#i fucked up my index while drawing the second piece so please appreciate it because it was painful as fuck

[arkiwii]

quercued up victorian serval busting it down abjurer style, is she goated with the sauce

#they went to bass pro shop #shout-out to Burstfoot for the idea btw #i fucked up my index while drawing the second piece so please appreciate it because it was painful as fuck #arknights #stalkiwiart #quercus #grani #haze #goldenglow

[jikook-yoonmin-trash]

YOONGI X READER (DIRTY IMAGINE)

Rating: E for Explicit

No one asked for this but I'll deliver anyways. I know I'm not consistent but I'm trying to be committed to something to stay sane. Lets go.

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Yoongi had been locked in his studio all week. Being the perfectionist that he was, you knew it would take a miracle to get him out of there. He was working on a new Hip Hop piece with some foreign artist and it stirred something inside, deep and longing. You knew he was passionate and you knew how much he wanted to get this done.

But seeing him so focused and concentrated at the small window of time you visited stirred something in you, deep and longing. Your relationship with him hadn't always been physical, he sought after comfort and companionship, but you'd be lying if you said he didn't turn you on.

Especially on days where he wear shirts that dipped to low, or days where he came straight from his schedule with Bangtan- fully decked out from head to toe with perfect hair and accessories for days.

Like right now for instance.

You weren't sure who was sitting in front of you; Min Yoongi, Suga or Agust D. Whomever it was, you were ready to please.

"Got you some coffee and snack."

Yoongi took a break from writing to look up at you with a little smile. Cute. His hair was pushed back and he looked so devastatingly handsome that for a second you forgot that he was yours, and you forgot to breathe. You couldn't help but notice the thick silver rings on his fingers as he reached for the coffee. You've always had a thing for his hands.

"Thank you babe, wanna sit for a while?" Yoongi asked, looking up at you from mid sip.

With his legs sprawled out like that, it seemed like an invitation- open and inviting. The material of his pants were thick but you could make out the outline of his legs just fine. Perfect legs. Perfect seat.

Feeling bold, you rushed forward and found yourself sitting between his legs. His hands were immediately around you with the gentle sound of his laughter.

"You did say sit." You teased, leaning into his warm chest.

"I did."

Yoongi hummed and swiveled the chair to face his computer. With the coffee set aside and his hands occasionally clicking the keys on his laptop, you both fell into a comfortable silence. Yoongi's head nuzzled against your neck as he furiously wrote down lyrics. All you were concerned about was his hands. He had beautiful hands.

As time progressed, you found the urge to be fondled or even feel him move against you was increasing. Yoongi knew all your tricks. If you tried grinding against him that would only warrant a scolding or worst, him banning any kind of sexual activity until next week. He'd do it, you knew him well enough to not cross him. Especially because he's so busy.

"Yoongi?"

"Mmm." He hummed, kissing your neck.

"You look cute today."

"Mmm, Namjoon called me Daddy. He thought you would like it."

"Namjoon's not wrong."

One of his hand wrapped around you, while the other worked with a pen and paper. He rubbed small circles into your stomach and hummed appreciatively.

"What did you do today beautiful?" His deep voice was calming, you were stuck between wanting to bask in his touches or fall asleep to whatever hypnotic trance he had you in.

"Work was good as usual. I also got my paper done, I'm really proud of it."

"Good girl. You've worked so hard."

You received another kiss on the neck. Before you could respond, his hand dipped under your shirt (his shirt) and cupped both of your breasts in his hands. His ringed thumb swiped over your nipple leaving a cool shocking sensation behind.

"You're not wearing a bra?" His tone was teasing. Had you not seen the small smile tugging on his lips you would think he was upset.

"Hate wearing those."

"Mmm. Anything else I should know." He asked, still fondling your breasts.

"Perhaps a couple things."

"Oh yeah, like what."

You were about to tease him, but the tugging and pinching of your nipple was enough to sedate your urge to toy with Yoongi. It felt really good, especially since you were already worked up earlier.

"Like what baby?"

He was now pressing kisses up your neck with little bites. The pen and paper was abandoned and his now free hand took refuge in the inside of your thigh, prying your legs open.

"Like, I think you should use your hands to make me cum."

He laughed, his chest vibrating against your back.

"Mmm, figured as much. You just sat right on my lap with no hesitation." You were squirming under his touch. "Take off your pants baby. I'll make you cum right here."

Without question, those pants along with your panty were flying to the other side of the room and Yoongi was spreading your legs until they hooked on the handle of either sides of the chair. From his angle, he could see your entire pussy spread out. He could see how wet you were from just a simple touch.

"Dirty."

He sucked a finger and circled it around your clenching core, feeling the heat of your wetness. His finger was teasing you in small strokes and he purposely flicked your clit.

Your body laid flush against his, lifeless even with your head lolled off to the side as he slowly rubbed circles around your clit, missing it on purpose. Yoongi was a nasty tease, he loved drawing out your orgasm and then letting it hit you in waves when you'd least expect it.

"Did you miss me this much? Had to storm into my workplace and demand that I make you cum with my hands."

His free hand was busy rolling your nipple between his thumb and index, tugging whenever he felt like it.

"Not my fault you look so good." You hummed.

"Wanna taste you, let me taste you please."

"Yeaah. Please Yoongi."

In seconds you found yourself being thrown on the desk in front of you. Your legs were splayed out with your hands resting on either side of your body for support. Yoongi ducked his head, laid close to your inner thigh and gazed up at you.

There was a glint of mischievousness sparkling in his dark gaze. He pushed you back hard, your back knocking into the monitor, your hand was busy smashing into the keyboard to find purchase.

"Yoongi!" You hissed, "Your fucking computer is behind me."

His tongue found its way on the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to the new heart beat centered in your hot dripping pussy.

"I will crush your head if you keep teasing me." You threatened. Yoongi had the nerve to laugh, as if he didn't believe you.

"An honorable death for an honorable man."

He finally gave in, and sucked lightly around your clit. His tongue flicking softly at the sensitive spot. You were too busy moaning and heaving, so when he inserted a finger, followed by another you found it extremely taxing to hold back your screams. They were loud and needy. And Yoongi was tending to them.

The thing about Yoongi is that, he knew how to use his fingers and he was an expert with his mouth. Every time he angled his fingers upwards to rub at area that made you see stars, he also added pressure to his tongue. He was sucking and licking your orgasm closer while he finger fucked you. The noises were loud and sinful. The room was heated with wet squelches each time his finger thrust into you.

"Uuuuhgh, Just like that Yoongi. Fuuuuuuuck mee!"

Unable to control the intensity of the feeling, you grabbed onto his hair and pressed him closer- possibly suffocating him in the process. Your hips were grinding circles into his face, finding it easier to chase your own orgasm this way.

"Yeaah!"

"Yeaaaaah!"

"Fuuuuuck Yooongi Mmmmmhhh!"

Your leg wrapped around his neck and pulled him in, locking his head in place as your orgasm hit. It was so intense, your ears were ringing and eyes rolled back as the endorphins wore off. Yoongi was still working his tongue, slowly, sending light shockwaves through your core.

"Baby, I love you and your pussy but please let go."

"No Yoongi, not when you make me cum like that. I feel like I'm floating."

"Oh yeah, I feel like I'm drowning in you."

Reluctantly, you let go. Yoongi's face was glossy with your arousal but he hadn't made any attempts to clean it, only smiling at you in return.

You heard the familiar sound of his belt being unbuckled and the zipper running down. His cock was standing upright, shining with his own arousal. Yoongi looked spent leaning back in his chair. He looked like he owned you and everyone else in this building with his cocky smile and the wicked look in his eye.

"Come sit on my cock baby. Lets finish this song together." He smirked.

And just like that, his cock was nestled into your warm sensitive pussy as he worked on lyrics to his new song. This was going to be a long night.

"You know the rules baby, don't move and don't touch your pussy. If you want something you ask me. Okay baby."

"Yes Yoongi."

"Good girl. This is going to take a while."

#min yoongi #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #bts fic #smut #grapefruit #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smit #bts smut #bts fanfic #i'm not really confident in this piece but lmk if it was okay #jyvadmin

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 2 - Bare

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Nipple Play, Naked Female/Clothed Male, Foreplay on Kitchen Counter, Dirty Talk

Summary: Gojo is aware that you still aren't comfortable with the boundaries of your new arrangement but when you show up at his apartment wearing a skirt that he absolutely adores on you, the sorcerer finds it hard to resist his urges and does his best to persuade you into using him as much as he enjoys using you.

A/N: ~ in which Gojo is just a plain, old tease ~

- - - 

How can such a flimsy piece of fabric incapacitate the great sorcerer?

You showed up tonight wearing a black skirt that Gojo secretly adored on you. He loved the way it cinched around your waist and flared out delicately, cutting off just a few inches above your mid-thigh. He could not understand what it was about the skirt that turned him on so much but every time he saw you in this particular piece of clothing, the man found himself unable to stop his imagination from going. He had a hard time resisting his urges and usually would take care of himself on his own after seeing you. He would picture you on your knees, your skirt bunched up at the waist as he would thrust from behind…

Pay attention, he grumbled to himself.

He didn’t mean to ignore you but you’ve been a complete distraction since you walked through his door. He was trying his best to listen to you talk about your day as you sauntered around his kitchen but was busy staring at your hips swaying from side to side. Thankfully he was wearing his shades so you couldn’t tell that his mind was wandering.

Two weeks had passed since you came over to his place with your proposition but nothing went beyond heated make out sessions. Gojo knew you still weren’t quite used to this little arrangement. Which is why despite the two of you planning on seeing each other to "grab drinks", he would usually let you ramble about whatever was on your mind for thirty minutes before the two of you actually got down to any of the fun stuff.

“ Gojo , are  you listening to me? ”

Your question snapped him out of it. He angled his head down towards you, noticing that you were standing right in front of him.

“Of course I was listening!” he replied defensively.

You raised your brows, your face unamused by his response.

“Oh, really? Then what did I just ask you?”

He froze, realizing you caught him in his lie. Raising his arms up in defeat he scoffed before admitting, “okay, I wasn’t listening but it’s not my fault you talk so much.”

“ You are saying that I talk a lot? You ?”

“Yes I am”

“Well, I guess your bad habits are just rubbing off on me.”

“My bad habits?!”

“Seriously, that mouth of yours never stops running. You’re like a broken radio. The volume doesn’t work and no matter how hard you try, you can't switch over to another station to listen to something better,” you teased with a smile.

“Is that right?”

Gojo halted your little bantering session by abruptly reaching for your waist to pull you close to him. He spun you around so your back was pressed against his kitchen island before leaning down and bringing his lips to your ear.

“Is my voice really that annoying?” he whispered. “Because you didn’t seem to think so the other night when I was doing this…”

He sensed the shift in your body language, your heart skipping a beat at his question and the way you tensed up against his frame. He had to admit, he thoroughly enjoyed teasing you, this was different from the casual flirting he was used to because nothing is holding him back from having his way with you now.

He laughed against your ear, “not so chatty now are we?”

Picking you up by your legs, Gojo lifted you onto the countertop with ease.

“No blindfold today?” you asked, finally finding your words as your pretty eyes stared directly into his own while you both faced one another.

“These count,” he replied, referring to his sunglasses.

Gojo’s eyes trailed from your neck to naval until it reached the band of your skirt. His hands were gripping onto your waist, that hungry blue gaze filled with nothing but need. He noticed your stare fixated on his lips but he wasn’t going to give in by kissing you just yet, he wanted to continue figuring you out, surveying all the different places he could touch you just to hear you call out his name.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his index finger tapping against your top.

You nodded your head politely and he smiled.

This side of you amused him. Despite your reservations, you’ve been quite bold about your needs and he couldn’t help but admire this newfound confidence you had, totally flattered that you were willing to show it off for him.

He tossed your top over his shoulder, his fingers trailing up your spine until it reached for the band of your bra.

“How about this?”

You bit your bottom lip, your hands dancing up his chest until it reached for the collar of his black tee.

“Maybe if you actually paid attention to what I was saying, I might be more willing…” You pushed him away, clearly having fun with him but inhaled when you felt his other hand move up across your stomach to cup your left breast.

“I didn’t invite you over to talk,” he answered calmly. “If that’s the case then we can reschedule this for another time...”

You pursed your lips, tempting him even further for a kiss but he saw that expression on your face that indicated you had no interest in stopping. You tugged at the clasp in front of your chest before telling him, “this is where the hook is.”

The smirk on his face spread into a wolfish grin as he eagerly unfastened your bra. He hummed with pleasure, dropping your undergarments to the side, tilting his head to get proper look at you and noticing the way he tightened against his pants soaking in the image before him.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” he complimented. “Lay down for me...”

You lowered yourself on your forearms against the marble counter watching as Gojo adjusted his stance before hovering his long torso above yours.

“Get comfortable, I don’t plan on rushing anything.”

Your face was a little flushed and you hesitated underneath him, fully aware of him absorbing your half naked state. You allowed yourself to lay flat on your back against the countertop, lifting slightly when the cold surface touched your skin. Gojo planted a kiss on your neck, nipping at it before brushing down your collarbone. You shivered feeling his breath against you, his hands kneading your breasts as he placed another kiss between them. The pads of his thumbs began to rub your nipples, causing them to perk up at his touch. Your mouth parted with a sigh and you closed your eyes, finally allowing your body to relax. He lips replaced his thumb as he enclosed his mouth over your hardened nipple and he flicked his tongue earning a satisfied exhale in response.

Gojo’s senses worked differently as everything for him was heightened on another scale.The scent of your perfume intoxicated him, the sound of your heartbeat racing like music to his ears, the vibrations that ran up his arm every time he touched you was like a trigger to his system and you tasted so sweet . He truly appreciated his power for granting him the ability to experience the moment playing out before him.

“ Satoru…” you moaned, your back arching off the counter as you felt him gently bite your sensitive nub. Your hand reached for his hair, your fingers tangling themselves between his white locks.

He bit down a little harder a second time, alternating between his tongue and teeth and causing you to pant before finally releasing you from his mouth.

“Yes?” he purred, noticing the way your legs spread underneath him.

He guided himself to your mouth, finally satisfying your craving by kissing you softly.

Freeing his hair from your grasp, you trailed your fingers along his jaw as you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slide into your mouth. Gojo continued roaming his hands along your body, gliding down your side before reaching for your leg. He stroked your inner thigh, caressing your soft skin before making his way up to your core, feeling the heat radiate off of you. He groaned into your mouth while palming your underwear with his hand, suddenly very conscious of just how wet you were for him.

Gojo broke free from your kiss, allowing you both to catch your breath for a second as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Whatever time you wasted on small talk, I’m going to compensate for by getting you off so many times you’ll have no idea what to do with yourself when I’m through with you...”

You parted your lips to protest but whimpered instead as his fingers began working your wet cunt over the fabric of your underwear. He moved in slow circular motions, a light pressure at first but increasing with intensity as he gradually picked up the pace.

“ Fuck ,” you whined, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

You were wriggling underneath him, your body rising and falling with every move he made. He returned to playfully suck on your nipples, pleasuring you with ease.

“ Touch me …” you begged, “ Please… ”

Your words were enough to convince him. The man tugged at the cotton fabric you were wearing before motioning his finger over your swollen clit. You were driving his patience with how wet you were getting but he was forcing himself to control his urges.

He dragged his middle finger along your slit before inserting it inside you. Naturally, your hips rolled with his movement and he slowly pulled out before pushing back in again with a little more force.

“ Ohhh , that feels good...”

Gojo couldn’t hide his own enjoyment. This was better than anything he had ever imagined about you. He was about to release years of pent up frustration on you. All those times you two spent alone together where he would draw his attention on your lips or think about what you were wearing underneath your clothes  and wonder how well you would take his dick if given the opportunity....

He had a revelation of how much he actually wanted you. His fantasies solely focused around you and regardless of who he was with, you were still the object of his desires.

The one person he was desperate to fuck.

Gojo pushed his finger all the way in, his thumb pressing down on your clit as he rubbed with speed. Your body shivered again, your moans growing louder as you clung onto his sleeve for support, feeling yourself coming undone beneath him. He felt you tense around him, your body contracting before finally releasing as the first wave of pleasure traveled through you.

He pulled his finger out, keeping your legs spread for him as he stood upright and watching you with approval. Your first orgasm illuminated your gorgeous face but he had no intention of giving you a break just yet. He proceeded to hook his fingers around your underwear, prompting you to lift your hips up as he stripped you of the fabric.

“That’s one…” he stated, ensuring you knew he was keeping his word.

He noticed you reach for the zipper of your skirt, ready to strip off the last article of clothing you had on.

He grabbed your wrists, pinning both your hands down by your sides before reaching for his glasses and dragging it down slightly along his nose so you only caught a glimpse of those blue eyes looking at you.

" The skirt stays on, ” he demanded before pushing back his frames and releasing you from his grip.

"As you wish...”

“Now then,” he continued, returning his attention onto your legs. He lifted your skirt higher until he granted himself a full view of your bare pussy. Licking his lips with anticipation, he lowered himself down before looking up at you with a teasing smile. “Let me show you exactly what this mouth of mine can do...”

- CHAPTER 3: CALL - 

#Gojo Satoru x reader #Gojo Satoru x female reader #Gojo Satoru x ofc #Gojo Satoru fanfic #Gojo smut #Gojo fluff #Gojo angst #Gojo Satoru #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen

[cheesygroove]

With a roll of the ice

pairing: Wheein x f!reader

c & ws: smut; ice play; sensory deprivation; mentions of alcohol; a lil swearing.

wc: 2k~

requested by anon

Round ice cube molds. You could have just gone for a regular plastic ice tray, the cheaper option at the store. But if it can serve a sexual purpose, why not? The process of moving to a new place with your girlfriend had you overanalyzing the simplest home utensils you needed. It was good to have that kind of freedom to choose.

Wheein just had the simpler intentions for it, though. One night, you came home to find her drinking alone at the still empty living room, lights all turned off. The lighted up fireplace was the sole reason you could see her, sitting with legs crossed and a glass in hand. A bunch of bottles, a second glass and her sketchbook, as well as her drawing materials, were all scattered around the floor.

"Whee, what are you doing...?" you asked while taking your shoes off. "I thought your group photoshoot was tomorrow," you worried about her drinking; better to not have to deal with a headache on the next day.

"I'm just having some coke. The alcohol is for you," she explained. "Can you get the ice for us?"

Not wanting to ruin the mood she set up, you used your phone flashlight to walk to the kitchen. There, you grabbed an ice bucket and emptied the silicone trays inside, shaking it a little to prevent the round cubes from sticking together.

"I would have picked it up before, but I didn't want it to melt before you arrived," Wheein said when you came back and placed the bucket on the floor.

"It's okay, babe," you assured, kissing her cheek tenderly after sitting by the fireplace with her. "Anxious because of work?"

She let out a sigh. You knew her really well.

"Getting better already, actually. It's good to have you here." Wheein smiled at you, stroking your knee with her hand. "I just needed to relax a little. Tomorrow is going to be a full day."

You nodded, reaching for a glass and the bottle of flavored vodka. Being so close to the fireplace, you reconsidered the idea of picking a drink that would burn you up even more. The current warmth was nice and it felt cozy, but it could be too much if you added more heat to it.

"Settling for the coke too? What a saint you've become," Wheein teased. A soft drink could be nice too, you thought, leaving your now full glass on the floor to look at her. She held a round ice cube between her thumb and index finger, rolling it slightly by moving both fingers in opposite directions. Well, now that brought you some thoughts back.

"This kind of... feels good," Wheein said, puppy-like eyes entertained with the water now dripping from her thumb, "it doesn't get sticky when it melts a little. And it rolls."

Right. It rolls. You pictured something like that, back at the store, wondering if it really would have this effect against her skin. Not simply dragging the ice across, but rolling it, gave a different perspective to everything. You bit your lip in excitement, now knowing your fantasy was real.

And well, why not feel this for yourself? One hand went to the bucket, but you needed both to get the ice out — it got stuck together. You appreciated the round shape inside of your mouth, rolling it around with your tongue, feeling your warmth slowly melting it. You sucked on the ice a little bit, stopping when Wheein's eyes met yours.

"You look really sexy doing this," she remarked. A side smirk allowed one of her dimples to show up, which turned into a laugh after you touched your own cheek, feeling the small ball formed by the ice. "So pretty."

You admired Wheein for a moment. Weak shadows danced around her figure, following the movement of the flames; hair recently dyed red held up in a neat bun, leaving her neck fully exposed. Around it she wore a bandeau, neatly positioned so that it didn't cover her Caddo tattoo. You found that detail particularly inviting, and added to the fact that she clearly wasn't wearing a bra...

"Why don't you try this too?" you suggested. The ice had melted already, but the cold sensation it left in your mouth, somehow, had you feeling hotter between your legs. "You'll find the temperature contrast sexier than me."

Wheein's gaze went down to your mouth, filled with desire for your humid lips.

"Can I try it from your source?"

"Please do."

Wheein really did move first. The coolness of your mouth warmed up in hers, as she simply stole that from you by chasing the kiss with all her greed. You felt like the flames from the fireplace itself had engulfed you when her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you to the floor with her. Although when your lips parted, she was the one craving to cool it down.

"Oh my," she was able to say while gasping for air. Holding you by the back of your neck with both hands, she placed a few more quick presses against your lips before speaking again, "Hmmmm. I liked that it was... unexpected. Your mouth felt so soft from the cold."

You smiled when her fingers delicately caressed your cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. Wheein had her eyes on something else while doing it, though. Still holding your weight over her body with your elbows, you looked over your shoulder to discover that she eyed the ice bucket.

"Wanna try that again? With more than a kiss?" you asked, full of a smug satisfaction because the question wasn't even necessary — Wheein's pleading face spoke for itself.

_____

"Love, you really trust me a lot for this, huh," you said while tying the bandeau to the back of her head to use it as a blindfold. Depriving her from the sense of sight was part of your original fantasy, a way to allow her to have a better focus on the hot and cold feeling.

Wheein sat between your spread legs, backing herself into your lap after you moved closer to the fireplace. The orange light of the fire was now able to fully glow on her naked body. The air felt thick and hot when you breathed in, and a little sweat started building up on your back.

"I trust you more than I probably should," she whispered, leaning on your shoulder to place a few kisses along your jawline, "but you always repay it well."

"Right," you agreed, gently undoing Wheein's bun and letting the hair fall on her shoulders, making contact with your bare chest. One hand gave it a gentle tug, while you stretched the other arm to reach for the ice bucket, taking a round ice out. It quickly started wetting your palm, being just perfect for what you wanted to do. You got her hair out of the way with a harsh pull, pressing the ice against her neck. "I always make you feel so good."

Wheein's first reaction was to recoil at the sudden cold feeling, gasping loudly, but you held the ice in place with a strong grip on her neck.

"Shhhh, Wheeinie," you whispered on her ear as her gasping slowly turned into moaning, pleased with you using your palm to roll the ice against her skin, "this is just a massage. We haven't even started yet."

When it melted into a piece too small to be rolled, you simply dragged it across her chest, stopping at an already hardened nipple. The sensation of her skin under your cooled fingers felt softer than usual, the increased sensitivity having you muttering a curse against the back of her neck. Your other hand fetched for more round ice while you still held her boob, squeezing her nipple. Water dripped from your fingers and rolled down her stomach.

"More. Please," Wheein begged impatiently. Her hands were on your thighs, which were reddening from her burying her nails on them every time you did something right. You hoped to see a mark there by the end of the night.

"If you keep hurrying me up, I won't be gentle," you warned, shoving the ice against the boob you had neglected before and holding it strongly. Wheein's scream at the sudden shock ended up in a loud cry, her back arching at you circling the cube around her nipple. "Is that what you want, huh?"

"Uh-huh," she was able to shout out in agreement between her delicious moans, head now dropped backwards onto your shoulder. You moved your body to the side so you could whisper directly at her ear.

"What a slut you are."

Wheein lustfully mumbled a few yes yes yes I am when you stressed that word, like she had done many times before. She gasped in surprise when you stopped rolling the ice on her nipple, and gasped even harder when you took that same nipple in your mouth. Sucking the cold out of it. What was left of that cube you used to roll down her body, leaving behind a trail of water and stopping just before her pussy.

"Did you make a mess on the floor, Wheein...?" you asked.

You had inclined your head forward to look at the space between her legs. With all the action, Wheein had her knees up and under her chin, throbbing cunt fully exposed to the hot air. She was dripping on the floor, so much was the arousal.

"Hmmmmm, no. There's a lot of ice melting here," she lied. You smirked while thinking of how you would punish Wheein for that, one hand drowned in the bucket and getting really cold. The round cubes were now slowly turning into water altogether, coming out already humid — which meant that you didn't need to wait before using it on her.

"I would've been way nicer to you, Whee," you said, "but you don't deserve it."

Ring and middle finger squeezed her labia on each side, making the hole wider for the ice. Her reaction to the intimate contact with the cold immediately showed that she wanted you to put it in, her nails definitely leaving your thigh scratched this time. Instead, you simply stimulated her entrance, rolling and rubbing the round ice against it, even letting just a tip in. Wheein moaned sweetly, whispering your name, almost begging you to fuck her.

You took the ice into your mouth before it fully melted, wanting to taste her liquid even if the water was mixed in. Wheein grunted in annoyance from that, but there wasn't time to take her protests further — the same fingers which squeezed her open before now slid with ease inside of her, producing sweet wet sounds with each pump in. Part of you wanted to grab more ice, to roll it on her skin, to do anything, but you couldn't do much when her moans and then screams of pleasure filled your ears. Your hand was soaked with her climax in almost no time.

"Mmmmhm... Can't believe you didn't..."

You laughed when her words kept trailing off — Wheein was absolutely spent. She tiredly dropped into your arms after her orgasm, trying but failing to sound her complaints. Now any warmth was welcome, yours or from the fireplace, her hands pressing yours against her body to hug her tighter.

"What? You really wanna complain when I left you in this state?" you scoffed while gently removing the bandeau she wore as a blindfold.

Wheein sat up to face you, narrowing her eyes and pouting her mouth. She trembled a bit, still lacking the necessary balance, but kept her posture.

"I... I... Fuck." She gulped and shook her head, recollecting herself. "I just wanted you to roll the ice inside of me!"

ao3 link

#mamamoo fanfic #mamamoo imagines #mamamoo smut #wheein imagines #wheein smut #gg fanfic #rounded ice is the best really #didnt proofread so hope this is fine #wheein x reader #mamamoo x reader

[asscandles]

Hey thanks for clarifying before now can I have some friendship(maybe secret crush)headcanons for Fuyuhiko, Peko, and Toko with a friend(reader) thats llike your generic dumbass but they are just like a soft dumbass, they are just too cute to get mad at no matter how stupid they are. So basically a giant cuddly dumbass that just radiate baby energy. Like they(reader)just run up to them saying they want to show them something cool and its just a pretty rock but they look so happy. gender neutral.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏɴɢ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ! ʙᴜᴛ, ɪꜰ ɪᴛ ɪꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ, ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ!

ɪ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀᴛ 3:26 ᴀᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇ, ɪ’ᴍ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴋᴀʟꜰꜰᴅᴊᴋꜰᴀʟ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ

Peko Pekoyama

“I--What are you doing?”

You stand on the counter, arms extended straight out at your sides. You continue staring ahead with an expressionless face. “I see no god up here… other than me!”

Peko sighs, and you immediately look down at her with round eyes. “Oh, but you’ll always be my queen, Peko! I want you by my side forever!”

Since Peko is always wielding/cleaning her sword, you carry around pastel-colored bandaids and a small first-aid kit in your backpack.

You’re usually by her side, so your absence is always noticed quickly, if not immediately.

You once fell asleep somewhere you shouldn’t have, leaving Peko to ravage the island, searching every nook and cranny until she finally found you curled up in a corner of the airport. All she could do was sigh and crack a tiny, relieved smile. She transfers her sword to her hands before easing you onto her back. Her heart swells when you mumble something and wrap your arms around her neck. All the way back to your cottage, she chides you quietly.

“It’s not safe to be so vulnerable out here. If you’re going to fall asleep out here, do it while I’m with you. Then, you can sleep as soundly as you want.”

M A T C H I N G  B R A C E L E T S

You excitedly gave Peko a card to celebrate the anniversary of your friendship. Peko snorted upon seeing that all of the drawings inside were either stick figures or poorly colored. But you just looked so happy… she couldn’t even bring herself to tease you about it.

You both refuse to speak of this, but one night, Peko woke up to the flickering of a faint light and feverish whispering. She had switched into attack mode in a fraction of a second, only to stop dead in her tracks. You had been standing in the middle of the room, doing the renegade by the light of your phone. You froze upon her reaction. Both of you sat there, staring at each other for a solid twelve seconds. You then proceeded to finish the dance, looking her dead in the eye. Peko may have be tired, but she’d be damned if she let you do it alone. So, she does it while standing on her bed, but clearly lacking energy and motivation.

Ambushing Peko with affection is not uncommon for you. It happens rather often, you clinging to her waist and pleading with her, “Hey, tell me that story again! You know, the one where Fuyuhiko was being held captive and you swooped in with your sword and saved the day!”

When you found out that Peko loved fluffy things, you were ecstatic. You bundled her into your cottage immediately, showing off a small collection of stuffed animals that you had managed to cram into your backpack before your arrival at the island.

Peko selects a white cat plushie as her favorite. From that point on, it is your child. No arguments.

You tend to get lost, so Peko sarcastically suggested tying a balloon to your wrist so that you would be easier to find. But, you totally caught her off guard when your eyes began to sparkle and you shouted, “Can I pick the color?” When she doesn’t answer immediately, you grab her hands and hold them close to your own chest endearingly. “Pretty please? With marshmallows and cookie crumble and whipped cream and sprinkles on top?” Peko obliges. When the balloon is finally secured around your wrist, you are absolutely fascinated by it.

You often fawn over Peko’s skills; but when you do, you use interjections and sound effects because you aren’t able to convey your excitement with just words.

Okay, but she’s actually worried about you lmao

“You have… a lot of mosquito bites. What happened?”

“What? They’re not bites! They were giving me kisses, silly!”

You’ve tried multiple times to surprise her with tickle attacks, but they never work. The only time it went according to plan, you managed to get your hands on her for exactly 0.7 seconds before she turned the tables on you.

Platonic dates? Platonic dates.

You’ve 100% made her flower crowns whose petals match the color of her eyes. 

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

“So… I saw some sour candy in the supermarket. If you lend me the money, I’ll give you half of the rocks I found.” :)

“Considering the fact that you get an adrenaline rush from successfully flipping a pancake, a single piece would kill you immediately.”

Everyone who discovers you two are friends is immediately suspicious. When I say suspicious, I mean, “(Reader), whatever blackmail he’s holding over your head, you don’t have to be scared. We can take care of this together.”

But after witnessing a few of your interactions, they learn of one irrefutable fact.

The embodiment of rage and vulgarity bottled up in human skin does indeed have a weakness.

And that weakness is you.

It didn’t take long for Fuyuhiko to become aware of your appreciation for stickers and your tender heart. That being said, when you’re upset, he won’t object too severely when you request to smooth stickers all over him. He would prefer to keep this interaction private, but if someone does happen to catch him with giraffe stickers on his cheeks and rainbows on his jacket, then he’s going to wear them proudly, goddamnit.

And if anyone has anything rude to say about it, then I hope they can speak sign language, because all they’ll be seeing is hands.

You’re aware of his insecurities, and you can understand why he feels the way that he does. But that’s where you come in. You always seem to approach him at the right moments. 

By now, you’ve figured out that he doesn’t always need words to reassure him. It’s enough if you’re just there, ready with open arms and a glass of water. Fuyuhiko doesn’t cry often. But when he does, he ends up dehydrated more often than not.

Let’s be honest. After Fuyuhiko lost his eye, his depth perception was most likely shit. You were always at his side, one hand on his arm as you gently guided him from room to room. You watched over him.

Accidentally knocking over a drink? You were ready to wipe it up. Searching for something he lost? You were there, helping him look. Tripping or bumping into things? You were there with a first aid kit to patch him up.

You try to match his level of sass, but you’re highkey too nervous to swear and you usually stutter the last word of whatever witty comeback you manage to come up with. Fuyuhiko secretly thinks it’s adorable, and he doesn’t want you to lose that part of yourself. That’s why he always defends you when it comes to verbal beatdowns.

You once drew a face on an egg, and when Fuyuhiko questioned you about it, the only thing you could offer was a deadpan “our son.”

“What the hell--that’s an egg.”

“No! His name is Linguini and he’s our child!”

Fuyuhiko is exhausted bro.

You’ve approached him countless times, eyes glowing with awe and insisting that you need to show him something really cool. It’s usually just a rock or a piece of glass, though. He always has the urge to poke fun at you for it, but it fizzles away when he sees how utterly bewitched you are with your find.

One time, he had walked into the room to see you standing on the arms of an office swivel chair, knees bent and arms extended as you fought to maintain your balance. You seemed to be fairly steady.

Still, that didn’t prevent him from nearly falling into cardiac arrest on the spot.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

It had startled you, and the chair rolled out from underneath you. Fuyuhiko rushed to catch you. You both tumbled to the floor in a knot of limbs, lying there in varying degrees of pain. You were laughing. Fuyuhiko was absolutely most fucking not.

“Thanks for breaking my fall!” You had chirped, gesturing to the arm lodged under the small of your back to protect it.

“You little--” Fuyuhiko’s voice had been strained, but his tight-lipped grimace dissolved into a sigh at the sight of your smile. He disentangled himself from you and pressed the pad of his index finger into your forehead. Your lips formed a small “o” shape, your eyes crossing to try to keep track of his finger. “You need to be more careful from now on. I won’t always be here to catch you.”

“But, you’ll still patch me up afterward, right?” You poked his forehead back.

He huffed and pulled away from you. “To the best of my ability. But don’t push it.”

Toko Fukawa

Initially, the only reason that Toko set aside her natural distrust and suspicion of people in order to befriend you was because she thought that you were simply too innocent and simple-minded to ever think badly of a friend.

She thought that having such a sweetheart glued to her side would disperse her dubious reputation and make her seem less suspicious during class trials.

Yep… That’s the only reason she keeps you around...

Not because of the way her heart feels all fuzzy when you embrace her… Or because of how your eyes sparkle whenever she offers to let you read one of her new works… Or because of how relaxed she feels when you weave her hair into intricate braids…

Not at all…

Hahahashutuphahaha…

She often scolds you for being such a pushover when people disrespect you, but she means well. You insist that it doesn’t bother you, but she’s an expert on human emotion. She is a writer, after all. She knows that it haunts your thoughts for a while afterward, and she hates seeing you like that.

You’ve noticed that Toko bites her nails when she’s stressed, so you’ve decided to combat her habit by applying nail polish to her nails. That way, you figure, the taste of the nail polish will deter her from tearing at them with her teeth. She also has the option of picking off the nail polish, which is probably less harmful than chewing on them.

You also kinda sorta... believe that video game cheat codes work in real life, so you’re often moving around and jumping, shouting the combinations as you go.

“Right! Right! Left! Up! Left! Down! Right! X! Y! Now, confess your sins!” You command during a class trial, pointing vaguely toward the accused. Toko just quietly shushes you, dark circles rimming her eyes as she pats your head.

You’ve adopted the habit of narrating the things you do, like whispering “wiggle, wiggle, wiggle” when sliding your feet into your shoes and “shimmy, shimmy, shimmy” when slipping your charm bracelet past your hand onto your wrist. Coincidentally, Toko has also subconsciously started doing the same thing, and she cannot think of anything more irritating.

She once jokingly told you to stop being so dependent on her. You promptly flushed scarlet and snatched the box she had been carrying out of her hands, insisting that you were more than capable of taking it to storage yourself. You had marched indignantly out of the room and headed left, only for Toko to call out, “Uh, storage is the other way.”

You reappeared a moment later, now stomping in the opposite direction. “I knew that!” You huffed.

You’re aware of Genocide Jack, but you aren’t afraid. You whole-heartedly trust that your friendship is enough to outmatch Genocide Jack’s bloodlust, as naive as it may be. Your only response to Toko’s confession of having a split personality is to gift her a cherry-flavored lip balm with a bright smile. At first, Toko is confused. You explain that whenever Genocide Jack makes an appearance, their tongue is always lolling out of their mouth. You’re concerned that their lips will get dried out, and you want to do your best to prevent it.

Did Toko’s heart just burst? Maybe.

Toko shares her romance novels with you, but only the ones without sexual interactions. She believes that you’re far too pure for those. Plus, she would really not rather answer your questions about anything of that nature.

Toko is determined to preserve your purity. She’s very protective whenever someone shows the slightest bit of sexual or romantic interest in you, and has even referred to you as her baby before.

Whenever Toko gets insecure or anxious and covers her face with her hands, you gently remove them from her face with a soft giggle of “Peekaboo!” Toko doesn’t fight you as you carefully pull her into your arms and rest her head against your chest. In fact, she finds herself surprisingly close to tears when you inquire, “Hey, you want to hear a lullaby? I can’t remember who sang it to me first, but it always helps me calm down. So, I want to share it with you!”

There will be times when Toko is too busy writing stories to pay you any attention. But no matter! After a moment of consideration, you have an idea. You gather blankets and pillows and settle onto the floor beside Toko’s seat. Your arms loop themselves around her leg, and your head finds its way onto her thigh. It isn’t long before you doze off, Toko watching you in silent shock, face rosy with bashfulness and eyes wide.

Toko is very adamant about covering up her legs due to both the tally marks scored across her skin and the quote-on-quote “sturdiness” of her thighs. You, however, have an entirely different outlook. You reason, “the bigger your thighs, the more snacks you can hide under them!” 

#danganronpa #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa scenarios #toko fukawa #danganronpa toko #trigger happy havoc #danganronpa fuyuhiko #danganronpa fukawa #danganronpa peko #peko pekoyama #toko fuwaka #fuyuhiko x reader #fuyuhiko headcanons #fuyuhiko kuzuryu x reader

[joozvoicemail]

Full Moon | LEE Jooheon

(Gif credit goes to me heh)

📌A/N: I waited for a night of full moon to get into the mood for this piece. But when I was finally mesmerized by the view, the story turned out to be...not like what I’d had in mind.  Still, please be gentle and kind to my daydream. Enjoy!

Genre: fluff despite the angst? (Romeo & Juliet vibes) (newbie here still learning about the genres...)

Word count: ~1,000

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The moon was so bright that your eyes became teary after a short gaze.

You always liked the moon better. The sun makes everything alive and allows people to operate during the day; while the moon gives hope in the dark, like a torch that shines on people’s hearts. It gives people time to look at their wounds – bleeding or hiding underneath a scar – and to heal.

It was a full moon tonight. Other than appreciating the beauty of the pearl-like glare vaguely spread on the back of your hand and the wooden floor, you had one more thing to do.

He would be coming in any minute. Maybe he was late. Maybe you were early. You refused to check the time because you knew it would only give you anxiety.

The anticipation urged you to walk towards the window, as if you could step closer to the time frame when he would be here. You slid open the window to let the breeze gently brush away the strands of hair on the side of your face. Time felt slow on a quiet night when everyone was asleep and only several street lights were assisting the moon’s job.

Turning around to have your waist leaning onto the window frame, you grabbed your hair, twisted and wrapped it into a bun so that the back of your neck was exposed to the moonlight.

“You look nice.” A whisper broke the silence when you were appreciating your shadow on the floor. It frightened you to startle and clench your hair tighter. You found Jooheon sitting awkwardly on a tree branch outside, located a little lower than your window, with his arms hugging the tree trunk tensely.

“Get down!” You gasped, index fingers pointed downwards and rushed downstairs. You opened the door of the house when his right foot had just landed on the ground. He smiled and dusted off.

You tried to repress your anger so that you could keep your volume low, “What were you thinking? What if you fell—" simultaneously you dragged him to the darker corner.

“That’s why I stopped half-way,” he interrupted with arms opened to show that he was all fine. “Otherwise you could have lived your Twilight dream.”

After quickly checking his palms and forearms, you rolled your eyes and suggested, “Tell my 10 year-old self. Plus, you don’t have diamond-like skin.”

Together, you sneaked into the house, walked upstairs and arrived in your room. You both stood in front of the window, where you had waited for him, facing each other. He took off his hood and you finally could see his face clearly. You pulled him close, buried your face into his chest, took a deep breath. It was the smell of baby powder, clean and soothing.

“You always smell so nice.” His warmth came through his t-shirt, climbed onto the tip of your nose and gradually filled your chest.

He put his arms around you, palms gently rubbing your back. He placed a kiss on your head and asked, “What about Romeo? Can I be Romeo?”

He created a slight echo, almost like he was speaking from inside your head, like his words were only made for you to hear.

“Sad story…” you took a step back, leaving space of a forearm between the two of you, “but I do see myself as Juliet,” you looked up, then lowered your head in a split second because you were afraid that he would catch the growing sorrow in your eyes.

Your heart ached. The air was still. His hands slid from your arms to your hands. You could feel the hesitancy in his grip but you did not blame him at all. You always knew how difficult this would be.

Loving him was easy, going against the world was not.

His fingers traced up your jawline and stopped close to your ears; thumbs stroked your cheeks while lifting your face. “Listen, if you were Juliet, I’d be your Romeo.”

The moonlight landed on his side profile. “I might not have faith in myself, but I believe in us,” he bent down a bit further to give you a nod of affirmation. Sparkles surrounded your reflection in his eyes. It could be him tearing up, or it could be you.

He let his chest sink; hands lowered to hold your shoulders. He raised his frowned brows and his dimples only made your chest sore.

Before you realized, you had reached out to place your hands on the back of his neck, fingers found shelter in his hair. Your lips pressed against those tender skin of his, eyes shut. He passionately held you by your waist, as if he could grind you into pieces and make you forever his. The moist on your lashes and the escalating heat shared between the two of you left your mind blank.

Somehow you just wanted to fuck the world and die at this very moment.

You let go of his lips when it became difficult to draw air into your chest. “When it all ends,” you took a second to catch your breath and organize your thoughts, “be with me – no matter what.”

“Mark my words,” he grabbed your hand, flipped it over and wrote “YES” while mouthing the alphabets. You put your fist in front of your mouth, pretending to bite it. He grinned squinting his eyes.

He sat on the bed, back leaning on the headboard, and gestured you to sit between his legs. Both looking out the window, you put his arms around you and adjusted your position to listen to his heartbeat.

“Sleepy?”

“No, not at all.” You widened your eyes and inhaled, hoping the oxygen helped. “…but please don’t sing.”

He chuckled and nodded, “Alright.”

“When is the next full moon?” You threw him a random question.

He saw you desperately changing the topic so he could not help to tease, “Hm…25 good night sleeps later?” You gave him a feeble elbow strike and got a fake cry in return.

He pecked on the back of your hand and giggled, “I think I’m Jacob.” Surprised, you turned to look at him disapprovingly. “Like a werewolf, come to you on the night of a full moon,” he claimed assuredly.

“But Bella didn’t choose Jacob in the end.”

“…What about Joker? And Harley Quinn, woo,” he gushed, squinting his eyes on the thought of the partners in crime.

“Uh-uh, they’re super cool except for the relationship part,” you shook your head, “there must be some happy endings out there…” you complained, stroking your chin.

“Us, then,” he narrowed the space between his legs for a more affectionate embrace, “we’re gonna have our own happy ending.”

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Thank you for reading. Have a good day, or goodnight🖤

#monsta x scenarios #Monsta X imagines #Monsta X fluff #Monsta X angst #Jooheon imagines #jooheon x reader #lee jooheon #mywriting

[junghelioseok]

catharsis.

↳ no matter what kind of release you need, he’s there.

◇ jungkook x reader | ft. pjm ◇ smut | college!au | fwb!au  ◇ 23.5k [1/1]

notes: i don’t have a good explanation for this. i’m comprised of exactly 0% chill and i really wanted to write a jikook threesome, so here it is ft. too much plot and a whole lotta whipped kook, lmao. quick shoutout to @puellaigmotum, who has been supporting me and calling me out on my shit in equal measure during this process. thanks for listening to me ramble and making me suffer with pictures/gifs of the rude fucker aka jeon jungkook - i do appreciate it ♡

also, please read this on a computer if you’re able! the keep reading cut doesn’t always show up, and this fic can and will freeze the mobile app, believe me, lmao.

warnings: switch!jjk, kinda sleazy jimin, oral, slight overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, masturbation, sexting, threesome (mfm), mild cumplay? who really knows!

Of two things, you are certain.

The first—and undoubtedly the most pressing—is that finals week is going to be the death of you. Tearing your gaze from the chemistry book on your desk, you flop down ungracefully onto your bed for a well-deserved break, extending one hand to rummage around the crumpled blankets for your phone.

The second—and really, you’re counting on this—is that Jeon Jungkook’s dick is going to keep you sane until graduation. Over the past year, you’ve called on each other so often that you don’t even have to scroll down in your text messages to find his name. A few clicks and a simple come over later, you throw your phone down and release a long, heavy breath before letting your eyes slide shut.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, because you jolt awake to the sound of someone knocking. With a groan, you drag yourself to your feet and pad over to the front door, throwing it open to reveal one exceptionally rumpled Jeon Jungkook, his chest heaving.

You raise an appraising brow. “What, did you fucking run over here?”

Jungkook rakes a hand through his tousled hair—still damp with sweat—and adjusts the bag hanging over his shoulder. “Just got out of dance practice, actually,” he explains. “And your elevator’s out, so I had to take the stairs. Six flights is no joke, you know.”

Stepping aside, you let him in, watching as he drops his bag to the ground carelessly as soon as he’s over the threshold. “You better not be too tired to fuck me.”

His gaze darkens. You barely have time to register the change in his expression before he has you pressed against the wall, strong arms caging you in an ironclad embrace. “Trust me, baby, I’m wide awake,” he murmurs before leaning down to crush his lips to yours. His tongue finds its way into your mouth as he reaches up to cup your cheek, the other hand sliding down to rest at the small of your back and tugging you flush against his firm chest.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, pulling away from his addictive mouth only for his attentions to refocus on the crook of your neck instead. A soft moan escapes you as he nips at the sensitive skin, and Jungkook groans lowly in response, his grip tightening around you.

“I’m going to end up fucking you right here against this wall if you keep moaning like that, babe.” His hands dip down to the fleshy curve of your ass, squeezing as if to emphasize his point.

Your head falls back at the jolt of not-quite pain. “Wh-while that wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened,” you stammer, watching through lidded eyes as Jungkook grasps the hem of your shirt and tugs it up to expose your bare breasts, “why waste the perfectly good bed I have in my bedroom?”

Jungkook dips down to press a kiss to your cleavage, and you thank whatever god may be out there that you decided to forego a bra this morning. “Why indeed?” In an instant, he’s pulled your shirt entirely off, tossing it to the ground haphazardly before scooping you up into his arms. “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he commands, and you are quick to obey, winding your arms around his neck for additional support. His mouth finds yours again as he carries you into your room and places you gingerly on the bed, the mattress dipping under your combined weight, and as soon as you’re settled you break the kiss to reach for his white t-shirt, tugging it up and over his head. Throwing it aside, you greedily take in the sight of his bare skin, golden like honey in the soft light of your desk lamp.

“Pants,” you demand, grasping at his belt buckle, but Jungkook stops you with a laugh, much to your displeasure.

“No way,” he murmurs, hot breath washing across your cheeks. “It’s your turn.”

“We’re taking turns? What is this, elementary school?” you ask in disbelief, only for the complaint to trail off into a moan when Jungkook starts kissing a path down your bare stomach. Sly fingers find their way into the waistband of your sweatpants, and in a single, practiced motion, he peels them off along with your panties. You gasp loudly at the sudden rush of cool air, hands flying up to tangle in his silky hair as your body jolts in surprise. “Fuck, Jungkook!”

“So sensitive.” Jungkook chuckles, brazenly blowing a puff of warm air against your clit. “And already wet,” he marvels, drawing closer to your core. “You’re so needy, baby.”

A low groan escapes you, your hands tightening their grip on his hair. “Don’t tease,” you plead, canting your hips up toward his smirking mouth.

Obligingly, Jungkook leans down and licks a long, slow stripe across your entrance, ending with a teasing flick of his tongue against your clit. “So needy,” he repeats, his voice deceptively soft and bordering on a husky growl that sends shivers down your spine. 

And then his face disappears between your thighs entirely, his questing tongue dipping inside you with every slick motion. There is nothing soft or sweet in the way he eats you out, but that doesn’t stop your tummy from tensing or your thighs from clenching just a little tighter around his head.

A throaty chuckle escapes Jungkook when he feels you tighten around him—the sound rumbling straight to your core and drawing another gasp from your lips. Strong arms wind around your legs, hands settling on your knees to hold you open, and when you try to tilt your hips upward again you find that he’s rendered you entirely immobile, only able to take what he sees fit to give. “Jungkook, oh god—“

“How are you already this close?” the dark-haired young man murmurs in fascination, releasing your clit from his mouth with a wet, obscene sound. “I’ve barely touched you.”

You wriggle uselessly against his unrelenting grip, frowning when he doesn’t loosen up in the slightest. “And now you’re not touching me at all,” you grumble, petulant. “You getting tired on me, Jeon?”

Jungkook growls lowly at your provocation, dark eyes glinting. “Actually, I wanted you to cum on my cock instead of my tongue, but now I’m rethinking letting you cum at all,” he says, his tone surprisingly even despite the danger lurking in his gaze. “You wanna take that back, babe?”

“I don’t think you have any right to be threatening me when you’re that hard,” you retort, glancing pointedly down at the bulge straining against his faded jeans. Then your gaze wanders down further—past the thick muscle of his thighs and tight definition of his calves all the way to his feet, just hanging off the edge of the bed. “Hang on. Are… are you wearing Iron Man socks?”

The dark-haired young man flashes you a crooked little smirk and wiggles his toes in affirmation. “That a problem?” he asks.

You groan. “You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“Yeah, well you’re the one who texted this nerd at midnight to come and fuck your brains out, so I wouldn’t be mouthing off if I were you.” A thoughtful look crosses his face. “Better yet, why don’t you put that pretty little mouth to good use and wrap it around my cock?”

“Lose the socks first and I’ll consider it,” you reply, finally managing to free yourself from his firm hold.

Jungkook chortles, watching as you sit up. Slowly, he slides off the bed and straightens up to his full height, eyes never once leaving yours as he deliberately reaches down to pull off one red sock, then the other. Tossing them aside, he settles onto the bed again, lying back against the pillows scattered along the headboard and beckoning for you to join him with an outstretched finger. Obediently, you crawl over, pausing thoughtfully before throwing one leg over him and perching atop his strong, thick thighs. You find his belt buckle with deft fingers and practiced ease, a quiver of anticipation jolting through you when you finally free his erection from its denim prison.

“Fuck,” you breathe softly, not even realizing that you’re speaking aloud. It’s only when Jungkook chortles again that you realize your mistake, flushing as he tilts your chin up with his index finger.

“Trust me, I will be,” he assures as he reaches into his back pocket, amused gaze raking across your face before settling on your mouth. After a moment’s digging, confusion etches its way across his face, slowly morphing into despair when he rummages through his other pocket. “Shit. Do you have a condom?”

“Ran out last week,” you reply, taking perverse pleasure in the look of panicked anguish that creases his expression.

“Goddamnit. I thought I had one... Do you think the convenience store downstairs has any? I can run down and check—“

You lean forward, capturing his lips in a languid kiss before he can ramble his way off a cliff. Your thumb brushes across the head of his weeping cock, relishing the way he immediately twitches in your grasp. “I’m on birth control, you know,” you murmur, pulling back just enough to whisper the words against his lips. “And last I checked, we were both clean.”

His eyes widen to comic proportions, jaw slackening when he pieces together the meaning behind your words. “Do you mean—I mean, I can…?”

Smirking, you circle the tip of his dick with your thumb once more, spreading his slick precum over the head. “Fuck me raw, Jungkook.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook breathes, awestruck. “Fuck, yes.” His hips stutter forward, seeking more friction, and you giggle as you obligingly wrap your hand more firmly around his length and give him a few good strokes. A hoarse groan escapes him at the added stimulation, and you break out into a satisfied grin when you notice just how prominent the vein in his neck is from the strained way he’s clenching his jaw. “Still want my mouth now, baby?” you murmur into his ear.

Jungkook lets out another groan when you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his erection again. “T-tease,” he accuses, but there is no real bite in his tone. His hands curl around your hips, and your question is answered when he greedily pulls you closer, guiding your body until you can feel the velvety head of his cock slipping between your slick folds.

Still, you can’t help but torment him a little. “I’m going to take that as a ‘no’,” you murmur, trailing your hands down his chest and along the muscular ridges of his taut abdomen. The insubstantial touch draws a shiver from the man underneath you, his muscles twitching underneath your fingertips, and a pleased smirk stretches across your face when his hands tighten their hold on your hips.

And then, before he can even think to open his mouth to retort, you sink down onto his cock—all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion. The surge of fullness draws a moan from you, an answering groan leaving Jungkook’s parted lips when you immediately begin to move, raising yourself up only to sink back down again. “God, you’re so warm,” he sighs. “So warm and—nngh—so fucking wet. Christ. I’m never fucking you with a condom again.”

“Good,” you gasp, bouncing a little faster on top of him. Your ass meets the well-worn denim of his jean-clad thighs with every movement, and Jungkook lets loose another low groan when you reach up and rake your fingers down his chest, grazing across his nipples.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he encourages breathlessly, gazing up at you with darkened eyes. “Ride me, baby.” His fingers twitch against the supple skin of your waist, urging you to move even faster as he begins to snap his hips up in time with your thrusts.

A devilish whim strikes you then, a mischievous smirk stretching across your face as you immediately slow down your rhythm. “What makes you think you’re in control here, Jungkook?” you purr, grinding against him languidly. A shudder ripples through his body at the motion, sheer desperation seeping from every single pore.

“{Name},” he rasps, letting his hands flop down uselessly at his sides. His throat bobs as he tries to find the words to continue, and you stop moving entirely to watch his silent struggle.

“What is it, Jungkookie?” you tease, tracing the dips of his toned abdomen and grinning when he shivers under the insubstantial touch.

Jungkook swallows harshly, his breath stuttering in his throat before every ounce of desperation comes pouring out like a tidal wave. “Baby, please,” he entreaties, gazing up at you pleadingly with those wide doe eyes that are so incongruous with the rest of his body. “You look so good bouncing on my dick like that and I just… fuck. I wanna cum inside you so bad. I wanna cum inside you and fill you up all nice and pretty and—“

Whatever he was going to say is going to have to go unfinished, because you are surging forward to mold your mouth to his, desire flaring in your belly. Instinct has Jungkook snaking his arms around your waist to tug you flush against him, skin against skin as you deepen the kiss.

“Baby,” Jungkook breathes, pulling away just enough to mumble the words against your mouth. “I need you to move, please.”

Obligingly, you grind down on him, once, an electric thrill running through you when he immediately lets out a hoarse groan. You’ve never been able to resist how vocal he is in bed, and you are quickly realizing that you are in no state to tease anymore—not with the heat in your belly flaring up to unbearable levels. Whimpering, you begin to rock harder against him, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders. You’re certain that your fingernails are digging vicious crescents into his honeyed skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, his eyes hooded and darker than anything you’ve ever seen.

“Oh god, Jungkook—“

“Fuck, {Name}.” Jungkook’s head falls back against your pillows, mussing his tousled hair even further. “Fuck, that’s it, right there. Look at you, bouncing on my cock like that. You feel so good clenching around me, baby.” The words escape him in a rush, and the deepness of his voice is enough to make you shiver. He’s rolling his hips in time with yours now, the mattress springs squeaking in protest under your combined weight. Every thrust sends electric warmth coursing through you, and when Jungkook’s hand darts between your thighs to rub at your clit you almost lose your balance, tilting dangerously on his lap.

“Oh god, fuck—“ Your vocabulary is steadily deteriorating, but the heat simmering in your belly is reaching unbearable levels, coiling tighter and tighter with every deliciously heavy drag of his cock along your walls. Sweat gathers at your temples and slicks your neck, and a glance down at the young man below you shows that he’s faring no better.

Jungkook is staring up at you, transfixed. His breathing is growing ragged, his chest glistening with a light sheen of sweat, but he is absolutely relentless in the way he touches you. In the months that you have slept together, he’s learned exactly what you like—and with a flick of his thumb and just the right amount of pressure you are sent spiraling off the edge, lost in a wave of pleasure. Even as you come back down from your high, he doesn’t falter, his thumb still drawing determined circles around your sensitive bud.

“Jungkook—“ His name is a whine on your lips.

“Come on, baby,” he rasps. “I know you can take it. Cum for me again—you’re so pretty when you cum.”

“Jungkook, I can’t—“ you protest, but the words have barely left your mouth before you are tensing again, leaving you to marvel at how well Jungkook knows your body. Any protests you might have had turn into a series of keening whimpers and moans, and he barrels over the edge right alongside you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Distantly, you hear him grit out something that sounds suspiciously like your name as creamy heat floods through you, his body going lax underneath yours.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing. You are still straddling Jungkook’s denim-clad thighs with his dick softening inside you, and from the way his arms remain wound around you, he has no intention of letting you go anytime soon. He hasn’t even raised his head yet, drawing a shudder from you as his hot breath washes across your sweat-slicked skin.

“Cold?” he asks, and you can hear the amusement lacing his tone, feel the way his mouth curls into a smile against your clavicle.

“Sticky,” you say honestly.

Jungkook snorts out a laugh and finally lifts his head, brown eyes crinkled with amusement. “Good thing you have a bathroom and a working shower, then.”

“Both of which I will happily put to use once you let go of me, you big baby.” You tap his cheek playfully, coaxing him to loosen his hold on you before wriggling off his lap, wincing slightly when his cock slips out. Almost immediately, your combined juices begin dripping down your thighs, and the way Jungkook’s gaze immediately zeroes in on the glistening trails doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Interesting. “Jungkook?”

He blinks twice, rapidly, and looks up at you with wide eyes. “What?”

“You were staring,” you explain, casually reaching down and scooping up a bit of the sticky substance. Jungkook follows your every movement, never once wavering from the droplet of white sitting on your fingertip.

“I—“ He clears his throat and tries again. “I was thinking about something.”

“Oh?” You cock a brow before raising your finger to your lips, delighting in the way his eyes grow even bigger. Without breaking eye contact, you open your mouth and touch the pad of your finger to your tongue, relishing the salty tang and the positively ravenous expression that overtakes Jungkook’s face. “What were you thinking about, baby?”

His gaze turns positively lurid, pure desire flashing in his dark irises. “I was thinking about making you gather up all that cum on those fingers of yours,” he growls, a thrill running down your spine as his voice drops an octave. “And watching as you push it all back inside that pretty little pussy.”

Arousal flares up in your core once more, but you tamp it down in favor of smirking coyly at him and scooting forward until you’re kneeling between his spread legs. “I’m sure we can make that happen,” you purr, leaning in and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the sharp curve of his jaw. Then you pull back and stand up from the bed, taking perverse delight in the confused frown that crosses Jungkook’s face as you make to walk toward the bathroom. “But right now, all I want is a hot shower.”

A hand on your arm stops you in your tracks. Turning around, you find yourself staring down at Jungkook once more, heat flaring in your tummy when you notice the residual hunger still lingering in his gaze. But when he speaks, his voice is back at its usual pitch, soft and pleasantly melodious. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not if you’re just planning on fucking me against the shower wall,” you say dryly. “That thing’s freezing, you know.”

A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth as he stands up, tucking his spent cock back into his jeans for the sake of propriety. “I won’t, I promise. At least, not this time.” Then he breaks into a grin, his prominent teeth on full display. “Not sure I can even get it up again right now, to be honest. Hobi’s working us into the ground for this showcase. I’m fucking beat.”

The snarky retort in your head dies on your lips when you take a good, hard look at him—noting the bags under his eyes and the crease between his brows. You know that his dance crew—Neuron—is putting on their end-of-the-year showcase in just a few days. It’s a highly-anticipated event every year, and a welcome break from the stress of finals, but up until now you’d never really thought about how taxing it must be for the dancers. “Kook,” you begin, trailing off uncertainly when you realize you have absolutely no idea what to say.

“I’m fine,” he says, brushing you off with another smile. “Come on, let’s go shower.”

Dazedly, you allow him to guide you into the adjoining bathroom with a hand at the small of your back. He shucks off his jeans as you climb into the shower and turn on the water, joining you underneath the spray once it’s reached a comfortable temperature. Silently, you reach for the soap, watching as Jungkook grabs the travel-sized bottle of shampoo that he’s taken to keeping at your place. A few months into your arrangement and after many a late night rendezvous, you’d both agreed that it’d be far more convenient if he had some basic necessities here. And so, small bottles of Jungkook’s shampoo and body wash joined yours on the shelf, an extra towel hanging on the rod and ready for his use. Sometimes, he even joked that he should bring his razor, just in case he wound up staying the night.

But he never did, and you never asked. Somehow, it felt like crossing a line—and jeopardizing your friendly arrangement with the dark-haired young man is the last thing you want. Besides, you like having your bed to yourself, and Jungkook definitely seems like the type to sprawl out like a starfish in his sleep.

“Pass me the—?”

The last half of his request is lost to you in the sound of running water. “Huh?”

“The soap,” Jungkook repeats patiently, gently prying the slippery bar from between your fingers. “You were done, right?”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” Gesturing for him to take your place under the spray, you begin lathering your hair with shampoo. Quietly, the two of you finish washing up, Jungkook turning off the water while you step out, grabbing your towel and tossing him his. Drying off your hair quickly, you wrap the soft cloth around your body and meander back into your bedroom in search for your pajamas.

By the time you manage to locate clean underwear and a large shirt to sleep in, Jungkook is stepping out of the bathroom, buttoning his jeans and buckling his belt. “Have you seen my shirt?” he asks.

Glancing around, you spot it lying near your desk. As you pick it up, your open chemistry book from earlier catches your attention, reminding you that you still have a few chapters’ worth of material to cram on tomorrow. “Here,” you say distractedly, tossing the white tee in his direction. He catches it deftly, smoothing out the wrinkled cotton before pulling it over his head.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” you reply, still staring at your chemistry book and your scattered notes. “Don’t forget your bag on the way out.”

A beat of silence. Then Jungkook huffs, drawing your attention back to him. “What, not even gonna walk me to the door?”

You raise a brow. “What, did you forget where it is?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says solemnly. “Your tiny, one-bedroom apartment is a fucking labyrinth.”

Rolling your eyes, you gesture for him to follow you out and into the hallway. “You’re a dumbass,” you tell him, picking up his bag from the floor and shoving it into his waiting arms. “There. Happy?”

Jungkook slings the duffel over his shoulder. “Satisfied.”

You can only roll your eyes again, reaching for the doorknob and wrenching it open. “Whatever floats your boat, Kook. Now go away, I need to get some sleep.”

He rakes a hand through his damp hair and shoots you a playful wink. “Why sleep? Let me stay, and I’ll prove that there are way better things to do in a bed.”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles up from your chest, and Jungkook grins, looking very pleased with himself. “True as that may be,” you concede, “I have a final tomorrow and I still have studying to do.”

“Who’s the nerd now?” Jungkook quips, earning himself a sharp elbow in the ribs and a very unladylike snort from you.

“Still you, Iron Man wannabe.”

He snickers. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe. See you later?”

“Later,” you agree. Jungkook offers you one last grin before turning to leave, and you watch as he jabs the elevator button a few times before remembering that it’s out of order and walking over to the stairs instead. “Oh, and Jungkook?”

The dark-haired young man turns to regard you curiously, his hand on the doorknob of the stairwell entrance. “Yeah?”

You take in the creases of exhaustion lining his face, suddenly wishing that you could smooth them away with your fingertips. “Don’t work yourself too hard, okay?”

A grin splits across his face, breathtaking and brilliant. “Okay.”

///

You are in the middle of haphazardly shoving every notebook you own into your bag when your phone goes off, the vibration unnaturally loud in the silence of your bedroom. Grabbing the device off your nightstand, you glance at the screen, a laugh escaping when you read the message displayed there.

[11:37am] Jungkook: if I die in the next few days just know that Jung Hoseok is the murderer

Another message pops up below it just moments later:

[11:37am] Jungkook: I’m serious. He may look all innocent and happy but the guy’s a stone cold killer. Might kill jimin too while I’m at it, he’s just as bad sometimes

[11:38am] You: So dance practice is going well then

[11:38am] Jungkook: clearly lmao

[11:38am] Jungkook: anyway what are you up to?

You giggle. Obviously, he only wants to know whether or not you’re available for a romp in the sheets—maybe put his newly-discovered cum kink into action. At the thought, the ravenous expression he’d eyed you with last night springs to the forefront of your mind and you have to blink a few times to dispel the image.

[11:39am] You: Sorry babe, got my chem final in half an hour

His response is immediate.

[11:39am] Jungkook: fuck, that’s the one you’re really worried about isn’t it?

Surprised, you read his message twice before typing out an answer.

[11:40am] You: Yeah. You remembered that?

[11:40am] Jungkook: hey I may not be as smart as you but I do know some things

And then:

[11:41am] Jungkook: good luck, you’ll do great

Warmth bubbles up in your belly, winding through your ribcage and settling around your heart. Tucking your phone into your pocket, you sling your bag over your shoulder before heading out, his words echoing in your head. You’ll do great.

You hope he’s right.

///

“So, how was it?”

You shrug out of your jacket, letting it crumple carelessly onto the chair before taking a seat and fixing your best friend with a mock glare. “Jesus, can’t I at least sit down before you start the interrogation?”

Jisoo laughs and raises her mug of coffee to her mouth, batting her lashes innocently at you from behind it. “Who said this was an interrogation? If it were, I’d be harassing you about finally getting off your sorry ass and dating Jeon Jungkook already.”

“We are not going over this again,” you sigh, exasperated. “We’re just having fun and blowing off some steam, that’s all.”

“Right,” Jisoo says, setting down her coffee and fixing you with a knowing stare. “And you totally don’t have the hots for him, and he definitely doesn’t have the hots for you. Are you fucking blind, {Name}?”

You huff. “My vision is fine, thank you very much. And I don’t have the hots for Jungkook.”

Jisoo just laughs again, delicately selecting another sugar packet and tearing it open. “You’re a terrible liar, sweetie. But, fine, all right. Back to my original question, then: how was your final?”

Relief floods through you at the return of a subject you’re comfortable with. “It was okay, I think. What about yours? You had bio this morning, right?”

“Yeah.” Jisoo stirs her drink thoughtfully, lips pursed. “I think it went all right. I’m ready for the weekend to get here, though.”

“We’re almost there. Tomorrow’s Friday,” you say kindly before snatching her cup away and helping yourself to a sip. She squeals in protest and you laugh, returning the mug to its proper place by her elbow after another generous swallow of coffee. “You going to Neuron’s showcase on Saturday?”

“I don’t know anyone who isn’t going,” she replies with a pointed look, daintily picking up her mug and moving it out of your reach. “And you have to go. Support your boyfriend, and all that.”

“Not my boyfriend,” you say automatically.

“Not yet,” Jisoo corrects with a wry laugh. “Mark my words, {Name}, it’s going to happen sooner or later. You two already act like a couple anyway, so would it really be a big deal if you actually started dating him? Jungkook’s a great guy.”

“I know he is,” you sigh. “Which is exactly why I’m not going to risk our friendship by trying to make it into something more. Besides, he doesn’t want a relationship either.”

Jisoo rolls her eyes. “Maybe not when you first met,” she concedes. “But a lot of things can change in a year, {Name}.”

“Not this,” you say stubbornly. “Not us.”

///

Three hours later, you are curled up on your couch with textbooks strewn around you, soft classical music floating from the speakers of the laptop balanced precariously on the armrest. A fresh notebook lays open on your lap, your pen scratching away as you slowly transcribe your electronic notes onto paper. The longer you work, however, the more the words on the screen begin to blur. After a fruitless minute of watching the black text swim unsteadily in front of your eyes, you heave a sigh and let your pen drop to the ground with a clatter.

Standing up, you are about to wander into the kitchen for a snack when there’s a knock on your door. Curiously, you approach and peer out the peephole, a smile breaking across your face when you see who is standing on the threshold. “Jungkook, what are you doing here?” you ask, swinging the door open to receive him.

Said man grins, raising a cardboard box in one hand and a tray with two paper cups in the other. “I come bearing gifts: pizza, coffee, and my dick if you want it,” he announces grandly, sweeping his arms out in a dramatic arc and sending the delicious smell of greasy cheese wafting your way.

You can only laugh at his dramatic declaration, gesturing for him to come in. “My three favorite things in one place? You’re a lifesaver, Kook.”

“Sure am,” he agrees cheerfully, following you into the kitchen and setting the food down on the counter. Immediately, you dive into the pizza box, ripping it open and tearing away a slice of cheesy goodness. Sinking your teeth in, you practically moan with delight, and Jungkook can only look on with amusement as he selects a piece for himself. “I’m guessing you haven’t eaten, then,” he remarks dryly, watching as you inhale the remainder of the slice.

You reach for one of the cups, washing down the grease with several gulps of hot coffee. “Considering how empty my refrigerator is right now, your guess is absolutely correct.”

Curiously, Jungkook opens the door of your fridge and pokes his head inside. “Have you considered maybe going grocery shopping to fix that problem?” he asks, voice echoing inside the cool space.

“I don’t have time,” you reply, ripping off another slice of pizza and taking an enormous bite.

“I don’t have time,” the dark-haired man mimics in a high-pitched warble, shutting the refrigerator door and joining you at the counter once more. “What’s with the pencil?”

You blink up at him, utterly bemused by the random question. “What?”

Jungkook reaches up, warm fingers brushing against your cheek as he tugs a yellow number two pencil from behind your ear. “This. Who the fuck still uses these? Everyone knows that mechanical pencils are way better.”

“Hey!” you protest. “They’re perfectly good pencils, and I like them!” Jumping up, you try to snatch the pencil away, but Jungkook only holds it up and out of your reach, his chest rumbling with laughter when you flounder against his taller frame uselessly. Pouting, you give him your most pitiful look, complete with fluttering eyelashes and clasped hands. “Jungkook, please give it back? I’ve been searching for it all afternoon!”

He cocks his head, lowering it slowly into your grasp. “All afternoon? Aren’t you done with your chem final?” Then something seems to click, his eyes narrowing. “You’re still studying?”

You drop your petulant expression and raise a brow, tucking the pencil back behind your ear for safekeeping. “I do have more than one final exam, you know.”

That earns you an eye-roll. “You work too hard.”

Before you can think of an adequate retort, Jungkook wolfs down the remainder of his pizza and grabs the open box. Walking out of your tiny kitchen, he starts in the direction of your living room before backtracking and poking his head back around the doorway.

“Grab the coffee, will you?” he asks between chews, his cheeks puffy.

“Ew, swallow before you speak, you heathen,” you reply, wrinkling your nose in distaste. Nevertheless, you pick up the two cups and follow your companion to the couch, watching as he carefully gathers your strewn notes into neat piles. You move your laptop—still playing soft strains of Stravinsky—to the coffee table, snatching up another slice of pizza before plopping down onto the couch. “So, what brings you to my humble abode?” you inquire curiously, glancing at the dark-haired  man who is making himself comfortable on the other end of the couch. “Besides trying to force your dick on me, that is.”

“Hey, I’ve never forced it on anyone,” Jungkook defends immediately. “Besides, you just told me that my dick is one of your three favorite things. No take-backsies.”

“No take-backsies?” you ask in disbelief. “Jesus, I can’t believe you just said that. Remind me why the fuck I’m sleeping with you again?”

“Because you need regular orgasms, and I’m willing and able to deliver,” Jungkook says smugly, munching on his pizza crust.

You snort, thwacking him on the arm. “Oh, please. This is a mutually beneficial relationship and you know it.”

He simply cackles in response, plucking up another cheesy slice before relaxing back against the cushions and slinging an arm over the backrest. The two of you eat in amicable silence for a few minutes with Tchaikovsky playing from your laptop speakers, the music broken only by the sound of soft chewing and the occasional sip of coffee.

It’s comfortable—spending time with Jungkook like this. In the last year, he’s rooted himself firmly in your life and your heart, and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s become one of your closest friends. He’s kind, dependable, and ridiculously handsome—even with his cheeks bulging and pizza grease staining his chin. His sense of humor meshes perfectly with yours, and he knows your body almost better than you do. Just the thought of losing him is devastating—which is why you repress the tiny voice in the back of your head telling you that you’re already in too deep, and will your heart back into a regular rhythm whenever he looks at you with too much warmth sparkling in the brown of his eyes.

You’re friends. Just friends. Neither of you have the time—or the desire—for anything more.

“Hey, I never asked—how was your test?”

The soft question pulls you out of your reverie. “What?”

“Earth to {Name},” Jungkook says with a laugh, waving a hand in front of your eyes. “Your chem final, dummy. How’d it go?”

“Oh.” You think back to the two-hour exam, a frown pulling at your lips. “It was… all right, I think.”

“All right?” Jungkook echoes skeptically, raising a brow. “You really should give yourself more credit—you worked your ass off studying for that final.”

“I know,” you sigh, letting your head fall back against the cushions and staring up at the hairline crack running along the ceiling. “I just don’t feel like I did enough.”

Jungkook takes another bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “Were there any questions you didn’t know how to answer?”

“No,” you admit.

He chuckles and pokes your cheek gently, making you look at him. “Then you’re fine! Stop being so hard on yourself.”

“Look who’s talking,” you say, retaliating by flicking his nose. “I’ve seen you during dance practice. You’re just as bad as I am.”

Jungkook wags a knowing finger. “But unlike you, I know when to take a break. Like right now, for example.” Grabbing the pizza box from the coffee table, he extends it to you like a peace offering. “Here. Eat the last slice and relax a little.”

You stare down at the remaining wedge, surprise etching its way across your face. “You… you don’t want it?”

He shrugs. “Nah, I’ve already had four. Besides, I’m not that hungry.”

“Jungkook, I’ve seen you put away an entire family-size bag of chips and six cups of ramen as an afternoon snack,” you point out. “On multiple occasions. There’s no way you’re not hungry.”

A huff of laughter escapes him, lips curling up into a grin that shows his prominent teeth. “Fine, you got me. Split it?”

“I’ll get a knife,” you agree, moving to stand up, but Jungkook wraps a strong hand around your wrist and stops you in your tracks.

“Why bother?” he asks, chomping off the slice’s pointed tip before handing it to you. “We can just take turns. It’s not like we haven’t exchanged bodily fluids before.”

You splutter out an incredulous laugh, but accept the pizza nonetheless. “Why are you so disgusting?”

“Hey, sex is a beautiful and natural thing!” Jungkook protests, a satisfied grin crinkling his face when you laugh again. “And we’re pretty damn good at it.”

You shake your head when he brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face, still chuckling. “You’re not gonna talk me into getting dicked down tonight, Jeon. I still have studying to do.” Taking one final bite of pizza, you extend it back toward your companion. “Here, finish this.”

Jungkook accepts the half-eaten slice and takes a bite. “Didn’t I just spend the last half hour telling you to stop studying?”

“Yes,” you say, standing up to collect the empty box and cups. Your companion trails you into the kitchen with crust still dangling from his mouth, watching as you break down the cardboard and shove it in the trash bin. “And I didn’t study for that whole half hour, so technically I did as you said and took a break.”

“Thazznawdalonnh,” Jungkook says around a mouthful of dough. You raise your eyebrows at him, and a smile twitches at the corner of his lips as he swallows and tries again. “That’s not that long. Of a break, I mean. Aren’t the rest of your exams next week anyway?”

“Yeah, but I have a lab report due tomorrow,” you reply, brushing past him to return to the living room. “Which I’ve barely started, thanks to today’s exam.” Collapsing back onto the couch, you gather up your notes and plop your laptop down onto your lap, waking up the screen. Your music resumes playing as you open up a fresh document, and Jungkook joins you a few seconds later with his black duffel in hand, dropping it on the ground as he takes a seat. You glance at him curiously as he begins pulling books from within, setting them on the coffee table before taking out his own laptop and booting it up. “Kook? What are you doing?”

He opens up one of the notebooks, his forehead creasing in concentration as he skims the contents within. “Studying, what else? I have finals too, you know.”

“But you never study,” you protest, confused.

He glances up, one dark eyebrow disappearing into his hair. “It’s cute that you think I’m some kind of academic whiz, babe, but unfortunately I’m not. Now hush, I’m trying to read.”

With that, he immerses himself back in his book, but you don’t miss the tiny smile that lingers on his lips. Shaking your head, you turn back to your own laptop and begin typing, the clatter of your keyboard and the rustling of Jungkook’s notes melding perfectly with the dulcet sounds of Vivaldi.

///

Friday afternoon finds you at the library, hunched over your laptop at a tiny, secluded table shoved halfway behind a shelf full of geography books. You’ve been sitting in the same place for nearly five hours now, and the hushed, monotonous atmosphere is beginning to drive you insane. Exhaling heavily, you let your head drop, hitting the table with a quiet thunk.

Unbidden, Jungkook’s face materializes in your mind’s eye. Tousled black hair falls into a face crinkled with mirth, his laughter clear and melodious as he lounges on the couch beside you, cracking inane jokes. You imagine the shape of his grinning mouth and scrunched nose, picture the way his eyes crease into crescents.

And then the image shifts. Jungkook’s eyes darken, his body shifting closer. You can feel the warmth of his lips on yours, imagine the exact way he would slip his hand into the waistband of your panties. There’s a damp spot growing in your actual panties by this point, and as your thoughts turn increasingly sordid, you find yourself scrambling for your phone and pulling up your messages.

[6:46pm] You: I wish I’d taken you up on your offer last night

Putting down the device, you try to refocus your attention on your notes as you wait for him to respond. After a few minutes of unsuccessful reading and no new messages, however, you grow impatient.

[6:49pm] You: all I can think about right now is how good you feel inside me

[6:49pm] You: And how I should’ve crawled onto your lap and sat on your cock yesterday

This time, your phone buzzes with an incoming text before you can even set it down.

[6:49pm] Jungkook: wow babe

[6:49pm] Jungkook: you’re really missing me huh? Fuck I wish I were there right now

His words stoke the fire inside you, pure want simmering in your belly and trickling down to your core.

[6:50pm] You: then come find me. I’m on the 4th floor of the library, what’s stopping you?

[6:50pm] Jungkook: Ugh, I have practice. I’m gonna kill Hoseok and Jimin I swear

Three dots appear at the bottom of your screen, indicating that he’s still typing. And then his new message pops up, the words sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

[6:50pm] Jungkook: god I wanna be inside you so bad

You can no longer contain your smirk, devious fingers already typing out an incendiary answer. Want you inside me too, baby. I’m so wet right now, you have no idea. I’m thinking about going into the bathroom and touching myself.

Almost immediately after pressing ‘send’, you see the telltale ellipses spring up at the bottom of your screen.

[6:51pm] Jungkook: fuck. Fuck fuck fuck

[6:51pm] Jungkook: you absolute goddamn tease

[6:51pm] Jungkook: do it. I dare you.

Your smirk widens, turning downright sinful. Oh, baby, I already am, you reply. Not quite true, perhaps, but you waste no time between pressing send and standing up, winding your way through the maze of bookshelves to the restroom on the other side of the library. It is thankfully empty upon arrival, and you immediately lock yourself in the stall furthest from the entrance, leaning against the door and checking your phone for Jungkook’s response. Right away, you realize that it must be a long message, because the preview on your lockscreen cuts off mid-sentence. And when you finally unlock the device and open up the full text, a delighted peal of laughter bubbles up from your chest and escapes into the open air.

[6:52pm] Jungkook: no you’re not. Are you? Jesus. fuck babe, you’re killing me. You’ve somehow beat jung hoseok to murdering me and now I must be in hell because all I want is to go over there and fuck you until you can’t remember your own name

[6:52pm] Jungkook: are you really in the bathroom right now??

Still giggling, you open up your camera, angling the screen so that it captures the telltale navy walls of the stall you’re standing in. Adopting a mischievous smirk, you tug your bottom lip coyly between your teeth and hike the hem of your shirt up to expose a tantalizing flash of skin. Your free hand snakes into the waistband of your jeans, now unbuttoned just enough to see a glimpse of the lace underneath. Snapping the photo, you send it off with just one sentence: What do you think?

His response is near instantaneous.

[6:54pm] Jungkook: damn it

[6:54pm] Jungkook: you’re really trying to ruin me aren’t you

He really is far too easy to rile up sometimes, you think with a grin. But you certainly aren’t complaining—not when heat is still curling in the pit of your tummy and the spot on your panties is growing increasingly damp. I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I do know that your fingers would feel so much better than mine right now.

[6:54pm] Jungkook: fuck, baby. Tell me what you’re doing

You wriggle your jeans down your hips and let your fingers trail downward, drawing light circles around your lace-covered clit. Why don’t you tell me what you want me to do instead?

[6:55pm] Jungkook: so that’s how you wanna play, huh

[6:55pm] Jungkook: i like your panties, by the way. sexy. why don’t you slip your hand inside them and touch your clit for me?

Your breath catches in your throat when you follow his directions, the pads of your fingers sliding through the gathered slickness between your thighs with ease.

[6:55pm] Jungkook: are you pretending it’s my hand instead?

[6:55pm] You: of course

And it’s true. You can picture the wicked tilt of his lips, can practically feel the warmth of his body caging you against the cool wall, one hand anchoring at your hip while the other rubs hard circles against your sensitive bud.

[6:56pm] Jungkook: good. god, I wish I were there. Slide two fingers into that sweet little pussy of yours and pretend it’s my cock filling you up instead

Clearly, Jungkook is in no mood to tease. Exhaling shakily, you do as he commands, savoring the feeling of your walls molding to the shape of your fingers. You dig in as deep as possible, head falling back against the wall as you raise your phone again.

[6:56pm] You: now what?

[6:56pm] Jungkook: move them. Slowly. And tell me what you’re thinking about

Your mental picture of the dark-haired man returns, imaginary hands sliding down to cup the sumptuous curve of your bottom as he lifts you effortlessly and pins you in place with his hips.

[6:57pm] You: thinking about you pinning me against the wall of this stall

[6:57pm] You: your pretty cock stretching me open

Letting out a soft whimper, you pick up the pace, thumb flicking over your clit in frenzied strokes. The coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

[6:57pm] Jungkook: fuck, babe. What else?

[6:58pm] You: ypour mouth on my neck

[6:58pm] Jungkook: want me to bruise you up all nice and pretty? Mark you as mine?

You barely manage to type out a coherent answer.

[6:58pm] You: g od yess

[6:59pm] You: nd fill me up with your cum

[6:59pm] Jungkook: christ. You filthy thing. You perfect pretty little tease, I’m gonna have you six ways from sunday when i get my hands on you

[6:59pm] Jungkook: fuck. I gotta go hobi’s starting warmups and I’m still half hard

[7:00pm] Jungkook: talk to you later. Think of me when you cum, okay?

His last few messages arrive in quick succession, a disbelieving huff escaping your lips when you read through them. Your orgasm—so close just moments ago—suddenly seems miles away. But his last message is still lighting up the screen of your phone, and so, with the thought of a half-hard Jungkook in mind, you let your fantasy take over again.

If Jungkook were here, he would be pressing even more urgently against you, hips snapping against yours as his thumb rubs hard circles into your clit. His mouth would be brushing along the column of your neck, teeth nipping at the delicate skin of your collarbone and the sensitive spot just below your ear. His thrusts would become sloppy as he nears the edge, and—

—It’s not the most satisfying orgasm you’ve ever had, pressed up against the metal wall of your university library’s bathroom, but it’s enough for now.

Besides, you still have a lab report to finish.

///

Ten o’clock comes and goes. Your keyboard clatters underneath your fingertips as you put the finishing touches on your report, scanning your conclusion for any errors before leaning back with a relieved sigh. It takes only a few more seconds to save your work and send the document to your professor. By the time you pack up your materials and head for the library doors—shooting an sympathetic look at any stragglers who remain—it’s ten-fifteen, and you are more than ready to head home and crawl underneath the fluffiest blanket you own.

Stepping outside, you suppress a shiver. Even though it’s springtime, the evenings are still rather chilly once the sun sets, and you curse when you realize you’ve forgotten to bring a sweater. Hiking your bag a little higher on your shoulder, you steel yourself for the trek back to your apartment. Every breeze raises gooseflesh on your skin, but you just walk faster, thinking about the hot cocoa packets stuffed away in one of your kitchen cabinets.

As you turn the corner, the performing arts building comes into view, glimmering in the darkness like a beacon. Low music thumps from within, and you wonder briefly at the sound before remembering Jungkook’s recent complaints about his long hours spent at the dance studio. Curiosity overcomes you and draws you closer, the music growing louder as soon as you step inside the building. Following the sound to a set of double doors at the very end of a dimly-lit hall, you debate briefly whether or not to knock before throwing all caution to the wind and pushing open the unlocked door.

The first sight that greets you is yourself, reflected in the long paneled mirror that stretches the length of the entire wall. A few chairs line the perimeter of the room and you immediately spot Jungkook’s duffel bag sitting on top of one of them, the sleeve of one of his many black sweatshirts poking out from the unzipped opening. The man himself is on the other end of the room, flanked on either side by two figures you recognize as Park Jimin and Jung Hoseok. None of them have noticed your presence yet—all three are immersed in the low, seductive beat still pounding from the speakers, perfectly in sync as they dance. Every movement is mesmerizing, flowing easily into the next as Jimin takes a running start and leaps over Jungkook to take center stage for his solo.

“Okay—cut!” Hoseok calls, raising a hand. “That was a lot better, nice job. Jungkook, just be sure to watch your hand movements during that last eight; you’re faltering a little when Jimin jumps. And Jimin, you’re still hesitating half a beat before the jump, so just speed that up and we should be good.”

Jimin nods wearily, raking his blond hair out of his face. “Got it.” Behind him, Jungkook stares at his hands for a full five seconds before repeating the section of the dance that Hoseok had specified, his shoes squeaking in protest against the hardwood.

Hoseok eyes him critically. “Yeah, that looks good. Cool. Should we run through the last song again?”

“Honestly, Hobi, I think we’re all pretty beat,” Jimin says, his head lolling against his shoulder. “We’ve been at this for over three hours now.”

Jungkook nods in agreement, swinging his arms overhead and shaking out his muscles. “Yeah, I think it might be time to call it quits for the day.” Then his gaze flickers up, catching sight of your reflection in the mirrors. “{Name}?”

Your face flushes at being caught. “H-hey.”

His mouth lifts into a smile, tired but bright. “Hey yourself. Waiting for me?”

You glance at Hoseok and Jimin before returning your attention to the dark-haired man. “Just poking my head in. I don’t want to interrupt or rush you, or anything.”

Hoseok grins, shaking his head. “Nah, you’re fine. I think we’re pretty much done here, anyway. We’ll just grab some water and cool down, and then you’re free to take him for the night.” He claps Jungkook on the back, and the two of them head for the water cooler in the corner of the room, conversing quietly.

Jimin chooses that moment to step forward, flashing you a crooked smirk. “Take him for the night, huh? Lucky guy, getting to go home with such a pretty girl.” He eyes you up and down, making no move to hide it, and you raise a brow at his boldness. The blond-haired man is a notorious playboy—well-known around campus for his various escapades and his reputation as a heartbreaker—but you’re still rather surprised that he’d hit on you so blatantly with Hoseok and Jungkook still in the room.

“Settle down, Park. Don’t you have some stretches to be doing?” You nod at Hoseok, who is now seated on the floor and reaching for his toes.

The blond man grins. “The only kind of stretch I want to be doing is stretching you open with my co—“

“You sure you want to finish that sentence?” A heavy weight settles across your shoulders, and you turn to see that Jungkook has draped his arm over you, his dark eyes glittering.

Jimin has the audacity to laugh aloud, honey brown eyes crinkling into gleeful crescents. “What? Can’t handle a little competition, Jungkookie?”

The dark-haired man rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Jimin.”

“Fuck off?” Jimin steps closer, tilting his head in a perfect picture of mock innocence as his fingers find your chin, forcing your gazes to meet. “From what I recall, {Name} definitely wanted to be fucked earlier. What were her exact words—oh, something about a pretty cock stretching her open?” A grin splits across his face, wide and mischievous. “And believe me, princess, I’ve been told I have a very pretty cock.”

Jungkook’s eyes grow wide, abject horror painted across every feature. “What the fuck, Jimin? How—how the fuck did you…?!” His spluttering trails off into dismayed silence, his breathing quick and sharp.

You, however, do not hesitate to wrench away from Jimin’s grasp, your open palm colliding with the soft flesh of his cheek. The slap echoes in the empty silence of the dance studio, and Jimin touches the angry red handprint on his face gingerly before smirking up at you.

“Feisty, huh? That’s okay, I don’t mind it a little rough.”

It’s probably a good thing that Hoseok is already gone, because the litany of curses that leaves Jungkook’s mouth is surely something that would get him in trouble with the red-haired dance captain. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jimin, what the hell is wrong with you? And why the fuck were you reading my goddamn texts?!”

Jimin finally takes a step back, the salacious smirk dropping off his face as he puts his hands up in surrender. “To be fair, I didn’t mean to,” he says. “But you were being weird, sitting by yourself in the corner before practice started, so I got curious. And then I saw your phone’s screen in the mirror, and—“

“Shit, the mirrors,” Jungkook interrupts, sounding utterly defeated. “Goddamnit. Fuck, {Name}, I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Kook,” you reassure, patting his shoulder gently. “Park, here, on the other hand…”

The blond-haired man at least has the decency to look somewhat abashed. “I am sorry, just for the record. I really didn’t mean to read your messages, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad I did.” Jimin grins, boldly shooting you a flagrant wink and a smirk. “My offer still stands, you know, if Jeon isn’t up to the task tonight.”

Jungkook’s arm tightens around you. “Haven’t you done enough damage for one day, Park?”

Jimin throws his head back and laughs, far too hard for your liking. “What’s the matter, Jungkook? Afraid I’ll get her off faster than you?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Jungkook’s eyes narrow to slits, and you watch as his mouth twists into a dangerous scowl. “In your dreams, asshat.”

“In my dreams?” Jimin chuckles, stepping forward and throwing a jovial arm around Jungkook’s shoulders. “Doesn’t have to be.” Then he turns to you, shooting you another wink. “What do you say, princess? Care to find out who can make you feel better?”

It should be easy to say no—should be simple to tell Jimin to go fuck himself and go home with Jungkook as you have so many times before. But there’s a tingle in the pit of your belly, something dark and insatiable that croons obscene suggestions that refuse to be drowned out by logic or reason. Beside you, Jungkook’s jaw is clenched, and you recognize the competitive glint burning in his gaze immediately. The dark-haired young man isn’t one to back away from a challenge, and you know from experience just how easy it can be to rile him up. And it seems Jimin knows it, too, if the triumphant smirk on his face is anything to go by.

“{Name},” Jungkook says, releasing you from his hold only to spin you toward him and cup your cheeks instead. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I can just take you home—“

You cut him off with a finger, pressing insistently against his soft lips. “Take me home,” you murmur. “But we’re bringing this fucker along, too. I bet he’s all talk.” You nod in Jimin’s direction.

Jungkook’s face dissolves into mirth, a hearty cackle escaping his lips. “You know what? So do I.” He turns to the other man, quirking a brow. “Well? You still coming?”

Jimin grins. “I think we’ll all be coming tonight.”

“No thanks to you,” Jungkook quips, grinning when you giggle. Then he’s strolling off to grab his bag, with Jimin following suit and gathering up his belongings as well. As he bends down to pick his water bottle up from the ground, you can’t help but check him out—something he notices right away and remarks upon with a sly grin once he straightens up again.

“Enjoying the view, princess?”

Warmth blossoms across your cheeks. “I’m just trying to see what all the girls see in you.”

Jimin steps forward, stopping only when he’s mere inches away. “And?” he breathes.

This close to him, you can see the flecks of amber dancing in his honey brown irises. “Not impressed,” you lie.

The amused tilt of his head makes it clear that he doesn’t believe you, and you flush when his hand comes up to pat your cheek. “You’re cute,” he chuckles, brushing the pad of his thumb along the skin below your right eye. Then he turns away and begins shoving the rest of his things in his bag, whistling cheerily under his breath.

“Thanks, I think,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

“You’re welcome, I guess?”

Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, two strong arms winding their way around your waist and tugging you into a warm, familiar chest. “Talking to yourself is a sign of insanity, you know,” he murmurs into your ear, hot breath caressing your neck as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Good thing I was talking to Jimin, then,” you whisper back, craning your head so that you can look him in the eye.

He hums. “So you’re getting along.”

“As much as a girl can actually get along with Park Jimin,” you reply with a laugh. “Hey, you ready to go?”

He nods, dark hair bobbing. “Yeah.” Releasing you from his embrace, he keeps one arm slung around your waist as he turns toward the door, Jimin sauntering up to join you on your other side. Together the three of you head for the building’s exit, and when Jungkook pushes open the front door with his free hand, you shiver at the sudden burst of chilly air.

Wordlessly, Jungkook reaches into his bag and pulls out the black sweatshirt you’d spotted earlier, releasing his grip on your waist to drape it over your shoulders. You thank him with a smile, slipping your arms into the sleeves and giggling at how it dwarfs your smaller frame. Jungkook seizes the opportunity to playfully pull the hood over your head, tugging it down until it covers your eyes and breaking out into laughter when you whack him with your overly long sleeves in retaliation. With him distracted and you temporarily blind, neither of you see the knowing smile that curls Jimin’s lips.

The remainder of the walk to your apartment passes in mostly companionable silence. Jungkook and Jimin occasionally fall to bickering, but despite the high tensions earlier, it’s clear that the two are good friends. And you’re more than happy to walk between them quietly, bundled in Jungkook’s warm sweatshirt and listening to them talk about their upcoming performance.

“I don’t know, man, I always feel off during that second song,” Jungkook says, raking a hand through his hair and ruffling it even further. “I just can’t seem to get into the right rhythm.”

Jimin snickers and shoots you a sideways glance. “I hope you have better rhythm with {Name}, otherwise this night is going to be very disappointing.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jungkook snorts, rolling his eyes. “I’m being serious, here.”

“Okay, you want me to be serious?” Jimin asks, reaching over and giving the younger man a reproving nudge. “You’re not off; you’re just getting in your own head.”

“That sounds like Kook,” you pipe up, pulling out your keys as your apartment complex comes into view. “Instead of getting in your own head, why don’t you relax and let me give you head?”

Jimin lets out a delighted laugh and raises his hand for a high-five, which you happily give him as the three of you step into the lobby of your building. “That was fucking amazing,” he declares, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “Absolutely incredible. I think I just fell in love.”

On your other side, Jungkook is shaking his head in exasperation, mumbling something about god there’s two of them under his breath while jabbing the elevator button. The three of you pile inside as soon as it arrives, with Jimin still chortling quietly at your joke.

Jungkook takes the lead when the elevator doors slide open again, gently prying your keys from your hand. Striding down the hall, he comes to a stop in front of your door and shifts his gaze to you. His brown eyes regard you carefully, and you know that this is his way of giving you one last chance to say no.

But you don’t want to say no. Heat has been simmering in your belly ever since you left the dance studio, and now that your front door is the only obstacle between you and whatever the night may bring, it flares up, growing hotter and more insistent. You meet Jungkook’s gaze and nod.

He inclines his head and inserts the key into the lock, turning until it clicks. The door swings open.

The atmosphere shifts as soon as you cross the threshold, all jokes and jabs dissipating to leave only a thick, palpable tension. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment when Jungkook’s gaze darkened into obsidian or when Jimin’s hand found its way to the curve of your ass. All you know is that the air is positively crackling with hidden energy, sizzling and electric, and that the two men on either side of you are undoubtedly the source.

Jungkook kisses you first. His mouth brushes against yours briefly before descending down the column of your throat, tongue and teeth laving against your skin. Strong hands settle on your hips, guiding you backwards down the hall and into the living room until you find yourself being pressed down onto a firm surface, a second pair of hands joining Jungkook’s curled around your waist.

Turning around, you meet Jimin’s amused gaze, belatedly realizing that you are seated firmly in his lap. A soft laugh escapes him as he takes in your surprised expression, his fingers crawling down the expanse of your stomach to linger near the hem of your shirt, toying with the thin fabric. “I can kiss you, right?” he murmurs, leaning in close.

If you even so much as nod, your lips would meet his. “Yes,” you breathe, not daring to look away.

Jimin smiles crookedly. “Good.” And then he closes the gap.

Kissing Jimin is different. His lips are fuller than Jungkook’s, his movements more languid. One of his hands comes up to tangle in your hair, gentle but firm. The other slips underneath your shirt, rubbing tantalizing circles into your hip, and when it ventures farther up and trails along the seam of your bra, you break the kiss with a gasp.

“Still okay, princess?” Jimin murmurs softly.

“Still okay,” you confirm, sucking in a deep breath and shifting around until you are facing him, your legs straddling his thighs. Leaning forward, you kiss him again, and this time his tongue finds its way past your lips and flicks gently against yours. He explores your mouth thoroughly—hungrily—and by the time you break apart, both of you are gasping for air.

Jungkook’s hands return then, grasping at the thin material of your shirt before pulling it up and off entirely. Your arms settle back around Jimin’s shoulders, his brown eyes raking appreciatively across your figure as Jungkook lays a trail of soft kisses along your spine before coming to a stop at your bra.

“Wait a sec,” he mutters, pinching the elastic stretched across your back between two fingers. “How the fuck do you get this thing off?”

It takes you a good second to process his confused question, but once you do, you can’t stop the peal of laughter that escapes you. Jimin echoes your hilarity, snickering wildly as he fights to answer Jungkook. “Jesus, Jeon,” he manages after a few seconds, sucking in a lungful of air. “You’re adorable. Haven’t you ever seen a bra with a front clasp before?” As if to emphasize his point, he reaches for the clasp nestled between your breasts, popping it open smoothly.

Jungkook watches as the cups fall to either side of your body, your nipples hardening at the sudden exposure to the open air. “Oh, fuck off,” he grumbles, tugging the garment down and off your arms.

Jimin finally curbs his chuckles and returns his attention to you, squeezing at the twin swells of your breasts before tweaking the sensitive peaks. “Shit, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes, leaning down to mouth at the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “How has Jeon kept you to himself for this long?”

You aren’t given the opportunity to respond, for Jungkook chooses that moment to mold his mouth to yours. His tongue slips past your lips, slick and familiar, and you moan into the kiss as his hands slide down your sides and anchor at your hips.

Jimin hums from where he’s sucking a purple bruise into the thin skin above your clavicle, laving across the tender skin before leaning back to survey his work. “Jungkook. Let’s get her jeans off, shall we?”

You gasp for air when the dark-haired man finally pulls back, his fingers sliding around to pop open the button and slide down the zipper. “Thought you’d never ask,” he teases, gently urging you off Jimin’s lap so he can wriggle the jeans down your thighs, your panties disappearing right alongside the denim.

“How is this fair?” you protest, suddenly very aware of how naked you are before the two men. “Neither of you have taken anything off yet.”

“So impatient,” Jimin chortles, straightening up and grabbing the hem of his t-shirt. In one smooth motion, he’s pulled it off, baring the smooth expanse of his toned torso. “Is that better, princess?”

You drink in each dip and ridge of muscle, following the defined lines of his pelvic bones to where they disappear into the waistband of his ripped jeans. “Better,” you confirm, flashing him a wink and a grin before turning your sights to the other man in the room. “Your turn, Jeon.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jungkook gives you a playful salute before shedding his shirt as well, grabbing it by the back of the collar and tugging it over his head. Flinging it onto the growing pile of clothes on the ground, he closes the distance between you and crushes his mouth to yours in another searing kiss. His warm hands find purchase on your shoulders, smoothing along the bony ridges of your clavicle before dipping down to grasp the curve of your waist, and you can’t help but melt into his embrace. Your fingers fly up to tangle in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer until you are molded against his bare chest, soft curves meshing perfectly with the hard planes of his torso.

The dark-haired man is in the middle of determinedly mapping out every inch of your mouth with his tongue when Jimin rises to his feet and presses himself against your back, his hands sliding down to the curve of your ass and giving the flesh a playful squeeze. “Being a little selfish, aren’t we, Jeon?” he murmurs, mouth at your ear.

Gasping, you break away from Jungkook. “Jimin!”

Said man presses a little closer, and your eyes widen when you feel his hardening length twitch against your thigh. “Screaming my name already?” he asks with a chuckle, his fingers now traversing the length of your spine.

You shiver at the gentle touch. “D-don’t get too used to it.”

Jimin’s entire face crinkles in glee, honey brown eyes disappearing into twin crescents. “Fuck, you’re really something else,” he chortles, nipping at your earlobe. “What are you going to do when I make you eat your words?”

Jungkook snickers and plants an affectionate kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling away. “You sure you’re up to the task, Park?” he challenges. Nudging Jimin aside, he gently presses you backward until he can safely lower you down onto the plushy couch cushions.

The blond man simply grins and steps forward, jostling Jungkook away before he can make himself comfortable between your legs. “Why don’t you save the trash talk and let me take it from here?” he asks playfully, dropping to his knees. Warm hands settle on your thighs, urging your legs apart, and you watch as his tongue darts out to moisten his lips once you’re fully spread before him. “Fuck,” Jimin rasps, his voice dropping several pitches. “I bet you taste so sweet.”

“She does.” Jungkook’s voice comes from above you, and when your head lolls back onto the backrest, you see that the dark-haired man has stepped around to the other side of the couch, standing behind you with his fingers trailing random patterns across your bare shoulders. Every movement leaves gooseflesh and pinpricks dancing in its wake, and you shiver when he suddenly descends farther to mold his hands around your breasts.

“Fuck, Jungkoo—oh!”

A sudden flare of heat against your clit has you gasping and tearing your gaze away from the young man hovering above you. A glance down the length of your body reveals that Jimin has chosen that moment to bury his face between your legs, only his honey brown eyes visible above your mound. “Eyes on me, princess,” he commands huskily, raising his head just enough to give you a perfect view of his tongue tracing a sensuous trail across his plushy bottom lip. Then he’s dipping down to blow another cheeky puff of hot air against your core, and this time you can’t help the way your hips automatically cant up toward his mouth for something more substantial.

Jimin is more than happy to comply with your desires. His hands slide up your thighs slowly, heavy gaze never once leaving yours as he presses a kiss to the soft skin just above your mound. Then he’s sliding down, pink tongue flicking against your clit before plunging inside your weeping entrance for a taste.

“You’re right, she is sweet,” he purrs, pulling away briefly to wink at Jungkook. “So fucking sweet.”

You don’t have a chance to glance back for the dark-haired man’s reaction before Jimin returns his attention to you and delivers a playful nip to your inner thigh. The sudden sharpness of his teeth against the delicate skin sends a jolt of arousal straight to your core, and instinct sends your fingers flying up to wind through his silky golden hair. A crooked smirk etches across the blond man’s handsome face, and you can practically see the gears turning wickedly in his head when you stammer out a breathy, “O-oh god.”

“You liked that, huh?” Jimin slides two fingers through the slickness gathering between your legs, waggling them playfully in Jungkook’s direction before licking them clean. “I think Jeon liked it too. You doing okay back there, bud?”

With a start, you realize you hadn’t noticed when Jungkook’s hands left your body, but when you tilt your head back, you see the exact reason for their disappearance. The dark-haired young man is standing just behind your sprawled figure, his belt undone and jeans pushed down just enough to free his cock. One hand is wrapped firmly around his length, thumb flicking across the head, and a low groan escapes him when he notices you watching.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, tongue darting out to moisten your lips at the sight. “Why don’t you let me help you out a little?”

The words have barely left your mouth when Jimin suddenly tightens his grip on your thighs, taking your clit into his mouth and giving it a punishingly hard suck.

“Jimin!” you gasp, jolting in his grasp at the sudden burst of aching pleasure.

The blond man’s resulting smile could put Wonderland’s infamous feline to shame. “That’s more like it,” he croons, trailing his index finger along your drenched folds and chuckling when you squirm beneath him. “You sound so good moaning my name, princess.”

Your fingers tighten in his golden hair when he leans forward to bury his face between your legs once more, his name floating from your lips a second time when his wet tongue darts out to lave insistently at your core. Your tummy tenses under the sudden onslaught of pleasure, your thighs tightening around Jimin’s head as his questing tongue delves inside you experimentally. Seconds later, his fingers join in, two digits stretching you open as his mouth latches onto your clit with earnest.

“Who’s being selfish now?” Jungkook’s voice comes from somewhere above you, and a moment later his face appears in your peripheral vision, hovering above your prone body as he leans over the backrest to press an upside-down kiss to your mouth. Both hands wander down past your clavicle to squeeze your breasts, drawing a shudder from you when he begins rubbing slow, deliberate circles around the sensitive peaks.

“L-let me suck you off,” you offer, your voice coming out in little more than a breathy stammer. “I did—ah—tell you to relax and let me give you head, didn’t I?”

The dark-haired man shifts his attention to your neck—soft lips ghosting along the column of your throat—and you immediately tilt your head to give him better access. “You did,” he murmurs between open-mouthed kisses, warm breath sending gooseflesh and pinpricks dancing along your skin. “And you know how much I love your mouth, babe.”

You gasp when his teeth suddenly sink into the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, turning into a moan when he begins to suckle at the bruised flesh. At the same time, Jimin begins to lap at you again, licking deliberate stripes along your entrance that end with teasing flicks on your clit. “O-oh fuck,” you say shakily, fighting to maintain your train of thought as heat simmers in your belly. “Fuck. Let me make you feel good too, baby.”

Jungkook lets out a hoarse groan at your incendiary words, nipping at your neck one last time before soothing the bite with his tongue and straightening up to his full height. One hand descends to wrap around his hard cock, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he takes in the way you’re sprawled across the couch, your vision turned upside-down with the way your neck is arched over the edge of the backrest. After a few moments of deliberation, he carefully reaches out, brushing his thumb along the seam of your lips and urging them apart.

You are more than happy to comply, letting your jaw fall slack as he positions the head and begins to press forward into your mouth. Every move is slow and gentle, your heart swelling at his mindfulness as he gives you ample time to adjust to his girth and stops just short of the back of your throat.

“Doing okay, baby?” he murmurs softly, cupping your cheek.

You hum in affirmation, eyes fluttering shut under the gentle touch. Jungkook groans at the resulting vibration, his hips stuttering forward—and you immediately suck in a quick breath before relaxing your throat for the familiar intrusion.

The sound that Jungkook makes when he bottoms out is positively cavernous, rumbling through his chest. “Fuck, baby,” he hisses, the strain evident in his voice. “God, you feel fucking incredible.”

Heat curls at the base of your spine, crawling up and flaring outward. Reaching around, you curl your fingers around the backs of his thighs, smoothing along the tensed muscles to reassure him that he can begin moving. At the same time, you swallow around the head of his cock, eliciting a sharp gasp and a startled rock of his hips. The sudden surge forward has you spluttering to fight your gag reflex into submission, and you feel Jungkook begin to pull out before you squeeze his thigh again to keep him in place.

It takes a reassuring hum and several languid licks along the vein traversing the underside of his cock to reassure Jungkook that you’re okay to continue, but when you swallow around him again, something in him seems to snap. He surges forward until his hips are flush against your chin, and each subsequent thrust has you stretching out, desperate to open up more of your body for him to possess. “Christ,” he grits out, his fingers wrapping loosely around your throat and increasing the pressure on his cock lodged within. “God, {Name}.”

Jimin chooses that moment to renew his ministrations, diving back inside you with a vigor that puts any of his previous actions to shame. His tongue flicks furiously against your clit as his fingers delve further inside you in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars, and you moan brokenly around Jungkook’s dick when he finds it without a hitch. “Look at how greedy your little pussy is,” he croons, pulling away from your folds just enough to murmur the words. “Sucking my fingers back inside each time I pull them out. But I bet my cock will feel even better, huh?”

You’re in no position to give him a verbal response—not with your throat swollen with the entirety of Jungkook’s dick—but Jimin doesn’t seem to need one. The warmth of his body suddenly disappears from between your legs, and you wonder vaguely where he’s gone even as Jungkook increases his pace. Saliva pools in your mouth to ease the dark-haired man’s thrusts, and somewhere between the slick slide of his cock against your lips and his strangled cursing, you vaguely hear the metallic clack of a belt buckle and the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open.

Jimin’s warmth returns moments later, the heat rolling off his torso almost unbearable as he leans over your supine figure. “Jesus, princess,” the blond man murmurs, laying a trail of kisses from your stomach to the valley between your breasts. “You’re fucking soaked.” As if to prove his point, he runs the tip of his cock between your folds, chuckling when you tense up beneath him in anticipation. “Greedy,” he remarks to no one in particular.

And then he’s lining himself up and sliding inside you, inch by torturous inch. The sudden surge of fullness renders you completely breathless, and Jungkook seems to sense your lungs’ desperation for oxygen just before you can choke on his cock. Pulling out of your mouth with a wet pop, he immediately drops to his knees and cups the back of your head, urging you to straighten up and allow your neck to bend in the right direction once more. “Breathe, baby,” he encourages lowly, tangling his fingers in your hair and massaging through the roots.

Obediently, you suck in a deep breath, only to release it shakily mere seconds later, when Jimin suddenly rolls his hips. A pleased grin stretches across his face at your reaction, brown eyes dancing with barely-contained glee. “Is that good, princess? You like being full of my cock?”

“God, yes,” you breathe, relishing the stretch as he pulls back until only the tip remains inside before snapping forward again. “Fuck, Jimin.”

His grin widens at the sound of his name. One hand flits down to the apex of your thighs, rubbing circles into your clit as he settles into a comfortable rhythm. The other curls around your waist, anchoring you in place firmly on the plushy couch, your body sinking further into the cushion as his thrusts become bolder and more urgent.

The air fills with the sound of skin against skin, your airy moans intermingling with Jimin’s grunts of exertion. Behind you, Jungkook refocuses his attentions on your neck, determinedly suckling another bruise just below your jaw as his fingers find the swells of your breasts once more. Your head lolls against the backrest at the mixed sensations, the heat in your belly coalescing into something sharper and more tangible with every passing second.

You aren’t sure how much longer you can last. Pressure is beginning to build in your core, your tummy tensing like a coiled spring ready to snap at any moment. Every thrust, every stroke of Jimin’s thumb on your clit, every nip and lick that Jungkook bestows upon your neck and shoulders—all of it drives you closer to the brink of what promises to be an absolutely explosive orgasm, and your companions seem to realize how close you are as well, doubly renewing their efforts to send you off the edge. Jungkook’s teeth dig into your skin a little harder, intermingling pain with pleasure, and Jimin tightens his grip on your waist and slams into you so hard you swear the couch scoots back a few centimeters. Your breath hitches in your throat.

And then you’re falling, your body collapsing into a searing wave of pleasure that starts in your core and flares outward like a supernova. A series of garbled moans and keening whimpers is all you can manage as your hands reach out desperately to ground yourself to earth—one flying up to wrap around Jungkook’s neck while the other finds purchase on Jimin’s arm. The blond man has not relinquished his grasp on you—if anything, his grip only tightens around your waist as he chases his own high. His hips stutter as you clench around him in the throes of your orgasm, and it proves to be too much when he follows you off the edge just a few seconds later, burying his face between your breasts and letting out a low, satisfied groan.

It takes you a few long moments to recover, your breathing labored. Jimin grins as you raise your head to meet his gaze, raising a dark brow and pressing a fond kiss to your sternum. “You’re cute,” he remarks, straightening up and rolling off his condom. Tying it off, he wanders away to toss it in the trash before returning to sprawl out beside you on the couch. “I see why Jungkook likes you so much.”

He says it so offhandedly that you barely even notice the way Jungkook stiffens on your other side, inhaling sharply. You are still feeling utterly boneless from your orgasm, your thoughts muddled and hazy as the pleasure recedes back into your veins. But when Jungkook suddenly stands up and walks around the couch to take up residence between your still-spread thighs, you finally snap to attention, your heartbeat quickening at the smolder in his eyes.

“My turn,” Jungkook breathes softly, reaching out to run a finger along your swollen folds and smiling when you shiver at the fleeting touch. “Christ, you’re already so sensitive, baby.”

“You’re welcome,” Jimin teases. “I did you a favor by going first, you know.”

Jungkook hums, grabbing one of your hands and absently playing with your fingers. “Did you?” he asks, a playful smile settling on his face when you immediately lace your hands together. “You don’t know {Name}’s body like I do.” And as if to prove his point, he leans forward and lays a trail of kisses along your jaw, paying special attention to the sensitive spot just below your ear that always makes your breathing stutter.

“F-fuck, Jungkook—“

The dark-haired man’s grin grows, prominent teeth on full display as he gives your hand one last squeeze before straightening back up to his full height. “On your knees, baby,” he commands, tonguing his cheek thoughtfully.

Anticipation coils in the pit of your belly, sizzling and electric. Jungkook slides a finger along the bony ridges of your vertebrae as you begin shifting into position, but before you can settle comfortably Jimin reaches out and stops you in your tracks.

“Why don’t you come sit on my lap instead, princess?” he suggests silkily, his fingers wrapping around your wrist and tugging until you are straddling his thighs. Your knees sink into the plushy cushions on either side of his legs, and Jimin smirks crookedly as he curls his fingers around your nape and tugs you down for a kiss. Behind you, Jungkook splays a hand flat against your spine, urging you to arch your back and leave your ass on full display for him.

“Christ,” he grunts, squeezing the presented globes of flesh in his large hands. “I love your ass so fucking much.” The tip of his index finger circles your puckered rim briefly—drawing a gasp from you and sending gooseflesh prickling across every inch of your skin—before he moves down into more familiar territory. “But I love this pretty little pussy of yours even more,” he croons, using his fingers to spread your lips apart before licking a long stripe along your dripping entrance.

“J-Jungkook,” you warble weakly, burying your face into the crook of Jimin’s neck as your thighs tense. The blond man chuckles softly at your predicament and lays his hands on your shoulders reassuringly, even as Jungkook’s hot tongue dips inside you for another taste. “God, please. Please don’t tease me.”

The dark-haired man laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending vibrations dancing up your spine. “Want my cock, baby?”

“You know I do,” you keen into Jimin’s clavicle.

Another laugh. “Good.”

The air shifts behind you, and you deduce that Jungkook is straightening up to his full height and shucking his jeans off his legs from the sound of rustling fabric. Seconds later, his hands caress your waist, smoothing down along the soft skin to anchor firmly at your hips. You suck in an anticipatory breath, waiting.

And then Jungkook is sliding home in one smooth motion, and even though you can’t see him, you can perfectly imagine the tight clench of his jaw and the prominent vein in his neck as his throat bobs with restraint. “Jesus,” he hisses, his hips nestled snugly against the soft curve of your ass. “Fuck. How are you always this tight?”

You cannot find the words to answer, rendered breathless by the slow throbbing of his cock along your walls. Unlike Jimin, he’s forgone a condom—and you can clearly feel every ridge and vein as your body molds to his exact shape and girth. The anticipation in your tummy coalesces into something darker—something potent and heavy—and you finally find your voice again when Jungkook groans in a voice so cavernous that it sends heat spiking straight to your aching core. “Jungkook,” you groan, barely coherent enough to string together words. “Jungkook, please, I need you to move, please.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook snarls, gritting his teeth. “Fuck, baby, you know I’ll give you anything you want. God, you feel fucking incredible.” His hands tighten around your hips as he begins to move, rolling up into you with fluid, practiced strokes.

Pure heat coils in the pit of your belly, dark and heady and thrumming with the need for release. Jungkook picks up his pace, pushing in so deep that you can practically feel him in the back of your throat, a choked gasp escaping your parted lips as he pounds into you relentlessly. Every snap of his hips shoves you up against Jimin, his body taut and his face creased in a lascivious grin as he watches you descend further into delirium. Both of his hands find their way to your breasts, squeezing the supple flesh before he shifts downward to wrap his mouth around a hardened nipple, lapping at the delicate nub and grinning lazily when you reward him with a shaky whimper.

“Damn, princess,” he says, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Keep rubbing up against me like that, and I’m going to end up needing a second round.”

Jungkook growls when he realizes how firmly you are crushed against the blond man, your chest and stomach sliding against Jimin’s bare torso with every thrust. One of his hands slides from your hipbone up to the base of your throat, splaying just below your jugular and forcing you upright until you are no longer pressed against the blond. The new angle draws a gasp from you, your hands flying up to brace yourself on Jimin’s shoulders, but Jungkook growls again and gives your neck a punishingly hard nip.

“Arms around my neck, baby,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. Immediately, you snake your arms around him, drawing him close until his chest is flush against your back, and Jungkook rewards your compliance with a tender kiss to the soft spot below your ear.

“G-god, Jungkook,” you moan, quivering in his grasp as he picks up his pace. Every snap of his hips sends stars skittering across your vision, the delicious friction between your bodies driving you ever closer to the edge.

“That’s it, baby,” Jungkook rasps, the hand on your hip descending to your clit and drawing tight circles around the aching bud. “Cum for me.”

You keen at the additional stimulation, heat welling up in your core, and Jungkook’s hips stutter when your walls clamp down around him—your fingers simultaneously tightening their grip on the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“Fuck, come on,” he grunts, recovering his rhythm quickly. “I’ve got you—just let go for me and cum, baby.”

With one last push, Jungkook sends you spiraling over the edge. The coil in your tummy snaps, releasing a wave of pleasure that surges through your veins like wildfire. A broken keen that vaguely resembles Jungkook’s name fills the room, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from you, your eyes fluttering shut as you shake apart in his ironclad grip.

Jungkook only manages half a dozen more strokes before his hips stutter again, this time faltering entirely as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, {Name},” he grits out, thumb still drawing circles around your clit even as he gives in to the tight, wet draw of your body squeezing around his cock. You can feel him painting your walls in spurts of creamy white, and even in your euphoric haze you still make sure to milk him for every last drop.

“Jungkook,” you whine, slapping his hand away when overstimulation sets in. “Fuck, I can’t.”

Obediently, he withdraws. His softening cock slips out from your entrance, and you groan at the feeling of your combined juices dribbling out and down your thighs. Jungkook zeroes in on the sight immediately and presses two fingers to your entrance to act as a stopper, his lips brushing tenderly along your shoulder. “Keep me inside you, babe.”

Your face flushes when Jimin catches your eye, his plump lips curving up into a shrewd little smirk. But you’re left with no time to wonder about the knowing look on his face because Jungkook is gently gathering you up in his arms to lift you off of Jimin’s lap, plopping you down next to the blond-haired man. He disappears for a few seconds before returning with a warm towel, and you smile when he gently begins cleaning you up, wiping at the mess smeared along your inner thighs. 

“Doing okay, baby?” he asks, and your heart swells with warmth at the concern lacing his voice.

“More than okay,” you admit, turning to press your lips to the sharp angle of his jaw. 

Jungkook’s bare chest rumbles with laughter, his mouth finding yours in a brief kiss as he finishes his work and collapses beside you. “Good.”

On your other side, Jimin is grinning. “Well, this was fun,” he remarks casually, running a hand through his mussed blond hair. Leaning over, he grabs your chin and tilts your face toward his so that he can plant a lazy kiss on your mouth before pulling back and winking. “If you ever wanna do this again, you know where to find me.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, a laugh creasing your face when he swoops down and kisses you again. “Jesus, Park, I’m starting to think you really did fall in love with me.”

Jimin’s grin widens. “You could make an honest man of me yet, princess. But for now, I’ve still got a reputation to uphold.” Standing up, he begins gathering his discarded clothes, pulling on his jeans and buckling his belt. You admire the smooth flex of his abdominal muscles as he pulls his t-shirt back over his head, and when he catches you looking, a delighted peal of laughter escapes him. “I’m just a call away, princess,” he reminds with a salacious waggle of his eyebrows. “If Jeon ever stops satisfying your needs, I’ll be more than happy to step up.”

“Oh, fuck off.” This time, it’s Jungkook who speaks, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth as he runs a hand through his dark hair. “Go find some other girl to harass, Park.”

“Testy,” Jimin says with a snicker. Slipping into his denim jacket, he checks his pockets one last time for his wallet and keys. “But I know when I’m not wanted anymore. You coming to the showcase tomorrow, {Name}?”

Suddenly cold, you grab the afghan hanging over the armrest and throw it over your naked body. “I’m going to try.”

Jungkook turns to you, eyes wide. “Try? Christ, {Name}, were you planning to study instead?”

Guiltily, you meet his dumbfounded gaze. “Maybe?”

“Damn,” the dark-haired young man mutters. “You really would be a complete hermit without me.”

“Would not!” you defend immediately. “I have Jisoo!”

Jimin perks up at the mention of your best friend. “Speaking of Jisoo—she’s pretty cute. What’s her story?”

“Oh, fuck off!” you and Jungkook exclaim simultaneously, turning to the blond man still standing in the middle of your living room.

He chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. See you at practice tomorrow, Jungkook. And {Name}, I hope you do come to the show. Seriously. We’ve worked hard, and it’s going to be a great performance. Take a study break and live a little, princess.” Shooting you one last playful wink, he saunters out of the room. A few seconds later, you hear the front door click shut behind him.

“Jesus, he’s something else,” you remark with a giggle, turning back toward the dark-haired man lounging beside you.

Jungkook snorts and stretches lazily, one arm coming to rest on the back of the couch, just behind your shoulders. “Yeah, no kidding. You should see him after performances—he gets swarmed by girls and loves every fucking second of it.”

“He does seem like an attention whore,” you admit, grinning when your companion snorts again.

“You’ve got no idea.” Jungkook’s head lolls back, lips parting to release a yawn. Wordlessly, you offer him a corner of your afghan, which he accepts gratefully and throws over his lap.

For a while, the two of you just sit there in comfortable silence. At some point your head falls against his shoulder, and Jungkook quietly shifts to make more room for you against his side. Finally, after several minutes, you exhale heavily, straightening up and looking longingly at your dark bedroom doorway. “God, I’m exhausted.”

Jungkook follows your gaze. “I guess I should let you go to bed,” he murmurs, but there’s something soft and halting in his voice that makes you glance back at him.

“Do…” you start, trailing off awkwardly when his doe eyes lock onto yours. Fidgeting uncomfortably, you clear your throat and continue. “Um. Do you, maybe… want to stay? I mean, it’s pretty late and you live kind of far away…“

Jungkook’s face breaks into a grin. “Sure,” he says softly, reaching up to brush your cheek with his thumb—the motion so tender and intimate that your heart stutters in your chest. “That’d be nice. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” you mumble. “No problem.” Gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom, you add, “You know where the shower is, and all that.”

“I sure do,” he says with a chuckle. “Join me in there?”

You aren’t sure that you can handle being in such close quarters with him just now. “No, you go ahead,” you say, waving him off. “I’ll go after you’re done.”

Concern flickers briefly across his expression before he wipes it away. “All right. I’ll be quick, promise.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s something you want to hear from the guy you’re sleeping with.”

That earns you a hearty cackle. “You know no one else can fuck you as good as I do,” he boasts, standing up and allowing the afghan to fall away from his body. Jungkook stoops down to tap your cheek playfully before strolling off in the direction of the bathroom, whistling under his breath and seemingly completely at ease with his nudity. Shamelessly, you stare until his chiseled ass disappears around the corner and you hear the shower turn on. And only then do you flop backward with a groan, draping an arm over your eyes and allowing the couch cushions to engulf your body.

Already, you are beginning to regret inviting him to spend the night. Even though the two of you have never established any definitive rules against sleepovers, you still feel odd, as if sleeping—just sleeping—in the same bed will irreparably change something about your arrangement with the dark-haired young man. We’re friends, you remind yourself. Friends who also happen to fuck every now and then. That’s what we agreed on.

You still remember the night you came to that agreement—the night you first met Jeon Jungkook. You remember Jisoo squeezing you into one of her too-tight dresses and dragging you to the frat house, excitedly chatting about Neuron’s amazing first performance and their hot new member. You remember how you barely heard a word she said over the thumping bass. Jisoo eventually disappeared somewhere amidst a swirling haze of red cups and bitter alcohol, and you, in an attempt to escape the wandering hands on the dance floor, found your way up to the roof of the house.

The stars were exceptionally bright that evening. Autumn was settling in, and the damp chill in the air almost had you retreating back inside when you spotted a figure silhouetted against the night sky, his face upturned toward the twinkling, diamond-studded heavens. Curiosity piqued, you stepped a little closer. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here,” you say by way of greeting.

The young man startles slightly, wide eyes meeting yours. In the dim light shining out of the open window you’d just climbed out of, he looks exactly like what you imagine a deer in headlights would. “Oh! Yeah, uh, I was just looking to get some fresh air,” he explains, gesturing around vaguely. “It was starting to get stuffy downstairs.”

“No kidding.” You nod at the open space beside him. “This seat taken?”

“Nope.” Obligingly, he scoots over to make more room, and you shoot him a grateful smile as you settle down on the rooftop.

“I’m {Name}, by the way,” you introduce, carefully arranging your limbs until you’re sufficiently certain that you’re not flashing your new companion in Jisoo’s absurdly short dress.

The way his gaze lingers on your bare thighs doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Still, his voice remains even when he responds, extending a hand for you to shake. “Jungkook.”

“Jungkook,” you repeat suspiciously, releasing his hand and peering at him a bit more closely. “Why does that sound familiar?”

He chuckles. “I take it you didn’t go to the showcase this afternoon.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, shit. You’re the new Neuron guy everyone’s been talking about?”

“Guilty as charged,” Jungkook admits, scratching the back of his neck.

You huff out a disbelieving laugh, tugging idly at your short skirt as you crane your head back to admire the night sky. “God. You’re famous, dude. Why aren’t you down there basking in the attention? This party’s for Neuron, after all. You should be down there with Hoseok and Jimin.”

“And drown in the sea of girls?” Jungkook snorts. “No thanks. I’ve had enough stress for the day.”

“Are you saying that girls stress you out?” you tease, giggling. “Because if that’s the case, you really aren’t ready for a co-ed college, bud. Or maybe you’re just not into girls?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, and you’re momentarily mesmerized by the starry reflections glinting in their depths. “Very funny,” he says dryly. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I’d still like to state for the record that I do, in fact, like girls. The swarm down there’s just a lot to take, okay?”

“Okay,” you say agreeably, leaning back and resting your weight on your outstretched palms. The rooftop is rough underneath your fingertips, but you barely notice as you take the time to observe Jungkook’s profile, admiring the straight cut of his jawline and his dark mop of mussed hair. “Huh. I guess I can see why you’re so popular. Objectively, you are pretty hot.”

This draws another chuckle from your companion. “Oh yeah? In that case, you’re pretty cute too. Objectively.”

You grin at him, and he grins back. He looks rather like a rabbit with those adorably prominent teeth, you notice. But a glance down at his lithe body and strong thighs tells you that he is far from being a floppy-eared woodland critter, and you can’t stop yourself from wondering just what he might look like underneath the loose black t-shirt and ripped jeans. “Jungkook.”

He hums. “Yeah?”

It isn’t like you to be quite so bold, but you suspect the vodka swimming in your system plays a factor in the question that leaves your mouth next. “Do you want to have sex?”

The dark-haired man blinks twice in rapid succession, and you can practically see the gears whirring in his head as he processes your suggestion. “S-sorry, what?” he finally manages after a few long seconds, his large eyes meeting yours.

“Sex,” you repeat patiently, giggling when his eyes widen even more. “You’re hot, I’m cute, and we’re at a dumb frat party. May as well, right?”

Jungkook snorts out a laugh, lips twisting into an impish little smile. “So, what, do you just proposition every passably hot guy at the parties you go to?”

“Of course not,” you say with a grin. “Only the really hot ones.”

He throws back his head, eyes crinkling into mirth-filled crescents as he lets loose a delighted cackle. “You’re really something else,” he remarks, recovering from his bout of hilarity. “And honestly? I’ve been wanting to rip that dress off you ever since I saw you in it.”

His gaze shifts into something dark and ravenous, and you no longer know if the heat simmering in your belly is from arousal or alcohol. “Well,” you start, watching as he stands up and offers you a hand. “That can be arranged. Your place or mine?”

Jungkook grins crookedly. “How about neither? I don’t know where you live, babe, but my place is pretty far. And I’m pretty sure I passed an empty bedroom on the way up here.”

You take his outstretched hand, relishing the way his long fingers curl protectively around yours as he pulls you to your feet. “Lead the way.”

Mere minutes later, you find yourself laying on a stranger’s bed, Jungkook kneeling between your spread thighs and eagerly tearing Jisoo’s tiny dress off your frame. Clothes disappear in a flurry, and you are pleased to discover just how fit he is underneath his shirt, the muscles in his arms straining as he anchors your hips and pushes inside you.

Needless to say, he’s the best you’ve had in a long time—quite possibly the best you’ve ever had. Jungkook is outrageously open-handed when it comes to your pleasure, and between his generosity and ridiculous stamina you’re surprised you haven’t passed out in a haze of euphoric exhaustion.

“Jesus,” you groan when he finally pulls out.

“No, I’m Jungkook,” he corrects, flopping down beside you with a smug little smirk. The mattress bounces slightly under his weight.

Your answering laugh is equal parts incredulity and amusement. “Oh my god, shut up.”

His smirk only widens. “You’re not as mouthy after three orgasms,” he points out wickedly. You respond by whacking him over the head with the nearest pillow, and Jungkook feigns an exaggerated gasp of pain as he collapses flat onto the mattress in a tangle of naked limbs. “But you’re more violent,” he muses quietly, rubbing his chin in thought. “I don’t know if that’s better.”

“Depends on whether you’re a masochist or not,” you reply breezily, replacing the pillow and dragging yourself into a sitting position, glancing around for your discarded dress.

“I might be for you, babe,” Jungkook says with a chuckle, watching as you fish your panties out of the haphazard pile of clothing on the ground and slip them back on. “Fuck. I’d let you do anything you wanted to me as long as I got to be inside that sweet little pussy of yours at the end of it all.”

“That’s weird. You almost sound like you want this to happen again,” you remark, raising a brow. “Shouldn’t you be a fuckboy like those dance buddies of yours? One-and-done, or whatever the fuck you want to call it?”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting into another smirk. “That’d probably be easier,” he admits, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “But I tend to prefer a little more consistency in my sexual encounters.”

You finally manage to locate your dress, sliding the silky material over your hips and tugging until it lays properly across your breasts. “So what are you suggesting?”

“A mutually beneficial arrangement,” Jungkook replies, watching you struggle with the dress’ zipper for a few seconds before standing up to lend his assistance. Carefully, he brushes your hair away from your bare back as the zipper’s teeth glide into place. “Just sex, no strings attached.”

“Friends with benefits,” you breathe, all too aware of the way his warm fingers are lingering on your exposed shoulders. “That makes sense.”

“Not that I’m trying to force you into anything!” Jungkook’s hand slides to the crook of your neck, gently urging you to turn around and face him. “I mean, this is only if you want to,” he says hastily, and you have to suppress a giggle at his slightly flustered, wide-eyed gaze.

“I know that, you dumbass,” you tell him patiently, reaching up to pat his cheek. “And luckily for you, I do want to.”

A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth, all traces of hesitance disappearing from his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm with a grin. “Now give me your number so I can have you at my beck and call.”

Jungkook obligingly grabs his crumpled jeans off the floor and retrieves his phone. “Yes, ma’am.”

Still lost in your memories, you don’t hear the shower switch off in the bathroom or the quiet footsteps of your approaching houseguest. Only when a hand settles on your shoulder are you pulled out of your reverie, your startled gaze skittering up to meet Jungkook’s brown one. He’s standing before you with dripping hair, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips and another one folded neatly over his shoulder. “{Name}? You okay?” he asks, his forehead etched with concern.

You nod hurriedly, making to stand up from the couch. Jungkook looks skeptical, but doesn’t press the issue further. Instead he simply hands you the other towel so that you can wrap it around yourself on the way to the bathroom. A hot shower is just what you need to clear your head.

By the time you leave the bathroom, Jungkook is already sprawled out in your bed, the blanket thrown haphazardly across his bare chest. He grins lazily as you approach him, taking in the loose tee and lacy panties you’re wearing. “C’mere,” he murmurs, lifting a corner of the blanket so you can crawl underneath.

Quietly, you join him under the covers, careful to leave a few inches of space between your bodies, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy Jungkook in the least. One strong arm finds its way around your waist, tugging you flush against his warm body. The other reaches down to squeeze the curve of your ass playfully, drawing an alarmed shriek from your mouth. “Jungkook!”

He chuckles. “Couldn’t help it, your ass looks fucking incredible in this thing.” As if to emphasize his point, he slides two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your panties, snapping it teasingly against your skin.

You retaliate with a sharp elbow to his ribcage, fighting to suppress the smile that threatens to curl across your face. “Go to bed, you pervert.”

Jungkook just laughs again, obediently rolling over to switch off the bedside lamp sitting on your nightstand. “Night, babe,” he murmurs as the room goes dark. You vaguely see his shadowy silhouette settle back down next to you, listening as the mattress springs creak underneath his weight.

But he doesn’t try to reach for you again, and you can’t explain away the sudden, aching emptiness that slithers between your ribs and settles in your chest, just below your erratically pounding heart.

///

When you wake up the next morning, it’s to bright sunlight suffusing the room through the open curtains and stifling warmth pressed up against your back. It takes you a full three seconds to realize that there is an arm wrapped tightly around your waist, and another two to identify the arm’s owner as Jeon Jungkook. All at once, your stomach drops to somewhere near your toes, your heart leaping up into your throat and threatening to burst forth from your mouth entirely. “Oh, shit,” you breathe, trying to wriggle free from his embrace. “Shit.”

By some miracle or perhaps just dumb luck, you manage to escape the strong arm banded around you without awakening its owner. All your previous assumptions about Jungkook sprawling out like a starfish in bed are incorrect, you realize. He’s no starfish—he’s a goddamn koala. Your sleep-addled brain conjures up an image of Jungkook’s head pasted onto a koala’s body, and the sheer absurdity of it sends you into a fit of convulsive giggles that you just barely manage to contain with a hand slapped over your mouth. Still chortling, you somehow find the strength to throw your legs over the edge of the mattress and rise to your feet.

It takes several seconds to recover from your outburst, but after a few deep breaths you glance back toward the dark-haired man still fast asleep in your bed. His mouth is parted slightly, his breathing deep and even, and for a fleeting moment you think just how unfair it is that his lips look so deliciously soft first thing in the morning. Personally, you’re in dire need of some chapstick and a toothbrush—not to mention some much-needed distance from your still-sleeping fuck buddy—and it’s with that thought in mind that you head into the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door firmly before slumping against it with a low groan.

You’re in over your head. It’s something you’ve known for a while now but have stubbornly refused to admit, telling yourself that your feelings for the dark-haired man extend no further than simple friendship. But now, with Jungkook sound asleep in your bed after spending the night, you can no longer deny the very real feelings bubbling in your chest.

“Shit,” you mumble again, dropping to the floor and pulling your knees to your chest. Your heart beats frantically against your ribcage like a caged hummingbird, and it takes every ounce of discipline you possess to not break down right then and there.

Instead, you take three long, deep breaths—letting your eyes fall shut and exhaling through your nose. You concentrate on the rise and fall of your chest—feel the way oxygen rushes into your expanding lungs—and when your heartbeat eventually settles into a more even rhythm, you clamber to your feet and reach for the toothpaste.

When you emerge from the bathroom ten minutes later, Jungkook is sitting upright in bed with an expression that’s halfway between a pout and a frown, his eyes still obstinately squeezed shut. At the sound of the door opening, he turns, one eye blinking open blearily to regard your figure silhouetted in the doorway. “Hey.” His voice is still raspy from sleep, a full octave lower than his normal pitch, and you can practically see the gears whirring weakly in his head, adamantly telling him to stay awake.

“Hey yourself,” you respond, carefully picking your way across the room to your dresser and trying to ignore the way his gaze follows your every move.

“I don’t have a toothbrush,” he murmurs sleepily. Turning around, you see that both his eyes have fallen shut again. “Can I borrow yours?”

You throw open the bottom drawer, digging through to locate your favorite pair of jeans and plucking them out from among the other piles of folded denim. “Gross.”

Jungkook chuckles hoarsely, one hand reaching up to rake through his already-tousled hair. “I had my tongue halfway down your throat yesterday, babe.”

“That is not the same thing,” you say pointedly. “You can have some of my mouthwash though.”

He hums in assent, stretching both arms overhead and groaning when something pops. “’S fine,” he mumbles, craning his neck and wincing at the resulting crack. “Hey, what would it take to convince you to come over here and give me a massage?”

“Baked goods. Probably at least an entire cake,” you reply, selecting a balled up t-shirt from your dresser and chucking it at his head. It unravels in midair and flops sadly over his face instead, and you giggle as he claws halfheartedly at the red material before shaking it off and tossing it onto the bed.

“A cake it is,” he says. “Can you come over here and get rid of this knot in my neck? Please?”

Not for the first time, you wish Jeon Jungkook wasn’t so goddamn irresistible. “Lay down,” you sigh, approaching the bed and watching as he sends you the most radiant, grateful grin you’ve ever seen before flopping down onto the mattress. Tentatively, you settle next to him, leaning over and placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “How’s that?” you murmur, rubbing circles into his warm skin.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he groans, melting under your touch. “Just for this, I’m making you two cakes. And a batch of cookies. Any kind you want.”

“You can’t even bake,” you retort. “I’m pretty sure you would just end up setting yourself on fire.”

He snickers quietly, his shoulders quaking underneath your fingertips. “How would I set myself on fire with an oven?”

“You’d find a way.”

Jungkook hums out a content sigh when you begin working on a particularly tense spot in his back. “Fine, so I might need your supervision.”

You snort, shaking your head. “I have a better idea—why don’t you just buy me all the desserts I want? Less babysitting, more instant gratification.” Teasingly, you poke him in the ribs, giggling when he wriggles away and nearly tangles himself up in the mess of blankets on your bed. However, the grin is wiped promptly off your face when he suddenly rolls over, two strong hands gripping your hips and dragging you down onto the mattress. In an instant, you are on your back with Jungkook hovering over you triumphantly, a smug smirk painted across his handsome face.

“Instant gratification, huh?” He leans down until his nose brushes against yours, his dark gaze penetrating. “I can help with that, you know.”

He’s being too intimate. Everything about this—the sleepover, the impromptu massage—is far too intimate. Too domestic. Too romantic—as if he’s your boyfriend and you’re in love. This close to him, you feel as if all the air has been sucked straight from your lungs, your eyes widening when you see him descending even further to press a kiss to your mouth. “Damn it, Kook,” you grumble, mustering up your strength and shoving him away before your lips have the chance to touch. “Why are you so horny all the damn time?”

Jungkook rolls off of you, stretching like a cat before settling on his side and propping his cheek in his open palm. “What can I say?” he murmurs, wide gaze raking across your sprawled figure. “I can’t resist you.”

There’s something unspeakably tender in his tone, something that sinks between your ribcage and takes up residence in your chest, winding around your heart and squeezing until you can barely breathe. “D-don’t say such ridiculous bullshit,” you stutter, unable to look him in the eye. “Don’t you have places to be, or something? Jimin said something about practice yesterday, didn’t he?”

You don’t see the way Jungkook’s eyes flash with equal parts hurt and anger. You don’t see the way his fists clench in the rumpled sheets, wrinkling the soft cotton. Your gaze is fixated firmly on the sliver of blue sky visible from your window, and you don’t dare look away until you hear him mumble a quiet yeah and feel the mattress shift underneath you as he gets up and walks into the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him, and only then do you release the breath that you’re holding.

Minutes pass—minutes that you spend simply focusing on your breathing and trying to quell your tumultuous thoughts. You listen to the water running through the pipes in the ceiling while valiantly ignoring the sound of the shower in the adjacent bathroom—the sound that signals Jungkook’s lingering presence in your apartment. Groaning, you roll over onto your stomach and smother your face into the nearest pillow, but one whiff tells you that it’s the one Jungkook slept on last night and the realization sends you recoiling back and off the bed entirely.

You need to do laundry, and you need to do it as soon as possible. Anything to get Jungkook’s pleasantly musky, boyish scent off your sheets and pillows—anything to forget last night’s mistake of a sleepover and return things to normal.

Heart pounding, you back out of your bedroom and into the kitchen. The empty pizza box from the other night is still sitting in your trash bin like a taunt, and you resist the urge to flee again at the memories it brings up. Instead, you wrench open your refrigerator in search for a distraction, your gaze flitting across the empty shelves with growing distress. “Fuck.”

“You still haven’t gone grocery shopping, have you.” Jungkook’s voice suddenly sounds from behind you, and it’s not a question. Whirling around, you glance guiltily at his tall frame silhouetted in the entryway, one dark eyebrow raised at your predicament. “Jesus, {Name}.”

“I’ll go tomorrow,” you promise weakly. “I have some free time then.”

Jungkook shakes his head, closing the distance between you in a few short strides and tilting your chin up with his index finger. “For someone so smart, you’re absolute shit at taking care of yourself,” he says sternly. “What’s stopping you from going today?”

“I have to study,” you say, already knowing exactly how feeble an excuse it is when the first few syllables leave your mouth. “And, um. Your showcase is this afternoon.”

He brightens. “You’re coming?”

You swallow, hating how happy he suddenly looks—as if your presence at his performance means the world to him. “Y-yeah. I’ll do my best.”

Jungkook reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb smoothing across the skin just below your right eye. “I’m holding you to that,” he murmurs seriously. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

But then he’s pulling away again, his hand dropping back down to his side as he steps back and offers you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You watch as he grabs his duffel bag, swinging it over his shoulder before patting down his pockets for his wallet and keys. And then he’s walking off, disappearing out your front door and leaving you completely and utterly speechless in his wake.

///

You can’t focus.

Admittedly, it’s hard to focus on the words swimming across the pages of your textbook when your stomach is constantly and loudly protesting its current state of emptiness. Grumbling, you snatch your phone up from the table, unlocking the device and sending off a text to your best friend.

[10:04am] You: I’m starving, wanna get food?

Her response comes in almost immediately:

[10:04am] Jisoo: Don’t move a muscle, I’m coming over!!

Jisoo bursts into your apartment thirty minutes later with two paper bags and a massive thermos, her mouth already open and ready to berate you for your lack of self-care.

“Look, I know it’s finals week and all that, but you have got to take better care of yourself,” she trills, slamming the thermos down in front of you. “That’s coffee, drink up. I’ve got breakfast sandwiches in here—“ she drops one bag into your lap, “—and some basic groceries in here so you don’t die in the next couple days.”

Turning on her heel, she marches into your kitchen and begins emptying the contents of the second bag. You watch as she pulls out a carton of milk and a small crate of eggs, shoving both into your refrigerator before taking out a box of cereal and placing it on the counter. “I didn’t tell you I didn’t have any groceries,” you mumble, awed by her kindness.

“No, but you asked if I wanted to get breakfast,” Jisoo replies, fixing you with a knowing stare. “And you never ask if I want to get food unless your fridge is empty. Besides,” she adds, pulling out a box of crackers and another of cookies, “you always neglect your health when it comes to final exams. I kind of figured you’d already be half-starved to death by now, so it’s honestly a wonder you still look okay.” Her gaze skitters over to the pizza box in your trash, one perfectly arched brow raising. “Did you order pizza?”

You bite your lip. “Jungkook brought it over.”

“Thank god,” she sighs. “At least your boyfriend is taking care of you so I don’t have to worry so damn much.”

“Not my boyfriend.”

Your perfunctory response only earns you an exaggerated eye-roll from the dark-haired girl. “Yeah, yeah. Your fuck buddy then, whatever.” Pulling two mugs out of the cabinet, she joins you at the table, grabbing the thermos and pouring generous helpings of hot coffee into both before sliding one to you. “Did he bring it over yesterday?”

“Day before,” you murmur. “But… he was here yesterday too.”

“Of course he was.” Jisoo settles back comfortably in her chair, taking a long sip of coffee and nodding at the brown paper bag still sitting in your lap. “Hand me a sandwich and tell me everything.”

So you do. You detail all the events of the last two days—from your impromptu pizza dinner and study date to Jungkook’s departure just a couple hours ago. Jisoo listens intently the entire time, her eyes widening when you tell her about Jimin’s involvement, and narrowing in smug satisfaction when you mention the sleepover.

“God, it’s about time. I was wondering when you’d finally let him spend the night.”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, slamming your mug down onto the table a bit too vigorously and sloshing hot coffee across the wooden surface. “Fuck. I just… fuck. It shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have let him stay.”

Jisoo flinches back at the sudden spill, her eyes widening. “{Name}, it’s fine. It was late, and you were just looking out for him. No big deal.”

You shake your head. “Jisoo, he’s never spent the night. What if he gets all weird about it? What if this ruins our friendship?”

She raises a brow. “Honestly, sweetie, it looks like you’re the one getting weird. Besides, he wouldn’t have agreed to stay if he didn’t actually want to.”

You are about to open your mouth to protest again, but Jisoo cuts you off with a raised finger and a fistful of clean, slightly crumpled napkins.

“Nope, no more talking about it. I’m going to clean this mess up, you’re going to open that box of cookies I brought over, and we’re going to watch shitty reality TV until you’re not overthinking things anymore. Got it?”

You sigh and turn toward the kitchen, having learned long ago how useless it is to argue with Jisoo once she’s made up her mind. “Fine.”

///

There is already a sizeable crowd forming in the open lot behind the performing arts building by the time you and Jisoo arrive. Music blares through the loudspeakers, the bass boosted high enough to vibrate the ground beneath your feet. A makeshift stage sits at the very edge of the lot, steel gray beams rising up against the cloudless blue backdrop of the sky to hold aloft a simple white banner with Neuron emblazoned across the front in bold black text.

“Let’s get closer to the front,” Jisoo suggests, grabbing your wrist and dragging you forward until you are practically toeing the flimsy metal barricade corralling the audience.

“I’m gonna go deaf,” you lament, distastefully eyeing the speaker system sitting just a few feet away on the grass.

As if on cue, the music dies down, and Jisoo nudges you playfully as Hoseok ascends the steps to the stage, followed by Jimin and Jungkook. All three are decked out in ripped jeans and loose-fitting shirts with the topmost buttons undone, no doubt to expose a teasing flash of collarbone with every movement.

“Hey, everyone!” Hoseok steps up to the front where a microphone is set up, giving it a few taps before flashing his dazzling trademark grin. Cheers ring out, and the red-haired man beams. “Welcome to Neuron’s spring showcase!” he continues once the noise has died down. “I know we’re all busy with exams, but the three of us really appreciate you guys taking the time to come see us. We’ve worked incredibly hard on this routine—I’m sure Jimin and Jungkook can vouch for that—and we’re really excited to show it to you guys today. So thanks for coming out, and we hope you enjoy the show!”

Applause breaks out, and Hoseok’s beam widens as he turns away from the microphone and strides back to join his fellow dancers. His emerald green shirt billows in the breeze as he takes his position on Jungkook’s left and leaves the youngest member in the center—sunshine yellow shirt standing out like a beacon against Hoseok’s green and Jimin’s royal blue. The music starts up again—something low that pulsates with a bass line so heavy you can feel it rumbling in your chest—and you watch in fascination as Jungkook strides forward, each step as calculated and graceful as a prowling cat. One hand rakes through his hair as the other trails down his chest, and when someone in the audience whoops, an absolutely devastating smirk stretches across his lips and settles there.

Hoseok and Jimin join him then, flanking the younger man on either side and joining the choreography seamlessly. One by one, the three dancers fall to the floor, catching on their palms and kicking outward before sliding to their knees. The hip thrusts that follow send the audience into a frenzy, but you barely hear the boisterous cheers over the sound of your pounding heart. Jungkook’s gaze is roving across the crowd intently, and somehow, you know that he is looking for you.

The performance continues. Jimin leaps over Jungkook as the song changes, landing neatly and rolling his hips in time with the new, sultry rhythm. Without missing a beat, Jungkook rises smoothly to his feet and falls back alongside Hoseok. His eyes are still flitting across the audience, and for a brief, insane moment, you consider ducking behind Jisoo and using her as cover.

And then his gaze finds you at last, his brown eyes alight with a fire that you rarely see in the normally mild-mannered young man. You are unable to look away from his piercing stare, the erratic thud of your heartbeat against your ribcage a stark contrast to the smooth, seductive beat still pouring from the speakers. The pounding bass echoes heavy in your ears, the music wrapping around you like a blanket as you watch Jungkook move across the stage, each move flowing effortlessly into the next.

Before you know it, raucous applause fills the air. Startled, you tear your gaze away from Jungkook, taking in the furiously clapping audience surrounding you. To your left, Jisoo cheers heartily, tugging on your arm and grinning so hard you fear her mouth might fall off entirely. “That was their best performance yet!” she shouts. “I can’t believe you get to experience those hips firsthand, you lucky bitch.”

You flush at her insinuation. “Oh my god, Jisoo.”

She simply laughs, flicking her long hair over one shoulder. “Shut up, you love me. Are you gonna go congratulate Jungkook now?”

“Oh.” Glancing back up at the stage, your heartbeat picks up when you realize that it is now devoid of all three dancers. The intensity of Jungkook’s piercing stare is burned into your memory, and you can’t even begin to pinpoint the emotions roiling in your tummy at the thought of talking to him. “I, uh. I guess I should probably find him.”

Jisoo beams and waggles her fingers in farewell. “Well, don’t let me keep you from loverboy,” she singsongs cheerfully. And before you can berate her for the nickname, she’s already skipping off, tinkling laugh echoing behind her.

You heave a sigh, watching her disappear amongst the remaining members of the audience. People are milling about, all smiles and cheery chatter as they enjoy the reprieve from final exams. Hoseok’s distinctive hair catches your attention immediately, shining like a cherry-red beacon in a large group gathered near the stage. Expectantly, you scan the faces surrounding the dance captain, but the one you’re seeking is nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for me?”

Whirling around, you find yourself face-to-face with a thoroughly amused Jimin, one hand tucked casually into the pocket of his tight jeans while the other rakes through his ruffled blond hair. “Because if so, there’s no need to look further. I’m right here, princess.”

You snort out an incredulous laugh and roll your eyes. “Dream on, Park.”

“Believe me, after last night? You’ve been showing up plenty in my dreams,” Jimin replies with a wink. When that only earns him another eye-roll, however, he tucks both hands into the pockets of his jeans and relents with a good-natured chuckle. “Anyway. You enjoy the show?”

“It was incredible,” you say honestly. “Really. I’m… I’m glad I came.”

Jimin’s face stretches into a smug grin. “Glad you came to see Jeon?”

Ignoring the knowing look in his eyes, you shrug. “Needed a study break.”

He chuckles and reaches out to ruffle your hair. “Sure, princess.” Then he’s turning around and hollering for Jungkook, his grin widening when said young man immediately extricates himself from a nearby group of students and jogs over. “{Name}, why don’t you tell Jungkookie here what you were just telling me?” Jimin claps the other man on the back and offers you another saucy wink before strolling off. His golden head of hair quickly disappears amidst a group of squealing girls, leaving you alone with a wide-eyed Jungkook.

“What were you telling him?” the dark-haired young man asks, his brow furrowing.

“Nothing!” you say quickly. “I mean, well… I was talking about how incredible the show was, but then he made it all weird. I don’t know.” Huffing out a sigh, you meet his gaze. “You guys were great, though. Really great.”

A small smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome.”

For a few seconds, the two of you simply stand there. Jungkook shuffles awkwardly, scuffing his heel against the asphalt, and your gaze finds his sneaker-clad feet before darting over to your own toes. A crumpled beer can rolls by, buoyed by the spring breeze. You tuck a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“So, I guess I should go—” you start, making to walk away.

Simultaneously, Jungkook plants his feet and blurts, “D-do you want to go out?”

Both of you stop, blinking owlishly at the other. “What?” you ask dumbly, certain you’d misheard him.

Jungkook’s cheeks flush pink. “I… um. Fuck, I’m really not good at this.” Sheepishly, he scratches the back of his neck, brown eyes flickering up to meet yours as he sucks in a deep breath and slowly releases it again. “Look, I know this is kind of shitty timing. Really shitty timing. And I know you might, uh—well, you probably don’t feel the same way. But I…”He swallows, his throat bobbing anxiously before he exhales the next six words in a rush. “Fuck. I really like you, {Name}.”

Your voice, when you find it, is little more than a confused stammer. “Y-you… wh-what?”

Jungkook shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and huffing out a self-deprecating little chuckle. “I’ve ruined everything haven’t I? Shit. I’m sorry. I’m just so into you… but I totally understand if you don’t want to see me anymore. It’s just—I just couldn’t hold it in any longer, you know? And seeing you with Jimin drove me fucking crazy—“

“Kook.”

“—I mean, it was hot and all, but it also made me realize that I want you to myself but that’s probably not possible now. Fuck, sorry. I’ve ruined everything and I’m s—“

“Kook!”

The dark-haired man finally pauses in his rambling, eyes wide. “Y-yeah?”

Nervously, you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, worrying at the delicate skin. “You… like me?”

Jungkook sucks in another long breath before giving you a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

“But you said… before, back when we first met…” you mumble weakly, mind still whirring to process his confession. “You said no strings.”

“I know,” he says, running a frazzled hand through his hair. “But… things changed, you know? We got to know each other better and I realized how incredible you are—how smart and funny and nice and—and I just…” He sighs. “I had to tell you how I feel. But I know you don’t want a relationship, so I’m just gonna leave before I embarrass myself any more…”

He trails off, already turning to walk away when you snap back to your senses, reaching out and grabbing ahold of his hand. “Wait!”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?”

“You didn’t even let me talk, dummy,” you admonish gently, squeezing his hand.

He glances down at your intertwined hands, his expression morphing into one of tentative hope as he waits for you to continue. Your heartbeat thuds rapidly in your chest, threatening to burst out from your ribcage entirely as you search for the right words.

“I… I think you’re incredible too,” you finally manage after a few seconds, wincing at how awkward you sound. Jungkook, however, doesn’t seem to mind the stilted nature of your words. His face melts into a crinkly, full-fledged grin—one that shines brighter than his yellow shirt, brighter than the sun overhead.

“Yeah?” he asks, squeezing your hand. His grin doesn’t falter for a single second.

“Yeah,” you confirm, unable to look him in the eye. “And, um. I... I like you too. In case that wasn’t clear.”

Jungkook bursts into laughter, releasing your hand in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you close. “You’re so cute,” he says, leaning down to pepper kisses across both of your cheeks before finding your mouth.

“And you’re a dumbass,” you mumble, your face flushing when he just lets loose another delighted cackle and kisses you again.

“But I’m your dumbass,” he retorts playfully once he’s had his fill of your mouth. “All yours. What do you wanna do for our first date?”

You hum thoughtfully, fisting your hands in the soft material of his yellow shirt. “Well, you did promise me baked goods this morning.”

“I did, didn’t I? Then that settles it—let’s go grocery shopping.” Jungkook’s hand finds yours again, and when he laces your fingers together, you cannot help but think that nothing has ever felt more perfect. Still, you’ve never been able to resist an opportunity to tease him, and your new relationship status isn’t about to change that.

“Gave up on the idea of baking me cake already, huh?”

“Hey, I never said that. I just figured going to the store would be quicker.”

Your dark-haired boyfriend—because yes, he’s your boyfriend now—glances down at you, the beginnings of something wicked glimmering in his eyes.

“After all—we’re going to need a lot of sustenance with the way I’m planning on fucking you tonight.”

⇢ a bit more [prequel].

#jungkook #jimin #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jimin smut #jimin x reader #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jimin scenarios #jikook scenarios #jungkook x you #jimin x you #jeon jungkook #park jimin #jikook #college au #fwb au #college!au #fwb!au #bts #lia writes

[ticklybtswriter]

observant

summary: you thought that you were good at hiding your secret from them, but it seems that min yoongi is more observant than you knew.

request: Oof thank you for that soul wrecking fic I'm now bright red XD! If it's okay maybe I could request a oneshot with Yoongi slowly piecing together the reader is a Lee(maybe from first spotting her reading a fic on her phone or something) and then finding out about the community, doing some research in the process and than wrecking the reader with it all. ...I like to make myself suffer can you tell lmao. If you feel particularly inspired nsfw could be cool but only if you want to!! Love you bby!!

author’s note: (this gif mixed with this prompt put me in a lee mood) also, sheridan, i can’t thank you enough for this request!! i was so fun to write but i also despise it because now i just want yoongi to wreck me!! 

the request isn’t enitrely nsfw, but it does have some nsfw elements so be aware of that if you decide to read!! but anyways, i hope you like it!! -rosalie

If there’s one thing Min Yoongi prides himself on, it’s that he’s very observant. Being quiet provides some insight into the world around him, and God is he good at viewing the world around him. It was why he was the first of the seven to see right through your little facade.

The first clue was on one of the nights he collapsed with fatigue on the couch and decided to curl up to you. You were relatively calm; you were nose-deep in a book, which Yoongi didn’t mind because he knew that you were enjoying his silent presence just as much as he was enjoying yours.

It wasn’t until Jimin came running into the living room with Jungkook hot on his trail. Apparently, Jimin had taken something from him and Jungkook wasn’t too pleased. When Jungkook inevitably found him, you both witnessed Jungkook pin Jimin to the ground before he scribbled at Jimin’s sides, giggles pouring from the elder’s mouth while Jungkook told him it was what he deserved.

Yoongi, of course, told the maknae to go and do this in their bedrooms because he was trying to have some peace and quiet with you.

They listened to him, and Yoongi was ready to return to your alone time. However, shortly after, he noticed how stiff you’d gone. He peered up at you only to find your face oddly... embarrassed. Your eyes were wide, your lips were pursed, and your cheeks dusted with pink.=

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asked. “You look a little red.”

“Yeah!” You shook your head. “I’m just a little hot is all. I’m gonna go get some water!” You shrugged him off and scurried into the kitchen where he couldn’t see you.

Yoongi stared you your retreating form, taking note of your small fidgeting and blush. He figured you must have been embarrassed by the sudden PDA from them, but he wasn’t entirely sure. Yet.

The second clue was when he was laying down with you. He had another long day at the studio and wanted nothing more than to snuggle in bed with you. You obliged but told him you weren’t tired yet. You both came to the agreement that he could hold you but you’d still tap away on your phone.

That was fine and all for about thirty minutes. Yoongi wanted you to turn around so he could really cuddle you, yet you were still enthralled with your phone. He slowly lifted his head and tiredly squinted at what had you so captured.

You were reading something long, and... descriptive. It wasn’t a dirty novella, but it was describing the way someone’s hands were moving across skin and the elicit reaction of laughter ignoring from the reader. He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, wondering what you were reading. Especially after seeing your red cheeks from the light of your phone.

“Y/N?” He asked. “What’re you reading?”

After having thought he had fallen asleep ages ago, you squeaked at the sudden noise and quickly turned off your phone. “A-Aaah, nothing! Let’s just go to bed!”

He didn’t fight you on that, but the wheels in his head started to turn ever so slightly.

The last clue, which in truth wasn’t even a clue, but rather a confirmation to his sneaking suspicions, was when he found your Tumblr account.

It was by accident, really. You had gone to the bathroom real quick while on the app and left your phone open on the bed, your profile page visible to anyone who happened upon it. Yoongi just so happened to be that anyone.

He was looking for his ring which he was sure he left in your room when he saw your phone on. He picked it up, examining the app it was opened to. When he noticed your username revolved around tickles, he felt this sudden burst of self-pride for being on the right track. But when he saw your post about “really just wanting to be fucking wrecked with tickles and teases” he knew something had to be done.

Later that night, having taken a mental note of your Tumblr account name, he went through all of your posts about just how you wanted to be destroyed with tickles. He went through extensive research on the subject of tickling and the community you were secretly apart of. He found out a lot of useful information from that. (Especially that you were called a lee, because, not that he would ever admit to it, but he found that to be incredibly adorable.) Using it, though, was about to become one of his new favorite things.

You were getting ready to go to bed when Yoongi trudged in. Neither of you said much outside of a gentle greeting, but other than that, he just slipped into the bed with you. He wrapped an arm around your waist before snuggling close to you behind you.

Of course, you had thought nothing was out of the ordinary. Even when Yoongi started to slightly lift up your shirt, you were oblivious to your boyfriend’s true intentions that night. It wasn’t under you felt him start to slightly-ever so slightly- drum his fingers against the bare stomach of your skin.

You let out a small giggle. “W-What are you doing?”

“Hmm, nothing.”

He now moved from drumming to letting his fingers drag across your tummy. You let out a small intake a breath, and Yoongi took this as a sign to pick up the pace. Not enough to have you break out into full-blown laughter, but enough to get you to squirm. And squirm you did.

You felt him start to smirk against your neck, a feeling you knew all too well when his fingers were occupied elsewhere on your body. It dawned on you what was happening right then.

“Y-Y-Yoongi...?”

“Yes?” He drawled.

“H-How?”

"You’re so easy to read, kitten. You think you're subtle with your little kink, but I can see it all,” He, of course, was leaving out the part where he saw your blog but seeing you so flustered from him telling you this was satisfying enough. “I’d prepare yourself. This is going to be a long night for you, baby girl.”

Yoongi suddenly turned you so you were lying on your back and he was sitting on top of you. He was straddling your hips and the position alone was enough to make your face red. It got even redder, though, when Yoongi crackled his knuckles in front of you as a way to silently tell you that they would be working wonders/horrors against your skin.

“I want you to keep your arms up.”

“What? But I-I can’t-”

“You’d better,” Yoongi got close to your face. “Otherwise, I’ll make sure they won’t be able to move at all.”

Something you knew all too well about Yoongi was that he kept true to his word. You were fairly sure that the moment your arms went down, he was going to tie them up and your chance at escaping would forever be gone. Not that you were really looking for an escape, though...

Against your better judgment, you raised your arms above your head so your wrists hit the headboard. Yoongi, having given you one of his heart-stopping smirks, wasted no time in starting his torture.

He used his index fingers to lightly draw circles in your underarms. It shocked you as to how light he was. His barely-there touches were far from the rough tickles you had envisioned with him. And, yes, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t imagine him absolutely destroying you with tickles. You just never saw it becoming a reality.

You bit your lip to keep the giggles at bay. Yoongi spotted this right away. Needless to say, he wasn’t appreciative of this, “Are you really trying to hold in your laughs? How long do you think you can keep that up? I’d say... two seconds at most.”

He moved from tickling your underarms to pinching at your sides. You couldn’t help but let out a squeal at that, your arms instinctively reaching out to Yoongi’s hands to halt the movements. You realized your mistake too late.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Yoongi tsked. “What did I say about the arms?”

“No,” You whined, even though you were aware he would take your complaints as an excuse to wreck you further. “Yoongi, please!”

“Don’t be bratty,” Yoongi threatened. “I wouldn’t want to bring out the feather I brought.”

You felt your body go limp with desire. The mere threat of it made you compliant with Yoongi as he took the soft rope you both had used in other scenarios. You made a mental hell for yourself, though, when you watched him tie your hands together with such precision. It made you think about how skilled he was with his fingers. Fingers that would have full access to every inch of ticklish skin on your body in a minute or so.

“There,” Yoongi finished off the knot. “Now you’re completely at my mercy.”

You hated how casually he could say these things. You pouted.

“Don’t make that face; you’re just asking for this now.”

Yoongi started spidering his fingers against your stomach. Helpless bubbles of laughter escaped your throat. He saw this as a good sign and continued in his assault. He started running his fingers up and down both of your sides, alternating between the quick flutters and sudden jabs meant to keep you on your toes.

“Y-Yohohohongiii!” You whined. “Plehehease!”

“I’m barely even touching you, baby girl.” He lied straight through his teeth.

“Stohohop!” You laughed in response to his teasing.

“But why? We both know that you love this. No use in denying it.”

You were trying so hard to squirm away from his touches, but he followed every way that your torso moved. You had your eyes squeezed shut from the ticklish sensations, but in the off chance you opened your eyes, you could see that devilish smirk before he started to move down from your hips to your legs. 

He positioned his fingers over your thighs, making sure to give you an evil look in the eyes before he did so.

“Don’t you dare!” You warned.

He looked as though he was thinking for a moment. But after a few seconds of “consideration,” he dug into the skin of your hips. 

“NOHOHO! YOHOHOHONGI!” You were glad that the boys’ rooms were so far apart from one another, or your screams would’ve been heard clear as day.

You were bucking as best you could to get Yoongi off your legs. But with Yoongi being stronger than you and your arms tied away, there wasn’t even any use of escape. After one particular squeeze to your hips, you felt your resolve to flee dwindle. You couldn’t help but start to sit there and take the torture.

“Getting tired? Don’t worry, I have one last thing to really get your energy up.”

Your face got instantly hotter when he pulled out the feather he had threatened you with earlier. You gulped when he got ready to use it in his attacks.

“Y-Yoongi,” It was meant to sound intimidating, but the stammer in your voice didn’t do much to help you.

While you were having a tickle-induced mental breakdown, Yoongi was relishing in seeing you so conflicted over these sensations. You were loving every moment of this while at the same time doing anything you could to prove you were strong enough to handle it. But Yoongi knew all too well that you weren’t, and that this was breaking you in all the ways you’d described on your blog.

To emphasize his thoughts, he started flicking the feather across your tummy. Each individual tendril had hit your skin with an electric shock. You didn’t think a feather would feel as ticklish as everyone had made it out to be online. But shit... It was worse.

“NOHOHO! I CAHAHAHAN’T!”

“Can’t what? Can’t wait for me to put this little feather inside your precious belly button? Me neither. So why wait?”

“W-WAHAHAIT! NO!”

It was too late, though. The stiff feather started to sink into your belly button. You might as well have died on that spot. Because Yoongi then started to spin the feather so it reached every bit of skin inside while keeping one hand attached to your thigh.

Your resolution finally slipped away completely. You didn’t have it in you anymore to try to fight back, even with words. Your eyes were starting to fill with tears and your laughter was soon beginning to go silent. And while he loved seeing you in this state, Yoongi knew that this night of fun should end soon or else you’d pass out.

His twirling feather finally slowed, yet you were still releasing little excess giggles as he pulled it out of your belly button. Yoongi pulled the rope from your wrists which allowed you to instantly rip them from the headboard and rub the ghost tickles from your skin. You curled in on yourself, a bright smile still gracing your face, while Yoongi laid down beside you.

“Well, that was fun, don’t you think?” He asked. When he got no response, he fluttered his fingers against your stomach again.

“Yehehes! I-It wahas!”

“Glad you think so,” Yoongi nodded against your neck. “Because we’ll be doing this more often.”

Now it was your time to smirk. Finally... you were getting exactly what you wanted. You no longer had to spend your time groaning about your lack of tickles through Tumblr. Which, now that you thought about it...

“You found my Tumblr, didn’t you?”

#bts tickle fic #tickle fic #bts x reader #ler!min yoongi x lee!reader #ler!yoongi #lee!reader #min yoongi x reader #i was attacked by this fic #and i wrote it

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Bad Blood - Chapter 8

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

________________________

Peter doesn’t sleep on Friday night. He checks his phone for any emails and texts from other packs, and the silence is both deafening and pointed. The Hales are on their own. Deaton has emailed him. He’s heading down to Mexico to talk face-to-face with Araya Calavera, the matriarch of a hunter family known for its strict adherence to the Code.

It’s a long shot, probably, but Peter appreciates the gesture.

If the Calaveras didn’t give a fuck about the Argents going rogue six years ago when they burned the Hale pack to the ground, why the hell would they care now?

Scant hope, he supposes, is better than none at all. So Peter is grateful to Deaton for the attempt, even though he’s cynical enough to know nothing will come of it. That scant hope comes with a stab of guilt as well, because Peter has pushed Deaton away since the fire, and told Laura exactly what he thinks of emissaries and their useless advice. He hasn’t been fair to Deaton, he suspects. But then it’s been a long time since Peter has felt inclined to be fair to anyone.

It’s still dark when he pads downstairs for something to eat, even though it’s nowhere near breakfast.  

Peter helps himself to the cereal. It’s some sugary brand that Matty loves and insists that they buy for him. Nobody else eats it. Peter pours himself a bowl to save it from going stale, but he discovers that he doesn’t have the stomach to finish it.

He hopes Matty isn’t too homesick. He hopes he’s enjoying the tree house by the lake. He hopes that this ends soon, and he can come home.

That feels like the most hollow hope of all.

He thinks of John Stilinski, and how defeated the man had looked the other night when Peter had watched him through his kitchen window. That’s how Peter feels most of the time, although he doesn’t have the luxury of sinking into a bottle of whiskey. Peter might not be the alpha, but his pack—small as it is—relies on him. Laura needs to know that her left hand is steady. Derek needs to know that he isn’t alone. And Matty…

Matty needs his Uncle Peter to come home to.

Peter looks up at he hears footsteps on the stairs. He tilts his head and hears Derek’s familiar heartbeat. Moments later, the loft door opens.

“How was the party?” Peter asks.

“Why are you lurking here in the dark?” Derek mutters.

“I’m cultivating my persona,” Peter says. He doesn’t need light to know that Derek’s giving him a death glare for that. “I couldn’t be bothered turn a light on.”

Derek grunts.

“How was the party?”

“Scott kept control,” Derek says.

Peter doesn’t need to be a left hand to know there’s something Derek isn’t saying. He’s his uncle. He’s been able to read him like a book since he was a toddler. “And?”

“And nothing,” Derek says, gruff and flustered.

Well then.

Peter allows himself a slight smile at that. So Derek got distracted by some pretty thing, did he? It’s been a while. Peter doesn’t begrudge it. Derek’s no Scott, after all. He knows how to prioritise safety over sex.

These days, at least.

It was a hard-learned lesson though, for everyone.

Derek flops down on the couch opposite Peter’s.

“Deaton’s going to Mexico,” Peter says. “To speak to Araya Calavera.”

“What will that help?” Derek asks.

“Something Laura said the other day,” Peter says. “She said that even if we could win against the Argents, what would stop the other hunter families from coming? Well, this might.”

“You really believe that?” Derek’s eyebrows tug together.

“It’s a slim hope,” Peter admits, “but it’s better than nothing. Which is our other option, by the way.”

Derek shows him a tight, grim smile.

Peter thinks again of John Stilinski. Stilinski is like a pebble in his shoe. An irritant. There’s something about him that Peter just can’t ignore. Peter doesn’t like it when he can’t solve a puzzle, and that’s what John Stilinski is. He’s a puzzle, with pieces that refuse to fit together.

Derek leans over and inspects Peter’s bowl of cereal, and then, with a shrug, steals it and begins to eat.

Peter watches him with a smirk.

He isn’t sure how much Derek and Laura know about what happened on the night of the fire. They were both out and, when they were finally able to see Peter at the hospital, there was just so much to take in that night, and over all the followings days and nights, that he’s not sure that one little detail—John Stilinski breaking the line of mountain ash so Peter could escape—wasn’t swept away under the sheer weight of everything else.

The loss of their parents, their siblings, their pack.

The loss of their home.

Laura’s new alpha status.

Derek’s crushing guilt when he realized that the woman he’d thought he’d loved had been the one who struck the match.

Matty’s slow recovery from his burns and his smoke inhalation. There had been more than one occasion where, when he was fighting infection, that the doctors told them to prepare for the worst.

Peter stretches and stands. “I’m going out.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “It’s the middle of the night.”

Peter flashes him a smile. “Then don’t wait up, nephew.”

***

It’s not the middle of the night at all. It’s almost dawn when Peter finds himself at Stilinski’s house. Peter approaches it from the back—he has a working relationship with the dog next door, and Jasper hasn’t given him any trouble since that first night years ago when Peter growled right back at him. There are lights on in Stilinski’s house—upstairs in his bedroom, and a few downstairs. An early shift? Peter might be a hell of a stalker, but even he doesn’t know the man’s roster.  

And then he hears voices: low and angry.

Peter slips down the side of the house to the front yard.

There’s a black SUV parked out the front of the house, and Chris Argent is standing in the sheriff’s open doorway.

Well, he’s standing when Peter first sees him.

And then he’s flying backwards and landing on his ass on the porch, and John Stilinski is stepping out of the doorway to stand over him.

Chris Argent shows the sheriff his palms. “John,” he says, and then: “Janusz.”

“Get the hell off my property,” Stilinski says.

So it’s not a lie, and it never was. John Stilinski really isn’t a hunter anymore. He’s not an ally though either, is he?

Peter watches closely.

“John,” Chris Argent says again. He climbs carefully to his feet, and takes a few steps back. Peter doesn’t blame him. Stilinski looks like murder. “You broke the Code.”

“That’s a lie.” Stilinski’s heart doesn’t skip a beat. “If that’s what he told you, it’s a lie.”

Chris flashes a bitter smile and shakes his head. “You betrayed us.”

“I didn’t—”

“You left us!” There’s more hurt in Chris Argent’s words than Peter would have thought a hunter was capable of feeling. And then his stoic mask is back, like it was never lifted. “You’re a traitor to every oath you swore to uphold, John.”

“Get the fuck off my property,” Stilinski says. “I won’t tell you again.”

Chris shakes his head again, and turns and walked down the porch steps. They creak under his boots. He stops when he reaches the ground, and turns back. “I’m sorry, John. I’m sorry it had to end this way.”

“You keep telling yourself that, you son of a bitch,” Stilinski says. “See if it’ll help you sleep at night.”

He slams the door.  

***

“Derek,” Laura says on Tuesday night, “are you even listening to me?”

Derek looks up from his phone guiltily. “What?”

“I asked if you were even listening to me,” Laura says, rolling her eyes.

Derek flushes, colour rising in his cheeks, and shoves his phone in his pocket. “Sorry.”

“You’ve been checking that thing for days,” Laura says. “Did you and Scott accidentally bodyswap Friday night? Because I’d swear you’re as ridiculous as him right now.”

Derek glares at her.

“Oh, you did!” Laura exclaims. “You turned into Scott, and you met a pretty girl at the party too, and now you’re in lurrrrve! Any second now all your higher brain function will migrate to your dick, and you won’t be able to form a single coherent thought!”  

“Shut up,” Derek mutters, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I’m not in love.” His flush deepens. Even the tips of his ears turn pink. “And it wasn’t a girl.”

Laura’s eyes widen. “Tell me everything! Is he cute? God, no, it was a high school party. Acne-ridden nerd, or acne-ridden jock?”

Derek tries to disappear into the space between his hunched shoulders.

Peter might enjoy moments like these, he thinks, moments of teasing banter, if only the shadow of the Argents didn’t loom over them.

“Alpha,” he says pointedly. “While I’d love to tease Derek as much as the next person, can we please focus on the issues at hand? This is a strategy meeting. How about we try some actual strategising?”

Laura perches on the edge of the couch, her smile fading. “You’re right, sorry.”

And Peter feels like a monster, for stealing this moment of levity from her. She’s had so few since the fire.

“So do we have a strategy?” Laura asks. “Or are we just sitting ducks?”

“We fight,” Peter says. “That’s the strategy. We take them down before they take us down, and we hope that Deaton can make a case with the Calaveras to keep the other hunter families off our backs.”

Laura nods, and exhales slowly. “It’s the only option, isn’t it?”

“I think so, yes,” Peter says.

Derek nods slowly.

“I think that—” Laura stops suddenly, and draws a sharp breath. She sways, and Derek reaches out to steady her. “Oh god!”

“Laura?” Derek asks.

And then Peter feels it too. A sharp burst of not-quite pain, like a flash of white in his vision. It shoots along his pack bonds in his mind, a discordant twanging string on a musical instrument Peter knows well enough to play by feel, suddenly out of tune with all the others.

Something’s wrong with the pack bonds.

Something’s very, very wrong.

Peter sees the bonds in his mind’s eye, and one is rapidly fraying, strands unravelling, the pieces holding it together thinner and thinner by the moment.

Peter can almost hear it when it snaps.

Laura gasps, and her hand flies to her throat. “Scott!”

#bad blood #sterek #steter senior #my fics #discontentedwinter