just glad I found you and Holly Lodge, because it’s been the only thing keeping me from going nuts.”
Your heart breaks at his sullen face, the way his cheeks puff up slightly when he presses his lips together in a pout. “Really, Yoongi. I’m so grateful to you for even letting me stay here, let alone being as kind as you are. I’m happy to pay for the room, fuck, I’ll pay double. And if you don’t mind, I’d really appreciate being able to stay another night.”
His gaze searches yours, and eventually a soft smile pulls across his lips. “Thank you…” His eyes fly wide open. “I’m so sorry, I never got your name! Oh wow, that’s poor of me, I’m sorry, I-”
“Yoongi,” you interrupt gently. “It’s fine. My name’s Y/n. It’s my fault, I should’ve introduced myself, but I was pretty tired.”
He scratches behind his ear again. “Well, then. I think it makes us about even. Truce?”
You laugh softly. “Truce. And if you’re not too busy, I think I’d like to check out that tea plant of yours.”
He smothers a proud grin, opting for a simple nod, before he’s making his way around the back of the house, where there’s a bit of humid shade. “My grandma was the best at making tea,” he explains, “she knew all about harvesting times and growing conditions, and her secret trick was to add strawberries.”
“So that was that sweet aftertaste.”
He nods eagerly. “Exactly.” The soil here is damp under your bare feet, slightly springy, but Yoongi pays it no mind, waving a hand towards a large hedge that lines the back of his garden. You pause in your tracks. The edges of the leaves are browning, curling up in a way you’re certain isn’t healthy. “This is it?” You hope your voice doesn’t sound disappointed, but you are a little confused.
He pouts. “I know. It’s not very impressive, is it?” He gnaws at his bottom lip for a few moments, running his hand over the dry leaves. “I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. It’s never been like this before, but after my… Now that I’m here by myself, it’s just been getting worse and worse.”
You furrow your eyebrows. “But the tea I had this morning-”
“-was the last cup of my grandma’s final batch, the one we made together. None of the tea I’ve tried to make is any good. I try cutting off the dead parts, but it still tastes funny.”
All this talk of ‘last’ and ‘final’ makes you worry about the wellbeing of his grandmother, but you don’t dare ask, having upset him enough this morning already. “It just looks like it’s not getting enough nutrients. You might need to buy something to improve the soil quality.”
He blinks at you. “You know how to grow tea?”
“No idea,” you admit, “but I do know how to grow a lot of other plants, and I’m sure I could learn.” An idea strikes you, and you flash him a smile. “How about this? In lieu of paying you for the room tonight, I can help you get the tea back to health again. With how good that cup was, it’s practically a public service.”
A tentative smile plays at his lips, but he’s still confused. “What do you mean? Surely you can’t save it by tomorrow?”
Now it’s your turn to fidget nervously, clutching your hands together. “I, uh, I don’t really have anything waiting for me back home. I was planning on staying in Busan or Seoul for a while, but I think maybe I’d… maybe I’d rather stay here. Only if you don’t mind! And of course, I’ll pay for the room-”
A hopeful grin breaks out across his face, unabashed. “No charge! If you really think you could bring back the tea plants, that more than covers the room fee.” At your stupefied look, he clarifies, “this was my grandma’s pride and joy. It really means a lot to me. More than money. Thank you, Y/n.”
You discover many things about Min Yoongi on that first day.
That he has a dog, for instance, which he needs to pick up from the vet later that morning.
You also discover that Min Yoongi does not own a car.
“How much longer?” you venture, hoping your tone isn’t too whiny.
“Not long.”
You pout at his back, watching the dogged way he walks the uneven gravel path, slowly descending as it twists through the trees, around the back of the fields and towards the Main Street. “You said that last time.”
He turns his head back quickly, a cheeky grin on his face, and you try to ignore the way your chest leaps at it. “You were the one that wanted to come.”
“I wanna check out the town. If you want to save that tea plant, you’re gonna need some decent fertilizer. Is there a garden center here?”
With his legs slightly bent in those baggy overalls, and his arms swinging by his side with every step, he radiates enthusiasm, but your question causes him to pause. “I...assume so?”
You skip a little to catch up to him. “I mean, we could always just ask one of the other residents. Someone’s bound to know.”
His smile falters. “We could.”
You bite your lip, regretting the weird change in tone. In an attempt to bring his cheery disposition back, you bump his shoulder lightly with his. “So, you have a dog, huh? Your place isn’t exactly fenced. She must be well trained.”
“He,” Yoongi hastily corrects, though the corners of his mouth lift. “Holly’s an old boy, he’s not the type to wander away. He doesn’t even need a leash to take him back home, he’ll just walk along beside me.”
“What’s he at the vet for? If you don’t mind me asking.”
The gravel merges with smooth paver stones as you emerge onto the Main Street. You spot a sign with a cat and a dog silhouette. Yoongi straightens up and begins rushing along faster. “Check-up,” he explains absentmindedly. “He was my grandma’s dog, so you can imagine he’s got some years on him. Prevention is the best medicine and all that.”
The door to the veterinarian jingles overhead, and the young man at the counter glances up from the small grey kitten in his arms with a heart-shaped beam. “Oh! Hi, Yoonie-hyung! Here for Holly?”
Yoongi’s cheeks puff up at the nickname. “He’s all good to go? No issues?”
You eye up the little name badge pinned to his polo shirt. Hoseok. “Same old. The doctor will send the tests off like usual. Just a sec; I’ll go get him from out back.” The boy carefully sets down the kitten into a small plastic kennel on the desk with four others. You can’t help but smile as you watch the baby animals squeak and snuggle up to each other. After washing his hands with some hand sanitizer, the receptionist gets out from behind the desk and disappears through a side door.
You wait for a moment, then decide to fill the silence. “When did you open Holly Lo-”
You’re cut off by the gentle tinkling of the bell above the door. Yoongi glances back quickly, and his whole demeanor changes, shoulders hunching and head ducking down. You frown, and turn around to see an unfamiliar lady approaching.
She’s old enough to be a grandparent, flabby skin on a skinny arm trembling as she carries a cat kennel with a yowling tabby inside. “Oh, Hoseok!” she calls out in a ringing tone, glancing past the two of you. “Chestnut needs his check-up, where are you? Is the doctor free?”
You would raise your brows at her impatience when there are clearly other people in line, but instead you’re just concerned at Yoongi’s reaction. His elbows are up on the higher ledge of the desk, and he’s practically hiding his face behind his forearms.
Subtly, you step out a little bit from the desk, concealing him. Unfortunately, the lady notices the movement and fixes her sour stare on you.
“You aren’t from here,” she states. “And no houses have been sold, so you’re obviously not moving in. What’s a tourist doing in a vet?”
“Um.” You give her a confused stare, a little taken aback by how forward she is. “Pet check-up,” you finish lamely.
Hoping she would leave you alone from there is clearly naive. “Day trip? If you’re staying overnight, I can recommend a good place to park up. I own a hotel and it’s the best wa-”
“I’m good,” you interrupt, “I’ve got a place to stay. But it’s very kind of you to offer.”
She narrows her eyebrows, drawn-on and smudging slightly into her wan foundation. “Wait a minute. Something’s fishy. You were the one calling at an ungodly hour in the evening looking for accommodation, weren’t you?”
You glance at the door that the receptionist disappeared behind, willing him to return. “Yeah.”
“Mrs. Na told me she said you could-” She freezes and stands up straight. Her eyes slide behind you suspiciously. “Min.”
Though you don’t turn around - some instinct in you thinks you shouldn’t turn your back on her - you can imagine what the B&B owner must look like. His voice is so small. “Hi, Mrs. Soh.”
“Finally got a customer, huh?” The room feels to shrink with every word that drips with the seasoned condescension only an elderly person can give.
Yoongi shuffles forward a little on the plastic linoleum floor. “That’s right, Mrs. Soh. Next time you speak to Mrs. Na, please thank her for sending Y/n my way.”
The lady openly rolls her eyes at this, and you have to bite hard on the tip of your tongue to stop from lunging at her. “Mrs. Na wasn’t giving you a hand-out, boy. We aren’t about to help the business that took everything from us.”
Your eyes wide, you stare at the poster on canines and felines pinned to the far wall. “Should we ring the bell? I don’t know what’s taking so long.”
You regret bringing the attention back on you as Mrs. Soh scans your face with an entitled curl of her lip. “And you. I’m surprised you’re actually choosing to stay with Min. His place is a pigsty, isn’t it? Maybe you feel bad for him, girl, but let me tell you: the only good thing about that bed-and-breakfast is how it’s a perfect example of karma. His grandmother monopolises and terrorises the tea markets while she’s alive, and now that she’s kicked it her spawn can’t do anything right.”
You forget all about respecting elders and let out a shocked scoff. “What the fuck is your problem?”
As she splutters, Yoongi’s hand wraps lightly around your elbow, tugging you backwards, but you only spare a quick glance at his sullen face before turning back to the woman across from you.
“First of all, you’re delusional if you think I’m going to stay with any of you after the way I see you treat others. Secondly, how dare you insult someone like that, let alone a dead person? You must be the meanest person in this fucking town. At least, I hope so, because I certainly don’t want to meet anyone nastier than you.”
Like magic, the very moment she opens her mouth, the door bursts open, and out comes Hoseok, a curly tan dog at his feet.
“Holly!” Yoongi cheers with more than a hint of relief, and the dog darts forward, claws scrabbling on the floor as he spins in excited circles. After reuniting with his pet, Yoongi busies himself with the payment, while you try determinately to avoid Mrs. Soh’s gaze. You wouldn’t be surprised if by nightfall everyone in town knew you as the bitchy tourist, but you didn’t even care, too occupied with steaming in your own rage.
The moment Yoongi takes a receipt from Hoseok’s hands, you wrap yours around his and tug him away from the desk, huffing at the cheery jingle of the door that accompanies you upon leaving.
“Woah, Y/n, slow down, Holly can’t run!”
You force yourself to take a steadying breath and return to a normal pace, the older dog happily trotting along on Yoongi’s other side.
He lets the two of you walk in silence for a while, until the sounds of the Main Street fade away, and all that you can hear is the crunch of gravel underfoot, paired with the metallic tinkling of Holly’s collar. You’re still holding onto Yoongi’s hand, but you swear you feel him squeeze slightly every time you loosen to let go, so you let them swing between you.
The ambient noises calm you down enough to feel like talking again. “I didn’t mean to snap,” you apologise. “But I haven’t felt that angry in a long time. What’s her deal?”
Another squeeze, or is that his fingers trembling slightly. “Ah, you get used to it,” he jokes with a smile, though it fades when you throw him a sad look. “No, seriously, I try not to let it bother me anymore. I just… don’t go into town much anymore.”
You nod slowly, watching your feet to make sure you don’t trip over the odd protruding rock or root. You don’t know if it’s wise to broach the topic, but it keeps seeming to come up. “...Your grandma’s tea was really popular, huh?”
He laughs lightly. When you flick him a confused look, he shrugs, jerking your hand with it. “I was wondering how long it would take you. The elephant in the room and all. My grandma lived here, at Holly Lodge, though it was just a house until I inherited it. She made tea, her own strain. It got popular among the locals and, soon enough, tourists were catching on too. They stopped going to the markets. Most of the ladies that own accommodation branch out into selling food and produce. Tea is a popular option, as you could probably guess. They lost their business to her.”
“That’s just life. And besides, that’s a problem they have with her. Why are they being so rude to you? You don’t even sell tea anymore.”
“Because they can? I don’t know. Listen, I’ve explained it, if you want to leave and avoid all this drama that’s fine but I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He drops your hand, and a strange but unpleasant feeling cuts into you.
The slight incline back isn’t so bad, but his breathing is shallow and his gaze is trained on the ground. Your lips droop down in guilt. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” you say softly. “I’m sorry, I probably made the situation worse for you by yelling at her. I shouldn’t have done it.”
He’s silent for a moment. The air darkens slightly, a wash of cloud moving over the sun. “Please don’t say that.” His fingers stretch out towards your hand, then fall back.
You don’t speak the rest of the way back.
You try not to stare. You try your best to occupy yourself with the dog at your feet, who gently paws at your hand if you halt your stroking of his thick curls. But as you sit on the floor and listen to the satisfied grunts of Holly, lying on his back in the sun, you can’t help but glance up every few seconds to the man in the kitchen.
It’s strangely domestic, the way he potters around the room, fully focussed on his task. Every measurement of flour, sugar, butter, is perfectly precise and done with care. It’s warm in the kitchen - he told you earlier it’s so the dough will rise when he rests it - and in the sun his skin seems to glow. He’s humming to himself as he kneads; a song you’ve never heard before but one you hope to hear many times again. Although he tied his hair up in a little bean sprout on the top of his head, a few stray wisps have broken free, and his pout deepens every time he has to blow them out of his eyes. The little white apron hooked around his neck and fastened at his slender waist is dusty with stray powder and smeared with runaway globs of dough.
You don’t want to break his concentration, but you feel strange sitting and silently watching him. “Jack of all trades, huh?”
He jumps and turns quickly to you, knocking over a thick paper bag of flour with his elbow, sending white grains flying into the air. His eyes fly wide open and he futilely cups his hands over where the flour is spilling out of the bag, which lays on its side on the bench. With hands full, he pushes it back up to standing, but everything in his hands is dumped onto the benchtop, including the perfectly kneaded round of dough. His shoulders droop.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry!” you hastily apologise the moment your voice returns to you. Ignoring the dog that whines and paws at you, you stand up and rush over to him, grabbing a tea towel on a hook and dousing it in tap water to begin cleaning up. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright, I’m sorry.”
“It- It’s okay,” he assures haltingly, still awkwardly waving his white-covered hands in the air like he’s not sure what to do with them. You move quickly, cleaning up the majority of the spill for him, the towel coated in a flour-water goop by the time you’re done. When you straighten up, the man in front of you crinkles his nose, like it’s itchy, and sighs, though at his situation rather than you. He wiggles his white-covered fingers. “Thank you,” he says, “trying to grab the flour probably wasn’t the best…”
He trails off as you grab his wrists gently, leading him to the sink where you turn on the tap and run his hands under the steady stream. He waits, obediently turns his palms up for you to squirt a pump of hand soap onto them, and lathers up as you return to the other side of the bench to clean up the rest of the spilt flour.
You hear the water stop, and moments later he’s at your side, picking up the puffy ball of dough with a care that most people would reserve for a small child. Cradling it to his chest so as not to drop it, he uses one hand to delicately brush away the pile of flour on the surface. “It’s alright,” he mumbles softly, and you’re unsure whether he’s speaking to you or the dough, “it’ll be fine. Maybe a little dry, but still good.”
You fold over the top of the bag of flour and let your hands sit heavy on it, still clutching at the paper. “Yoongi.” He swallows hard and looks up when you say his name, absentmindedly patting the dough. “You’re a really kind person, you know that?”
He blinks, setting the dough on a clear patch of the wetly glistening bench. “What do you mean? I’m doing what any host would do. Welcoming my guest.”
You bite your lip, unsatisfied with the response. “Clearly not any host would be kind. I know that after this morning. Besides; it’s more than that. You made me eggs this morning on hot coals-”
“This is a bed-and-breakfast,” he replies weakly, “and that’s just because the power’s out. I’m not sure when it’ll be fixed actually, I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologise. I…” You sigh, scanning his face. He really doesn’t get it, you realise. How special he is. “I’m so happy to be here, Yoongi. I’ve never met someone as kind as you. And I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’re doing for me. It’s clear this means a lot to you.”
He ducks his head, moving past you to open a drawer, fiddling around tubes of parchment paper and foil to pull out some plastic wrap. “Thank you, but it’s really nothing. I’m just happy for the company.”
As you lean against the bench and watch him gingerly knead the dough into a rough log shape, before rolling it up in the plastic wrap, you realise just how true that must be. A thought strikes you, shatters that solemn line of thought. “Wait… If the power’s out, how are you gonna bake the bread?”
“Oh!” He glances up, seemingly relieved at the change in topic. “Well, I thought I’d make some and save it until I can get the repair guy out here. I have an icebox around the back of the house that I’m using as a temporary freezer. Then, when we get power again…” He lifts up the dough with an odd quirk to his lips, like he’s cracking a secret joke only the two of you know. “Celebratory bread.”
Uncontrollably, a beam breaks across your face. “Sure, Min Yoongi. Celebratory bread.”
The two of you share a bonfire that night. You suspect it’s the first time, at least for a while, that he’s had company. Human company, at least.
“Come on, boy, not too close,” he warns Holly, whose nose continues to dip out towards the flames even as his owner gently pats his rump. The light casts Yoongi’s face in a deep orange warmth; you didn’t pick up on it last night, but his eyes practically glitter with the reflection of it. His hair is no longer up in a hair tie so the thick mop of curls - only somewhat looser than Holly’s, though a rich brown instead of the caramel of the dog - hang low on his brow, lopsided and dishevelled from changing into pyjamas.
The two of you had stuck to yourselves, for the most part, that afternoon. You’d taken advantage of an old bicycle he had dug out of his tool shed to go back down to the main town, spending hours at a cafe, shamelessly torrenting their wifi to research more about tea plants and how to grow (or, more importantly, revive) them. After the waitresses got a little too antsy with your continued presence, and once you felt confident in your task, you got directions to a hardware store and bought some decent soil. An employee there - a respectable albeit slightly clumsy young man who seemed like the epitome of customer service - offered to deliver the heavy plastic sacks for you, and so you returned home satisfied with a day well-spent.
It was another rustic barbecue for dinner. After disappearing into his room to change into a matching pair of baby pink cotton pyjamas, the bed-and-breakfast owner quickly set up a fire on the bed of blackened rocks and charcoal in his backyard. With a practised ease he raised the flame into a blaze, and every time he leant forward to cook some more meat, you watched with a strange fixation as beads of sweat collected at his temples, sticking down strands of hair and warming his cheeks to a rosy glow.
“Do they fit a bit better?”
His sudden question reaches your ears with a delay, and by the time your eyes focus again, he’s watching you curiously. “Fit a bit…? Oh! The clothes. Yes, thank you so much.”
With the clothes you came in currently drying on a rack in your spare room, Yoongi had lent you another raggedy shirt and a pair of plain blue boxer shorts. With how little fabric there was, you suspected they were underwear rather than proper pants, but as long as they stayed up you were happy.
His eyes dart to the side and his lip quirks. “I feel a little overdressed,” he admits, “giving you old clothes while I have proper pyjamas.”
“No, you look cute,” you protest automatically, before sputtering in embarrassment. “I- I meant, it’s fine, I don’t mind you wearing…” You trail off, coughing awkwardly.
With his cheeks so red from the fire, the only way you can tell he’s flustered is the flash of his gums as he smiles, ducking his head. “Ah,” he deflects softly, “you’re just messing with me, I’m not cute.” He doesn’t make eye contact with you for a moment, quietly cutting off strips of beef onto two plates. When he speaks again, you almost miss it over the crackle of flame, and you get the feeling he never intends for you to hear. “Not as cute as you,” he murmurs, and your heart short circuits.
In an effort to pretend like you didn’t overhear, you reach for one of the plates, scooting closer on the grass in order to reach it. The two of you eat in comfortable silence, enjoying the warming effect of the beef settling in your stomachs. He clearly has more of an appetite than you, and keeps munching away long after you’ve pushed your plate away. The grass is warm and dry from the heat of the fire, and so you lie back on it, letting your gaze reach the heavens.
“It’s so peaceful out here,” you muse, “at first I thought it was silly to have accommodation so far from the rest of the town, but I get it now. I don’t ever want to leave.” You attempt to lilt your voice, as if it’s a joke, but it falls flat. You don’t think you’ve ever been so genuine about something in a long time, and that scares you. You’ve only been here a day.
You hear wet noises, and lift your head off the grass to look over at your companion, who’s hurriedly chewing on an over-full mouthful of meat, blowing out his cheeks. You grin at the sight, propping yourself up on your elbows as you wait, and he does his best to flick you a chastising glare as he finally swallows. “Well,” he makes out with an empty mouth, “you know Holly Lodge is always happy to have you as long as you wish to stay. If you really do want to stay.”
Having said his piece, he promptly fills his mouth again with a thick slab that probably should’ve been cut in half first. You grin at the way his eyes widen unconsciously as he chows down, reflecting the hypnotic orange flicker in front of him. “Yeah,” you say gently, “I really do.”
It’s odd how days become weeks without you noticing. The days get so hot and humid that an evening fire, which had begun to feel routine, is no longer possible. After tilling the soil around the tea plant and doing some serious work on it, the leaves fatten up and return to their former glory. Yoongi’s face softens every time he walks past you working in the garden. You don’t know which thing he’s more happy to see between you and the thriving shrubbery.
Time passes as if in a dream, the bed-and-breakfast feeling like a slice of paradise separate from reality. The electrician comes, an eager yet very methodical apprentice by his side, and with the return of the electricity comes the celebratory bread, enjoyed with a strawberry jam of Yoongi’s own making. You spend your days in the garden and your evenings with Yoongi, sharing solace in each other’s company as you watch old movies or play convoluted card games. For someone that’s normally always on the go, you feel yourself settling in to this world.
Yoongi’s curls slacken as his hair grows, becoming shaggy over time, and one late Friday night he sets up a wooden stool in the bathroom and asks you to trim it. One lopsided cut later, things like these become normal for the two of you. He acclimatizes quickly to your presence, and you feel yourself changing too, melding your lifestyle into his. Even though you purchase some well-fitting shorts (as well as more underwear and feminine supplies), on the third day a pile of shirts was left on your bed and you’d been wearing them ever since. Eventually they begin to feel less like his shirts you’re just borrowing and more like your own, and you’re not sure how to feel about the niggling bud of disappointment in your chest when each one of them comes back from the wash smelling like your perfume instead of the sweetly floral scent you had begun to associate with him.
The domesticity of your situation doesn’t hit you until a Wednesday afternoon, when the sun melts the air around you into a wobbly haze, and you finally make it back home from a trip into town to grab some emergency groceries. Yoongi got weekly deliveries for the most part, but he had tried (and failed) to make some homemade ice cream the day before and the two of you were in urgent need of some milk. With a relatively mild morning, you felt safe to go on foot rather than bike, but the heat set in quickly and your feet are burning by the time you slam open the front door and step into the cool of the house.
“Yoongi,” you call out automatically, “I’m home.” The word slips out so naturally, that you think it can’t have been the first time you’d referred to the small cottage as home.
A happy gasp echoes down the hallway. “Y/n,” Yoongi cheers from a distance, “we have butterflies and bees out here, come see!”
A contented smile spreads across your face at the sound of his voice, and you slip your shoes and socks off, going through the lounge and out the back door of the house. Your heart billows in your chest every time you see him, but the delighted beam on his face makes you feel lighter than air.
Too hot for even the lightest of sweaters, Yoongi has taken to various short-sleeved shirts and button-downs. Today he’s in cream fabric shorts and a peachy satin shirt, feet bare like yours as he stares up the side of the exterior wall in wonder. Though you hate to look away from him, the way the sun casts his normally dark curls into a bronze halo, you make your way out into the garden, grass cushioning your sore feet as you turn to see what’s brought out this wonder in him.
Amongst a background of vibrant pink azaleas, you can spot fluttering movement where several monarch butterflies bask in the warm rays. Throughout the garden, honeybees aimlessly zip around, a gentle buzzing in your ears. “They’re beautiful,” you muse, “I guess the hot weather brought them out.”
The man across from you stays silent. You ponder the wildlife one more time before returning your gaze to him. Gone is the awe-filled gleam in his eyes. They’re turned down at the edges now, staring lower than your face. “You’re sunburnt,” he remarks with a frown, before raising his eyebrows in a more urgent expression of worry. “Quick; get inside!”
You apparently don’t move fast enough. The young man shoots forward, fingers slipping between yours and tugging you by the hand. You let him drag you inside, back into the slightly dim and blessedly cool house. “It’s okay, Yoongi,” you protest half-heartedly, but he doesn’t pay you any mind, squeezing tightly on your hand as he winds his way down the short hallway and into his bedroom.
Letting go of you to press at your shoulders and urge you to sit on the edge of his bed, Yoongi disappears back out into the hallway, only to return moments later with a bottle of green-ish clear gel. You eye it suspiciously, but he remains serious. “Aloe vera,” he explains, “it’ll help with the pain.”
“It doesn’t even hurt that bad,” you protest weakly, though even as you shrug, the drag of the fabric against the raw skin causes you to wince. Yoongi rushes forward, sitting on the bed beside you. You hiss when he gently pushes up the short sleeves of the baggy shirt, exposing the line where your usual skin tone becomes harshly reddened.
“This’ll help,” he repeats softly, and begins to rub the cool gel onto your skin. You sit in silence, watching him out of the corner of his eye as the bridge of his nose crinkles in concentration. “You should really be more careful,” he scolds, though there’s no bite to his tone. “Please don’t ever leave the house without sunscreen on days like this.”
“Okay, mom,” you joke gently, though he doesn’t laugh. “Really, Yoongi, it’s no big deal. You don’t have to make a fuss.”
His hands leave you. You look up after a moment, wondering why he’s gone so silent. His face is downtrodden, staring haplessly at the gel still smeared across his fingers. “I’m just trying to take care of you,” he mutters.
Your heart breaks at the hurt in his tone, but quickly a laugh jumps out. He glances up at you reproachfully, but you just grin and point to his head. “There’s a petal in your hair, at the back,” you explain, “it must’ve been there since you were outside.”
“Oh.” He begins patting down the back of his head, but somehow he misses the bright pink petal entirely.
You reach forward, and he goes stock still as you tentatively card a few fingers through his hair, lifting the azalea out of his messy curls. “Here,” you announce, handing it over to him, “you should keep it.” He curls his fingers around it, staring at it with an unreadable expression. “It could be good luck.”
When you leave his room, after thanking him for the aloe vera (refreshingly cool on your tender skin, you have to admit it helped), he stays on the bed, eyes glued to the petal in his palm. He doesn’t come back out until dinnertime.
The first day Min Yoongi gets real customers is a few weeks later, late on a Saturday morning. The two young men are a strange echo of you two months ago; turned away from every other hostel and motel in the town center, they find themselves at the doorstep of Holly Lodge, desperate for a place to stay.
However this time instead of lack of vacancy, the problem for them was a lack of tolerance. With hands firmly intertwined, they proudly announce they’re ‘pre-honeymooning’; a concept you had never heard before but it seems to be an excuse to take a vacation more than anything.
While the two of them fuss over the cuteness of the little cottage, Yoongi pulls you aside. “I can turn them away if you need,” he offers. “I only have one spare room and you’re using it.”
You furrow your brow in shock. “What? Yoongi, I’m not even paying for that room! You need to put your business before me. Besides, I could always sleep on the couch.”
He’s not happy with your answer, flicking a worried gaze over to the couple, who have made themselves at home on the old couch, heads ducked together as they whisper back and forth. “I mean… I suppose,” he gives in, tugging at his earlobe nervously. “But you don’t need to sleep on the couch. You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
You open your mouth to protest, but he seems antsy to get back to the visitors, so you let it drop. As Yoongi sits down in an armchair across from them, you slip into the kitchen to begin brewing some tea, the first from the revived tea plant.
“So, the two of you are happy to stay?” Yoongi questions shyly. As the three of them begin to discuss prices and facilities, you quietly observe them. You watch the couple, the way the younger, with hair dyed a vibrant blue, leans in to the side of the older, who wraps an arm around his shoulders and holds him close. The brunette, introduced to you earlier as Seokjin, mindlessly plays with the fringing on his fiance’s jacket, as the fiance, Taehyung, looks up at him with adoration in his eyes. It twists something deep inside you, to see them so...intimate, and soon enough you can’t bear to look at them, instead flicking your gaze over to Yoongi.
Yoongi. It is an odd feeling, seeing him return to his shy, easily-flustered self. In recent weeks he seemed to have grown comfortable with you, but this brings back memories of your first few days at Holly Lodge. As the kettle bubbles away, you watch Yoongi’s cheeks lift in a flattered smile as Seokjin points out a framed photograph on the wall, one Yoongi had mentioned some time ago he took. Back then, back when you stumbled in on his garden desperate for shelter, you were too hung up on your own misfortune to really notice him, but now it’s clear to you just how much this place means to him.
There’s a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye, Taehyung waving a hand towards the garden. Instead of following the gesture, Yoongi’s eyes dart over and are met by yours. His eyebrows lift when he catches you staring, but he looks back at the couple, mouthing something you can’t hear over the whistle of the kettle.
You clear your throat, shaking away the weird lingering emotion in your chest, and quickly pour four cups of tea. Upon your return, you notice there’s nowhere for you to sit. The young couple are taking up the couch, and Yoongi occupies the only armchair. You pass out the three cups and hover for a moment. Do you even need to be here? You’re technically just another guest, and this conversation doesn’t really involve you. But then again, the spare room isn’t your room anymore, and you’d feel weird going into Yoongi’s bedroom without him.
Yoongi, sensing your hesitance, pats the arm of the chair and squishes himself into the opposite corner. You suppress a grin; an easier solution would’ve just been sitting on the floor, but it’s too late to say no to him now. You perch awkwardly on the cushioned arm, having to lean into Yoongi’s shoulder slightly to keep your balance.
He takes a sip from the steaming mug, and gasps softly, glancing up at you. “Boseong Breakfast?” he questions in wonder, and you give him a short nod. “This tastes just like... “ The space between his brows crinkles slightly, but he forces himself to brighten his expression again, turning back to the men on the couch. “Y/n grew the tea herself in our garden outside. I hope you like it!”
Your eyes prickle, and you bite down hard on your tongue, staring into the murky depths of the tea in your hands. Our garden.
Taehyung’s eyes flick back and forth between the two of you curiously, pausing for a moment. “You guys make a cute couple,” he states finally.
Your eyes fly wide open, automatically turning to Yoongi, expecting him to speak up and explain, but it seems Yoongi was waiting for you to be the one protesting too. The two of you stare at each other for a moment. “Uh, we’re not a couple,” you remark, addressing Taehyung directly. Out of the corner of your eye, Yoongi nods in affirmation. “I’m actually just a guest, I’m just helping out around the garden while I’m here.”
Taehyung doesn’t reply, simply raising an eyebrow. Seokjin, still with an arm around his partner, swallows a sip of tea and drums his fingers against the homemade ceramic mug. “We’re looking to stay for a while; a few weeks, possibly a month. Would you be able to house us for that long? We understand if you’ve got prior bookings to fulfil.”
Yoongi leans in to you slightly, his elbow nudging your thigh. “I better check my calendar first,” he quips with a gummy grin. You let out a laugh at the joke, but the other two don’t join in, just staring at you and Yoongi in slight confusion like they’re trying to work something out.
You realise how it must look, you practically perching on Yoongi’s lap, and quickly stand up, taking a seat on the carpet in front of the coffee table instead. “Anyways,” you begin, “I usually do a load of washing every day, so if you want I’m happy to do it for you. Now that it’s ready, I have more tea than I know what to do with, so help yourself to that, too. If you need anything, just let Yoongi or me know.”
“Breakfast is at 9,” Yoongi helpfully supplies from the armchair. “I usually make lunch and dinner if you’re around. Thank you for choosing to stay at Holly Lodge. I hope you have an enjoyable time here.”
The two share a meaningful look, noses almost brushing at their proximity.  The elder breaks away to take another slow sip from his mug of tea. “I’m absolutely positive we will,” Seokjin replies with a beam.
It doesn’t feel right. His bed is comfortable, sure, but you’re all too aware of the man over the edge, curled up in blankets on the floor. “Are you sure you don’t wanna come up?” you offer unsurely. “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”
“It’s fine.” His voice comes to you slightly muted by distance. “Holly is keeping me company down here.”
You frown, unsatisfied. You roll over so that you’re facing him. “The sheets are super itchy, maybe I should’ve washed them first.”
He lets out a tired chuckle, resonating in his throat. “That’s just the sheets. They’re cheap.”
“I don’t know,” you murmur, “the sheets on the other bed seemed fine.”
He shuffles a bit, sitting up. “The other sheets are Egyptian cotton, that’s why.”
You raise your eyes. “Why are you suffering in these then?”
He’s silent for a moment, mouth flat. “Sheets are expensive.”
Your heart breaks for him. Spending all his money into the perfect guest experience, when he hadn’t even had any guests until you showed up. “I’ll buy you fancy sheets for your birthday, then.”
He scoffs softly, fisting his hands in Holly’s tan curls absentmindedly. “My birthday isn’t until next year. March.”
You shrug. “And?”
He fixes you with a baleful expression. “You’ll be long gone by then.”
In the dim lighting of the evening, you can barely make out a gleam in his eyes. A sudden exhaustion takes over you, and you can’t bear to look at his dejected form anymore. You close your eyes, making yourself as comfortable as you can under the covers. The pillowcase smells like him. “Will I?”
He doesn’t respond.
“Yoongi?” you ask into the night, voice barely louder than a whisper.
“I don’t want you to sleep on the floor,” you admit. “Can you come up here?”
A pause. “With you?”
You can’t analyse his emotion with the careful way he speaks. You crack your eyes open again, staring down at him, at the way he hunches over uncertainly, cradling the sleeping dog in his lap. “I’ll stay on my side, I promise.”
His nose twitches. He tugs nervously at his earlobe. “You’re on my side,” he remarks. Your eyes widen and you begin to shuffle back. “No, no! You can stay. You can have that side.”
You scoot back over, continuing to face over the edge as he stands up, gently setting Holly down on the blankets, and comes around to hop in beside you. Though it’s summer, the cottage is always cool, and you shiver at the rush of air when he lifts the blankets. “Cold?” he questions in a murmur.
You nod, not trusting your voice.
“Here.” A weight falls over you, and you open your eyes to a dishevelled and tired Min Yoongi, folding the duvet in half so that it lays over you twofold. You go to protest, knowing he’ll be even colder than you now, but you can’t ruin the satisfied smile that plays at his lips as he pats it down, tucking the sides so that you’re snug.
Once he’s done, he disappears from your sight as he shuffles down under the bare sheets on the other side, humming happily. You let your eyes fall closed again, and breath in deeply. “Night, Yoongi.”
“Goodnight, Y/n.”
You snuggle your face further into the pillow. “Sweet dreams.”
“How did you two meet?” You glance up from the bed of herbs you’re tending to, squinting in the sun.
Taehyung, who’s taken to lounging in the sun outside as you work, sprawls his legs out on the warm grass. With his head tipped back to receive the rays, he sighs out happily. “Senior year,” he divulges, “we were both auditioning for Romeo in the school play, but Jin got the part instead of me. We were kinda rivals at that time, I guess. But one of my friends convinced me to audition for Juliet as revenge, and somehow I got in. We started spending more time together, and…” He shrugs. “The rest is history.”
“That’s cute.” A bird chirps in the trees, like it’s sounding out its agreement. You return to gently pressing seeds into the lush soil. “I wish I could have a meet-cute like that.”
He laughs, rich and warm. “Looks to me like you’re already in one.”
You avoid the temptation to look over to the cottage, where you know Yoongi is, inside making lunch with Seokjin (who turns out to be a brilliant cook). “No,” you deflect weakly. You can’t seem to find anything else to say, and so you clear the thought from your head entirely. “Anyway. When are you guys getting married?”
He huffs at the way you change the topic, but is only too happy to indulge. “Next year sometime. We’re in no rush. Love isn’t on a schedule, you know?”
You hate the way your mind slips to how you and Yoongi have been quietly enjoying each other’s company for the past two months or so. That’s not the same, you reason. Yoongi is just a kind person, that’s all. Anyone would grow fond of him. “I bet it’ll be a beautiful wedding,” you offer, “you two seem so in love. Besides, you’re both the hottest dudes I’ve seen in my life so I’m sure the wedding photos will be fantastic.”
He laughs boisterously, mouth widening and eyes crinkling, and it draws the attention of the two men in the kitchen, the taller of which gives a jaunty wave to his fiancé. Through the open window, you can see as Seokjin then turns around, makes a comment that causes Yoongi to flush, and claps him on the shoulder. Yoongi looks up towards the two of you, but his eyes narrow and he puts his back to you, returning to the food.
Your cheery disposition vanishes, and the air darkens as the sun dips below cloud. “I’m gonna head into town later, there’s a twilight market I want to check out. The two of you are welcome to come with.” 
Frowning at the sudden shade interrupting his tanning, Taehyung gets up, wiping the grass stands off his shorts. “Yeah, why not?”
“Honestly, you don’t have to, I don’t mind cooking!”
Yoongi’s protests go unheard. The engaged couple, who had earlier gone off on their own tangent at the street market, were determined to use some of the fresh produce they picked up to prepare a meal.
“Come on,” Seokjin pushes, “let us treat you! You’ve been so hospitable to us. Y/n said she worked in the garden as a thank you, so we can cook you a nice meal.”
The owner ducks his hand, delicately resting it in his hands, splayed fingers barely covering the happy grin. “You’re too sweet, really,” he gushes. “That would be really lovely.” Upon Seokjin’s insistence, the four of you had cracked open some soju, and it seemed the half-bottle Yoongi had consumed already was getting to him, cheeks shiny and pink. You can’t help but smile fondly at the sight of him getting all shy at the slightest display of kindness.
“What do you say, Y/n?” Taehyung questions. “Wanna come make him a meal?”
You pull your gaze away from Yoongi. “Huh? Oh, you’d be better off without me. I’m a terrible cook.”
Taehyung’s eyes glimmer in the glare of the low evening sun. “My Seokjinnie can teach you. Come on, it’s guests serving the host tonight.”
You agree reluctantly, and the two men grab one hand each, dragging you into the kitchen. You giggle at their enthusiasm, feeling a little past tipsy yourself. “What’s on the menu, head-chef?”
The brunette purses his lips in a wry smile and reaches into one of the bags, starting to empty out the various ingredients on the bench. “Don’t worry, young grasshopper, it’s very easy. We’ll make some fresh pasta sauce and have spaghetti bolognese.”
In the end, ‘very easy’ seems to be an overstatement. After finishing off another bottle of grapefruit soju you find yourself, clumsy with the warmth of the alcohol in your belly, furiously attempting to dice some onions on a chopping board.
As Taehyung manages the tomatoes reducing in a pan, Seokjin latches onto your flailing limbs, arms wrapping around you to gently clasp your wrists. “Careful, careful,” he chastises, “you’ll chop off a finger. Tuck your fingers under, and here, cut like this.”
You pout as he guides your hands, the knife cleanly slicing through the onion half you had previously been hacking at. “Okay, Mariah Carey. No, wait; what was that old lady chef’s name? Martha Stewart. Okay, Martha Stewart. Not everybody can be an incredible cook, you know?”
Taehyung chuckles under his breath at the other end of the kitchen. “We should not have given her alcohol,” he remarks to his fiance.
With a dawning realisation and a slightly running nose, you realise the cut onion is beginning to sting your eyes. You squeeze them shut, letting Seokjin continue to chop on behalf of your hands, but that only forces the tears out. “Ouch,” you whine hopelessly, leaning your weight back onto Seokjin’s broad chest.
“Oh-!” Seokjin stops chopping, simply holding your wrists in the air as the knife dangles pathetically from your dominant hand. “Tae-bear, can you come help?”
You let out another whine as Seokjin slowly walks backwards, you half-following half-stumbling back. Once there’s enough room between you and the bench, Taehyung slips in. “Oh, darling,” he coos, “that onion was being mean to you, hm? Open your eyes.”
You do so, but keep them in a pained squint. All you can see between a blurred layer of tears is his blue hair, and the patch of colour swirls in your vision. “So mean to me,” you repeat dumbly as warm hands gently wipe under your eyes, clearing away the tears that run down your cheeks.
“Goodness, she’s definitely had too much, how many bottles did you give her?”
You feel Seokjin’s chest rumble against your back as he replies. “Like, two? It’s not even strong stuff.”
You hum happily. “You’re strong stuff,” you say, though you don’t even know who you’re talking to. The sting is finally fading from your eyes, and once Taehyung gently pats the last of the tears away, you let out a tired sigh, going even more limp against Seokjin. “I’m not hungry anymore,” you complain, “don’t want bisghetti.”
Taehyung chuckles. “Okay, I think I’m gonna take you to your bedroom now, missy, you better have a lie-down.” The knife is pried from your fingers and strong arms lift you off of Seokjin, keeping you upright as you potter out of the kitchen with Taehyung.
Behind you, you hear Seokjin sigh. “Sorry, Yoongi,” he apologises, “we wouldn’t have given her so much if we knew she was a lightweight. She’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep. I can finish off the dinn-”
“Yoogi,” you cry, wriggling in Taehyung’s grasp. You hadn’t spoken to him since you started making dinner and that’s been far too long. Taehyung tries to shush you, but you twist around to face the dining table, where Yoongi sits. You go limp when you see him. Staring blankly into the middle distance, he has a strange look on his face, lips and brows frowning in disapproval or annoyance, but eyes soft with concern. Your nose tingles viciously and tears well in your eyes. “‘re you mad a’ me, Yogi bear?”
He looks up at you suddenly, face smoothing out as his eyes widen. “Of course I’m not, Y/n.” He trails off unconvingly at the end. “Just get some sleep, okay?”
You frown, somehow unsatisfied, but nod, letting your cumbersome feet carry you to his bedroom. He sleeps on the couch that night.
When you wake up, your memory is fuzzy but it’s clear by the way Yoongi treats you that you must’ve done something wrong.
You don’t understand it, but he seems cold to you, sulking. Over the space of a week, you spend so little time in his company that it feels like he must be actively avoiding you. To compensate the niggling sensation in your heart, you spend more time with the boys.
They cheer you up a lot, never questioning what’s got you so gloomy. Maybe they can already tell. But you waste away your days building up a modest garden in Yoongi’s backyard in the mornings when it’s cooler, and finding stuff to do with Taehyung and Seokjin in the afternoons.
Though you still share a room with Yoongi, the night after you got drunk he chose to sleep on the floor again, and you didn’t have the heart to ask him back up. You’ve been sleeping on his side for so long that his pillow no longer smells like him anymore. You don’t sleep well these days.
You find yourself waking naturally long before he does so that you can tiptoe out of his room and get ready alone. At night, you press your ear to the door and wait to hear his little snuffles and grunts of a deep sleep before you creep in. It seems odd to have any negative feelings towards him, but he just doesn’t seem the same as the man you had grown so used to sharing a house with.
Tonight, he woke up as you were sneaking inside his room, and so the two of you lie in dim silence, both all too aware of the other. Holly is curled up beside him, you can hear the gentle snoring, but Yoongi is completely quiet. You can’t even hear him breathe.
The total lack of sound in Yoongi’s room means that another noise is amplified. You wrinkle your brow at the odd, low pitched rumble, barely audible. You know it’s coming from outside the bedroom, though where exactly you couldn’t say.
Just as you’re about to pass it off as nothing, it sounds out again, louder this time. A moan.
Realisation dawns on you when you hear it again, drawn-out and dripping with pleasure. Taehyung and Seokjin are having sex in the next room over.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you whisper into the dark. “Have they no shame?”
It’s loud enough this time that you can hear the words themselves.
“Ah, Jinnie-hyung.” You screw up your face and huff.
“...they did say ‘pre-honeymooning,’” Yoongi reasons reluctantly.
You sit up, bunching the blankets in your lap as you glare down at the bed and breakfast owner. “So you’re on-” you break off as the undeniable high pitch of a whimper echoes throughout the house. “So you’re on their side? They’re fucking in my bed!”
He frowns at you, though it’s far from intimidating with his ruffled brown curls and sunshine yellow pyjamas. “It’s not your bed, it’s the guest bed.”
You raise an eyebrow. “They’re fucking on your Egyptian cotton sheets.”
A fury you’ve never before seen lights up in his eyes. “My sheets!” The begrudging way he crosses his arms over his chest makes him look like a petulant child, and you snort out a laugh. “Hey,” he cries out in a stage whisper, barely louder than the pleasured moans that seem to be rising to a fevered pitch, “don’t laugh at me! Those sheets were expensive!”
You pause for a moment, trying to stay composed, but then you hear it through the thin walls.
“Fuck, cum in me, hyung!”
You clap a hand over your mouth, barely in time to muffle your desperate laughter.
Through tears, you see Yoongi try to fight the grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth, but soon enough he succumbs, shoulders shaking and eyes squeezed shut as he laughs silently. The two of you endure a minute or so of loud cries of climax, before all goes still.
You lower your hand. You stare at each other for a moment, but after nothing happens, you sigh out in relief. Yoongi goes to plump up his pillow as you fuss with the duvet. “Thank god that’s over,” you proclaim, “now we can finally-”
“Does my Tae-bear still want more, hm? Greedy boy.”
Yoongi’s face drops. He stands up suddenly, thrusting out a hand in front of your face. As quiet whines and sighs reach your ears from the other room, you stare at it blankly. He waves it impatiently. “Come on,” he instructs, “I can’t take this anymore. Let’s get out of here.”
Though you’re uncertain what he means, you reach out and take his hand. It’s warm, and his fingers slip between yours naturally, clasping tightly. Before leading you carefully to the door, Yoongi grabs a blanket off the floor and hands it to you. He opens the door so gingerly that you can hear nothing more than the brush of the wood against the carpet.
The two of you tip-toe down the hallway. Directly outside the guest bedroom, you’re close enough to hear not only Taehyung’s desperate moans, but the pants of exertion from his fiance. Whatever Seokjin was doing to him in there, it was nothing short of athletic.
Holly, having been woken when Yoongi got up, pads down the hallway behind you happily. You wince at the jangle of his collar, but the two loud men don’t seem to notice, or at least don’t care enough to pause.
When the two of you reach the living room, Yoongi drops your hand to fiddle with the key to the back door. He slides it open and you step out in confusion, waiting for him and Holly to come through, Yoongi sliding it shut behind him, locking it and pocketing the key in a tiny breast pocket on his pyjama shirt.
Once the door shuts behind you, you no longer have to remain quiet. “What are we doing?” you question.
Holly follows faithfully as Yoongi makes his way down the backyard barefooted; determined not to be left behind and burning with curiosity, you jog to catch up. You leave the even footing of the grass and begin picking your way through the trees, going in a slight incline up the hill.
“We weren’t gonna get any sleep listening to them going at it like rabbits anyway,” he explains, “so I figured we could chill out here for a few hours and come back inside before it gets too cold. Hopefully they’ll have tired themselves out by then.”
You frown, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Fine then,” you allow, “where are you- oh!” You’re cut off as Yoongi stumbles on a tree root, falling forward onto his hands and knees. He gets up quickly, brushing off the dirt and twigs from his palms. Even in the dim lighting, you can see his cheeks are red with embarrassment, so instead of poking fun, you just move on. “Tomorrow I can go down to the convenience store and buy some earplugs. Unless you want to talk to them about lowering the volume of their nightly activities?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Get the brand that comes with three sizes, I’ve got small ear canals.”
You bark out a surprised laugh. “I’m sure you do, Min Yoongi.” You let the jingle of Holly’s collar fill the air for a few moments, and your companion seems happy enough with the comfortable silence. He seems to be picking out an intentional path, though there is no evidence of a well-tread route he’s taking. It’s not until Yoongi comes to a stop in a small clearing, about a third of the way up the hillside, that you open your mouth again. “What’s this?”
Yoongi sits down in front of you, patting the grass. He waits for you to sit until he begins to explain. You shake out the blanket, laying over your two laps as he speaks. “I would sneak out of the house in the middle of the night all the time when I visited my grandma, pretending to be Indiana Jones or something. I found this glade one day and it became my nightly routine to come here at eleven or twelve pm and watch the stars.” He trails off in a wistful tone, craning his neck to look up.
Naturally, you follow his gaze. Blurred in the edges of your vision are the trees that surround you on the hill, but directly above is an open expanse of blackish navy, pricked with stars. The air is fresh, and you breathe it in deeply, feeling the cool air open your chest. You let your body tip back, lying down on the grass.
Yoongi’s voice comes from above, still sitting up. “One day I came back around two or three in the morning. Instead of being in bed, my grandma was waiting at the door for me. I thought she was mad - she wouldn’t speak to me all day - but that night when I went to leave she came out of her room and handed me a torch.” You can’t help but smile at the way Yoongi speaks, deeply entrenched in his own memories, voice hushed in nostalgic wonder. “Ever since that point, we did this together. She once told me that at night, the sun puts a big blanket over the earth to say it’s time to go to bed, but since it’s so old, it has holes in it. That’s what stars are. Ah, it sounds silly now, but at the time…” His voice changes, flattens. “I haven’t been here since she passed away. I couldn’t go alone.”
Your heart breaks for him. “I’m so sorry, Yoongi.” You don’t know what else to say.
He sighs out heavily, the burden of loss. “Yeah.”
At some point over the next few hours, he lies down beside you, the two of you quietly contemplating the abyss above. Now that you’re looking at it different, it does look like a blanket. Thick blackness with pinpricks of light. You wonder what’s on the other side.
The air cools down. It’s still humid, but instead of warming you, it condenses on your neck in a cloying sweat, and beads on the grass. The tip of your nose is chilled pink, and you keep having to rubbing your hands together to warm them. You don’t want to interrupt this strange solemnity in the air, but once you begin to shiver slightly, you have no choice. “Can we head back now, Yoongi? I’m sure they’ve finished by now.”
“Hm? Yeah, okay.” He sits up and stretches with a groan, sticking out his arms and rolling his wrists. When he goes lax again, he sticks his fingers into the little pocket on his pyjama shirt. “Oh. Oh no.”
You frown, sitting up yourself. “What?”
“Must’ve fallen out when I tripped over,” he mumbles, “shit.”
He tugs at his earlobe nervously. “I lost the key.”
“Y- what? So we’re locked out?”
“Well, just until tomorrow. When Taehyung and Seokjin get up, they can let us in. I’ll go down to the locksmith, get a new key made in no time.”
Now that you know you’re stuck here, the cold seems more insidious. You shiver again. “That doesn’t help us now, Yoongi! We’re stuck out here for the night because you wanted to go fucking stargazing.” His hurt look cuts through you like a knife, and you rush out the breath you’re holding, anger dissipating in a moment. “No, I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. I just… we’re gonna freeze out here, Yoongi.”
Guilt worries at his brow, and he tucks his knees up to his chest. “We can do our best to stay warm. The grass is still mostly dry, and there’s no wind or anything. If we huddle together under the blanket we can conserve body heat. It’s just one night.”
You stare at him for a moment, then nod begrudgingly. “Fine then,” you acquiesce. “We cuddle in order to survive tonight, and then never speak of it again.” With a flourish, you lie back down, tugging the blanket over you and turning your back to him.
Instead of a warm body, you’re met with silence. “Um,” Yoongi says finally, “I- Never mind.”
You twist your head around. “You what?”
He rubs at his cheek in embarrassment, though the dark pink blush firmly stays. “I like to be the little spoon.”
After a moment’s pause, you swivel around, holding the blanket up for him. “Come on then, little spoon,” you say softly, “get comfy.”
He offers you the smallest smile of gratitude, a flash of teeth peeking out, and turns, shuffling back until he’s pressed up against your chest. As you lower the blanket over the both of you, your arm naturally slips over his torso, curling over his tummy. The warmth of his body in your arms certainly is a respite from the cold, and clearly he agrees, because he lets out an unconscious grunt of happiness. You remember grinning into the darkness, ready to make a teasing remark, but sleep takes you before you can even open your mouth.
You had expected that night would bring Yoongi back to normal. That whatever strange mood had affected him in that week would be dissolved with the night you spent together under the stars. However, the next morning Taehyung and Seokjin convince you to stay at the lodge playing board games with them while Yoongi goes alone to the locksmith for a new key, and when he returns home to you curled up between the two of them, watching some dumb early-2000s rom-com on the TV, it seems his earlier grudge has returned with a vengeance.
There’s a strangely hostile tension in the air that afternoon, and when you and the boys finish up watching movies you pretend to accidentally fall asleep, just so you don’t have to go back to the room.
You begin to favor spending time with the other guests rather than Yoongi. It almost feels like you’re outstaying your welcome, but Taehyung and Seokjin seem enamoured with your company, and so day-in day-out you’re hanging out with them. After a couple weeks, you begin to view them as genuine friends. You get the impression that they hadn’t planned on staying as long as they are. Taehyung’s blue locks are beginning to grow out, hints of natural black peeking out at the roots. Seokjin has the (probably ill-founded) idea of buying bleach and dye at the supermarket, which is why you find yourself in a pair of gloves, lathering bright red hair dye on his scalp after dinner one night.
When Yoongi finished doing the dishes and saw Taehyung mixing the dye, he simply huffed and told him not to get any on the floor, then disappeared into his room. He was going to bed earlier and earlier, you noted, as well as getting up later in the mornings. You couldn’t remember the last time you held a conversation with him.
Now the three of you remaining in the kitchen sit cross legged on the floor, chatting away as the dye sets. Taehyung, with a plastic shower cap covering his hair, bangs his head back against the cabinets. “I wonder what colour I should have for the wedding,” he muses.
Seokjin’s eyes crinkle at the thought. “At the rate you’re dying it, it’ll be straw by the time you walk down that aisle.”
The younger grins, boxy. “You’ll still love me, even with scarecrow hair?”
“Of course,” Seokjin answers without hesitation. “Besides, it would grow back healthy in no time.”
“Would you love me even if I was bald?”
“Let’s not get hasty here,” he jibes, lifting his eyebrows in mock concern. “Don’t worry, Tae-bear. You’re the only man for me.”
The two laugh fondly, then fall into a silence. You know it’s a personal question, but you’ve known them for a while, so you ask anyway. “Have you guys always known? That you were attracted to men, I mean.”
Taehyung smiles, nodding languidly. “Well, both of us are bi so it’s not just men. But for me, yeah. I always knew, and then when I was in college I was a complete Casanova. Boys, girls, everyone in between. Life was a buffet.”
“Oh,” you exclaim curiously, “so you’ve been with men and women then?” He nods again. A thought strikes you. “That’s something I’ve always wondered, actually. Who are better to kiss; guys or girls?”
Taehyung scratches lazily at his scalp through the plastic cap. “Most guys are great kissers, but there’s nothing nicer than women’s lips. Luckily my Seokjinnie has the prettiest lips in the world.”
You look over as Seokjin, sitting across from Taehyung, purses his lips playfully, before shrugging. “I wouldn’t know,” he admits, “Taehyung is my one and only.”
The aforementioned pushes off the cabinet, leaning forward with an unreadable look in his eyes. “Do you want to try?”
Seokjin tilts his head in confusion. “Hm?”
“If I gave you permission and Y/n agreed to it, would you want to kiss her right now?”
“What?” You gape incredulously at Taehyung, but he’s dead serious. Looking back over, Seokjin is silent, nibbling at his lip. He’s considering it. A wave of heat rushes through you, akin to excitement. He’s one of the most attractive men you’d ever seen in your life, and you can’t deny that physical connection is something you’ve been missing in your past few months. “Are you sure, Taehyung?”
He sends you a salacious wink, turning back to Seokjin. “Think of it as a wedding gift,” he bargains, “I don’t want you to marry me feeling like you’re unfulfilled, or that you’re missing out. As long as I’m the one that gets to be beside you every night, I’m happy.”
Seokjin’s eyes soften, then dart over to you. “Y/n…”
That’s invitation enough. You lick your lips, wetting them before crawling over to the older man. He pats his thighs, and you swing a leg over, steadying yourself on his lap. His hands are light on your hips.
“Just like it’s me, Seokjinnie,” Taehyung instructs. “Well, maybe a bit gentler than if it was me. You can kiss her, hyung.”
Though the statement was directed at Taehyung’s fiance, you take the initiative to duck your head down, eyes slipping closed the moment you feel his lips brush yours. He lets out an unsure sigh, muffled against you, and you feel his fingers curl, digging into your flesh slightly.
“That’s it,” Taehyung soothes. You hear the rustling of fabric, and you crack an eye open to see him sidling up beside Seokjin, watching the two of you. “How is she, hyung?”
You work your lips against Seokjin’s for a few more moments before pulling back. The man below you has flushed skin and dilated pupils. He swallows, throat bobbing. “Soft,” he makes out.
You run a finger over his lower lip, watching it bounce back. “For someone who’s never kissed more than one person before, you’re definitely the best kisser I’ve ever had.”
He grins under your touch. “I bet Taehyungie is better.”
There must be something in the air. The hair dye fumes getting to you, perhaps. Or maybe you’re just deprived. Either way, you feel your inhibitions falling away, and an arousal-fueled confidence takes over. You send Taehyung a lustful look. “Only one way to find out.”
The tiniest nod reveals his consent. Seokjin keeps you steady on his lap by gripping your hips with strong hands, and you lean over, placing one hand on Seokjin’s shoulder and the other on Taehyung’s, ducking your head to capture his lips with yours.
They’re somewhat thinner than Seokjin’s, and you find yourself missing those plump lips against you, but the younger man more than makes up for it with his prowess. His hands wind into the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you in deeper. You let out a whimper into his mouth. Unlike Seokjin, whose kiss was pure and curious, this embrace is dripping with passion, and you find yourself drowning in it, mindlessly grinding your hips into the budding hardness below. Seokjin grunts, but you barely hear, lost in Taehyung’s grip, the tip of his tongue swiping teasingly against the flat of yours.
Suddenly, Seokjin goes stock-still and the hands wrapped around your hips go iron-tight. The sudden pressure breaks you out of your haze, and you pull away from Taehyung in confusion, the latter making a confused hum, eyes fluttering open.
You freeze as you hear a cabinet open and close behind you. Unable to look, you stare at the faces of the two men you’re currently sprawled on top of, as they lower their gazes in embarrassment at being caught out. You wait, listening to Yoongi hastily grabbing himself a glass of water, before he leaves quicker than he appeared.
Once the kitchen goes silent again, you slide off Seokjin’s lap, dejectedly staring at the floor. Shame burns in your chest, mixed with regret, and all you want is for the ground to swallow you whole. You swallow down the dryness in your throat. “C-can I sleep in your guys’ room tonight?” you ask with a small voice.
The two of them look ashamed, pitying. You hate it. You hate your lack of self-control. Seokjin nods silently, and the three of you make a solemn pilgrimage into the guest bedroom. Though the two of them fall into slumber soon enough, you lie awake on the floor in a bundle of pillows and blankets, imagining what his face must’ve looked like when he walked in on you messing around with two taken men. You don’t know which one would’ve been worse: seeing a look of anger, disgust, or disappointment on his face, or you never turning around at all.
When you wake up the next morning you’ve made up your mind. If you hadn’t already, you’ve definitely overstayed your welcome by this point. The boys don’t stir at all when you quietly tiptoe around their room, tugging on your jeans that you had kicked off the night before, too emotionally drained to bother with pyjamas. They look peaceful and content; there’s a lump in the middle of the bed where Taehyung has swung his leg over Seokjin’s hip, and his face is tucked into the crook of Seokjin’s neck. Their hands have found each other in the night, fingers lazily intertwined as they rest over the covers. Your eyes prickle at the sight.
In the kitchen, you eat alone. On the bench, the one that gets the most sun, is a tea towel with a pile of half-dried tea leaves. You wonder if Yoongi will continue making tea once you’re gone. Part of you wants to sneak out to the plant and take some of the leaves with you; that tea is the best you’ve ever had. But you force yourself to remember that you have no right to that plant. It was easy to see this as more than what it was, especially when Yoongi had been so generous and hospitable, but you’re a guest. At the end of the day, you’re nothing more than a traveler passing through. He’ll forget about you when new guests arrive. That’s how these things were meant to be, you reason. For fear of making too much noise, you forgo the ritualistic cup of Boseong Breakfast. Your stomach roils in yearning of a hot cup to soothe you, or perhaps that’s just the dread at knowing you’re about to leave.
Your stuff is still in Yoongi’s room. Shoes, backpack, wallet. You don’t fancy leaving here with nothing but a cellphone, so you turn the knob painstakingly slowly, leaving it open and using the light of your phone screen to find your way. Though you internally scream at yourself not to, you find yourself guiding the light onto his sleeping form, casting him in the weak cold glow.
He’s curled up in a tiny ball, barely occupying a third of the bed. Instead of on the floor, Holly is right beside him, stretched out languidly in the middle, head resting on the pillow right beside Yoongi’s face. His face reflects strangely, and you frown, risking a few steps closer.
Once you’re beside the edge of the bed, you lower the light to face the floor so you don’t wake him. He’s back on his side of the bed, the one you had temporarily occupied in a time that already felt so long ago to you, and every few seconds he lets out a small grunt or sniffle. Turned in towards the center of the bed, towards Holly, his hands are folded under his face, pressing his cheek up, revealing the dried tracks of tears that glimmer on the skin. You bite your lip harshly and force yourself to turn away and keep searching for your stuff.
But as you swivel around to check this end of the room, a sudden bright reflection hits you right in your eyes. You hiss loudly, squeezing them shut. Upon a second, more cautious glance, you see the culprit is a framed pane of glass sitting atop his nightstand. Careful not to suffer the glare again, you hold your phone up to inspect it.
It takes you a moment, but when you recognise that sliver of vibrant pink, your breath rushes out of you in an overwhelmed sigh. Pressed between two panes of glass so that it lies perfectly flat and preserved, the azalea petal you had picked out of his hair that distant spring day. He really kept it.
Tears threatening to well up, you quickly stand up straight again, caring less about making noise and more about finding your stuff and leaving quickly. You find your backpack in the bottom of his closet. Remembering at the last moment that you’re still in one of his baggy t-shirts rather than the one you came in - when had you started seeing them as your own clothes? - you tug it up over your head, quickly shimmying into the cold fabric of your shirt.
“What are you doing?”
You freeze at the familiar voice, croaky with sleep. “I… I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He’s sitting up; you can see his form out of the corner of your eye, but you keep your head down, not wanting to look at him for fear of what expression would be plastered on his face. “Are you going somewhere?”
You tense your lips, nodding tightly. Now that he’s awake, there’s no need to be quiet, so you rush out his room, leaving the door ajar behind you. It’s lighter out in the living room, the first few inches of the sun as it creeps over the hills above, sending a thin streak of orange light across the carpet.
It takes a few moments, probably since he’s still groggy from just waking up, but Yoongi rushes frantically down the hallway, bursting into the living room. He halts, watching you going through your stuff to make sure it’s all there. “Where are you going?” He stands there, shoulders slumped in dejection as you just shake your head mutely. “Are you leaving me?”
You let out a shaky breath. “I want to apologise for my behavior last night,” you say instead. “I wrote down your bank account earlier, the one you gave Seokjin and Taehyung. When I get back home I’ll reimburse you for however many nights I stayed here.”
“I can’t keep staying here like some freeloader,” you explain, “I’ll get out of your hair so that you can run your business.”
“You don’t have to go,” he protests, though his voice is small, barely reaching your ears.
You let out a frustrated groan when the zipper on your backpack jams, tugging roughly at it. “It’s for the best,” you insist, though you can’t tell who it is you’re trying to convince, “I’ve clearly overstayed my welcome.”
“What does that even mean?” he questions in a wobbly voice.
You huff, chucking the half-open backpack on the couch and facing Yoongi. “I can read the signs, Yoongi. For the past few weeks you’ve been avoiding me like the plague and glaring whenever I’m around. I get it, okay? I’ll get out of your hair.”
“It’s not like that,” he defends. He pushes his curls back off his forehead, sighing out shakily. “I didn’t realise that’s how you were… It’s not you.”
You scoff bitterly, crossing your arms over your head. Both of you have given up being quiet for the sake of the other guests, and at this point you couldn’t care less if they woke up. “Oh, well then by all means, tell me what your problem is. I guess I’m too stupid to understand your fucking smoke signals.”
He furrows his brow in annoyance. “Are you serious? It’s not like you’re the poster child for mature communication.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yoongi shrugs with a petulant frown. “Fuck, I save your tea plant, harvest and prepare the leaves, do the laundry, help with Holly, entertain the guests, and-”
The muscles in Yoongi’s jaw pop when he tenses it. “You are a fucking guest! I didn’t ask for you to act like a housewife! I didn’t ask for you to do the laundry, or plant the herb garden. I didn’t fucking ask for you to suck face with the other guests in my kitchen! So don’t act like such a goddamn saint.”
You hear a door open and shut in the distance, but nothing can distract you from the pent-up rage that’s rolling off you in waves. As the sun steadily rises, the house is lit up in it’s rays, and you curse the daylight for showing you Yoongi more clearly, the way his eyes glitter with unshed tears of frustration. “Why does it matter to you what I do with them? I wasn’t aware there were rules against guests kissing at Holly Lodge. But then again, you’ve never had guests before so I guess you never got around to writing any.”
His face crumples. “That’s not my fault,” he mutters. “I wanted guests to come. I always wanted guests to come.”
You curse yourself for getting so heated, knowing this is turning ugly, but you can’t help yourself. Picking up your backpack, you storm across to the front door, calling out over your shoulder. “Don’t worry, Min Yoongi,” you snap, “you’ll get plenty of guests after I leave you a five-star review on Yelp. ‘Beautiful sights, expensive sheets, emotional turmoil. The best accommodation in Boseong.’ Have a nice life, Yoongi.”
Your hand is on the doorknob when his phone rings, a cheery ringtone of birds chirping. You don’t know what it is that makes you hesitate, but you hover at the front door long enough to hear him mumble, “oh, it’s the vets.”
Your hand falls. As much as Yoongi has hurt you, Min Holly is the sweetest old dog you’ve ever met, and curiosity keeps your feet planted.
“Hello? No, no, it’s okay, I was already awake… Ah, okay, thanks for the- He what?” With a growing feeling of dread, you swivel around in your spot, watching the emotions on Yoongi’s face play out like a movie; confusion, concern, fear. “Will he be okay?” He lets out a shuddering breath, looking around frantically. Looking for Holly. “And how quickly can I get him the operation?”
You let the backpack slide off your shoulder, gently hitting the carpet. His hand is over his nose and mouth, but you can see the wet glistening of his eyes and the way his shoulders shake. You know you’re probably the last person he wants to see, but you can’t bring yourself to leave him. Not now. Not when all you can think of is the pressed petal on his nightstand, framed like something precious. Not when you’re beginning to think that maybe you read his cold shoulder wrong after all.
“I… Can I call you back? I don’t think I can afford that, I need to contact someone who can. Okay. Yes, okay. Thank you for the call. Bye.” His voice cracks on the last syllable, and he barely manages to end the call before a broken sob is torn from his throat. “Oh, god.” His knees give out, and before you can process a response, you’re rushing forward, crouching on the floor in front of him.
“Yoongi, I’m so sorry,” you say in a hush, feeling your nose prickle with the warning of tears. He heaves another sob, crying some words you can’t make out. “Yoongi, I- You said there was someone you can call, take a deep breath, you can give them a call and get it sorted, okay?”
He wipes his face with shaking hands and blinks up at you. There’s no sign of animosity or lingering anger; when he stares at you, all you can see is a raw vulnerability. “My brother,” he manages to say in a thick voice, “but I can’t do it, I can’t speak to him.” He lets out another wail, and you sense there’s something deeper there, but you don’t have time to question it.
“Okay, I’ll call then. Unlock your phone for me, Yoongi, I’ll call.” He does so, typing in the string of numbers, 46559, three times before he gets it right with how violently his fingers tremble. “What’s your brother’s name, Yoongi?”
In the corner of your eye, you see two half-asleep young men padding down the hallway. You wave them away behind Yoongi’s back, mouthing get Holly at them. After they disappear, you bring your attention back to the bed-and-breakfast owner, who’s tucked his knees under his chin, looking more childlike than ever in his white pyjamas with daisies on them. “Joonie,” he hiccups, “call Joonie.”
Though there’s no Joonie listed as a contact, you assume Namjoon is the same person, and so you call it, reaching out to tentatively rub Yoongi’s back as it rings.
The call clicks through after only a few seconds. The voice is deeper than you were expecting, and authoritative. “Yoongi-hyung?”
With wide eyes filled with tears, Yoongi’s head picks up and he stares at you balefully, listening to the call. You put it on speakerphone. “I’m calling on behalf of Yoongi,” you explain, “I’m a friend.”
“The first call in years and it’s not even him,” he mutters, “go figure. What’s up?”
You bite your lip awkwardly. “Uh, it’s Holly. I don’t really know the details, Yoongi only just got the call, but he’s very sick. He needs an operation, urgently, it seems like. Yoongi would call, but he’s really upset at the moment.” You lock eyes with Yoongi as you speak, unable to tear your gaze away from the deep well of pain in them.
“Shit,” his brother curses, “is he there now?”
Yoongi gives the tiniest shake of his head. “He’s gone to grab some tissues, I think,” you lie, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you. “But Yoongi can’t afford the treatment. I think he’s hoping you could pay for it.”
Namjoon pauses on the other end of the line for a moment. “Your voice sounds distant, so I’m assuming you’re on speakerphone. Hi, Yoongi-hyung.” You bite your lip, but the crying boy just clasps his hand over his mouth again, a fresh wave of tears. “But anyway, of course I’ll pay. There’s just one thing… If I do this, hyung, Holly is staying with me. He needs proper care and treatment, especially if he’s having surgery. The veterinarians are better in Seoul, anyway. I can make sure he’s getting the best help. Understand, Yoongi?”
Clammy fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling the cellphone a little closer. “Okay, Joonie. I understand.”
You hear some typing in the background coming from Namjoon’s end, but Yoongi’s attention is caught by the familiar jingling from down the hallway. As Holly enters in a speedy jog, Yoongi reaches out to the dog with grabby-hands, letting out a shaky sigh of relief when the dog jumps into his arms, immediately lying across Yoongi’s lap. The young man cradles his companion, tears wetting the fur on his head.
“I’ve shuffled around a few appointments,” the voice from the phone announces, and you jump at the sudden noise. “I’ll be there by this afternoon. Thanks for the call…”
“Y/n,” you supply.
“Thanks for the call, Y/n. And I’ll see you soon, Yoongi-hyung.”
Seokjin and Taehyung decide to make their goodbyes. They sense, rightly so, that it wouldn’t do them well to stay, and as it is they had lives to get back to. The house seems quieter with them gone, but you suppose had they been here that cheery energy would’ve disappeared.
Yoongi and you spend the day in silence, quietly sitting on the couch, staring at the turned-off television screen emptily, as Holly sleeps soundly, snoring away in Yoongi’s arms. It feels more like a funeral, this weird, drawn-out goodbye, and once Yoongi receives a text saying Namjoon has landed, he solemnly wanders around the house, collecting all of Holly’s food, dog bed (that you’d never seen him actually use) and all of his favorite toys.
For the first time, you hear the crunch of gravel as someone arrives in a car. Namjoon looks nothing like Yoongi in the bigger picture - taller, bulkier, straighter hair - but they have the same glimmer in their eyes, the same round faces. For all that Namjoon seems to be the more adult one of the two, it’s clear by the way he pulls Yoongi into a tight hug, his whole body curling into it, that Namjoon is the younger brother. As the two of them catch up over some tea, you keep your distance, sensing there were some things they needed to discuss that didn’t concern you.
You decide to take Holly on one last wander through the forest. Now that Yoongi seems to have calmed down, eyes dry, you figure you’ve done your part. Especially with Seokjin and Taehyung leaving, you find it harder and harder to ignore the pull of your life back home, your responsibilities. Your old friends and loved ones don’t text you much anymore, but when they do they ask when you’re coming back to the ‘real world’. University, a career, a house. Things that they seem to care about more than you do. Your stuff is already packed up. When you get back, you can call up the Boseong-gun terminal and see when the next bus home leaves. It’s for the best, you tell yourself.
Namjoon is gone quickly after you return. The house feels hopelessly empty without Holly. If you can feel it, you have no idea how much it must tear Yoongi up inside, and so you put on the television, hoping any noise will fill even the smallest amount of that void.
You make the two of you some ramen for dinner, but both bowls sit untouched. They’ve long gone cold before Yoongi suddenly sits up, muting the ads on the TV. You stare at him uncertainly.
“I… wanted to thank you,” he says slowly, “for staying with me. You didn’t have to, but I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” He picks at some stray dog hairs that are embedded in the fabric of the couch. “I’m scared to be alone again.”
Your face falls. All thoughts of returning home are rendered void. You can’t leave him. “Of course I’ll stay,” you promise in a whisper.
He swallows, shuffling around so that he faces you on the couch. “You’ll stay,” he repeats in a chant. His gaze dips, then flickers back up to yours again. With brows furrowed like he’s unsure of what he’s doing, he leans forward and presses a tentative kiss across your lips.
You freeze. His hand rests on your knee, the lightest pressure, and he kisses you again, insistent this time like he’s begging for a response. Your heart breaks as you reach up and push his chest, separating him from you.
His eyes flutter open and his bottom lip trembles. “I don’t understand…” He retracts his hands into his lap, leaving your knee cold with his absence.
“You’re not in the right frame of mind, Yoongi,” you explain, “you’ve had a long day, and- Yoongi…” He stands up abruptly, and you reach out to him, but he waves your hand away.
“Goodnight,” he says shortly, leaving the room.
You sigh out and tip your head back, banging it against the couch headrest. Why did it feel like no matter what you did, it hurt?
You stay. Just like you promised, you stay for him.
You don’t see him anymore, but you drop off three meals a day at his door, and in the middle of the night, when you can’t sleep, sometimes you hear him showering, or grabbing a snack. Sometimes you hear him leave the house, only to return hours later. It feels strangely intimate that you know exactly where he goes on those nights.
You find out through eavesdropping on Yoongi’s calls to Namjoon that Holly got the operation. Though you still don’t know what exactly happened, there’s talk of a cast, and physical therapy. You hope he’s doing okay.
Although you understand Yoongi is upset about his companion being taken from him, you expect eventually he’ll come around. You wait day-in, day-out for him to open the door and come back to reality. You struggle away in the kitchen learning to cook, hoping to entice him with wafts of spice. You start loudly making calls to friends and family, highly recommending Holly Lodge. You even knock on his door in excitement when a little hedgehog trundles into the backyard one day, thinking maybe his pure love of nature will draw him out, but nothing works.
And then, after the leaves begin to burnish in autumn shades, you know you’ve been here too long. You sit down outside his doorway, head leaning against the closed door. “Yoongi,” you call out.
He doesn’t answer. You don’t even know if it’s awake or not. The thought that he might not even be listening gives you a strange confidence.
“Yoongi,” you repeat, “I don’t know what to do anymore. You can’t stay in there forever. I know I said I would stay. And I’ve done my best to keep that promise. But this isn’t healthy, for either of us. Please, just come out and have a meal with me. Come for a walk; we could go stargazing tonight. Anything, Yoongi.”
“It’s time for me to leave,” you reveal lowly. “There’s nothing else I can do to help you. I… The bus back home leaves tomorrow, but it leaves early, so I’m going to stay in town overnight. I’ve already called Mrs. Na. She’s got a room for me at the motel.” You sigh out at the continued lack of response. “I’m telling you this, Yoongi, because once I go you need to start doing things for yourself. I’ve thought long and hard about this because I’m-” you break off, blinking quickly to fight the tears that spring to your ears. “Because I’m scared that you’ll forget to eat, and get sick. I’m scared of leaving you alone like this, but I don’t know what else to do.” You sniffle, clearing your throat and standing. “Goodbye, Yoongi.”
It takes you longer than normal to follow the gravel road back into town. Mostly because of the way your eyes will fill with tears, and you’ll stumble on the uneven footing here and there. Or maybe it’s your body’s last cry of protest, not wanting to leave at all.
Either way, when you reach it, the motel is nice enough. Check-in isn’t until 3 in the afternoon, apparently, so you mope in the lobby for a few hours, curled up on the armchair. Mrs. Na peeks over her magazine every couple of minutes, but you refuse to look back until she’s waving you over with a manicured hand.
“Single room for one night?”
You nod in confirmation, already fishing around your backpack for your wallet to pay. Having paid for the groceries yourself over the past few weeks, your account is running concerningly low. “Thanks for-”
“Finally got tired of the love shack, huh?”
You blink at the interruption, freezing. “Excuse me?”
The bitter wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepen as she frowns at you. “Don’t play coy, dear. You two little lovebirds have been the talk of the town. You stay here for months, and then out of nowhere, you don’t leave the lodge for weeks. I guess there must be trouble in paradise.”
You fight the urge to snap at her, knowing she’ll only kick you out. “It isn’t like that. There were some personal issues that needed sorting out, that’s all.”
She raises her eyebrows patronisingly, turning to reach for one of the keys hung up behind the desk. “The only personal issue I can see is how inappropriate it is for a young woman like yourself to be living with three young men.”
You bite your tongue. Just one night. Instead of replying, you simply hold out the last of your cash, a flat palm ready to accept the key in return.
She takes the cash delicately, making sure not to touch your hand itself at all, and then holds out the key. “I just want you to know that my motel does not tolerate any untoward behavior. You better not be trying to whore yourself out to my custom-”
You jump as a hand cuts into your line of vision and bats the hand away. Mrs. Na recoils in shock, still gripping the cash tightly, and widens her eyes at the newcomer.
Turning around in disbelief, you watch as Min Yoongi reaches over and tugs the notes forcefully from her hand. “I’ve had it,” he spits out.
“Yoongi,” you breathe in awe, but he ignores you.
Wearing a dusty pink sweater and grey skinny jeans, he somehow still manages to strike an intimidating image. His shoulder gently nudges you, pushing you behind him. “No, I’ve had it,” he repeats more forcefully. “You can insult me, you can insult my business, my house, even my family. But I will not stand here and let you insult the woman I love.”
Both you and Mrs. Na gape at him, and this sudden burst of confidence.
Yoongi slips his hand into yours, squeezing tightly. He glares at Mrs. Nah one last time. “And your tea always tasted like shit, that’s why you went out of business. Come on, Y/n, we’re going home.”
He doesn’t let your hand go the entire way back to the lodge. You don’t want him to, either, because your chest feels so light it seems like he’s the only thing anchoring you with this strange swirling inside you. He doesn’t speak, only rushing you back up the slight slope to the lodge, to home, and when you finally arrive you see the door swinging on its hinge in the breeze, wide open.
Yoongi doesn’t address it. It seems like he’s desperate, feverish, to get you inside. In an odd mirroring of your first night together, he leads you directly to the guest room, hand firmly clasping your own.
“Yoongi, what’s going on?”
He tips his chin forward suddenly, then shakes his head and falls back. “Talk first,” he mumbles to himself. Then, back at you: “Y/n. I know I’m not good with words, or silent yearning looks, or smoke signals. So I’m going to be really clear now, just in case you didn’t hear it back at the motel.”
You can’t help but crack a grin at the earnest statement, giggling quietly. Yoongi pouts at you, but returns your smile reluctantly. Your heart leaps. He hasn’t smiled since that night under the stars. “I did hear it,” you admit, “but I sure would love to hear it again.”
“I love you, Y/n,” he confesses, “I’m so hopelessly in love with you that I didn’t even realise it at first. I’m so in love with you that I didn’t know what to do with myself, how to act. I felt like I couldn’t be around you for too long because my heart would ache. But then avoiding you just felt even worse. And when I saw you with the boys…”
“It didn’t mean anything,” you defend quickly, but Yoongi just furrows his brows.
“That’s not what I mean… It made me realize that I had no right to be angry or jealous, because I didn’t even have the courage to kiss you like they did. Even if it meant nothing for you or for them, I hated that I was too scared to do the same.”
You release all the air you didn’t realise you’d been holding. “That day Namjoon came. When you kissed me…”
Yoongi nods, slowly sitting down onto the edge of the bed, looking at your hands, still intertwined. “I wanted to tell you in words,” he admits. “I really was so scared you were gonna leave me, and I didn’t think I could take it. But I just couldn’t say it. So, I did the only thing I could think of.” He lets out a noisy breath, flicking you a sad smile. “But I guess I misread the situation. Even after I saw you with Taehyung and Seokjin I still thought maybe you liked me too. Sorry for making things weird.”
You shake your head, but he’s not looking at you anymore, so you sit down beside him, clasping your other hand over the two of yours. “You didn’t misread the situation. I didn’t want things to go further that night because I thought you might regret it in the morning. But you didn’t misread the situation. I… I’ve liked you for a long time. And I’ve never felt this way before, but I think it might be love.”
His eyes are on you, bright with hope and realisation. Having forgone a haircut for a little too long, droopy curls hang low over his brows, and he scrunches his nose unconsciously at the tickle. You look over his button nose, the roundness of his cheeks. His delicate pink lips slightly parted as he gives you his full attention.
A smile stretches across your face. “Actually, I’m sure. I love you, Min Yoongi. So much.”
His mouth turns up in pure happiness, flashing his gums for the first time in months. He searches your face for a moment, like he can’t quite believe it, then does something you’re not expecting.
He pulls you into a tight hug.
You immediately feel all tension leave your body at the feeling of his arms wrapping around you, chin resting on your shoulder. You bury your face into his neck and sink into his embrace. You think for the both of you, it’s been a very long time since you’ve had one.
“I don’t deserve you,” he praises quietly.
You squeeze him tighter, breathing in his natural scent, slightly floral, like the smell of his garden in spring. “You deserve the world.”
Instead of letting go, after a few moments he turns his head slightly, so that his nose brushes against your neck. You shiver when you feel his lips pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin of your throat. “Yoongi,” you murmur,  your body already responding to him, head tipping outwards to give him more room.
He works slowly, reverentially, sucking enough to make you tremble, but not so harshly to leave anything more than gentle pink marks. You sigh, eyes slipping closed in pleasure. You can feel his lips moving, like he’s whispering against your skin, making his way lower, but when his teeth scrape your collarbone lightly, you grow impatient.
You press your fingers insistently under his jaw and lift him, immediately capturing his mouth in a kiss that’s simultaneously exciting and reassuring, his lips molding against you as his back arches up, seeking every bit of contact he can get. You slide an arm around him, running it up and down his back soothingly. With the way his fingers curl desperately onto your shoulders, it seems like it’s been a while for him, just like it has for you. “Lie down,” you instruct softly, breaking from the kiss to help lower him to the bed.
You shuffle over for him to put his legs on the bed too, fully on his back, and then you straddle his hips, brushing his face fondly as you join your mouths together again. He seems all too happy to let you take control, eyes closed in bliss and jaw slack as you move lower, pressing countless small kisses down his cheek, jaw, and neck, until you’re propping yourself up on your forearms, laving at the skin. You can feel his pulse jumping under your tongue, and his throat bob every time he swallows. Sometimes, the skin vibrates gently, and you hear him letting out soft whimpers.
It’s not until his neck sports a spray of blossoming purple and dark pink that you sit up, a thought striking you. “Wait; why aren’t we in your bedroom?”
He blinks up at you, pupils blown wide, but eyes wider. “I wanted the Egyptian cotton sheets.”
You laugh breathily, clasping his face gently in your hands. “God, I love you.” His cheeks grow warm beneath your hands as his eyes soften in happiness. With his lips slightly pursed in your grasp, you bend down again and join your lips together.
He tastes sweet, and he has a patient yet passionate way of reciprocating the kiss, straining his face up to deepen it if he feels you pulling away too much. You could stay like this forever. As you feel his tongue shyly begin to slip out of his mouth, darting against your lip in tiny strokes, you feel a familiar sensation billow in your chest. The same feeling you had in those first few weeks, when everything felt magical and separate, like a little slice of heaven. Now, it’s far stronger, because at the center of your paradise is him.
You break off from his lips, nudging his head to the side with your nose and pressing a chaste kiss just below his ear. “Do you want to go further?” you question in a hushed whisper. “We can take this slow if you want.”
Looking up at you, he shakes his head hastily. “Please,” he sighs, “I want you.”
“Okay.” You sit up again, hovering over him. “Have you done this before?” He nods easily. “Let’s take this shirt off, then, hm?” He swallows when you play at the hem of his pink sweater, but nods after a moment.
Although it’s autumn, and he probably should’ve been layering up, it seems like he left the house in a hurry since he’s not wearing an undershirt. As you lift up the fabric inch by inch, more bare skin is revealed, unblemished other than a few moles. You trail your fingertips over them, feeling him shiver beneath you. The thought occurs to you that a time will come when you know the location of every one by heart, could map them out on the planes of his body with your eyes closed. Your heart aches at the thought, overwhelmed by it.
Having been in his room, sedentary for weeks, he’s developed a small paunch just above his waistband, filling out his hips a bit. He blushes, turning his head to the side shyly when you look over him.
“You’re beautiful, Yoongi,” you assure him wholeheartedly. “Absolutely perfect. Arms up for me?”
He obediently raises his limbs, wiggling out of the sweater. Once you toss it on the ground, you quickly remove and discard your own shirt, not wanting him to feel too self-conscious. His eyes light up at the sight of your bra, and you see his fingers twitch.
“Want me to take it off?” you question rhetorically, chucking lightly when he nods. Instead of doing as he wishes, you instead grab his hands and guide them around your back, leaning over so he can reach the clasp. “They’re hooks,” you explain, “so push the two sides towards each other, and then out.”
“I know how to take off a bra,” he mutters petulantly, though he fumbles with the hooks for a few moments, before finally getting them free and slipping the fabric off your body. You pull your arms out, and laugh when he flings it dramatically across the room, so that it smacks the wall and lands in a pitiful heap. “I hate those,” he mutters, half to himself. “They just get in the way.”
"I know something else that's getting in the way," you counter, and stand up off the bed, unbuttoning your jeans and shimmying out of them. "Do you want yours off too?"
He hesitates for a moment. "Can we... Can we turn the light off, or something?"
"Of course, if it makes you feel more comfortable." You quickly pad over to the other side of the room, flicking the light switch by the door.
It's clear that some time has passed since the two of you returned home by the way the room is plunged into a dim evening gloom when you turn the light off. "Too dark," Yoongi mumbles unhappily, and crawls over the mattress to reach the lamp on the bedside table, flicking it on and pushing the head of the lamp down so that it's just enough to see by. His face looks softer in this glow, and more relaxed. He gets out of his jeans quietly and without fanfare, settling back onto the bed.
In nothing but your underwear, when you lie down beside him and pull him into a languid kiss, you can feel the stiff peaks of your nipples pressing against his chest. He shivers in the cool air, mouth slack as you take control of the kiss. You’re all too happy to take things slow, not wanting to rush him, and so you lose track of time, simply kissing him until Yoongi is the only thing filling your thoughts.
After a time, your kisses become more frantic; sucking, nibbling, licking until your lips are swollen and slick. You let your hands roam the planes of his body, flat palms running up his chest and slipping over the curve in his lower spine. You swing a leg over his hips and gently press your heel, urging him closer until there’s nothing but the two layers of thin fabric keeping you apart. 
You sigh into his mouth when you feel a thumb swipe over one of your pebbled nipples, sending a bolt of pleasure straight down to your core. 
“Is this okay?” he questions as he begins to gently roll it between his fingers. You arch your back, pressing yourself into his hand, your kisses growing sloppy. “Feels good?” You groan out your confirmation, clenching your thighs tighter as he keeps the same delicate pressure, tugging lightly at it to see how stiff it can get between the pads of his fingers. 
“Yoongi,” you breathe, “so good.” You bask in the sensation for a while longer, before you can no longer maintain your mouth on his. You clasp your hand over the one of his that cups your breast, gently pulling it away. “I want you, Yoongi.”
He stares at you, eyes wide with anticipation as you lower yourself, getting comfortable between his legs, face just above his clothed crotch. “You don’t have to-” he protests weakly, but you cut him off, patting the top of his thigh reassuringly.
“I want to,” you counter. “You took care of me when I had nowhere to stay, you took care of me when I got sunburnt. You even took care of me with Mrs. Na. So let me take care of you, baby.” 
You slip the fabric of his underwear down over the swells of his ass, watching as his cock springs up and rests on his stomach. It seems silly to say, but he’s got the most beautiful dick you’ve ever seen. Leaving his underwear half-on around his thighs, you take him gently in your hand, mouth watering. 
With a delicate pink head and a graceful curve, he’s smaller than you would’ve expected, but somehow this dainty cock fits him perfectly. It looks beautiful in your hand, and when you pump him, beads of precum pool in his slit, threatening to spill over. 
You take him in your mouth, flicking your tongue against the underside of his tip as you create some suction. He lets out a satisfied sigh, muscles tensing. After taking him deep in order to get him lubricated enough, you slip off him with a pop and begin jerking your wrist, working him to pull more moans from his swollen lips. 
“Feels so nice,” he praises, though he can’t stop from wiggling under your ministrations, the elastic around his thighs keeping him from moving much. 
When you suck him down again, you keep your eyes up, wanting to drink in his reactions. Eyes bunched shut in pleasure, he’s fully unaware of your gaze. 
He looks beautiful, even from this angle, and you’re struck by the fact that this will be the first time of many, that you’ll see him from below like this many times in the future, and that soon you’ll be able to decipher every twitch of his eyebrows and every gasped cry. 
Suddenly his eyes are opening, staring down at you in awe, and you feel your heart swell. You can’t take it anymore. You give him one last flick of your tongue, and crawl up his body to join your mouth to his, reveling in the way his two tastes mingle in your mouth. 
“I need you,” you chant against his lips, “are you still okay to take this all the way?” 
He nods quickly, but rubs behind his ear. “Could we get under the covers? I tend to, uh, fall asleep pretty quickly afterwards so I don’t want to freeze overnight.”
You laugh softly, sitting up to slip your panties off before you tuck yourself under the sheets. When you turn to wait for him, he’s frozen with his mouth hanging half-open. You give him a confused smile. “What?”
He blinks, shakes his head a bit to clear his thoughts, and cracks a wonky grin. “I’m somehow the luckiest and most stupid man in the world.” 
“How do you figure that?”
He kicks his underwear off the rest of the way and scoots under the blankets to join you, propping his head up with his hand as he lies on his side. “I’m the luckiest because I’m in love with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and she for some reason loves me back.” 
You smile softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling his eyelashes flutter against your skin. “And why are you the stupidest?” 
“It took me this fucking long to do anything about it.”
You let out a loud laugh, reaching out for his hand to entwine your fingers again. The movement feels natural and the warmth of his palm in yours is already familiar and reassuring. “Let’s make up on lost time, then.” 
He grins, teeth pressing into his bottom lip, then gasps. “Wait,” he pouts, “I have to go grab a condom!” 
You push yourself up and reach over his body to the nightstand on the other side of the bed. “Don’t worry,” you assure, “the lovebirds have us covered.” 
In the drawer are three boxes of condoms. You rest on top of Yoongi’s bare chest as you reach into the open one, fiddling around for a square packet in the almost-empty carton. 
Yoongi leans over and widens his eyes. “God, how many times did they fuck in here?” When he cranes his neck, he sees the two full boxes beside the one you took. “How many times were they planning to fuck in here?”
You giggle, sitting up again, but it’s cut off by a drawn-out moan. You look down to see Yoongi latched on to your nipple, looking up at you innocently through his brown curls. You groan again, feeling his tongue swipe against it and his teeth nibble on it teasingly.
He pulls off you with a wet pop, hand coming up to massage at it, soothing away the slight pain from the bite. “Sorry,” he mutters off-handedly, though it’s clear he doesn’t really mean it, “I couldn’t help myself.” 
You grin and swing a leg over his hips, straddling him with his cock resting just in front of your bare pussy. He swears lowly and tips his head back onto the pillows. “Don’t apologise,” you assure, “I liked it. In fact, feel free to do that again anytime.” 
He blushes hotly, and as you bring your hand down to palm at his stiff cock, you marvel at the fact that he’s still so flustered around you. You wonder how long he’ll take to build his confidence, or if he’ll always be your sweet, shy boy in the bedroom. As you let go of his hand to rip open the packet and slide on the condom, you’re not sure which outcome you’d want more. He does look so beautiful splayed out in below you, neck blooming in colour from your markings. 
“Ready?” you check in one last time. Yoongi breathes out deeply and nods, but clutches his right hand out in front of you. You interlock your fingers with him once more and sit up on your knees, using your free hand to line him up. 
His whole body trembles when you sheath yourself on him in one swift movement. His eyes are furrowed shut, lips parted in pleasure. You can see his knuckles whiten as they grip the sheets and your hand. “Y/n,” he breathes out in a tight voice, “go slow. Please.” 
You bite your lip at the feeling of him inside you, clenching your folds to increase the friction as you lift up off him slowly. Creating a slow but deep pace, you let the sounds of his delicate cries fill your ears. He’s not noisy, but just very vocal, every breath coming out as a whine or moan of pleasure. “You’re so good for me, baby,” you praise breathlessly. “My good boy.” 
His hips buck up and you hiss as he inadvertently thrusts into you deeper than before. “God,” he whines hopelessly. 
“I thought you said slow,” you tease, resting your interlocked hands on the bed and trailing the fingertips of your other hand over his chest lightly, feeling the way his dick twitches inside you when you pass over his nipple.
He makes a noise of disagreement, tossing his head side to side when you begin to slowly swirl your hips, grinding on him rather than riding him. “Wan’more,” he pleads. 
You grab his other hand, keeping them both pinned to the pillow on either side of his head as an anchoring point for you to keep yourself steady as you begin to pick up your pace. 
He writhes beneath you so beautifully, and that paired with the grind of his cock inside you brings you to the edge after only a few more minutes. Yoongi is clearly suffering the same lack of longevity by the way his moans are short and high pitched, thighs trembling in desperation. 
Rather than words, you indicate you’re close by bending down and joining your lips together again, wanting to be as connected with him as possible when you reach your edge. The moment he moans your name into your mouth, you feel a powerful orgasm spread through you, coming from within and igniting pleasure in all your nerves. Your toes curl and your pace stutters, but you force yourself to continue as long as you can, grinding on him when you don’t have the strength to bounce up and down. He comes with a cry, clutching your hands so close they hurt, mindlessly babbling confessions of love. 
True to form, he indeed becomes very sleepy very fast, and you have to take the condom off for him as the moment you get up off him, he lets out a tired mumble, nuzzling his face into any skin of yours close enough in his sleep. 
You laugh silently, fondly, and join him under the heated covers, wrapping an arm around his middle, just like that night under the stars. 
You wake up before him that next morning. 
Although it’s late autumn, the sun streams in lazily through the crack in the curtains, casting a warm glow over his delicate body. He grunts unhappily when you separate yourself from him, and in his sleep he turns around, seeking your warmth. 
When you dress quietly, opting for his oversized sweater and some panties rather than your own clothes, you listen to the regular sound of his breathing, feeling it calm you. His hair is sticking up in all directions and he’s drooling out the corner of his mouth, but still, you’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than Min Yoongi. 
The soft pink of his sweater brings to mind a different shade, a vibrant one. The azalea petal that presumably still resides on his nightstand, the one he kept all those months ago. Did he really love you that whole time? 
You smile softly at the thought, and tip-toe out the guest room, towards the kitchen. With the only sound being the chirping of the birds outside, you grab the jar of Boseong Breakfast tea, and pull out two mugs. 
5K notes · View notes
bratkook · 6 months ago
concrete king. (m) jjk
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pairing. skaterboy!jk x reader genre. fluff, smut, himbo energy word count. 16.7k ....don’t look at me warnings. sweet summer romance, blonde!jk, brief depictions of drugs (marijuana usage), alcohol, lots of making out, messy car sex, fingering, spit kink !! (duh), light tit play, playful dirty talk, protected sex, overall cute, jungkook is a big fking dork and a softie! summary. when a cute boy in a tacky hawaiian shirt lands a trick in your honor theres no way you could you ever say no to him note. thank you to @cutechim @jungkxook for indulging my thirsty rambles as well as @coepiteamare for beta reading this for me like an absolute angel ❣️ ily babes !! ps. @jjkxla​ come get ur mans ! (i also made a bby playlist for the fic here !)
leave some feedback, send a message, tell me u love me pls u know the drill <3
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The California sun beats high from it’s spot in the sky, zero clouds coming between the harsh rays that bounce off the concrete and warm up Jungkook’s body in an almost uncomfortable way. He can feel the sweat accumulating on the back of his neck, leaving the blonde strands damp with moisture, ends curling up as he ruffles his hands through them. 
Jungkook has been here for a little over an hour now, currently perched on the edge of the smaller bowl as he observes Hoseok from inside, laughing as his friend pops up, bottom of his trucks grinding against the ledge before he’s gliding back down. Hoseok had just picked up skating recently; he’s used to cruising on the streets so he has the basics down, just needs Jungkook’s help when it comes to doing anything at the skatepark. The first hurdle? The frontside carve grind that he had been struggling with. 
“Smoother, right?” he calls out to his friend as he pumps himself back around to repeat it on the opposite side with the same success. He cheers briefly before gripping his deck and climbing out of the bowl, settling his ass right next to him, ignoring the slight burn from the concrete below. 
“Much,” he flips the board over in his grasp, fingers wiggling the trucks with a pleased smile. “Who knew loose trucks would be my saving grace.”
Jungkook hums in confirmation, twirling his own board above his lap. “I don’t know how the hell you were carving before. They were tight as fuck.”
“Rookie mistake,” Hoseok jokes, leaning back on his palms and letting his head hang back, face turned up to the sky with his eyes shut. 
Jungkook chuckles as he hauls himself up, fingers pulling at his shirt, his white tee sticking to his back as he flaps the bright blue printed button up around him for some air. His eyes roam the skate park, seeing who occupied what area: the bikers on the far left side, roller skaters in the middle where the half pipe was, and skate boarders to the far left where the shallow bowl and rails were. 
“Why the hell are you wearing that?” Hoseok grumbles when he opens his eyes and really takes a look at Jungkook’s bright shirt, covered in orange and yellow petals, classic hawaiian print that should only belong on middle aged men on vacation. The ridiculous shade of blue contrasts against the dark ink on his arms, thick bold tattoos in all black that are placed sporadically, almost as if he had slapped stickers onto his skin and called it a day. Like most things in life, Jungkook made it work; this hawaiian shirt however was the very rare occasion where it didn’t work. 
“It’s called fashion, asshole,” Jungkook laughs, nudging his knee against his friend’s shoulder and stumbling when Hoseok shoves him back, almost making his legs buckle underneath him. “Fuck you,” he chortles, smacking Hoseok’s head with a nice whack, jumping out of the way before he can retaliate once again. 
Just as Hoseok is about to get up, presumably to put his younger friend into a headlock, Jungkook drops into the bowl on his board, cackling the whole way down. A dorky smile is on his lips, teeth out as he looks back at his friend, legs acting on their own accord while he carves along the bowl. 
His hair flows in the wind as he picks up speed, knees bent slightly to help pump himself around with practiced ease. He feels at home whenever he’s here, muscle memory guiding him through the motions, letting him ride out of the bowl smoothly. 
Jungkook kicks off with his right foot for speed, a grin on his face as he approaches the upcoming ledge, feet wide and stable on his board. With a push up, he’s hopping onto the ledge with the nose of his board, grinding along the surface for a few seconds before hopping off, wheels clacking against the concrete as he rolls away. 
A group of kids cheer on from the sidelines as they watch, all decked out in protective gear as they stare at him with eyes that make him feel as if he had just done something monumental. He gives them a smile in thanks as he glides by them, remembering the times when he was their age and struggling to stand on his own board. 
It makes him want to show off some more, skating a little way past them to get some distance to catch some speed before eventually attempting to pull a trick after clearing the stairs that lead to the lower part of the park. 
He flips his hair back as he nears the edge of the park, right before the concrete meets the patchy grass, and before he can fully concentrate, he hears the sound of laughter. Jungkook has to blame it on his easily distracted attention span, but his ears focus on it, head turning around in search of it, bouncing off the same kids playing a few feet away before finally landing on you. 
He hops off his board now, cool trick momentarily forgotten, kicking the tail up until his fingers curl around the nose as he holds it by his side. That’s when he hears it again, confirming it actually belonged to you, sitting on the metal bench underneath the shade of a tree with a red popsicle in your hand and a wide smile on your face as your friend tells a story. 
Jungkook is definitely not blind, taking note of how attractive you are, your legs barely covered in a pair of dark blue denim shorts and out in the open due to the summer heat. If there was one thing he would always be weak for, it’s pretty girls like you with laughs as sweet as honey and smiles brighter than the sun. 
He wonders for a moment if the heat has gone to his head and he’s imagining you, like some kind of mirage you see just before you pass out because there’s no way you’re real. Hell, maybe he had attempted the cool trick and busted his head open, and you were coming to him in some coma dream. 
Your friend must sense him staring, her eyes looking at him before she’s mumbling something to you, and you’re turning around to look right at him too. You’re giving him a very clear once over, no doubt judging his shirt choice like Hoseok had, but when you don’t immediately look away, he lifts a hand up and gives you a simple wave. 
Tight, you’re real. 
A confused grin is on your lips as you wave back, briefly wondering if he was an acquaintance you had forgotten about, more so when he speaks loud enough for you to hear, his need to impress a pretty girl taking over. 
“Watch this!”
And you do, turning fully around to observe the blonde boy as he angles his board before getting a head start and hopping onto it with just enough speed to execute his trick. You watch as he crouches low on the board, pushing off the tail until it scoops up under him, front foot rotating it in time with his body in a full 360 before swiftly landing it. 
Jungkook smiles wide at landing the beta flip after having practiced it earlier in the day, wheels crunching over the cracks as he cruises on and comes to a stop right before the stairs. He holds in his cheer as he hops off his board with his shoulders pulled back in pride, only increasing when he realizes you had in fact watched him pull it off. 
“That was for you!” he shouts out, placing his fingertips to his lips to blow you a kiss, not at all phased by the look on your face. It’s a clear display of amusement mixed with confusion, your hand pointing at your chest to confirm he was talking to you. 
“Do I know you?”
That’s the golden ticket he needs, bending down to clutch his board and make his way to you. “Glad you asked,” he laughs, approaching you with that same toothy smile, blonde hair framing his face and flowing through the wind as he speeds up his pace. 
“I’m Jungkook,” he announces, coming to stop right in front of the bench and hunkering down into the spot right next to you. He takes up space comfortably, almost as if he thinks he belongs absolutely everywhere, thighs spread out and back resting along the tabletop casually as he leans onto his elbows. 
“Okay Jungkook, do I know you?” Your friend snickers at your tone, taking note of the way he smirks, hands raking through his hair as he stares at you with doe eyes that you know help him win over the ladies. 
“You do now. What’s your name?” 
There's a small moment where you have an internal battle, wondering if it would be wise to give your name out to the cute skater who had just landed a trick in your honor. It’s not until your friend gives you a look that tells you to do it that you finally respond. 
“Y/N,” you smile, bringing the red ice pop back to your lips for another taste, desperately needing it to ward off the sticky heat surrounding you. His eyes are locked onto the motion, seeing the way your lips wrap around the edge of it until suddenly, you’re biting into the slowly softening treat. 
“Oh man, you bite ice cream? I’m out,” he laughs, going to stand back up as he feigns being alarmed. Your joyous laugh fills the air once more, your palm slapping over your mouth to prevent the chunk from slipping out. “What flavor is that anyways?”
“Watermelon,” you laugh, “and don’t judge me, it’s hot.” Your words are hard to make out as you mumble while chewing, snickering when he slumps back into his spot with a wide smile. He gives you a moment as you finish up your treat, his eyes crinkled up as he stares at you with clear amusement on his sun kissed face, nodding in approval at the flavor of choice. 
“I don’t know. I came over here ‘cause I thought you were cute but you’re clearly–“ his finger circles around near his temple, the slight grimace on his face a clear indication that he was calling you crazy, and it only makes you giggle some more. 
“You think I’m cute?”
Jungkook’s jaw drops, a silent laugh leaving him as he stares at you incredulously. “I also think you’re crazy. Did that slip your mind?”
The popsicle finds its way back into your mouth as you hum in indifference, choosing to suck on it instead of biting it to save him from the absolute agony of watching. He swears he could feel his own brain rattling and teeth aching when you did it. Maybe you are crazy. 
“No, I heard cute, and the rest just got tuned out.”
He laughs fully at this, and you take a second to admire him, getting a good look at his profile as his head drops back, light strands of hair no longer obstructing your view, allowing you to see the way his nose scrunches up and his top teeth push out in an endearing way. 
Your eyes drop to his arms now, the black lines calling your attention as you admire the bold artwork covering the entire expanse of them. Each piece is relatively small, individually placed with a small gap in between the tattoos next to them instead of it being a fully connected sleeve. The one that really catches your eye is the noose tucked into his bicep, right above his elbow with the words 'I'll be cool when I’m dead’ lined around it in all caps. It’s an interesting style that somehow suits him. 
“Alright,” he scoots closer to you smoothly, turning to fully stare at you with his head tilted slightly. “Yeah, you’re cute, for a girl who bites ice cream.”
He pauses for another second as you pull out the popsicle, eyes looking at him with a sly smile on your red coated lips. it doesn’t prepare him for the low blow you’re about to deliver. “You talk a lot of shit for a guy wearing a hawaiian shirt.”
His hand clutches over his chest, fingers gripping onto the fabric of his white tee as he hunches over and winces at the second jab to his fashion sense. “Damn, no need for the personal attack. What brings you to this beautiful park?”
Normally he’d assume you were here to skate, or to just stare at the boys since that’s what a lot of girls did to pass time, but you were lacking in gear and anything that had wheels. You also didn’t seem interested in anything going on in the park. 
This park was on the slightly shittier side of town, covered in graffiti and barely held together by the people who inhabited it, everyone coming together to fix anything that broke in an effort to keep it alive. It was a nice little community, and without it, this place would’ve become a run down skeleton of what it is now. 
Whatever was beyond the concrete, though, was left to its own methods of survival. Grass patchy and half dead, too many crazed squirrels that didn’t fear humans, and the occasional run in with an aggressive stranger made people who weren’t here to ride stay far away. 
You know this: it’s the main reason you never come here, especially when the weather is as nasty as it is today. 
The red treat is now pointed at your friend as you speak. “Her boyfriend is over there by the big bowl. I’m just here to keep her company and help ward off the squirrels.”
Jungkook looks over to the area in question, seeing the same bikers huddled around the deep bowl as someone drops in. “Sick, who is he?”
“Taehyung,” your friend speaks up, chin resting on her palm as she stares dreamily at the boy with the wide smile that catches air on his bike. They had only been dating a few weeks, but it was clear she was absolutely smitten with him. 
“No way,” Jungkook chuckles, raking his hands through his hair again. It’s become a habit ever since he let it grow out, but each time he does it, you’re given the perfect view of his forehead and strong eyebrows, so you’re not complaining. “We go way back. You must be Jia then?”
Her face beams up at that, proud that her boyfriend talks about her to his friends, and when Taehyung comes to a still and stares over at her, she waves at him frantically. Jungkook stifles a laugh when his friend does the same, long arm swinging side to side as he smiles at his girlfriend. 
“Yeah, glad to know he talks about me.”
“Oh, he doesn’t shut up about you,” he playfully rolls his eyes, chuckling when she gets even happier, deciding to stand up and make her way over to Taehyung for a moment. 
“They’re cute,” you sigh, resting your arm on the cool metal table as you stare at the couple, smiling as Jia sits her butt on the handlebars and screams when Taehyung pretends to drop into the bowl. 
“The cutest.” Jungkook humors you, eyes bouncing over to Hoseok and seeing him practicing some simple flat tricks off to the side. That’s when the idea pops into his head, turning back to stare at you with a grin on his lips. “Since you know Taehyung and Jia, are you coming to the kickback?”
“What kickback?”
“My friend Hoseok’s throwing a small get together. His parents are loaded and on this weird hippie retreat, so it’s free real estate for a party. Those two will be there, so I’m just passing along the message.”
Your roll your lips in thought, remembering the brief invitation Jia had given you a while back, an invitation you had turned down because you didn’t know anyone that would be there besides her and the last thing you wanted was to be alone once she disappeared with Taehyung. But if Jungkook would be there, then maybe you’d have a reason to go. 
“Is this a direct invitation?” you wonder, finishing off your treat and setting the stained stick aside. 
“Sure is. There’s also a pool in case my presence isn’t convincing enough.” His thick brows wiggle while he speaks, a quick wink sent your way, and a cute smile spreads onto his lips when you roll your eyes at his antics. 
“I don’t know. Land another trick for me, and I’ll consider it.”
Jungkook never backs down from a challenge, so he nods in thought, bending forward to grab his board from the dry grass, mind whirling as he thinks of the right trick to do to impress you. 
“You’re gonna make me work for it huh?” He stands up fully now, adjusting his atrocious shirt as it sticks to his back once more. There’s a playful smile on his face that only spreads when you nod your head in confirmation. 
“Sure am. Go on and try to impress me with something cute.” Your words poke fun at him, your foot coming out to nudge at his leg for him to get going when he remains by your side. 
“I hope you have an outfit planned for it because I’m totally gonna blow you away with my cute trick.”
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Of course Jungkook lands the trick, making it look like a piece of cake without breaking a sweat as he once again blew a kiss your way, managing to rope you in and get your number as well as a verbal confirmation that you’d be at the party. 
It makes him feel a little jittery as he roams the aisles of the nearby 7-11 with Jimin, in search of drinks and some snacks. He can faintly see his reflection in the glass doors as he eyes the shelves of drinks, blonde hair split down the middle and styled off his face, a look of thought on his features. The rings adorning his fingers rattle against his board leaning on his legs as he taps them along the nose, looking far too conflicted over the choices displayed in front of him. 
“It’s just alcohol Kook. Pick something.” Jimin speaks up from beside him, playfully shoving his shoulder to snap Jungkook out of his deep concentration. 
“Girls like white claws, right?” he wonders outloud, fingers curling around the handle of the fridge before yanking it open. The chill hits him instantly, something he welcomes since the summer heat was still going strong. It sends a shiver through him so he keeps the door propped open, choosing to stare without the glass obstructing his view. 
“Bro, I like white claws.” Jimin huffs, sliding in between Jungkook and grabbing his own case of the mango flavored drink, not wanting to linger in this store longer than necessary.  
“So, yes?” 
Jimin gives his friend a pointed look as he juggles his board and the drink case in his arms. “Yes, grab two of the assorted cases. I’m sure Hoseok has enough alcohol in case they happen to hate great tasting seltzer.”
That’s good enough for Jungkook, grabbing two cases and letting the fridge door slam behind him as he follows after Jimin. The silver haired boy was already at the counter, grabbing a pack of original backwoods and setting it on top of his beloved white claw case, an array of snacks beside it. 
“What if she flakes?” Jungkook wonders as he slides the cases besides Jimin’s junk, grabbing his wallet from his pocket to flash his ID to the cashier before fishing out some bills to pay for it all—something he had promised Jimin after losing a bet yesterday afternoon. 
“Then she flakes,” Jimin shrugs, asking the cashier for extra bags to ensure the plastic wouldn’t give out on their ride to Hoseok’s. 
“Fuck, don’t say that.” Jungkook whines, pocketing the change and smiling in thanks when the cashier triple bags their items. If you flaked on him, he would feel like such a loser, excited at the prospect of getting to see you again only for it to be made clear that you really weren’t interested. 
Jungkook shakes those thoughts out of his head as they exit the store, his leg propping open the door for the next customer. Jimin can see the worry on his younger friend’s face, heaving a sigh as he lets his board fall to the floor. 
“She’s not gonna flake. She’s probably already there.”
That doesn’t seem to make it any better, Jungkook’s eyes bulging out as he adjusts the bags in his grip and drops his own board in a haste. 
“The fuck are we doing here then?” he huffs, hopping onto the deck and pushing himself off in a hurry, not even waiting for Jimin to situate himself as he rolls down the parking lot and onto the sidewalk. 
“Okay, fuck me right?” Jimin shouts out, rolling his eyes as Jungkook doesn’t seem fazed. If anything, he picks up more speed. Jimin knew the way to Hoseok’s: it was only a few blocks away, plus Jungkook was carrying the bulk of the items so he shouldn’t even be complaining. 
The strain of his arms is starting to ache from the weight pulling on them, paired up with the blaze of the late afternoon sun, and Jungkook can already feel the prickling of sweat on his skin. His button up of choice today doesn’t provide him much airflow compared to his favorite hawaiian shirt, something he had forgone in order to not get absolutely roasted from you and his friends again. Instead he picked out a loose fitting red shirt with the depiction of dragons printed on it, tucked into his ripped black jeans to showcase the black belt wrapped around his waist. 
Sure, he had decided to dress up a little. It might be to impress you, or it might be self care, but he reassured himself that he still looked casual because of the dirty converse laced on his feet. 
He smiles a bit as the streets grow wider, rolling onto the smooth pavement instead of the cracked sidewalk. Rich people loved their streets pothole and gravel free, and it made for perfect cruising conditions. It lets him get more speed as he nears Hoseok’s house, blonde strands flowing through the wind, silver earrings dangling in time with each kick he gives until finally, he sees it. 
Both feet rest on his board now and he spares a glance behind him, laughing when he sees Jimin doing his best to catch up with a middle finger aimed right at him. Jungkook juggles the bags in his grasp before throwing the bird back, leaning to the right to turn onto the driveway and hopping off the board altogether. 
He doesn’t even bother grabbing his board, choosing to kick it until it rolled onto the green front lawn. There was no way someone would steal it here anyways, so he feels no guilt as he makes his way inside the air conditioned home. 
“Hobi!” he calls out, not in the mood to try to find his friend wherever he might be in the house. Jungkook just shuffles through the entryway, making a beeline for the kitchen like he always does when he’s here. “Oh, there you are.”
Hoseok hums in confirmation as he pulls out some water from the fridge, fingers pointing at the bags in his friend’s grasp. “What did you get?”
“White claws,” Jungkook grunts, hauling the cases up onto the oversized island and shaking out his arms to get the feeling back into them. 
“Nice, where’s Jimin?”
“He’s coming.” The door opens then, and Jungkook gestures to signify that it must be him. “Anyways, is she here yet?”
“Who?” Hoseok frowns, not even able to conceal his laughter when Jungkook gives him a stone cold look. “Damn I’m kidding. Yeah, she’s here. Everyone’s outside by the pool. Come bring the drinks out.”
Jungkook hops in place for a bit, a goofy smile on his face when Hoseok shoves his shoulder with a laugh. You were here. You didn’t flake, and now his nerves were back to overflowing his mind. 
With a small breath, he contains his smile, trying to keep his face neutral as he grabs the cases and follows behind Hoseok to the backyard, Jimin right behind him. Jungkook doesn’t even react when Jimin kicks his thigh like an annoying brother. No, he’s too focused on finding you in the small group of people lounging under the canopy beside the pool. 
He hears Taehyung instantly once the doors open, his wild laughter kickstarting everyone else's. Jungkook’s eyes roam around, spotting Namjoon standing by the grill as he ensures the burgers and hotdogs don’t burn. Taehyung is currently kneeled on a bright pink floating bed, playing what appears to be a game of chicken with Jin in the pool, the two of them fully clothed and swatting at each other in an effort to have someone topple over. 
“Wait, shit, my phone’s still in my pocket!” Taehyung shouts out as Jin gets his hands around the other’s wrist, fully intent on sending him over. 
“Nice try,” Seokjin calls his bluff, yanking his friend over with full force, wobbling on his own floaty as Taehyung splashes into the water with a scream. 
That’s when he hears your laugh, having it embedded in his mind since last week. It’s easy for him to find you now, seeing you tucked into the cushions of the couch in the shade, snug right between Jia and Yoongi’s girlfriend, Sena. 
He freezes in his spot, making Jimin collide into his back with a curse before he’s pushed out of the way. That same dorky smile spreads across his lips as your eyes move from the scene in the pool to Jungkook, a grin sent his way as you shimmy out of your wedged spot. 
Jungkook tries not to be a typical boy that gawks at pretty girls, but you make it so hard, legs taunting him in another pair of denim shorts and a cropped distressed vintage tee of a band he just so happens to love only makes him swoon just a little more. 
“You look really pretty,” he breathes out as you get close enough, abandoning a typical greeting in favor of a compliment that makes you laugh as you look down at the grass beneath your shoes. 
“Thanks,” you smile, hand reaching out to tug at his shirt, admiring the pattern that covers it, favoring it to the bright blue vacation shirt from before. “You do too.”
He catches your words before you can try to fix them, a teasing smile on his lips as he raises his brows. “You think I look pretty? Thank you.”
You don’t even fight it, grabbing the top case of white claws to ease the weight off of him with a smile, instantly walking towards the outdoor fridge Hoseok had told you was where all the drinks would be. “You’re welcome. Keep wearing shirts like that, and I’ll call you pretty all the time.”
Jungkook whistles as he walks beside you, softly bumping into your shoulder, “How’d you know my love language is words of affirmation?”
“Is it?” you laugh, setting the case on top of the outdoor counter and opening it up, ready to hand them over to Jungkook as he kneels to open the mini fridge. 
“Sure is. Hearing it from you just makes it hit a little different though.”
Your teeth bite down on your lower lip, trying to conceal your smile at his honest flirting, urging the butterflies in your stomach to settle down. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as he stares up at you, and it makes you want to match his energy, so you nod as you crack open the can in your hand and pass it over to him before opening one for yourself. 
“Noted. You’re gonna be sick of my compliments by the time the day is over.”
Jungkook doesn’t think that’s true at all, but he’s not going to stop you from calling him cute or pretty because it makes his cheeks hurt from how hard he tries to keep from smiling. 
As the evening progresses and the sun slowly dips beyond the horizon, the two of you find your way beside the pool with your feet dipped in, and you stay true to your words. Jungkook lets you boost his ego as you compliment his tattoos, allows you to grip his hands while you inspect the chunky rings adorning his fingers and even try to slip a few on to see how they’d look on your own. The final push is when you run your fingers through his hair, nails gently grazing his scalp in an innocent way as you comment on the shade of blonde, sweet voice telling him how nicely it suits him.  
That’s when a shiver wracks through him, and he can’t even attribute it to the soft chill the summer night brings or the cold pool water. No, it was solely because of you. Your soft spoken comments were sending his mind into overdrive, and he desperately needed to mellow out before he made a fool of himself in front of you. 
So he does what he thinks is best, fishes into his deep front pockets and pulls out one of the joints he had stuffed in there this morning. It was his emergency joint and Jungkook wasn’t sure if this classified as an emergency but he was about two minutes from going all heart eyes on you, so he had to calm himself down to not scare you off. 
“Is that weed?” you laugh, your hand coming up to cover your lips as you giggle, his chunky ring still loosely wrapped around your index finger glimmering in the night light. 
“Yeah, wait–do you smoke?” he stutters out, breathing a sigh of relief when you slowly nod. “Jimin has a blunt if you prefer that,” he shrugs, index finger and thumb holding the joint up between you. 
“I hate how blunts taste so, this is fine.” 
Jungkook smiles as he pulls out his lighter, handing you the joint first, hands urging you to press the crutch to your lips as he lights it up for you. The flame casts a soft glow on your face as he holds it at the end, watching as you gently twist it between your fingers, lightly dragging until the cherry glows solid. 
The smell hits you instantly, nose wrinkling as you inhale and pass it over to him, letting your feet gently kick in the water as you slowly exhale, the slight burn in your lungs making you cough. Jungkook can’t even tease you for it, taking too big of a puff he can barely hold in before he’s coughing with you, a cloud of smoke billowing out as he laughs. 
And just like that his jitters are gone, able to calm his racing heart and fully stare at you as you speak, the two of you passing the joint between you until it was all gone. It leaves you feeling warm and floaty, not too high where you want to ball up on the couch and sleep, but comfortable and mellow as you sit pressed to his side. 
Jungkook has now figured out that your love language must be physical touch, your need for smoothing your hands over his shirt, fiddling with his rings and hair, and now gently wrapping your fingers around his bicep as he spoke to you. He enjoys it, scoots even closer to you until your thigh is practically pushed up onto his, but you don’t even mention it. 
You’re too lost in what he’s telling you, the weed making you hang on to his every word. It doesn’t help that Jungkook makes conversation like second nature, knowing just what to say to keep the laughs flowing from you, giving you small peeks of his life in forms of animated stories and rambles. 
Even without the help of drugs, his way with words pulls you in without you realizing. The added daze simply aids in having you cling to him with bright eyes as you follow along to every syllable he says. 
It leaves you wondering for a minute, cloudy brain zoning out as you think of all the loose facts you’ve been presented with since meeting him. Jungkook was hot—that much was obvious—and he had to know it. There was no way he doesn’t know how easy it is for him to wrap anyone he wants around his fingers. At least, that’s what you think with how smooth the words flow from his mouth. 
It fills you with the tiniest bit of uncertainty, wanting to get some clarification before you allow yourself to pursue him the way you desperately wanted to because, right now, he’s ticking off all the boxes at an alarming rate. 
You don’t snap out of that small trance until he’s finishing up his story and shyly excusing himself to go to the bathroom, having chugged three white claws in record time before smoking. It’s no surprise he hauls himself up and scurries inside, ignoring Hoseok’s yells about getting the floor wet. 
That’s when you get your opportunity for clarity, turning to face the canopy and seeing the people who would give you the answers you needed. Seokjin and Yoongi don’t give you a second glance from their spot splashing in the pool, not noticing the way you get up and make your way to Taehyung and Namjoon. 
The two of them are currently stuffing their faces, hair damp and dripping, still shirtless from swimming, but as you approach them they grin at you through the food in their mouths. 
“What’s the catch with him?” you ask instantly, arms crossed over your chest, eyes a little droopy and a small smile on your face when you hear Jia giggle at your interrogation stance. 
“Wow, you’re baked,” she cackles, but you fully ignore her, pointed eyes staring at Taehyung. 
“Catch?” Taehyung mumbles, hotdog mush still stuffed in his cheeks, lips pouty, and Jia takes it upon herself to sit up and wipe the ketchup smeared onto his cheek. 
“Yeah,” you laugh, pointing your finger towards the house. “Is he like a serial heartbreaker? Does he have an extensive criminal record?”
Namjoon just chuckles at your questions, fingers wiping his mouth as he finishes chewing and leans forward, staring at you through the dark strands falling over his eyes. “The only thing Jungkook has broken is his arm two years ago. Also, he doesn’t have a record, unless you count the time he ran from some cops after we snuck into an abandoned property to skate.”
“So he’s not some sweet-talking womanizer?” you tease, only half meaning the questions. He hasn’t given you a definite reason for you to assume anything at all but something about him seemed too good to be true. Maybe you’re just used to the sleazy men who know just how to butter you up, but you need to double check that you’re not missing any obvious red flags that your rose colored glasses are concealing. 
Taehyung finally laughs, a sly smile on his face at the opportunity to tease Jungkook. He’s known him the longest, going back to when they were awkward preteens with side swept hair and chunky DC’s on their feet, so he knew Jungkook’s true personality. He’s charming without realizing it, has the art of playful flirting down to a science. But when it comes to actually pursuing girls, unless you make it glaringly obvious that you’re into him, his nerves get the best of him. 
Just as Tae’s about to clown his friend, Jungkook walks back out from the house, eyes squinty as he wonders where you went, and Taehyung chooses not to embarrass him. 
“If there's anyone I can vouch for, it’s Jungkook. He's a good guy, I promise.” 
“Yeah, and if for whatever reason he’s lying, I’ll make sure to bite his dick off.” Jia threatens, small hand dipping in between her boyfriend’s thighs to grip his junk. It seems to have the opposite effect, Taehyung facing her with wiggling brows, and you’re luckily saved from witnessing the rest when Jungkook sneaks up behind you, fully grabbing your attention as you turn your head to stare at him. 
“You snuck off,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around you as he hunches over, chin resting snugly on your shoulder. 
“Yeah, I came to get the inside scoop from your friends.”
Jungkook hums at that, looking up at the friends in question, neither of whom look particularly guilty, especially not Namjoon who waves his fingers and blows him a kiss. 
He just rolls his eyes at the gesture, head still too floaty to even bother asking his friends what they could have said to embarrass him. The only thing on his mind now is how good you smell, whatever perfume you must have sprayed along your neck filling his senses. It smells sweet, and for some reason, it makes his stomach rumble, something you clearly hear as you turn around and giggle. 
“You know what sounds good?” he questions, standing up straight and looking down at you. “A mcflurry.”
That did actually sound good. “M&M’s or oreo?”
Jungkook scoffs at that, letting a hand trail down until it grasps one of yours, fingers lacing together as he starts to tug you away from his friends. He takes a small detour to grab your discarded shoes to be put on before heading towards the side gate that leads to the front yard. 
“Oreo, duh. I’m not an animal.”
Jungkook keeps his hands interlaced with yours as he bends forward and grabs his skateboard from the same spot he had kicked it to when he first got here, keeping it tucked by his side as he continues pulling you towards the street. 
“Where are we going?” you laugh, not resisting as he leads the way, familiar with the neighborhood and the places around it. 
“To get that damn mcflurry. There’s a Mcdonalds not too far from here.”
That's fine by you, squeezing his palm as you walk down the street, illuminated by the streetlights lining the sidewalks. The small high you felt had slowly faded away, only leaving a light feeling in your chest that lingers the rest of the way. 
The walk only takes about fifteen minutes, easily spent as you joke with each other, your camera roll now full of videos of Jungkook with ridiculous filters on his cute face. It makes you smile like an idiot as you wait for the food you ordered, deciding once you were here that a mcflurry alone wasn’t gonna cut it. 
Before you know it, you're walking out of there with a stuffed bag and a cup holder to keep your precious mcflurries safe as you head down the street once more. Jungkook mentioned a nice park on this side of town that doesn’t come with a warning once the sun went down, so that’s where you were headed to indulge in the fried food. 
“Cheers,” Jungkook mumbles between a mouthful of fries, holding his chunky spoon in the air for you to tap against before taking the first taste of the oreo-vanilla goodness. 
“You know,” you pause to shut your eyes, getting a brain freeze as the ice cream sticks to the roof of your mouth, and Jungkook laughs at the irony of the notorious ice cream biter finally suffering. You can only flip him off before continuing your sentence, “If you would’ve picked M&M’s, whatever this is that we have going on wouldn’t work out.”
Jungkook doesn’t deny it, nodding along enthusiastically as he pulls out the hamburger from the bag, popping open the box and dumping his fries in the opposite flap. “Definitely. I mean, I already turned a blind eye to your crazy tendencies, but M&M’s is a no go.”
He smiles as you cackle, pulling out your own food, and only laughs harder as you flip the bag upside down and an absurd amount of spicy buffalo sauce comes tumbling out. “My crazy tendencies? Jungkook, what the hell.”
“Hey,” he threatens, pointing a finger at you as he chews his burger. “We all have our weaknesses. Yours is watermelon popsicles; mine is spicy buffalo sauce.”
Your hand raises in surrender, as you peel back a sauce for yourself to enjoy your nuggets, pushing the rest towards him with a smile. 
“So, do you bring that thing everywhere you go?” you tease, swatting his hands as he grabs some fries and chooses to dip them in the sauce you just opened instead of getting his own. 
When his wide eyes stare at you in question, you point at the skateboard set beside his feet with the wheels pointed up, letting you see the colorful art underneath that was scratched up from how often he used it. Jungkook has a car for actually getting around this large city, but his favorite method of transportation was his treasured board: it was convenient and he didn’t have to worry about parking. 
“Of course I do. I’m the concrete king, baby. I always have to be prepared.”
His face scrunches up in delight when you laugh. “Concrete king? What does that even mean?”
His tongue prods at his cheek while he wipes his hands, a smile beginning to spread on his lips as he stares at you. There's a similar smile on your own face, teeth shown as you bite into a fry and motion for him to explain. 
“It means I’m the best.”
“Okay,” you agree, scooping out another spoonful of your mcflurry and pointing it at him. “Show me something cool, Concrete King.”
Jungkook leans forward and wraps his lips around the spoon, stealing your dessert with a satisfied smile as he stands up. He just snickers when you call him a thief, savoring the sweetness in his mouth before bending down to grab his board. 
“I’ll do you one better. I'll show you how to do something cool.”
Your brows pinch together as you think it over, eyes focused on the board that he rolls back and forth under his foot. “So what I’m hearing is, you wanna take me to the ER tonight?”
His laughter fills the air at that, mixing in with the sound of the occasional car driving down the street. “C’mon,” he approaches you, large hands reaching for your own and gently tugging you out of your seat. “I won’t let you fall. I promise.”
The small feeling of success blooms in his chest when you reluctantly stand up with him, head hanging back as you stare at the night sky and playfully groan, only leveling back out for you to narrow your eyes at him. “Fine, but you’re not allowed to let go of my hands.”
He looks like a giddy child as he nods, blonde strands falling back around his face while he kicks the board into place. The only smooth area for you to attempt whatever he had planned was the basketball court a few feet away, luckily void of anyone to witness you potentially break a bone. You can already feel the ache in your body as you picture flopping onto the hard, unforgiving pavement. 
“We’ll start easy, get you comfortable with just standing on it, okay?”
The wheels scrape against the ground as he adjusts the deck in front of you, one shoe tucked in front of the wheel to prevent it from moving too much. When you simply stand there, his thumb rubs along your knuckles in an effort to get you to look up at him to see the sweet smile on his lips. His soft eyes are encouraging you to try, and since you trust him, you do. 
With unsteady feet, you cautiously place your left foot onto the board, feeling the slight friction from the grip tape on the bottom of your shoes. You still feel secure with your other foot on the ground, experimentally wiggling it into the spot he tells you to. 
“Okay, now the other one.” 
Your hands grip his even tighter as you do that, body tensing up when the board wobbles slightly under the uneven weight, but Jungkook keeps you steady until you spread your feet wide enough. He doesn’t mind the death grip you have on him, pads of his thumb still rubbing along the back of your palm as you laugh at your feet no longer being on solid ground. 
“Alright. I’m on it, now what?” Your body trembles a little with nerves, the fresh breeze only making your exposed skin break out into goosebumps as you stand with your knees slightly bent. 
“Eager now, huh?” he teases, stepping back a few inches to give you some space to do what he wants to do next. “Alright, all you have to do is jump and land with both feet. I’ll do the rest.”
A tiny squeak leaves your mouth, and he snickers at the panicked expression on your face. “You want me to jump?”
“Yeah, there’s nothing cool about just standing.” The way he rolls his eyes only makes you laugh with him, hesitantly nodding your head, reassuring yourself that you can trust him. 
“Oh god, okay.” 
Jungkook holds back the smile as he stares down at the board, telling you to keep your feet exactly where they were as he takes the top of his shoe and places it right underneath the center of the board. “You’re gonna have to jump a little high, but it’s simple. Ready?”
With a small hum of confirmation, he counts to three, hands holding you tight as you jump up, allowing him to kick the board up from under you and flip it around until it’s landing onto the ground and your feet are reconnecting with the grip tape once more. Your body wobbles from the impact, but the grip he has on you prevents you from toppling over, so you let out a cheer at not wiping out. 
Your hands pull away from his grasp, choosing to wrap your arms around him to pull him in for a hug. “That was so cool,” you boast, hearing the rumble of his laugh as you place your head against his chest, feeling his arms snake around your frame to hold you close. 
“Told you so,” he gives you a squeeze, foot still pressed against the wheels to keep the board from sliding out from under you. “So, what’s my reward for teaching you something cool?”
With a small hum, you’re turning to look up at him, arms snug around his waist and a smile on your lips. “I don’t know. Any suggestions?”
He can feel his heart hammering against his ribs, those same nerves from before slowly creeping up as he builds the courage to unscramble the words in his brain.
“Let me take you out, on a date.” His chest only tightens when you look at him in confusion, the creeping fear of rejection making his stomach twist, hoping that he hadn’t horribly misread all of the signals passed between you. 
“Isn’t tonight a date?”
And just like that, the weight lifts off of him, the familiar toothy smile you’ve grown so fond of being sent your way as he sighs in relief. “It can be, but I want to go on an actual date. Just us. No crazy friends playing chicken in the background.”
“I’d like that,” you whisper as you look up at him, licking over your lips when your eyes flicker down to his. 
Jungkook knows the universal signs before a first kiss, the way you slowly lean your face closer, eyes locked onto the curve of his lips, head angled up just before swooping in. And he makes the first mistake of the night, getting so caught up in the moment he removes his foot to stand closer, the center of balance from you leaning in, making the skateboard fly out right from under you. 
The shriek leaves your mouth instantly as your body rocks to the side, his loosening grip on you unable to keep you up right, but the grip you have on him makes the two of you come tumbling down together. He cushions your fall as best as he can, arms wrapped around your head when your back meets the cold pavement, the weight of him clambering on top of you and pressing onto your chest as you lose yourself in laughter. 
The ache in your butt is felt instantly, but luckily you’re unscathed otherwise, heart thrumming from the scare but mouth wide open as you giggle. When you finally open your eyes, you’re met with a curtain of blonde strands, Jungkook’s hair draped over you as he does his best to not totally crush you under his weight. 
“You broke your promise,” you laugh, loosening your solid grip from his waist as you bring your hands up to push back his hair, letting you see his worried expression. His knees are bruised without a doubt, having hit them on the way down, now slot on either side of your thighs as he slowly kneels, hands slipping out from around your head to press against the pavement. 
“Promise?” he wonders, momentarily having forgotten everything when he thought you were hurt, but then he remembers. He let you fall. 
“Fuck, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you breathe out, the fan of your laughter felt against his cheeks from your close proximity, hands still carding through his hair like you hadn’t just wiped out. You still have that look on your face, the same one you wore before he had let you fall, eyes staring at his lips in anticipation. 
Jungkook lets out a shaky breath with a smile of his own before slowly leaning forward, the small adrenaline rush he felt aiding him in concealing his nerves, allowing him to finally press his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. He tests the water for a second, eyes fluttering shut until you’re putting more pressure into it as you kiss him back. 
The small throb of pain you felt earlier is pushed away as you let your hands tangle in his hair, hearing the way he breathes against you mixing in with the rustling of the trees around you. Jungkook can’t think of anything else as he kisses you harder, bringing one hand up to softly cup your cheek before you’re separating from him. 
“You taste sweet. I like it,” you mumble with a dopey laugh as you lick your lips, the sugar on his lips from the bite of dessert he had stolen from you minutes prior still lingering. His eyebrows raise up at the compliment, heart skipping when you erupt into laughter as he kisses you once more, lips obnoxiously puckered and pressing against yours with a wet smack. 
“Yeah?” he teases, biting down onto his lower lip, thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Did I just blow my chances of that date?”
You let out a soft hum as your fingers trail to the nape of his neck, wrapping a strand of hair around your finger as you twist it in thought. “Definitely not,” you smile. “Kiss me again.”
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In a surprising turn of events, Jungkook sits behind the wheel of his car, right arm casually draped over the center console with his fingers interlocked with yours. A small smile is on his lips as you play with his hand subconsciously, softly muttering along to the song he is playing on the radio, preferring the sound of the Neighbourhood when it’s coming from you. 
The landscape glows with remnants of orange and purple, the sun just about to hide behind the sea while he drives along the coast. Jungkook wanted to hang out with you without the added stress of the summer sun making him sweat through his shirt, and you very eagerly agreed, deciding that the evening would be best. 
It’s an odd day in the middle of the week, allowing for ample parking which saves you both from the headache that usually came with driving to the pier. You had suggested the activity, wanting to beat him to it before he could plan something over the top. At first, Jungkook couldn’t understand why you were so against having a typical dinner date, but something about it just didn’t feel natural to you. Being forced to sit across from each other as you made small conversation in between bites of food, surrounded by a sea of couples and families with someone constantly coming in to check on you seemed like too much for a first official date. 
This though, the smell of the sea salt and sweetness of funnel cakes, the crash of the waves below blending in with the bells of a game just being won a few feet away, felt right for the two of you. Jungkook gets it now, and he’s grateful for your suggestion, knowing his jitters would have been too much for him to handle if he had done what he originally wanted. He’s able to relax in this setting, familiar with the pier, and you are too, easily dragging him along the boardwalk as you approach the ticket stand, wanting to get on all of the rides this place had to offer. 
“Scared?” Jungkook teases, watching as your eyes look at the colorful roller coaster a little further down, the elated screams from riders being heard as they zoom through it. 
“Never. You?”
He lets out a sigh when he leans back onto the metal railing, arm slung casually around your shoulder as you both stare at the rides around you. It’s a little chillier now that the sun is gone, but the fresh breeze is inviting, giving him another reason to keep you snug by his side as the skirt of your dress flutters around.
“Of course not. I’m an adrenaline junkie, babe. I live for this.”
Your laugh makes him look back down at you, catching a glimmer of the necklace you have on. It's the same ring you had taken from him the other night, holding it hostage and looping a dainty chain through it so it could rest against your chest. The chunky ring that had become one of his favorites being a casual accessory for you makes Jungkook’s heart skip, urging him to pull you even closer as he gently presses a kiss to your forehead. 
“Let’s make it interesting then,” you mumble, trying to play off how warm your face feels from his display of affection. 
“Keep talking.” His love for a challenge makes itself known as you creep up the line of people, his eyes boring into yours to try to figure out just what you had in mind. 
“First one to scream has to win the other the most obnoxious prize there is here.” This seemed too easy, the roller coasters on the pier didn’t have intense drops or spins that would make Jungkook scream like Six Flags would, but the sly smile on your face makes him a little wary. 
It doesn’t stop him from agreeing instantly though, hand outstretched to meet yours as he smirks. “Deal.”
With determination set on both your features, you’re starting the challenge, grabbing your wristbands and running off to the first coaster. It looks off into the ocean, painted a bright yellow and definitely not scary looking in the slightest, although the little kid crying as he exits with his parents might think differently. 
“No screaming,” you remind him as you strap into the ride, fingers tapping along the lap bar, feeling the way his thighs bounce from excitement. 
“Easy,” Jungkook huffs, wiggling in his seat as the attendants clear the ride and step back. 
His enthusiasm heightens once the ride is set in motion, and before he knows it, you’re speeding down the tracks at a surprising rate. It catches you both off guard as a sharp turn makes your shoulders ram into his, desperately biting down on your lips to not scream as the wind flows through your hair. 
Jungkook cracks first, not with a scream but a laugh, unable to contain it as he’s sliding across the seat and squishing you against your side at the next turn. 
“That wasn’t a scream!” he defends, only laughing harder as the whiplash continues, entire body vibrating from the rattles of the cart. You agree to it for your own sake, breaking out into belly aching laughter as you’re shaken around on the small coaster. 
That small loophole Jungkook created seems to be his saving grace for the following rides, concealing all of his shrieks with laughter so giddy it makes your cheeks hurt as you join him. 
It’s not until you’re hauling him to some weird single ride called the Gyro Loop that he begins to think he’ll actually lose, and the knowing grin on your face only makes him even more sure. He’s proven right a few seconds after you strap on, blindsided by the controls the riders are in charge of. 
The attendant had instructed you on what to do, saying there was a prize to be won if you completed a certain number of rotations but Jungkook doesn’t catch any of it, so the second the ride swings back and you’re pushing one of the buttons around the harness he gasps as you’re shot up. He’s given no warning, and with another push of a button, the seats flip upside down in a woosh, everything blurring around you. It’s not like Jungkook sees any of it, as you turn to look at him you take note of his eyes squeezed shut, a grimace painted over his usually soft features. 
His fingers grip the metal handles tightly to brace himself, accidentally pressing one of the buttons and making it flip over a second time, so fast it whips his hair back and that's when Jeon Jungkook loses. A shriek of surprise spills past his lips the second his head is upside down and you’re laughing instantly, pushing it further as you continue hitting the controls, finally joining in with his screams now that he lost. 
It’s safe to say you don’t win the prize, too busy laughing at his screams to bother pursuing it and as you step off the ride you can’t help but wipe under your eyes for any stray tears that slipped through your laughter. 
“That was a planned attack,” he accuses, hunching over to rest his palms on his knees, thankful to be on solid ground without the world spinning around him. 
“It was,” you admit, softly rubbing his back as he takes a minute to breathe. “But I saw this cute plushie when we got here and I wanted it, so I did what I had to do.”
He peers up at you, eyes a little glassy from what just happened, but he stands up instantly, a little more life in his face now that his stomach stopped flipping. In theory, if you wanted a plushie, he could have just won it for you instead of enduring the horrible Gyro Loop, but he’s determined to win it for you now. “What prize?”
Your hand reaches over to grab his, fingers lacing together to tug him back towards the game section. His head feels dizzy again, no longer able to blame it on the horrible ride he had just got off. Something about the warmth of your hand as your fingers fit snugly against his, the gentle pull as you lead him with a smile that shows just how much you're enjoying yourself, makes his chest tighten and head spin in the best way. 
He’s too busy staring at your face while you lead the way, tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips as you speak, slowly morphing into a pout that’s aimed at him when you realize he isn’t paying attention. “Sorry, you’re just really beautiful.”
The pout is replaced instantly as your lips press together, internally squealing at the way compliments spill from his mouth, so casual and genuine it's clear he means them. Damn him and his words of affirmation. 
“Thank you,” you mumble, a bashful look on your face as you squeeze his palm before pointing in front of you with your free hand. He follows the invisible line from your fingertips until he’s met with the plushie you want. “That’s the one.”
Jungkook can’t stop himself from chuckling as he gets a good look at the stuffed animal. It’s a medium sized yellow bunny, but the cherry on top comes in the form of an atrocious blue hawaiian shirt with the word ‘cali’ embroidered to the left of the buttons. 
“Is this another jab at my shirt? I haven’t even worn it since I first met you.” He takes a baby step back from you, stretching his arms out to make sure that you didn’t somehow believe he was currently wearing it. The truth is, it’s currently deep in his laundry basket, but he isn’t gonna tell you that. 
“You know, it kinda grew on me,” you shrug, looking at the loose fitting gray shirt he has on now. As obscene as that hawaiian shirt is, it’s also really cute, fitting his personality in a strange way. 
Jungkook looks shocked at your admission, having only been roasted by his friends since the day he bought it, and you, this one comment is going to be the sole reason he goes out and buys even more colors to wear. “Alright, if you want the bunny, I’ll get you that bunny, babe. I got this.”
The teenage boy standing in charge of the Mini Hoops game looks totally uninterested, barely mumbling out the rules after Jungkook hands him some money. The lack of enthusiasm from the boy doesn’t faze Jungkook, simply palming the tiny basketball in his large hands, turning to shoot you a wink before he’s lifting his arms and throwing the ball. 
It swishes into the net with ease, settling into the bottom as he follows it up with three more, a proud smile pushing his cheeks out when you cheer for him. With the final ball in his grasp, he leans over the small distance between you and presses a soft kiss to your lips before standing straight once more and sending it off, a shrill bell going off as it swishes through the net like the ones before.
The boy unhooks the bunny from its spot and gives it to Jungkook before moving on to the next couple ready to play. Jungkook gives it another good look, slightly catching the resemblance now that the fluffy bunny is in his hands, and when he hears you call his name with your phone pointed in his direction, he brings it up beside his face, scrunching up his nose for a picture. It’s the cutest thing, the bright lights shown in the background, face lit up in hues of purple and yellow, and you decide then that it’s becoming his contact photo.
He passes it to you with another kiss, feeling the way your lips curve into a smile against his, stuffed animal held to your chest as his thumb holds your chin when he pulls away, half lidded eyes staring down at you with so much emotion it makes your stomach flip. 
The feeling never settles, only getting stronger with the additional time spent together. The bunny is kept protectively at your side when you eventually make your way onto the sand, funnel cake in between you to share while you look at the night sky. The pier stays illuminated even as the rides and food stands shut down, taking the crowd of people with it until only a few stragglers remain. It gives you a small sense of privacy as you settle beside each other, the cold grains of sand felt against your thighs and making you shiver. 
Jungkook takes note of it as he takes a bite of the funnel cake, and although his legs won’t provide much warmth—jeans having large holes that expose his muscular thighs—he knows it’ll be better than the sand. So when he pats them, giving you a powdered sugar covered smile, you slowly turn to the side and rest your legs over his thighs. 
“Better?” he wonders, picking up the plate and placing it on your shins to cut you a piece. 
“Yeah, thanks.” 
“Sorry if it’s too cold now. I just don’t really want this day to end.” He admits it so quietly you almost don’t hear it through the crash of the waves. 
“Me either,” you agree, letting him feed you the piece of funnel cake he had meticulously cut, enough chocolate syrup and banana on it for you to get a good taste of everything. 
In pure honesty, you had grown to love the light, airy feeling that came with being around Jungkook these last few weeks. His boyish charm brings out your playful side full force: it reminds you of the time spent in school, the second you’re out for summer break when just about anything seems possible. 
Being with Jungkook leaves you looking forward to the next time the sun comes back up, welcoming the heat that comes with it if it means seeing him. It's the bubbling of a crush lit inside of you, makes you feel every soft touch tenfold, makes you want to savor each small moment to treasure forever. You know you’ll one day look back on it and feel nostalgic over the time spent laying on the cold sand, under the night sky with the blonde boy with a charming smile. 
“I had a lot of fun today,” he shyly adds on, feeling the same emotions you have coursing through you. It's been a while since Jungkook has felt like this, simply going through life with his friends and the casual fling that never lasted long, but he desperately hopes this doesn’t become that. He doesn’t want this to burn out once the summer goes, hoping to still have your hand to hold as the season changes, but those damn nerves from before keep him from admitting anything. 
Luckily, you’re not as timid about admitting to anything, giving his palm a squeeze as you reach forward and stare directly at him. “I really like you Jungkook.”
His free hand grips your legs, thumb rubbing against the soft skin as he gives you a look of wonder, needing to make sure he actually heard you right and it wasn’t his ears playing some sick trick on him. But when your smile never fades, eyes crinkling up as you take note of his expression, he snaps back into it. “I really like you too, a lot.”
The waves crash hard to your left, matching the explosion in your heart as you beam at him through the moonlight. That stomach flipping, puppy-love sensation you’ve felt all day spreads throughout you, urging you closer to him in the sand. You’re not satisfied until his face is in your hands, cheeks cold from the sea breeze, lips pulled into a soft smile as you observe him for a minute. 
You take him in like a slow, steady breath, eyes following the strong shape of his eyebrows, the flutter of his lashes as he blinks, the twinkle reflected in his pupils, the slope of his nose topped with an adorable mole on the corner, leading to the matching one beneath his lower lip. And as he smiles at you, you decide that's the one feature of his that you love the most. 
Jungkook knows it’s coming, but even when you finally lean over and press your lips to his, he still lets out a tiny gasp, hand on your legs gripping tighter as he kisses back. With light pressure, he slowly starts to push you back. He’s mindlessly setting the half eaten funnel cake aside to be forgotten, favoring the sweetness of your lips to it, needing to get a better taste. 
The cold sand meets your back as he maneuvers you, easily slotting in between your legs when he kneels over your body. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest with each quiet smack of your lips, and you’re sure Jungkook can feel it too with his hands gliding up your sides, gently sliding up your neck until he’s cupping your jaw. 
Kissing him is intoxicating, your lips desperately chasing his as he pulls back slightly, bringing him back for more and he groans into it. That small sound ignites something within you, fills you with warmth and jittery excitement, thighs gently squeezing around him while you suck on his lower lip. Jungkook must like that too, letting out another breathless moan of your name when you let it snap back against his teeth, leaving it plump and glossy with a coat of saliva on it. 
His breathing mixes in with the sea, eyes glazed over as he stares down at you, desire clear on your features, teeth biting down on your lower lip when your hands slowly slide down his chest. Jungkook wants to remember this forever, the image of you splayed out on the sand with want so evident on your face, want for him. 
Jungkook can only curse under his breath at the sight, lips reconnecting with yours with more fervor, tongue lightly licking at your lips until your mouth is opening up, and when you let out a soft moan at the sensation, he feels his cock stir in his jeans. The hands on his chest start to slide down, gripping his waist, toying with the top of his jeans until you get to where you want to be. 
When you lightly trace over the growing bulge, wandering hands intent on making him lose his mind, he groans into your mouth before he pulls back. His harsh breath fans against your face, lips inches from your own. “Wait, ah fuck–“ he sighs when your lips move to suck on his neck now, gentle licks to his skin that only tease him further. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
You hum into his skin, retracting your hand to stare at him with a genuine smile. “That’s okay. We can stop.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” He shuts his eyes to concentrate, not able to focus when he can see how swollen your lips are from kissing him, only making him want to dive back in. Jungkook didn’t want you to think he had brought you here just for sex, disguising a first date and pulling you onto the sand just to get in your pants—even if you’re the one getting handsy with him. 
“I get it Jungkook. Don’t worry,” you breathe, cold hands cupping his cheeks again when he finally opens his eyes. “I want this. I promise.”
A small moment of confirmation is passed between you before he’s swiftly getting up, dusting the sand off his clothes and extending a hand out for you, smiling when you give him a look of confusion. 
“Not here though.” Jungkook didn’t want to fuck you on the questionable sand on this beach, also too afraid of running into other beach goers as they strolled through.  
He pulls you up, grabbing the plushie before hurrying to the car with you giggling right behind him. With the time of night, the lot he had parked in is practically empty, the nearest car too far away to pay any mind to. It was the best case scenario for you. 
Not wanting to waste anymore time, you yank open the back door, grabbing the bunny from his hands and chucking it inside before pinching his grey shirt and tugging him closer until your lips are slotting between his like the perfect puzzle piece. 
“Here?” he wonders through the kisses, not expecting you to want him to defile you in the parking lot, but you couldn’t help it: getting a taste of him now and having to wait felt like torture. 
“Yeah, I thought you were an adrenaline junkie babe.”
Your teasing words only make him laugh, large hands gripping your waist and pushing you against his car to intensify the kiss. All you can taste is him, sweet with the hint of funnel cake, lips soft and smelling suspiciously familiar, but before you can comment on it, he’s pushing you back onto the seat. 
“Dont wanna fuck you in the car either,” he groans, lips moving to mouth at your neck in sloppy kisses that make you shiver. Each touch feels like electricity, the slide of his hands pushing you further into the back until he’s shutting the door behind him, entirely grateful that he had his windows tinted way beyond the legal limit. 
“No?” It comes out as a sigh, feeling the skirt of your dress bunch up as his knee slots in between your thighs. The denim felt against your bare legs has you spreading your thighs further apart, wanting him to fit perfectly between you, needing him closer. 
“No,” he confirms, sucking on the skin and enjoying the way your hands tangle in his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp, tugging at the strands with enough force to have his cock fully hardening in his jeans. “Wanna fuck you right. The way you deserve.”
“And how's that?”
“Hmm,” he hums before licking at the purple splotch he just made on your neck, soothing the aching feeling that came with it. “I’d make you a late night picnic. Candle lit, you know, for romance—“
“I do love romance,” you giggle as you shimmy further onto the back seat, hands now anchored around his slim waist and urging him to settle above you properly. 
“Then I’d take you home—” another kiss to your skin, wet and sloppy. “Walk you to your front door like a gentleman.”
“Yeah, then what?” you groan as he nips your skin, hips finally slotting in between your thighs, letting you feel the bulge in his jeans pressing into your core. 
“I’d kiss you goodnight, like this.” He pulls away from your neck, one hand cupping your cheek as he stares down at you with a glimmer in his eyes and softly presses his lips to yours. The familiar scent fills your nose once more and you finally pinpoint it, remembering flashes of the watermelon chapstick he had been using all day. He knew it was your favorite flavor, incorporating it in such a minuscule way, knowing you’d love the taste of his lips even more with it.  
It makes you smile in appreciation as he gives you a gentle peck, pulling away a bit with a smile before connecting your lips once more. 
Your hands slide up his sides, gliding up his shirt and over his shoulders until you’re holding onto the sides of his face with equal tenderness. Jungkook groans into the kiss when your tongue peaks out, licking at the seam of his lips and begging to slip inside. You only allow yourself a small taste of it before you’re pulling back, a string of spitting connecting your lips together that breaks when you speak. 
“And if I ask you to come inside for a drink?” you tease, fingers finding their way into his hair and twirling the strands, knowing having his hair played with was a weakness. 
“I’d never say no to that,” he smiles, kissing you once more, peppering them on your cheek, down your jaw, until all you can hear is his jagged breath by your ear. 
“We’ll go inside for a drink, and because you just can’t keep your hands to yourself—“ he teases, gently biting your ear and smiling when you squeal in surprise. “I’ll probably end up bending you over and fucking you in the kitchen.”
“Oh,” you groan dramatically, throwing your head back against the cushion. “That’s so romantic!”
He snickers too, large palm gripping your cheek to get you to stare at him once more, seeing the hunger swirling in his eyes. “Only the best for you baby.”
“Well, until then…just fuck me here once,” you beg, so pretty and sweet, eyes batting at him with such innocence he almost feels bad for how much it turns him on. You have no business making a request that filthy with a saccharine smile coating your lips.
“Fuck baby,” he sighs, eyes trailing over your body, seeing the thin straps of your dress hanging off your shoulders, swells of your chest peaking out over the top of your dress, rising and falling with each breath you take. Your thighs glide along his, rubbing his jeans and bringing his attention further down. That's when he takes note of your dress bunched up, revealing the pale pink of your underwear to him and the small patch of wetness gathering at the front. 
“Give me all that romance later. C’mon Kook.” Your back arches slightly, hips lifting up in search of anything, desperate for him to actually touch you. Slowly, your hands drop down to your hips, fingers dipping into the sides of your underwear and teasingly tugging at it, smiling when Jungkook drops his head back and groans. 
A playful laugh fills the car as he pulls the underwear off of you in a haste, sliding them down your legs and letting the soft fabric drop onto the car floor. Without an ounce of shame, your hands trail up your skin, leading his eyes up your thighs and directly onto your pussy. Any words he wanted to say leave him instantly, taking a moment to admire the view, groaning as your own fingers glide up your slit with a low hum. 
Jungkook can’t take it anymore, bringing a palm up to his mouth to messily spit into it. Your jaw drops at the sight, a soft moan spilling out as he brings his fingers down onto your cunt. He’s gently pushing your hands away as he spreads his spit around your entrance and back up to trail along your slit, tender touches mixing it in with your sticky arousal. 
“Gotta get you ready for me baby,” he sighs, fingertips tapping onto your clit, a mirth laugh reaching your ears as he sees the way your body jolts at the sensation. 
“Fuck, hurry. I wanna feel you,” you whine, hands gripping his shoulders and pulling him closer to you until your lips are on his again. 
Jungkook melts into the kiss, rubbing slow, deliberate circles onto your clit, just enough pressure to have you mewling softly into his mouth. With wet smacks of your lips, he trails his fingers down again, feeling the added wetness of your slick as he circles your entrance, the flutter of your walls felt when he teasingly pushes into you. 
Your walls suck him in easily, and the warmth of your pussy has him kissing you harder, already picturing the way you’d feel wrapped around his cock. A satisfied hum passes between your mouths as he buries his fingers deep inside you, pumping them slowly before a second finger joins in. 
His tongue tangles along yours, swallowing each moan you let out, teasingly pushing and pulling like a dance and once you find the perfect rhythm you can’t pull away. Jungkook soaks it all in: each quiet breath, each tug at his hair, the gentle nips to his lips and the subtle clash of your teeth when you can’t seem to get enough. 
There's just something about sloppy, desperate kisses that spur Jungkook on, the mess born from passion making his skin heat up with each smack of your lips. His need for mess makes him pull back slightly, gently licking at your lips to get you to open up for him, waiting until your eyes are fluttering open to stare at him. A soft tap to your cheek passes the message along, and you’re sticking your tongue out for him before he lets a thick trail of spit dribble out of his mouth and into yours. 
It makes your eyes widen in surprise, more so when his free hand is placed beside your throat with his thumb pressing along your jaw. His eyes focus on the glob of saliva on your tongue, biting onto his lower lip as you groan and bring your tongue back into your mouth. The swallow is felt against his hand, instantly starting a slow simmer within you. Your warm walls tighten around his fingers at the act and he curses when he feels it. 
“More, please,” you plead, lifting your head up to chase his mouth, tongue tracing the outline of his lips sinfully. 
“Mm, I knew you were crazy, but who knew you were filthy too.” His tone is playful, brow cocked up as he looks down at you and winks. A teasing laugh escapes you, blending in with a cry of his name when his thumb presses into your aching clit, working in tandem with his fingers. With a satisfied smirk, he repeats it again, a thick glob of saliva gathered behind his lips, slowly dropping into your mouth while you patiently wait, lids heavy as you watch him intently. 
Jungkook doesn’t even give you time to swallow it this time around before he’s crashing his mouth into yours once more, tongue tickling the roof of your mouth as he picks up the speed of his hands. 
“Shit,” you gasp, pulling back from the kiss, biting down onto your lip when he spreads his fingers apart, stretching you out with each glide against your velvety walls. The wet thump of his palm meeting your skin fills the small car, mixing in with the stuttered breaths you exhale each time his fingers graze the sweet spot inside of you. 
“You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels almost breathlessly, pressing sweet kisses onto your cheek that don’t match the way his fingers fuck into you. He can feel his palm growing sticky with each thrust, folds messy with your arousal, but you’re begging for more, so he quickly slides a third finger in. 
“J-jungkook,” you cry out, fingers tugging his strands in desperation as the lust clouds your mind. The air is getting thick around you, slightly fogging up the windows and getting worse with each choked breath you let out. “Wanna feel you, please.”
You couldn’t take it anymore, needing to feel him beyond his fingers and soft kisses. Jungkook gets it, his cock aching in his jeans so hard it was a shock he hadn’t blown his load from the pretty sounds you make. He wanted to sink into you, see the way your face twists in pleasure when he fills you up. 
“Okay, alright baby.” Reluctantly, he pulls his fingers out of your messy cunt, strings of your arousal coating his digits, popping them into his mouth to lick clean and humming in satisfaction. 
He awkwardly reaches over to the passenger seat, leaning across to open the glove box and pull out the condoms he keeps there for emergencies. Before leaning back he does a double take at the bunny you had thrown onto the seat, button eyes staring at him—judging him—so he hesitantly turns it around to face the window instead. Only then does he settle onto the back seat once more, square packet held between his teeth as he fiddles with the buttons on his jeans. 
“You know, I love your thighs.” Your hand reaches forward to trail your fingernail along his skin, muscles exposed in the distressed jeans he wore. 
“Yeah?” he mumbles out as he unzips them, tugging the material down a bit before pushing his boxers down with them. 
“Mhm, they’re thick...wanna bite em.” He laughs at your horny rambling, pulling his aching cock out with a small hiss, heavy in his hand as he gives it a languid pump. Your lips purse out when you realize how big it is, wide eyes not daring to look away, glued to the way his thumb comes up to roll over the mushroom tip. 
A cocky smile is on his lips, continuing to pump himself purely for your entertainment; you’re transfixed on the grip of his palm, the subtle veins leading to the pink tip. “Like what you see?”
You don’t even care about the tone he uses, knowing damn well you did by the way you’re drooling over him, nodding along like a sex crazed zombie because of course you do. The need to touch him has your small hand reaching for it, and he releases his grip to allow you to wrap your palm around him. A content sigh leaves you when you feel the weight of him in your grasp, warm to the touch, and he groans as your thumb gently presses under his tip before pumping down the shaft. The translucent beads of precum dripping from his tip are spread around his engorged head, leaving it shiny in the dim lighting inside the car. 
“Here, let me.” The square packet is taken from between his teeth, slipped between your own as you tear it open. Jungkook can only watch with bated breath as you pull out the condom and slowly start to roll it on. It’s torture, the subtle squeeze your hand gives on the way down, palm now sticky with lube. His hips have a mind of their own, gently rutting into your fist with a groan when you tighten your grip before pulling away.
Jungkook lets out a breath as you lower yourself back down, resting on your elbows with your head tilted and a sultry smile on your lips. His large hands grip your knees, trailing up your inner thighs to urge you to spread them further apart, palms gently pressing into your skin in a touch that starts a fire inside you. The exhilaration spreads when you see the lust filled look on him, soft doe eyes half lidded and swirling with hunger, only growing as he once again grabs his cock and inches towards your awaiting core. 
“God, always look so fucking pretty,” he whines, head of his cock nudging against your center, slowly pushing into you, feeling the way your walls wrap around him. He means it, always means it too. Jungkook wants to keep a photo of you in his wallet, wants to always remember the sweet sounds of your laugh, the playful scrunch of your nose when he tells a lame joke, the psychotic way you bite into your ice cream. How do you make every single thing you do look like the most effortless, beautiful thing he has ever seen.
A shuddering breath slips past your swollen lips as he sinks further into you, thick cock stretching you apart in the most delicious burn. It has your tummy tensing up, fingernails digging into your own thighs until he spots the indents in your skin and grabs them in his own instead, lacing them together and bringing them to rest by your sides as he leans over you. A shared gasp is passed between you when he finally bottoms out, sinking into the hilt and freezing when your walls tighten around him.
“Fuck, you’re so big,” you mindlessly babble, gripping his hands tighter while you let yourself get used to his size. Jungkook really doesn’t need the ego boost, but it sounds so right coming from you, looking absolutely delectable underneath him, eyes glazed over and the cutest pout on your lips. He wants to hear more of those pretty sounds you make, slowly inching back out, feeling the glide of your walls against his cock before he’s thrusting back into you.
It sends a shock down your spine, sparking up your skin, as he repeats it again, low grunts meeting your ears until he’s fucking into you with fluid hips, skin slapping together each time. A smirk pulls at his lips when your thigh lifts up, hooking over his waist when the head of his cock curves just right inside of you. 
“Feel good baby?” he rasps out, blonde hair swinging around his face in time with his thrusts, jaw tense as the warmth blossoms inside him each time your walls spasm around his cock. 
“Y-yes,” you can barely utter, breathless and stuttering, hips rutting up into his in search of more. Desperation looks good on you, whiny cries spilling from your mouth and bringing him closer to you, brows pinched together as you plead for him to go faster, harder until you’re an absolute mess beneath him.
His lips press against yours once more, swallowing each of your cries when he picks up the pace, pounding into you so hard you have to pry your hands free from his to place behind your head to not get rocked into the car door. A muffled laugh is shared when he takes note, hips not slowing down in the slightest, knowing you were enjoying his roughness by the fluttering of your walls.
“Love your pussy,” he moans, kissing down your neck and licking the previous hickey he had sucked on your skin. A gentle nip of his teeth is delivered to the juncture of your neck before he moves on with a chuckle, fingers gently playing with the straps of your dress, something you don’t take note of due to the intoxicating roll of his hips. You don’t notice what he’s doing until your dress is yanked down and he’s groaning at the sight of your tits, totally bare for him to admire.
“Your tits too,” he adds with a smile, pressing soft kisses around the swell of your chest, puffs of laughter felt on your skin when your hand tangles into his hair and leads him directly where he needs to be. 
“What about my personality?” you joke, back arching as his cock reaches deeper inside of you when you spread your thighs further apart. 
“Mm, it’s top tier babe.” His lips wrap around your nipple as the words leave his mouth, warm tongue flicking against it while his hips never slow, silver charm of his necklace sliding off your chest from the movement. Jungkook loves your personality just as much and he hopes he’s made that obvious, entirely enjoying himself whenever he was with you. This point of view was just a definite plus.
Your eyes fall shut now, fully immersed in the feeling of it all, the pleasure wrapping around you tighter each time he hits the right spots inside of you, grinding into the sweet patch of nerves that leaves you writhing around. With a slight pop he’s lifting his mouth from your nipple, taking a moment to admire the pebbled bud covered in a sheen of his saliva.
“Kookie,” you whimper when you begin to feel the first wave of ecstasy flaring within you, coil tightening up with each deliberate roll of his hips. Jungkook knew what he was doing, practiced thrusts filling you up perfectly with each wet squelch. It makes you realize that you’ll always crave this. Now that you’ve seen Jungkook like this, face slightly sweaty as he pants above you, filthy moans reaching your ears, cock splitting you open just the way you craved, you’ll never want anything else again.
“Shit, you just got so tight.” It comes out as a strained gasp, his own eyes rolling back when you deliver a harsh yank to his hair, other hand clinging onto his shoulder when his pelvis rubs against your sensitive clit. “You gonna cum for me?”
Another mumbled cry of his name sounds like music to his ears, chest arching up until your tits are pressed against the soft fabric of his shirt, hips twitching from the beginning signs of your orgasm creeping up on you. “Fuck, I’m close. Please,” you don’t even know what you’re begging for, heady with pleasure, moans swirling in the thick air surrounding you.
“Don’t worry. I got you.” A tender kiss is placed to your lips, large palm sliding down your body until his fingers meet your swollen clit. The intoxicating warmth of your walls has him groaning into your lips, feeling them tighten around his cock as he rolls your clit between his fingers, jolts of pleasure shooting through you and aiding in pushing you headfirst into a lust-filled daze. He can feel you gush around his length, arousal dripping from your entrance and soaking into the car seat beneath you, leaving a stain in its wake, but it fills Jungkook with pride to know you were this much of a mess because of him.
“Ah, right there,” you cry, gasping lewdly when he repeats it, keeping the same rhythm of his hips, never slowing his teasing fingers with the perfect amount of pressure you swear you forgot how to breathe. Jungkook looks absolutely entranced with you, taking in each trembling breath, analyzing each of your movements to ingrain into his mind forever.
“S-shit,” he chokes out when your walls get impossibly tighter around him, sucking him further into your heat each time he pulls out, thigh hooked around his waist keeping him as close as you could. Your head is thrown back onto the cushion, mouth dropped open in a silent moan as the warmth brews inside of you, finally spilling over with a final flick to your clit, released with a shout of his name.
He doesn’t think his name has ever sounded better, raspy and urgent in the filthiest way as you cum around him, body tensing up briefly before your back is arching up when you cry out. The euphoric sensation of your walls squeezing his cock has his own release speeding towards him, spurred on by each twitch and mewl you let out from sensitivity, eyes glassy and spent as you look up at him. 
His eyes are locked onto yours, feeling how easily he glides into your messy cunt with the obscene amount of wetness that creamed his cock. Your face is giving him a look so tender it makes his heart skip, twisting inside of him as your hands softly cup his cheeks. “Wanna see you cum Jungkook, please.”
The soft touch of your hands has him melting above you, cute bunny teeth biting onto his lower lips as his face scrunches up, hips continuing to piston into you, slowly losing their grace as his need to cum takes over. A needy whine of your name makes you tighten around him, ignoring the slight throb of sensitivity that comes with it, loving how vulnerable he looks above you while he nears his orgasm. His mind is floating now as he gasps, harsh thrusts into you that jostle your body, stuttering for a few seconds before his mouth drops  open with an unabashed moan of your name.
“Fuck, fuck, baby,” he whines out, desperately slotting his lips against yours as he fills up the condom in warm spurts of cum. Your noses knock together in his urgency, harsh pants of breath felt on your skin as he continues to shallowly thrust into you, hips coming to a halt once he’s finally spent, tender lips pecking your mouth once more before slowly pulling back with a dazed smile.
A brief moment is shared between you, dopey smiles on your faces as you take it all in, realizing that you had in fact convinced him to rail you in his back seat. Jungkook places a tenderhearted kiss to the tip of your nose before shyly readjusting your dress to cover your boobs, acting as respectful as he could, as if he hadn’t just made you see stars with the orgasm he gave you. 
With a small breath, he’s sliding out of your warmth, eyes focusing on the absolute mess between your thighs, something he has to look away from to prevent his thoughts from steering back towards inappropriate. Instead, he unrolls the condom and adjusts himself back into his jeans, once again reaching across your body to lean over towards the glove box to grab tissues.
A teasing smile is on your face when he very gently cleans you up before helping you slide back into your adorable pink underwear, pulling your dress back down like nothing ever happened.
“I still want to give you romance. The right way.” His words make you sit up, raking your hands through your hair to tame the hot mess it surely became. Jungkook’s eyes look soft as he stares at you, lips pressed together earnestly as he softly rubs the skin of your thighs.
“I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.” With a small kiss to his cheek he’s relaxing again, a smile spreading on his lips when you speak again. “Not that I didn’t totally enjoy this entire date as it is, but if you wanna wine and dine me, I’m not going to say no.”
He laughs now, that hearty laugh that makes your own smile hurt your cheeks and has your stomach flipping like it has been all day. Then his eyes focus on the windows, wide in awe as he takes note of how fogged up they are, barely able to see the dimly lit parking lot outside. “Oh fuck, if anyone’s outside they definitely know we fucked in here.”
“Yeah, I’m not getting back out,” you decide, choosing to shimmy over the center console and onto the passenger seat. The act of having sex in the backseat of a car in public was definitely hot, but having to step out and potentially face your consequences was a hard no. Jungkook’s car was the safe space so you’d be staying here. 
The yellow bunny comes into view as you navigate your way onto the seat, your hands grabbing the plushie from it’s spot, laughing when you see the way Jungkook had positioned it. “Why is he staring out the window?”
Jungkook follows behind you with a grunt, knee knocking harshly into the steering wheel and setting off the horn briefly as he hunkers into the driver’s seat. “He was staring right at me!”
“Jungkook, it's a stuffed animal.”
He huffs as he turns the car on, instantly cracking the windows and turning on the air conditioner to clear up the fogged windows. “Hell no, I’ve seen Toy Story. I’m not risking it.” Even as he drives off, focused on getting out of the parking lot as quickly as possible, he still joins in as you cackle at him, bunny placed on your lap.
“So, where are you taking me for romance, Concrete King?” His eyebrows wiggle at the title, hand reaching across to rest on your thigh, giving the flesh a soft squeeze.
“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You sigh at his words, settling comfortably into the seat as you stare at him with those same heart shaped eyes. 
Jungkook's own heart is currently somersaulting in his chest when he meets your gaze, desperately wanting to keep you close, experience the rest of the seasons with you before coming back full circle and repeating it all over again in a never ending cycle. But the summer is still young, and you make it feel endless, leave him believing in summer romance so sticky and sweet, clinging to his skin in the best way. He knows only time will tell how this plays out, but his mind hopes for the best, willing to let it unfold the way it’s meant to be.
You feel the same way, and when you sneak your hand under his, tangling your fingers together and having your clasped hands resting on your thighs instead, there’s only one thing you know you’re certain about. Even if by the time the seasons changed and you were somehow no longer holding his hand as the leaves covered the floor in an array of colors, you’ll always cherish the day the blonde boy with too many tattoos and a tacky hawaiian shirt landed a trick in your honor.
5K notes · View notes
softlyjiminie · a year ago
oh kitten! | p.j.m
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⇢ pairing(s): park jimin x cat hybrid!reader, mentions of panther hybrid!jeon jungkook x cat hybrid!reader.
⇢ word count: 2.4K
⇢ genre: smut, fluff, hybrid!au.
⇢ summary: no one expected park jimin to come home with a hybrid, let alone a female cat hybrid. innocent as can be, sweeter than sugar, she was the apple of jimin’s eye, but little did they know, how good she could be.
⇢ warning(s): please read! heavy smut, pwp, dom!jiimin, sub!reader, oral sex (female receiving.), fingering, male masturbation, light exhibitionism,  master kink, corruption kink, degredation kink, god kink if you squint,  mentions of pet play, light choking, spanking, cum play, breeding kink, unprotected sex - please wear protection!
⇢ author’s note(s): happy new year friends! it is i, your favourite jimin luvr back with a very special gift for miss @fantasybangtan​, gia hit me with this very wonderful and steamy gift, so in my new years haze I managed to throw this little steamy one-shot together! please enjoy this very smutty fic hehe.
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no one expected park jimin to come home with a hybrid, let alone a female cat hybrid. jimin already had plenty of girls wrapped around his finger before her, so why did he need a hybrid? the short answer was that he was lonely, looking for someone to take care of and fill the empty space between work, college and parties. but jimin had seen the look of happiness on yoongi’s face that one time,upon seeing his girlfriend  bring in their excitable german shepard hybrid; taehyung  (of course with the permission of their boss seokjin, some establishments didn’t allow hybrids on the premises.)
namjoon, his old roommate had moved out after getting his own cat hybrid, jungkook. the panther hybrid had many lazy tendencies, sometimes aggressive and possessive which had ultimately led namjoon to leave. in other words, jungkook was lazy and mean as fuck. however, he did have his adorable moments. then there was, hoseok who frequently volunteered in a shelter for hybrids. it had been him, the jubilant man,  who helped jimin to find the right hybrid for his home, but the older male would have never suspected his blue haired ‘bad boy’ friend to go for the most innocent little short hair he’d ever seen. 
oh kitty, if hoseok knew how innocent and good she really was. 
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YN’s back was arched, dark fluffy tail wrapped around her thigh as she held her ass up high for jimin to see. with dark eyes, jimin nudged her thighs apart with his own, just so he could get a view of her pretty, creamy little pussy. her ears were flat with submission too, making heat crawl down his spine. “look at you kitten,” jimin cooed lowly, crescent moon eyes heavy with seduction. “all spread out for me, like a good little girl.” 
he hummed in satisfaction, watching her tail twitch and ears flicker to place his movement. YN knew he was right behind her, her modified hybrid DNA meant her keen sense of smell could detect his growing arousal and the denim that prevented it from filling her up. she let out a quiet mix between a whimper and a purr, burying her face into the fresh cotton sheets as she wiggled her hips in an attempt to get jimin’s attention. 
hands on her waist stilled the motion, causing YN to glance back over her shoulder to gauge his reaction. jimin smirked, shuffling down the bed with her ass still firmly in grip. the tattooed man yanked at her hips with bruising force,  bringing her sopping heat closer to his face once his knees hit the floor. nose just inches away from her swollen nub, jimin’s  hot breath fanned over YN’s throbbing core and sent her senses into overdrive. “tell me kitten, what was it that you did so wrong? tell master so he can give you what you need baby.”
his voice dripped with mockery, testing all of her self control. jimin had her trained well, to be a good pet, not only when but if he desired it. he loved to see YN on her knees when he came home from a busy day, mouth open and ready to take his fingers spiralled with tattoos. he loved it. she adored it.
“i t-touched myself,” she mewled after jimin pressed his plush lips against her core in a sloppy kiss. he hummed, as if asking her to continue, causing her fingers to grip the sheets. “because the heat, m-my heat was too much!” 
the tattooed man licked a stripe along the length of her dripping cunt, the overflow of her arousal sweet on his tongue. jimin was addicted, senses overflowing with all of her. “what else sweetheart? elaborate for me.” 
“’called taehyungie ‘n hoseok t-to help with my heat-, oh my god!” she squealed when jimin’s skilled tongue slipped past her entrance, feasting on the heavenly nectar that gathered there. YN was sinful, without even trying, her innocence turning the man on beyond compare. corrupting her, tainting his little angel.  jimin moaned into her core, loving how she desperately cried out his name. letting a inked hand run through his teal tinted locks, jimin lifted himself off of his knees and begun to  sooth her whimpers, smoothing over the curve of her ass. “they said- oh my - they said no so i called kookoo to he-help! jimin!” 
the tattooed man growled into her cunt, possessively at the other hybrid’s name. memories only driving him to push his tongue into her pulsing hole, he smirked against her, drawing patterns on her desperate cunt as she cried out. before adopting YN, jimin knew next to nothing about owning and taking care of a hybrid, let alone about their reproductive cycles. so when his kitten fell into her first heat with him,  jimin panicked and immediately took to calling namjoon for advice. 
jimin remembered his face being bright with a red when his little, sweet, innocent kitty begged him to fill her up with his cum. because, sure, park jimin had been with girls before but this was YN and YN was his precious little baby. jimin had never seen her in such a state before, tears pooling in her beautiful, doe eyes like she was in pain. desperately needing something, someone to take the edge off.
namjoon offered up jungkook to help take care of jimin’s darling kitten and of course, he was sceptical. jungkook wasn’t gentle, he couldn’t take care of a little thing like YN. 
but oh how jimin was wrong. 
never in his life, in his time with YN had he heard her scream such filthy words, begging for jungkook to stuff her full of his load and breed her till his heart content. of course the panther obliged, groaning and barking orders into YN’s ear as their skin slapped against each other. 
and so it became a regular occurrence from then on, jimin making a home on the living room couch as jungkook took her round after round after round. YN’s moans  like a sweet melody filling the void of the apartment, causing jimin’s cock to harden in his sweatpants. he should have felt bad, bad for touching himself to orgasm whilst listening to YN being pounded away. it wasn’t until recently, when jimin had confessed his feelings (and jealousy), that he started helping her through the heats. making his name, jimin , the name that she chanted like a mantra.
“minnie, it hurts,” YN gasped, a slur in her words after he’d neglected her cunt for too long. with a teasing smile, jimin withdrew his face from her heat, replacing his tongue with a finger, slowly pumping it knuckle deep within her red hot walls. jimin grinned cockily in delight, feeling her walls take him in like a glove, pushing her (or rather his) sweater over her ass and up to her chest. 
kissing a trail up her back, jimin smiled against the expanse of her skin, reaching her neck and biting down just hard enough to form a love bite. he wanted YN’s skin to shine with his work, painting blue and purple hues across her skin like the night sky. “i know angel,” he murmured softly, millimetres away from her sensitive cat ears. “i’ll take care of you baby, i’ll fill you up so good, fuck you raw and then feed your tight little pussy my cum, would you like that kitten?” jimin’s voice was raspy in her ear, making YN’s chest heave at the thought of jimin inside her spasming walls. a fresh set of tears watered in the cat hybrid’s eyes as jimin’s finger curled, bringing her closer to the edge. stars formed behind cat-like irises as she teetered over the brink of orgasm, the knot in her stomach desperate to uncoil.
but just as quickly as it came, it stopped. “or would you rather kookoo?”
jimin’s whisper was hot against her kitty ears, causing them to twitch as she almost sobbed into the pillow with a shake of her head, moaning out for something, anything. “what about him, kitten? would you prefer if he fucked you like this? tossed you around and filled you up with his seed? hmm?“ jimin spoke harshly, landing a spank to YN’s ass. “i bet you would, all you can think about is being filled with cock and cum, bet you’d take anyone in that filthy cunt of yours.” 
“no, no, no!” YN cried, grinding her ass back into jimin’s jeans, leaving a wet patch at his crotch once she realised he had moved there. “i-i want you, i want you minnie please! don’t want him, don’t want koo, only you...”
the blue haired boy smirked lightly and sat back on his knees, slowly manoeuvring to unbuckle his belt. the clink of metal clanking on metal made the kitty moan in wonton as her ears swivelled at the sound. “say it again.” Jimin commanded, stripping off the rest of his clothes, the scent of his arousal filling his kitten’s nose. “beg for master, darling.”
“please, please i need you, m-master please- ” she didn’t need to say much before he was swiping the swollen, burning red head of his cock along her soaked slit. jimin shuddered above her, easing his thick cock between her folds as he encased the kitten between his arms. his bare chest moulded perfectly with the slope of her back, her ass resting comfortably at his hip. “hmmm minnie...”
in return, jimin gave an experimental thrust of his hips, whimpering into YN’s hair when she clenched around him. “fuck kitten, alway s’fuckin tight for me.” he moaned, thrusting in again, just to hear her little mewl’s of pleasure. the head of jimin’s cock caught on her wet walls, dragging against them as he repeatedly pushed in and out of her hole, abusing the sensitive area by rolling his hips into her constantly.
jimin lifted himself from her back, hands settling on her hips as he pulled her as back onto his cock, watching her cheeks jiggle with every movement. YN’s face was pressed deep into the pillows as she cried out his name, grinding back onto him like her life depended on it. “m-minnie please...” 
“please what kitten?” jimin panted, kissing up her spine again but never slowing the pace of his hips. “what is it that you want, hm? is my cock not enough for you?, greedy girl. want me to go faster? harder?” 
the blue haired male punctuated his words with swirls of his hips, his bright red tip prodding at her g-spot, eliciting a series of purrs from her kitten lips. he ravished the back of her neck once more, pausing his movements to let her roll back onto him feverishly, her cunt clenching right around him as her orgasm drew near. “h-h minnie, oh!” her purrs grew louder, moans reduced to mumbling his name and sighing once the weight of his body was on top of her again.
jimin’s thrusts became erratic, the force behind them more powerful. YN squeezed around his cock, purring for him and sending the vibrations going straight to his dick. “you gonna cum kitten?” he groaned into her hair, caging her in underneath him as he focused on thrusting deep. thick fingers fumbled to flick at her swollen clit with one hand, the other pressed lightly on her neck, forcing his thumb into her hot, wet mouth. “gonna make a mess of my cock?”
“yes! ’m so close,” she slurred, biting into the fabric of the pillow to control herself.
jimin nipped at her ear. “cum for me baby.” he growled, squeezing his eyes shut when she contracted around him one final time, arching her back to rut against him. jimin helped YN ride out her high as she milked his length for all he had, the tightness of her heat becoming too much for him. “where do you want me?”
“c-cum inside me, fill me with your kittens. breed me.” she purred, breathless as she swivelled her hips over his cock, the man above her practically sobbed as he gave a final two thrusts, filling his baby up with his thick hot seed.
jimin felt his arms give out as he collapsed to the side, not daring to crush his precious angel with his body wait. closing his whiskey eyes, jimin stilled to let his breathing calm, only cracking an eye open when YN moved over to give his inked arm appreciative kitten licks. “good? you’re okay, right princess?” he hummed in concern. 
“mhm! thank you jiminie, i think it’s settled for now. could i have some water please?” YN smiles shyly, the dimples in her cheeks returning. jimin chuckled, the switch of her personality reminding him of how innocent she could be and if he wasn’t so tired he knew his cock would have stirred again. with a shake of his blue hair out of his eyes, jimin nodded and sat up, leaning over to grab a bottle of water from the emergency supply under the bed. “thank you!” 
after the first few heats that he’d helped YN with, jimin quickly realised that both she and he would need replenishments if YN were to stay healthy and he were to keep up his stamina to satisfy her. it was a good thing that he could never get enough of her. the inked man watched with tired eyes as YN gulped down the water, trickles falling down the corner of her mouth and dripping onto her bare chest as she swallowed it down easily. 
wonder what else she could swallow like that, jimin thought. a small cough caused him to shift is gaze from his hybrid’s chest and up to her, innocent eyes. “you’re staring, minnie.” YN whined, with a pout on her lips. 
“you’re beautiful, is staring a crime?” he countered, moving to press a kiss where the water lay and followed to trail back up to the corner of her mouth. YN shifted on her knees, gasping quietly at the soft touch. jimin grinned widely against her supple cheek, biting it softly as he sensed another hot rush flooding through her. YN was so responsive to him, and only him. 
it was a privilege that he loved.
“no, but if i didn’t know any better, i would think you were the hybrid in heat...” she gasped, eyes rolling back as jimin moved his hands to cup her breasts. 
“whaddya say baby, another round?” 
“please, master.” she nodded, already moving to straddle jimin’s lap, ready for another round in the sheets. 
oh, what a good kitten she was. 
5K notes · View notes
luxekook · a year ago
intimidation | myg
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⇥ pairing: yoongi x reader
⇥ genre: fluff, a lil touch of smut, college AU
⇥ summary: in which you think Yoongi is intimidating bc of his dark clothing and his quiet ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude… but then someone makes him laugh and you watch as his face lights up in the cutest gummy smile complete with shining eyes and blushing cheeks and BOOM you’re whipped for that boy
⇥ word count: 2.3k
⇥ warnings: dirty talk, light smut, cursing
⇥ sequel: intensity
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Thursday, September 28th – 11:16am
Min Yoongi intimidated the living hell out of you.
While the boy in question was not all that tall or all that muscular, there was admittedly something in his aura that just screamed ‘big dick energy’... Not that you’d ever get the chance to confirm that hypothesis. You weren’t even sure you wanted to.
Shoulders slumping, you shifted your peripheral gaze off of Yoongi and back onto your professor as she droned on about evolution. Your shared Introduction to Biology class inspired an odd mix of dread and excitement every Tuesday/Thursday morning as a consequence of Min Yoongi’s sheer presence.
Your mind drifted back to the first class of the semester about a month ago...
Arriving in the lecture hall indicated on your class schedule, you took a seat in the middle of the room. You were spoiled for choice given that you had arrived fifteen minutes early for lecture. The first day of classes was always stressful for you, given your tendency to get lost within the many buildings on campus as well as your hatred for lateness.
As the room filled with more and more students, you shuffled through your backpack. “Where the hell is it?” you muttered, searching for your planner where you would jot down important notes.
Finally, you spotted it wedged in between two of your folders. Grasping it in triumph, you tugged it out of your backpack and placed it on your desk. Glancing back up, you found the coldest pair of brown eyes staring back at you.
“Is anyone sitting there?” The question came in a slow drawl, all rough and lazy. Long fingers adorned in rings shifted as the boy pointed towards the empty seat next to you. God, he was offensively good-looking.
You blinked and shook your head, “No, have at it.” His gaze pinned you in place for a few more brief seconds before his chin lifted in acknowledgment and he slumped into place beside you.
You had learned absolutely nothing that first class. Or any subsequent class that Min Yoongi deigned with his presence. The odds were about 50/50 on any given day.
Today, his presence was wreaking havoc on your nervous system. Since the initial encounter on your first day of class, the amount of words exchanged between the two of you could be counted on one hand. Last week he had asked you for your notes from a previous class he had missed, and you almost burned from the inside out with embarrassment as he took in your impeccably organized and color-coded notes with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk.
“Were you planning on framing these?” he had asked while snapping a quick series of photos of your notebook pages. In response, you had scowled, pulling your notebook out of his reach.
You were a nerd. You knew that. But you didn’t like being made fun of for it. Especially by a boy as arrogantly apathetic as Min fucking Yoongi.
Therefore, you were doing your absolute best to ignore him today. The hour and a half of class dragged by so slowly you thought you might have grown a couple gray hairs by the time your professor dismissed everyone.
Rushing to pack up your belongings and multitude of colored pens, a small slip of paper dropped onto your desk. Confused, you immediately glanced up to find the source and found Yoongi sauntering away from you, black backpack hitched over one shoulder carelessly.
Fingers shaking, you opened the hastily folded paper: “(y/n) – Sorry if I made you upset last class. I only meant to extend my compliments to the artist... – MYG.”
Compliments to the—Min Yoongi was so full of shit. But you couldn’t fight the small smile that spread across your face.
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“(y/n) ... (y/n) ... (y/n)!”
The sound of your name shook you from your thoughts. Your roommate Nia decided that wasn’t enough and she shoved you in the arm.
“Ow, what the hell, Nia?” you grumbled, rubbing your left bicep dramatically.
Nia scoffed, “You’re staring into your bland salad like it holds the key to the universe. What’s up with you?”
Stabbing said salad with your fork, you waved your well-lettuced utensil in your roommate’s face, “What’s up is that I cannot stand Min Yoongi! He walks around looking like god’s gift to anyone attracted to men. Then, he has the audacity to critique my notes and give me a half-assed apology with further ridicule? The nerve! The gall!”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Nia cut off your rampage succinctly, “Min Yoongi apologized to you? We are talking about the same Min Yoongi, right? Bleached hair? Piercings? General hatred for life?”
You nodded. Nia’s eyebrows rose to new heights, “We must contact the historians. This is one for the books.”
Rifling through your planner, you pulled out the note Yoongi left you and thrust it in Nia’s direction, “Look!”
Unfolding the small torn paper, you watched as Nia’s eyes darted back and forth... and back and forth... and back and forth.
Nia’s wide eyes lifted to yours, “(y/n) ... Min Yoongi is flirting with you.”
You choked on your lettuce, “What? Where on earth are you getting that? He’s clearly roasting me.”
“Nope,” Nia threw the note back at you, “Clearly flirting. Damn, Min Yoongi is into my best friend? This is wild! Okay, you first need to get on that, and then you need introduce me to Park Jimin.”
“Are you insane?” Your outburst gained annoyed looks from the surrounding students in the dining hall and you lowered your voice, “I am not ‘getting on’ anyone!”
Rolling her eyes, Nia stared pointedly to the right, “So if I'm hearing you correctly, you’re saying that you don’t find him attractive?”
Your eyes followed her line of vision and landed on none other than your topic of conversation. 
God, he looked good. Even surrounded by his group of attractive friends, Yoongi stood out to you. You were just about to glance away when it happened.
Kim Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh burst through the cacophony of conversations, following what must have been one of his famously so-bad-they’re-good jokes.
And then Min Yoongi smiled.
Your heart stuttered in your chest as you watched his eyes crinkle, his cheeks turn a pretty pink and, his smile to widen into the cutest, most devastating gummy smile you had ever seen in your entire life.
“Holy fuck.” You exhaled. It was official. You were fucking whipped.
“Yup, that’s what I thought,” Nia’s smug tone pulled your focus away from this new version of Yoongi you were desperate to know, “Still going to deny that you want to jump his bones?”
You were scared shitless by Nia’s maniacal grin in response to your admission.
“Excellent,” she smirked, her palms rubbing together like a plotting villain, “Here’s what we’re going to do...”
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Friday, September 29th – 10:34pm
Your hands tugged at the hem of the short leather miniskirt Nia loaned you for the night as your stomach flipped more times than Simone Biles’ floor routine.
Damn, you were nervous.
When Nia talked you into attending Kim Taehyung’s party, you had agreed pretty easily. You both had reasoned that Yoongi might not even be there; and, if he was, you would just see if he would approach you.
It had seemed so simple in the moment, but now as you grasped your beer you realized that nothing regarding Min Yoongi was simple. Since arriving about twenty minutes ago, you and Nia had immediately been recruited for beer pong by Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook. Unable to crush Nia’s dreams of hooking up with Jimin, you had agreed immediately even though you were both absolutely terrible at the game.
Jimin and Jungkook now only had one cup left to make, while you and Nia had five. You dipped the pong ball into the designated cup of water to clean it, took aim and watched in glee as the ball sailed into the front cup.
“Oh, fuck yes!” You and Nia high-fived, taking in the rare victory. Opening her mouth to respond, Nia’s words died in her throat as she looked over your shoulder.
“What is it?” you began to turn to see what was so alarming to your friend.
“No!” Nia hissed, “Don’t you dare turn around. Min Yoongi is staring at you like you’re a five-course meal and he’s starving.”
Your soul left your body, only to be snapped back into place with the interrupting cheers from Jimin and Jungkook as they sunk their last cup.
“Good game!” Jungkook’s arm wrapped around you in a half-hug. You shoot Nia a look, but she’s completely occupied in conversation with Jimin. Jungkook’s arm fell to encircle your waist when you felt it – the weight of a certain someone’s gaze.
You barely registered Jimin and Nia’s exit from the pong table and onto the makeshift dancefloor in Taehyung’s living room. And when Jungkook suggested getting another drink from the kitchen you almost shouted in agreement. Anything to escape the eyes you knew were glued to you.
He’s just a boy, you tried to remind yourself, you could handle Min Yoongi.
You followed Jungkook into the cramped kitchen, nodding along to whatever story he’s rambling on about. Locating the vast array of alcohol scattered along the kitchen island, you grabbed a solo cup and fixed yourself a rum and coke.
“...and then Jin-hyung said ‘It’s burgundy!’” You tuned back in to Jungkook’s story just in time to laugh in the appropriate place. You felt bad. Jungkook was cute and sweet, but just not your type.
“Jungkook,” a low voice broke through your shared laughter.
Jungkook’s eyes widened in alarm as he turned to face the intruder, “Yoongi-hyung! Wh-what’s up?”
Yoongi’s gaze narrowed; Jungkook gulped, “Bye, (y/n)-noona.”
You watched in horror as Jungkook literally scrambled out of the room to get away from you and Yoongi.
“Why’d you do that?” You looked up at Yoongi.
Damn, he looked good. His blonde locks were tousled like he had been running his hands through it and his cheeks were slightly flushed – probably from drinking.
Yoongi ignored your question, shooting a look at the group of boys occupying the kitchen counter space next to you and they immediately made themselves scarce.
His dark gaze turned back to you, “Why Jungkook?”
Your eyebrows furrowed, “What?”
“Why were you talking to Jungkook, (y/n)?” Yoongi moved closer to you, backing you into the counter behind you, “That boy couldn’t handle you.”
Your eyebrows quirked up, “And why’s that?”
“Because, baby, all that hair, all that ass, and all that attitude needs a man to give you what you want and what you need.”
You struggled to formulate an answer as you watched as he took a long sip of his beer, his eyes continuing to burn into yours.
“Are you drunk, Min Yoongi?”
“Lil’ bit,” he muttered and shot you a devastating half-smile, “But still sober enough to appreciate how goddamn good you look right now.”
Your mouth opened and closed several times before you choked out, “I thought you hated me?”
His hand darted through his hair as his jaw flexed once… twice, “Not even close.”
“But you don’t talk to me... you made fun of my notes!”
“I don’t talk to you because I think you’re so fucking cute with your colored pens and your oversized sweatshirts and your overused planner. I don’t talk to you because I want to ruin you and worship you all at once.”
All air had escaped your lungs at this point. You let out a jagged breath as Yoongi suddenly slid his hands around your waist.
He scooped you off the floor and placed you on the edge of the counter. Your arms circled his shoulders instinctually and his grip tightened on your hips. When he glanced down at you, he let out a rough breath, sounding like you were torturing him.
Turning to the side, you tried to hide from his intensity behind the curtain of your hair, but he just pushed it back behind your ear.
“Yoongi, please…” Your desperate words left your mouth subconsciously, the feeling of his lips so close to yours made your pulse race and your head spin.
“What do you want, baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse and his pupils dilated, “I’ll give you anything. Just ask.”
“Kiss me?” You barely finished asking your question before Yoongi’s lips slammed onto your own.
He kissed you like he wanted to own you – and to have you own him. Gravity tried to drag you down off the counter and your mouths separated in a gasp. Yoongi hoisted you up higher with a firm hand on the back of your thigh.
Hooking your leg around his slim waist, you tugged him into you, feeling every inch of his body respond to your touch. He breathed heavily as you dragged your nails down his back slowly, provokingly. You felt his responding groan rumble deep from within his chest.
His free hand latched into your hair and tugged your lips back to his. You both moaned as his tongue circled yours, twining around it, enticing yours to follow.
You swore the way Min Yoongi kissed could be felt all the way down to your bones.  
His kisses got greedier, more desperate as he seemed to be trying to memorize the taste of your mouth on his. “God-fucking-damn," he panted, pulling back slightly and resting his forehead on yours.
You smiled, completely fucked out. His fingertips dragged down your skin slowly until he reached your waist. His hands slid up under your shirt, and he rested his palms against your skin, fingers splayed down over your hips. His hold was undeniably possessive.
Shifting his head into the crevice of your neck, Yoongi muttered, “Go out with me, (y/n).”
The only answer your last few braincells could formulate was a garbled “Mkay”. But judging from the smile you felt against your pulse point, it was good enough for him.
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a/n: originally was going to make this fic about jungkook (inspired by this post), but I decided I needed to write it about Yoongi bc he is baby
© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.
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jamaisjoons · a year ago
lubricious ⤑ kth | m.
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lubricious adj:         ↳ characterised by lust // alt; having slippery quality
⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 in which taehyung spends far too much time with his camera, when really, he should be spending time with you. 〞establishe