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alphabetboyluvr · 7 months

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NIGHT CRAWLERS - JJK

title credit: night crawlers - kids in glass houses

pairing: drugrunner!jungkook x sugarbaby!reader, college au

synopsis:

jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

warnings: jungkook and o/c are polar opposites, but y’know what they say, opposites attract and all that jazz, jk is a college student but also a drug runner, mentions of gang dynamics and hierarchy, oc is a sugar baby, mentions of consensual but uncomfortable sexual encounters as a result of this (proceed with caution), drugs, violence, blood, motorbikes, hurt/comfort, all the good stuff, smut – fingering, tittie sucking (wow pretend to be shocked!), unprotected sex, jk has the hugest cawk in the whole entire world, jk is a lil aggressive but in a sexy way, he accidentally says something mean during sex (not sexy mean, actually mean (he makes up for it tho!)), jk on top, oc on top, mentions of his pubes (yummy), tummy pressing, kissy kissy kissy koo, creampie, post-coitus nap, they’re literally in love idk what to tell you, ambiguous ending!!

wordcount: 26K

note from holly: originally published to wattpad in 2021 and also briefly uploaded to tumblr, too. It’s just hit 100k reads over on wattpad so I thought I’d put it here too!! There are two additional chapters on wattpad, connecting the story another fic of mine and also showing us jk + oc four years on from the events of NC!! If you’re interested, you can find it here (x).

i write in british english!! both in spelling and dialect!!

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

IT'S BEEN SAID that with great notoriety, comes great responsibility to uphold the expectations of those who presume the worst about you.

Okay, so that's a lie. No one's ever said that - but Jeon Jungkook has never been one for sticking to traditions, and so he likes to live his life as if that's his motto.

That, and 'rather be dead than cool.'

Which is ironic, because it's only the heteropatriarchal bores - the ones from upper-class families, who want a white picket fence and 2.4 kids - that actually think he's lame.

And he doesn't particularly give a shit about their opinions.

Everyone else thinks he's actually pretty fuckin' cool.

Black nails, black cargo pants, black hair that waves loosely over his sharp features. An air of command as he walks, a swagger in his step that lingers in stranger's heads like the silage of his aftershave.

Yeah, Jungkook is cool, and he fucking knows it.

A rucksack is perpetually slung over his shoulder, the top concaved slightly to indicate there's very little in there, not much more than a tatty notepad and a few loose pens - or so you assume.

You've never actually spoken to him. Why would you?

Daddy's little princess, glossy lips, manicured nails. The kind of girl who gives him a second look, but only to sneer. He doesn't think of you often, but when he does, it's never nice.

Jungkook doesn't have time for you, and you don't have time for him. Your paths rarely cross.

At least they barely crossed. Past tense.

Now that you're taking a few of the same classes as him, he sees you a lot more than he likes. Hair always up in that stupid fucking ponytail that he can't see past, perpetually on your phone. Attention seeking little bitch.

He'd ranted a little to Jimin about it, told him that you really must have been a dumb bitch to swap from an economics major to a film studies major with only a single semester left.

Jimin hadn't said much in return. Unlike Jungkook and his insatiable hate-boner for you, Jimin really doesn't give a shit about you. Barely knows your name, let alone the fact that you studied economics before switching over. Was kind of curious as to how Jungkook knew that. Not enough to bother with asking, though.

Jungkook thinks it's normal to scope out the competition. A little Facebook look-up, Naver search, Instagram scroll. Surely it's rational to do that? Check out their LinkedIn, cross-reference their Twitter history to see what they've said about the course.

It absolutely isn't normal, but then again, nor is Jungkook.

He's exactly as he appears to be; the rogue look isn't a front.

But beneath the exterior, there are a few more traditions he's subverting.

He's the first in his family to attend college, and he needs to ace this class to keep his scholarship.

It's all just projection, the way he despises you.

You've got everything he wants. A well-to-do family, money, prosperity, financial security. He's never known that. And while he shits on you for having parents that have provided for you, all he wants in life is to be able to do the same for his own children one day.

"I've matched you all with students of a similar grade level, so no one is at an unfair advantage," your professor calls out, tearing Jungkook from his thoughts. "Not a single one of you will experience the city in the same way. From shortcuts to your favourite coffee spots, your lives here will have been different to those of your peers."

Jungkook smirks, leaning back on his chair. He knows this city better than most; its dark corners, where the monsters lurk... how to hide and where to run.

Again, the rogue look isn't a front.

But he also knows how to work a camera better than anyone in that room, how to time his shots, how to frame them, too. Top of the class, though modestly quiet about it (he's got a reputation to uphold, after all), he's curious to see who would be considered an even match for him.

"That being said, your experiences are also shared with those around you. For this assignment, with your partner, I want you to create a unique piece of film that captures what the city means to you. Think outside the box. Create something that excites, that invokes. You've got eight weeks. The partner list is on the noticeboard at the back of the hall. Dismissed."

Footsteps echo around the lecture hall as everyone trundles out of the room. You wait back, having already seen the list before you entered the class.

Instead, you pull out a pen - one of the ones that Jungkook hates, with a ridiculous fluffy pink pom-pom on top - and jot down your number. You aren't aware of his insatiable hatred, and either way, you don't really care.

He ignores you as you approach his desk, eyes only drifting upwards when you slide the torn-out piece of paper towards him.

"Mhmm?"

He's rude, you notice. Brows raised, expression flat, he's fed up with you before you've even said a word. Kinda hot, admittedly, but rude.

"We're partners," you say with an ambivalent shrug. Jungkook's jaw seems to tense, head tilting as he breathes out a short smirk.

Partners?

"You haven't even gone out to check the board."

"So what?" You scoff a little. He doesn't like your tone. The feeling is mutual. "I just made it up?"

It's his turn to shrug, now. "Dunno. You tell me."

His hair waves around his features, and you wonder how long it takes him to make it look so natural. The girls around campus swoon over his hair, like he's some kind of God. Other boys try to emulate it, but they can never quite pull it off like he does.

Another thing that all the girls giggle about are his doe-like eyes, but they're hard, now. Narrow, almost. Less of a doe, more like a dragon. Maybe if you get his nostrils flaring, he'll breathe fire, too.

Yeah, he's hot, you want to laugh to yourself, but not that hot.

"I checked before I came in. Didn't take a genius to work out what it was for."

He takes a moment before he nods. "Right. Well, you should probably know that I work better alone. Just let me handle the assignment, a'right? You can put your name on it, whatever, I don't care. Just let me handle it."

A control freak, you note. Nice.

You didn't transfer majors in your last semester, and face all the hardships that came with such a decision, just to sit back and let someone else do the hard work for you.

"With all due respect, it's a joint assignment. I'm not putting my name on work I didn't actually do."

A stickler for the rules, he assesses. Fucking fastastic.

"Look," he sighs, adjusting his body so that he's practically leaning halfway over his desk. As much as it sounds like he doesn't want to be a part of this conversation, his body language is oddly engaged. "I need to ace this class. You've been here, what? All of three minutes? Film what you wanna film, send it over to me for editing."

"I'm very much capable of editing-"

"And if you could do me a favour and keep the nail salon footage to a minimum, that would be much appreciated. Everyone's seen that shit. It's not interesting. Gangnam underground shopping centre B-roll, too."

It's a thinly veiled insult. Assumptions he's making about you based on the clothes you wear and the company you keep. He doesn't explicitly say it, but you know what he means: you're not interesting.

Jungkook doesn't mean to be an asshole. Not really. He's just got a lot riding on this course, and doesn't want to risk it all for the sake of keeping the peace with someone he doesn't particularly like in the first place.

"Like our Professor said, we all experience the city differently," you plaster a smile on your face, the plastic kind that Jungkook hates. "You might just be surprised at what I can offer."

Private tennis clubs and shopping sprees worth more than a second-hand car? Yeah, no. He'll pass, thanks.

"Whatever," he reclines back, giving your number the once over before tearing a strip of empty paper from the bottom of the note. His hand moves quickly, scrawling his own number onto it. He doesn't hand it to you, but instead tosses it down onto the desk as he stands. "As I said, I work best alone. Don't bombard me with messages about the project. I'll have it under control."

He vacates his desk with an air of arrogance that you don't think he's yet earnt. Sure, he's hot, and from what you've seen of his work, he's pretty talented, too. But no one likes working with assholes, and the whole point of being at college was to make yourself a desirable candidate for jobs.

Or at least that's what your parents had always said.

When they were still talking to you, that was.

Before they decided that you're a disgrace to the family name, all for the simple desire of not wanting to spend your life slaving over finances and spreadsheets.

Like inheritance and a slightly crooked nose (straightened out for your high school graduation gift), econ majors ran in your family - and just like you'd cut off your parents' dream of watching you become an economist, they'd cut you off. Full stop.

So as far as you were concerned, Jungkook could take his arrogant whining about your financial situation, and the hobbies you might have enjoyed as a result of your upbringing, and shove it up his ass.

You really wish he would. Shove it up his ass, that is. Might relieve him of the pent up tension he seems to have going on.

Swiping up his number, you tuck it into your back pocket, ruing the day you'll actually have to text it.

It comes as a surprise to both of you when, a week later, Jungkook is the first to type a message into your fledgeling chat window.

I'm filming tonight. Could use a Grip, if you're free. Dongdaemun Design Plaza, 7pm.

You wonder how much pride he must have had to swallow in order to send you that.

On occasion, during the past week, you've caught him looking at you in that slightly menacing way he always likes to do.

Part of you thinks he's unaware that he's doing it, just zoning out in your direction, but then you see him shake sense into himself - quite literally, a bunny with an itch behind its ear kind of shake - before he averts his gaze.

He does a similar shake of his head when your response pings through to his phone.

Can't do Tuesdays or Thursdays. Sorry. Maybe another time.

He doesn't reply.

REJECTION HAS NEVER been something Jungkook has taken well. It's why he works so hard, fearful of being told that he isn't good enough.

He'd only sent that text because he genuinely did need a Grip.

Well, no.

That's not quite right.

He needed a muse; a subject of his shots, a pair of eyes to catch the confetti of night market lights in. Someone's hand to film as they exchanged money with a hotteok stand server, another human to get lost and found all within the same shot.

But that felt awkward to ask, especially after his insistence that he could do it all alone, so he'd settled for pretending he'd needed a grip. Just someone to hold his gear while he took tricky shots. That's all.

Given your rejection, he was pleased with his choice.

"Familiar," Yoongi nods over lunch the next day, following Jungkook's gaze. "Yeah, I've definitely seen her around. Dunno where, though."

"Campus, maybe?" Jimin rolls his eyes, confused at the fixation Jungkook seems to have on you.

Yoongi shakes his head. "Nah... She looks like-" he glances over to Jungkook conscious of Jimin's listening ears.

"Like?"

"Just like a girl I see occasionally," Yoongi pauses again, making sure Jungkook's focus on him. "At work."

Jimin laughs. "So yeah, on campus. You work in the campus cafe, Yoongs."

It was the only legitimate place that would hire him. Dumb choices as a kid - and a questionable nickname that's now etched into his knuckles - prevents most places from seeing him as a viable candidate.

Yoongi laughs along with Jimin, but Jungkook knows Yoongi isn't talking about the once a week shift that he picked up as a form of extra credit.

Jungkook knows, because on paper, he doesn't have a job either.

On paper, he manages to survive on his scholarship bursary, The Holangi Honour, awarded to gifted students from underprivileged backgrounds.

On paper, Jungkook is the Korean dream of hard work and perseverance.

His reality isn't so pristine, but it never has been. He comes from a long line of high school dropouts with dubious morals and criminally reckless career choices. It was naive to have thought attending university would help him escape it.

Scholarship funds dried up pretty quickly, rent and t-money cards eating away at it, until Jungkook had no choice but to revisit old haunts.

Yoongi had told Jungkook that he didn't need to worry, that he could help him out if he needed money, but Jungkook was no leech, much to his older friend's despair. He didn't want the kid getting into the same trouble that he was in.

One meeting with Yoongi's old school friend, Hoseok and Jungkook was in the rat race again, delivering people's come ups for when the sun went down.

He'd always been good at running. Track, field, red lights, out of luck. Drugs, now, too.

Jungkook had managed a good year and a half on the straight and narrow. For that, he was proud. And sad.

But he's also determined.

Top grades mean top jobs in the future, which means never having to traipse around Daerim at ass o'clock in the morning.

He hates this part of town, but it's where business is currently booming.

Hobi texts him a drop-off list each morning, ensuring his nights are almost exclusively spent in Daerim.

This is how Jungkook sees the city: grotty back allies, groups of men huddled around a pack of cards and dice on the floor, cigarettes hanging out of their mouths, phlegm spat onto the foor. He sees the women of the night in the early hours of the morning, and the sadness in the smiles they give to the men who approach them on street corners.

There's only one club of any worthwhile note in the area, and between jobs, Jungkook likes to sit up on the fire exit that rests above the back entrance.

It's where Hobi works, assisting some other reprobate that Jungkook doesn't care to learn the name of. Nasty piece of work, or so he's heard. The son of some powerful motherfucker that Jungkook knows to stay away from. He isn't interested in joining any stupid fucking gang. He just wants to get his money, get through university, and forget about this place.

That's the big dream at least.

His current wish, which feels much more immediate, is to outrun the fucker who has been on his tail for the past half a mile. Jungkook's pretty fast on his feet, and he gives a mean left-hook, but the guy chasing him has a pocket knife and that doesn't really feel like a fair fight.

It's his fault, and he knows it.

As per usual, Hobi had texted Jungkook his drop off list. Six of them, all in Daerim. He had no business being down by Jungang Market, especially not on a Thursday evening.

He couldn't even explain why he was; he was just curious about what life could be like if he ended up flunking out of college. He wanted to see where the monsters liked to lurk, or if they hid in the shadows like boogeymen.

But reprobate recognises reprobate, and drug runner recognises drug runner.

So now Jungkook really is running, out of territory that he shouldn't have infringed upon.

He's not out of breath yet, but he is conscious that his heartbeat feels like it's in his throat. A few streets over, his motorbike is parked behind an industrial-sized trash can, and he prays that no thieving cunt has tried to make a get away with it. They wouldn't have managed it - it's his prized possession and he never leaves it unprotected.

When he spots it a few minutes later, he laughs, relieved. "You beauty," he praises the engine, pulling his key from the pocket of his leather jacket.

The fucker chasing him is nowhere to be seen, probably nursing a stitch or panting down a different back alley. Jungkook doesn't want to risk it, eyes darting all over the place as he unbuckles the chain on his bike wheel with muscle memory alone. The metal clangs through the iron bars that protect the banjihas down the alley from break-ins. He always feels a little bit of guilt for chaining his bike up to the only source of natural light for the half-basement dwellings, but it's quarter past two in the morning. Not exactly sunshine hours.

And yet his eye is drawn to the light pouring down from a street lamp at the entrance of the narrow lane.

Usually, you ignore the noises you hear on your walk home - but, as strange as it sounded for Jungkook's voice to issue a compliment, you're almost positive that it is his voice.

Dark hair, dark eyes, he doesn't recognise you at first. You're wearing black, and your hair is down, but your lips still have that stupid fucking pink lipstick on, the one he'd seen you blot away onto a tissue in the middle of a lecture a few days prior.

His eyes linger, the lights flickering in his glossy dark irises as if there are fireworks inside that pretty little skull of his. For a moment, he thinks you must have been filming for the assignment.

The lack of a camera proves otherwise.

"Get on the bike," he yells over to you, tugging on the sleeve of his leather jacket, pulling it down. Cognitive thoughts aren't something Jungkook's really working with, the adrenaline speaking for him.

That, and the fact that he's acutely aware of what men like the motherfucker who was chasing him down did to girls like you. Might not like you, but he doesn't want that on his conscience.

Plus, he needs your signature on the coursework documents, too. You're no use to him if you end up chopped into little squares and scattered in the river.

"Damnit, just get on the fucking bike!" He continues, noticing that you haven't moved a muscle. His jacket is off now, held out for you to take. He's impatient, eyes darting down the alleyway, as if he's scared of the rain that's pouring down around you. "Look, I ain't asking again. Just get on the bike, or I'll fuckin' leave you here. Some nasty fuckers about tonight."

And while you may not trust Jungkook, you don't trust the alleyways of downtown Seoul even more. You've seen the horrors. You know the dangers. Your mother didn’t raise a fool.

She also didn't raise you to bow to the commands of assholes like him either.

You ignore his jacket, hiking up your skirt, revealing far more of your thigh than most get to see. He doesn't make a comment, but you know he sees a flash of your underwear as you do so.

For once, sex seems to be the last thing on his mind.

Rain pools in the gutter by the drainpipes, trickling down, collecting in the ducts. A puddle sits on top, a tell-tale sign that the street is going to flood soon, but Jungkook also doesn't give a shit about that. Not right now - but he does make a mental note to check that the drains are unblocked by his place when he gets home.

He's a fellow basement dweller, dependent on the cheap rent. A banjiha boy with big dreams of getting out.

You hoist your leg over, ignoring the droplets of water on the leather seat, as your hand wraps around his waist. The front of his white shirt is damp from the rain, elevating the scent of his laundry detergent. You don't hate it. Quite like it, actually.

"Wet conditions," he rasps, voice still hurrying out of his mouth. "So take the jacket. If I slide, the tarmac will rip your skin off." He turns, wrapping the jacket around your shoulders. "I'm not your father. Dress yourself."

"I'd be a bit concerned if my father was trying to dress me at the ripe old age of 21," you bite back, as if the fabric of his jacket doesn't feel like it's melting into your skin on account of how bloody warm he is. You push your arms through the material, shaking it ever so slightly as Jungkook begins to rev the engine.

"Thanks would have sufficed," he bites back a scoff, not wanting to waste time arguing. "Try not to fall off, a'right?" He gruffs.

Some would have considered his concern endearing. You know it's just because he doesn't want to spend his evening scraping your flesh off the sidewalk. Not because he gives a single flying fuck about you.

"Hold on."

He doesn't wait for longer than a second, just enough time for you to wrap your arms around his waist, before he pulls down on the accelerator. His exhaust chortles, spitting out petrol as he goes, water from the ground splashing up against your bare leg. You can feel goosebumps forming, and yet your arms are completely warm.

Of course they are. Jungkook's chest is a fucking furnace, heart pumping blood through him faster than the speed of light. Forward, forward, forward, he pushes his bike on, away from the downtown area he found you in, and away from the demons who were hunting him.

The vibration of the bike is a welcome disguise. Beneath the motor's veil, you're shaking. Partly terrified, partly the victim of an adrenaline surge.

Hardly a surprise. You've never been on a bike like his before.

There weren't many men on motorbikes around your neighbourhood as a child, only Old Jinyeon, who had a Harley that he only rode on the weekends, or when his wife was away at that spa retreat that everyone knew was really code for 'rehab'. Prescription medication was her poison, mostly. There were whispers that alcohol was a bit of a problem, too.

It was a shame, really. She was a nice lady - she'd just married into a lifestyle that didn't suit hers.

Old Jinyeon's father had also been called Old Jinyeon, and his father before that, regardless of their age. The name wasn't the only thing inherited, but a fortune too. Old by name, old by money.

He'd met his wife at a gentleman's bar; gambled all of his chips away just so that he could keep talking to her as she worked.

But the good is rarely easy, and the easy never good. Women like her weren't supposed to be with men like him.

And girls like you aren't supposed to be on the back of boys like Jungkook's motorcycle.

But here you are, hurtling through the city at a speed you're pretty sure isn't legal, clinging onto him for dear life. Your eyes are shut, streaming with tears from the wind, mascara blotting onto his back.

"Left turn," he calls over his shoulder to brace you. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, stomach losing all stability as he rounds the corner. You've never suffered from travel sickness before, but now seems like the prime time to develop it.

The lights of the city all bleed into one kaleidoscope of colour. Your sense of direction has been rendered useless, only opening your eyes once every few seconds to make sure that this is real. And every single time, you're surprised to find that it is.

You expect it to be like a dream where you fall, only to wake up at the last second - but you've never had one of those dreams. You've only seen them in movies. You're not even sure they actually exist in real life. Perhaps this would be the closest you'd get to one. A main character moment - though this felt more like a crime-thriller than the rom-com you would have liked.

The feeling of damp wind in your hair like this is new, and exciting, but all you can think about is the fact that you're pretty sure one of your fake lashes just flew off. You pull your hand back to stroke at your lashes, just to check, but it's caught by Jungkook grabbing for it.

"I told you to hold on," he shouts, though he doesn't need to. The vibrations of his vibrato can be felt through his back. "So hold the fuck on, a'right?! I don't say shit like that for fun."

Jesus, you think. Who pissed in his cornflakes?

But he's right. You do need to hold on. He proves it by not warning you the next time he turns, the bike leaning so close to the tarmac that you're convinced you can feel rubber burn. He eases as soon as he hears you shriek, the grip you have on his chest so hard he swears you might puncture his skin. Reaching back, he cups your knee with his palm, checking for any sign of blood or broken skin. Negative. And yet his hand lingers before he retracts it. He's just making sure. Double-checking. Over-indulging.

"The fuck was that, asshole?" You all but scream.

"I told you to hold on, didn't I?!"

He did. And if you weren't doing so now, tighter than before, you'd have hit him so hard in the balls that he'd have no choice but to adopt in later life.

"You could have fucking killed me!"

"Oh, boo-hoo," he sneers, catching his tongue before he says something he'll grow to regret.

Jungkook would never have killed you. He knows these streets like the back of his hand, and how to ride his bike almost as well as he knows how to get himself off. It's second nature. Innate. A gift.

But before you can argue back, he draws to a stop, his exhaust rattling, the motor purring. As much as he'd like to tell you to get the fuck off his bike, he can feel you trembling now. A part of him - a very slim, deeply hidden part - feels guilty for being so hard on you.

He's grown up with bikes. Trusts them. Lives, breathes gasoline.

He doesn't imagine you know how to change a bicycle tyre, let alone anything with a motor.

The hand that had checked you for damage earlier returns, his fingertips warm against your goosebumps skin. He strokes lightly, once, twice, quickly. "You're fine," he tells you, and you want to believe him.

"Never said I wasn't."

He snorts a small laugh, then taps your knee, encouraging you off of the bike. His hand remains close as you do so, conscious of the fact that you'll most likely be unsteady on your feet - feet that he now notices are clad in the strappiest pair of heels he's ever seen in his life. Perhaps he doesn't need to worry about your stability at all. If you can walk in those, then you can surely handle a pair of wobbly knees.

Without much thought, you take his offer of assistance, his jacket dwarfing you as you stand, hand clasped in his.

"Where are we?"

The alleyway you're down is unlike the previous one he stole* you from (*rescued). It's cobbled and damp, yes, but the doors down here lead to dwellings, garages too. Not an industrial-sized trash cart in sight. And it doesn't smell like fermented piss either, which is a surprise. You thought that was just the standard for side-streets around these parts.

"Doesn't matter," Jungkook shrugs ambivalently as he unhooks his leg over the bike.

He wants to ask why you're wearing such stupid shoes.

That's a lie.

He doesn't think they're stupid.

He actually quite likes them. You've nice ankles. They look good.

What he really wants to ask is why you're wearing them on a school night. The pair of you might be in college, but it wasn't student night at the clubs, and he hadn't picked you up from a particularly nice part of town.

There are only three types of women he ever sees in Daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. You aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get Percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. He's sure of it.

So it then further begs the question: why the fuck were you there?

Sliding off his jacket, you offer him a small smile. It's the least you can do, you suppose.

It's funny, because you only ever see three kinds of men in Daerim: drunks, gamblers, and dealers. Jungkook isn't any of those. You might not know that much about him, but you know he's a scholarship kid, and that he won the winter film festival on campus for his documentary on back-alley gambling.

"We're not too far from campus," he eventually states. Few blocks over. He assumes you live on campus. Got the money for it.

"Cool," you nod, sure that you'll be able to find your bearings from here. You don't live on campus. Not anymore. No money for it. "Thanks for the lift, I guess."

The atmosphere is awkward, dewy mist in the air dampening both of you. He nods back, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

He knows he should invite you in, offer you somewhere to wait while you call a cab or something, but he's embarrassed. Of himself. His living situation. The fact that he doubts you've ever even been in a basement that isn't a wine cellar.

"Look I-"

"So-"

Jungkooks nose scrunches, cringing at the awkwardness. You glance down, self-conscious.

"What were you doing over in Daerim?" he asks rather out of the blue. He doesn't even process that he's asked until it's too late.

You clear your throat a little. "Just had some errands to run."

"At two in the morning?"

You nod.

"Right," he doesn't believe you, but can't think of a better explanation.

"Well, what were you doing there?" You ask, albeit a little more confrontational than intended. You were on the defensive.

His mouth is flat as he speaks, a narrowness to his eyes that makes your lips purse to suppress a smirk. "Running errands."

So you're both dirty little liars. Who'd've thought?

"Fairplay," you say with a smile. "Look, I still appreciate the ride. I'd have been fine," you add."But yeah, appreciate it nonetheless."

"Was nothing. I was headed in this direction anyway. If you take a left at the end of the street and follow the road down, there's usually a bunch of taxis waiting for the university cleaners to finish their night shifts. I'm sure you'll be able to get one."

"Take a left," you hum. "Cool. Will do." Bracing yourself to leave, Jungkook wonders if he should offer you a lift to your place too. "See you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow. Class? That thing we attend during daylight hours?"

"Oh right. Yeah. See you tomorrow."

Bizarrely enough, if this is how awkward Jungkook is when he's being nice, you think you prefer him being an asshole. At least he has a little spark in him then.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook feels overloaded with fucking sparks, like someone's holding an axe grinder against the metal of his earrings, deafening him. The reality of his evening is kicking in, and the knowledge that he came a few metres from having a hole in his abdomen becomes overwhelming. He doesn't let it show, though.

"Thanks, again."

You make a promise to punch yourself in the face if you say thank you one more fucking time.

"It's fine, again," he smiles, with a small laugh, before focusing those eyes of his on the floor.

And so you leave, walking straight past the taxi rank and taking a shortcut to your apartment, which is a lot closer than you had realised.

Seven steps below street level, you jog down to your front door, petting the neighbourhood calico stray on your way down. The door closes with a slam, but you don't give a shit because the people in the apartment above never seem to give a shit when they stumble home at four in the morning.

Before he sleeps that evening, Jungkook wonders how much of the skyline you get to indulge in. Your dad works in the accounting side of one of the largest law firms in the city, he knows that much from his research. Knows that your immediate family has more money than probably all of his relatives combined. Alive and dead.

He just isn't aware that you're not seeing a single dime of it. Not since you dropped out of the economics and business side of school to focus on the creative arts. All that money your parents had 'wasted' on your education? Well, they weren't wasting any more.

Because you're a commodity, to be bought and sold, apparently. Not their daughter, who they should have just wanted to be happy.

So now you spend your Tuesday and Thursday evenings down in Daerim.

Because you are a commodity; and if anyone's gonna be selling you, then it may as well be your fucking self.

A stack of yellow 50,000 won bills sit on your desk. Twelve of them. 600,000 won. Not bad for a week's work. 6 hours.

Might have been cut off from your Dad's money, but your replacement 'daddy' wasn't a bad substitute.

The bluntness of such a statement usually makes you laugh, but not today.

If Jungkook knows the Daerim area like you think he does, then he'll be able to work it out soon enough. A bitterness fills your chest, like coffee dripping through a filter, forgotten about and left to go cold. You've been so good at playing pretend.

Secrets are so much easier to keep when they're not shared.

Perhaps that should be your project piece.

Secrets of Seoul: The Seedy Underbelly of The City.

After all, that was your unique view of the city; the side you saw that you were pretty sure no-one else did.

At least, no one else except Jungkook. Go figure.

"SEVEN WEEKS LEFT!" Your professor reminds the class as they dismiss you from your lecture. There's a little chatter, partners sharing ideas and friends discussing what to have for lunch - and then there's you and Jungkook.

He waits by the end of his row for you to walk to meet him, an inconspicuous look on his face.

The girl who he's watching neatly put a fluffy pen into her handbag looks a lot like you, but a hell of a lot different from the girl he gave a lift to last night.

Who the fuck are you?

Jungkook has always liked a little mystery. Seen the romanticism in the unknown. Still doesn't like you - but you've gotten him curious.

"You haven't sent anything over yet," he notes, keeping a slight distance from you as you walk together up the stairs.

"You told me not to bombard you," you remind him.

"Sending me video files once in a blue moon is fine."

"Once in a blue moon. Gotcha."

It's Friday, so he knows it's not one of your pre-determined days of having prior engagements.

It's only now that he realises that must have been why you were in Daerim last night; that your 'errands' are actually scheduled into your routine. It doesn't bode well for his 'not a hooker, an addict or a sugar-baby' theory.

"I was thinking of heading over to Dongdaemun this evening, seeing as you weren't free on Tuesday," he starts a little awkwardly, but the more he speaks, the easier it becomes. Being nice, that is. "I could still use a hand, if you're free? If you're serious about helping out, I mean. It would be good to make a start on things."

Relief washes over you. You've been fearing a conversation about the night before, but Jungkook doesn't want to talk about it just as much as you don't.

You meet him at seven o'clock that evening at Dongdaemun Design Plaza. You've always loved the green roof, how organic the landscaping looks above such a futuristic building. He listens as you explain this, eyes wide and in awe of the sloping pathways and curved walls, showing him your favourite of all the trees in the park.

Jungkook looks at you for a second, observes your hands, how they delicately move a few leaves to frame the shot you're taking. You've a Midas touch, and Jungkook wonders if your fingers would turn him to gold, too.

It's a silly, fleeting thought, but it doesn't stop him from focusing the camera on you as you roam Dongdaemun night market later that evening, lights cascading over you like glitter.

He thinks you're pretty in this light. Pretty when it's just him and you. No distractions.

Except there's hustle and bustle everywhere, a vendor chasing a thief, groups of high schoolers laughing on their way home from Hagwons, food sizzling, vapours making his stomach rumble. Perhaps you're the distraction, instead.

The pair of you spend the next week traipsing the city together.

Somehow, you only ever come together when the sun goes down, but it's fitting. You're a pair of nightcrawlers, swarming through the city when traffic sounds like a melody and destinations are unknown.

He learns that you drink your coffee black, no sugar, lukewarm. You learn that he'd rather rub coffee granules into his eyes than drink it.

And despite your preference for no sugar, he always tosses a little white sachet towards you whenever you order a coffee. He finds it funny. Insists that you have to be a sugar baby. It's the only way he can explain that night he saw you Daerim.

He's just joking. And you pretend not to, but you find it hysterical.

Mainly because he doesn't realise how bang on the money he is.

But also because you can't help but laugh whenever he does.

There's a comfort that grows between the pair of you, a familiarity. A casual ease that doesn't feel dangerous, not even when he's pulsing through the city on his bike, you holding onto him, his leather jacket wrapped around your body. You begin to like the way that the wind feels in your hair, and you stop wearing fake lashes. Jungkook doesn't tell you, but he likes you better with a few freckles showing, dewy highlighter and a little mascara being the only makeup you wear for the midnight city roams.

It's only because you can't be wasting resources reserved for clients on a boy from your film studies class. Times are tough, money is tight. No point in pouring funds into a boy you won't make revenue from. It's a bad business decision.

A few months ago, you did your makeup multiple times a day just for fun. Now you have to ration it. Life... life isn't what it used to be.

But Jungkook is ignorant to that, and you quite like it. Escaping from your reality. Becoming the version of yourself that he thinks you are.

He isn't sure which version of you he wants to spend time with the most; the too-good for him daddy's girl who dresses in Celine and comes with a pout, the enigma who lurks in the shadows that he thought he had a monopoly over, or the master director who seems to rival his talents for capturing moments of life in 4K.

As he watches your brows furrow while you turn your phone upside down, trying to understand a map, he decides that he doesn't care which version he gets.

Jungkook wants what he wants.

There's an impulsion to his desires and subsequent actions that he takes to obtain them. He's driven by gratification, and little else.

On the days he wants to feel wanted, he'll go to a bar. He never whispers false promises or pretends like he's after anything more than what can be achieved in a single night. The girls he goes for tend to see that as a challenge. They think they can convince him otherwise. It's not his fault when they can't. It's not his fault that they end up falling for him regardless. It's not his fault that he never has any intention of loving them back.

He tells them this. They ignore him. It isn't his fault.

On the days he wants to feel accomplished, he'll stay on campus until the cleaners usher him out of the room so that they can prepare it for the next day. Their insistence is lost on him - no amount of Cif can polish the dirt out of the walls. Once a shithole, always a shithole. He'll offer his apologies for getting in their way, and they'll coo over him like he's their own grandson. It's all very sweet.

They tell him not to overwork himself. He lies and says he won't.

On the days he wants to eat more than a single cup of ramyeon - which is most days, given his absolutely mammoth appetite - he'll send Hobi a text and request more drop-offs for that evening. Yoongi will give Jungkook a subtle look whenever a message from Hobi pings through, knowing it mustn't be good news. It never is.

Jungkook tells Yoongi to mind his business - but with a grin and a glint in his eye that eases his friends worry ever so slightly.

Disapproval never stops Jungkook from doing what he wants, regardless.

Not from his friends, from the cleaning ajummas, and especially not from you.

So he ignores the look in your eye, as he encourages you to follow him through a gap in the chainlink fence, which surrounds a disused water tower on the outskirts of the city.

Jungkook wants what he wants.

And right now, he wants to get a shot of the midnight city from his favourite vantage point.

"You said you've taken thousands of shots here," You hiss as a twig snaps beneath your foot. He smirks as you utter out a curse. "Surely you can just reuse one of those?!"

He guides you round, ignoring the ground level rubble, until you get to a ladder that definitely isn't safe for use. It's rusting by the bolts, and has a few vines trailing up it, undisturbed for months. Remnants of paint are flaking from the structure, collecting like ashes on the ground below.

"I have," he shrugs, unhooking your camera bag from your shoulder, popping it into his rucksack for safe keeping. He crouches, putting his palms upwards to offer you a leg up. "You haven't, though. You see the city differently to me, remember?"

He's taunting you. Reusing the phrase from your Professor that you had quoted to him on the first day of the project. Asshole.

Asshole with a smirk that suggests he's only teasing. Suggests that he's fond. Words that suggest he remembers the things you say to him. Memorises them, even.

Curious.

"Can't we just pretend like we see it the same way?"

"No can do, sugar."

"Oh my god, stop calling me that."

You're thankful for the midnight sky and the way it disguises your blush.

As if throwing packets of the white stuff at your face in coffee shops isn't enough, he's taken to calling you 'sugar', too.

"Give me a reason not to," he says as he tilts his head, encouraging you to accept his leg up. You check your feet for mud, then put your trust in his grip.

"I've already told you, I was just running errands," you defend yourself for the thousandth time. A short yelp escapes your lips as he boosts you up, your hands gripping onto the flaking bars beside the ladder.

He doesn't believe you for a second. He also doesn't believe that you're actually a sugar baby. It's just fun to fuck with you a little.

Once you're up, he waits for you to safely sit on the ledge, and then he makes the climb too. He's up a lot quicker than you, coming to sit beside you with his legs dangling over the ledge of the railings.

"Tell me it isn't worth it," Jungkook says a little airily, enamoured with the view.

And he's right. It is worth it.

A maze of city lights twinkle like the Carina nebula, interstellar, yet entirely of this earth. Bright whites, reds and greens speckle the horizon, and for a moment, it's easy to forget that you're looking at Seoul. There's a magic that can only be appreciated from a distance, far away from the scent of alleyways and the void nothingness of grey brick buildings. Skyscrapers tower above the skyline, but still look small from where you and Jungkook sit, silently, in awe.

"Look over there," he points across the vast expanse. You follow his trajectory, but you have no idea if you're picking out the right spot. "Daerim. Can always tell. Know the street layout too well."

"You're gonna get me thinking you're a sugar baby," you nudge your shoulder into his, and he laughs.

Reaching into his rucksack, you expect him to pull out your camera. Instead, his hand comes back into vision holding a pair of chopsticks and a tub of instant ramyeon. Uncooked.

He pulls the seal back, stabs at it with the chopsticks and offers you the small chunk he's broken off.

"It's good," he promises.

You know what dried ramyeon tastes like. You know it's good. You just can't understand what the fuck is wrong with him.

"Are you broken?"

He grins as he tosses the chunk of dried noodles into his own mouth. "Absolutely - but ramyeon is ramyeon."

You tell him he's weird, and he continues to smile, not resisting as you take the tub from him and break off a chunk with your fingers.

It's one of his favourite snacks. He's impatient and impulsive at the best of times. Waiting for it to cook? Too much effort. Cooking it at the convenience store and carrying it up the tower with him? Disaster waiting to happen. It's just easier this way.

And so the pair of you sit, not really saying much, watching the city roll by. Every now and again, he offers you a chunk from his chopsticks.

By the end of the night, neither of you have gotten any footage of the city.

And neither of you really care.

AS YOU SPRINT home after yet another spree around the city with Jungkook, running late for your Thursday evening appointment, you curse your inability to send his calls to voicemail.

You should really be working more. You need to be working more - but for the past four weeks now, you've answered every single one of his calls.

His messages? Yeah, you ignore those. He's learnt this, though. He messages you regardless, because... well, because he wants to, quite frankly. He doesn't give a shit if you respond.

He knows you read them.

He knows you saw that picture he sent of a flyer detailing a live art event last week. He knows that you noticed the veins on his arms.

You don't know that he'd spent a couple of minutes tensing his arm before he took the picture. Deliberately.

It's been said before that Jungkook wants what he wants - and what he wants more than anything, frustratingly, is your attention.

The way you study his arms the next time you see him proves that he's gotten it.

If anything, the delayed gratification makes it so much more worthwhile.

You have been thinking about him.

So as far as Jungkook is concerned, you can ignore his messages all you like, because you still always answer his calls with an airy 'hi,' as if talking to him takes your breath away.

The only time you don't answer is between the hours of eleven and two on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.

Chances are, if he just so happens to be in the area - which he always is - he'll catch you down on the wrong side of the tracks at just gone quarter past two.

He still calls you 'sugar', teasing you for the reputation of the area. You just roll your eyes and grin, then banter with him about how even if you were a sugar baby, he wouldn't be able to afford your prices.

He argues that he'd pay in ways that didn't include monetary value.

You don't ask him to expand.

But as you wipe your watery lash line in the bathroom of a shitty rental apartment in Daerim, you think about what he could have meant. If he actually meant it.

The TV blares from the living room, faint vapours of a mango e-cigarette wafting through the gap beneath the door. You've always thought mango smells like cat piss. Rancid.

Whatever Jungkook could have meant didn't matter. His flirty tone and angel eyes didn't pay the bills. The cash tossed down on the bathroom counter did - or more specifically, the widower, who occasionally wanted company from a pretty young girl, did.

A hundred thousand won for an hour, three hundred thousand total. It takes you just a week, two appointments, to make up the month's rent - but you still need to eat, to study, survive.

And so you return, every week.

It's not his actual apartment. He lives over in Gangnam, close to his kids' schools. More money than sense. He doesn't tell you much about his personal life. You think a lot of his small claims are lies, anyway - but you smile and flutter your lashes as if he's reciting bible verses.

Some nights are better than others. Sometimes, he genuinely makes you laugh. Occasionally, he'll ask you what you want to do. Takes you to museums. Fancy dinners. Theatre shows.

But he has a nasty streak, and in those three hours, you're his. He owns you. There's no sex, that's not the arrangement, but his hands have been known to roam, and the disparity of equality within your working relationship becomes apparent. You brush it off, tell yourself that it's natural for a man engaging with you in a romantic capacity to forget the rules. You tell yourself that it's okay.

The churning in your stomach and dis-ease of such a situation tells you that no, it isn't okay. But if you laugh at his painfully unfunny jokes loud enough, you're able to drown out the noise in your head.

The worst nights are the ones where he pays you extra.

There's no discussion anymore. The stack of notes is just thicker than usual upon arrival, and you know that at some point during the night, you'll have to sit in silence and watch as he sinks his hand down into his pants.

It's easy to forget the way it looks. Your eyes glaze over, and the discomfort, the slight disgust, indicated in your features gets him hard. He thinks it's taboo. Thinks you enjoy it too. That your panties look a lot like his hand by the time he's finished.

The snort-like grunts are what you find hard to forget. The wail of a moan that comes when he does. You hear that shit in your nightmares.

But it earns you an extra two hundred thousand, so you endure it because you don't have much of an option at this point.

Come 2 AM, cash stuffed down your bra, you don't have to think about it anymore. The fresh air of the city, a little smoggy and polluted, hits you like a freight train. You thank it.

When Jungkook enters Daerim that evening, he expects to find you. He normally does. You never look particularly happy - in fact, he often tells you that you've got a face like a slapped arse - but it's more so today.

He whistles from across the street, clad in black, a thick hoodie keeping him warm beneath his leather jacket. "Oi, Sugar," he calls, that boyish grin on his lips. Teeth so pretty you wonder how much novocaine it would take for you to be numb to the way it makes your stomach flip.

Eyes dancing up and down your body, he likes what you're wearing. Black tights, black dress that cuts off at your mid-thigh, a sweetheart neckline and chiffon sleeves that puff around your slender arms. He decides your boots are far more sensible than the heels you're usually in.

"That'll be twenty thousand, Jeon," you call back, arms folded over your chest as you change direction to walk towards him.

"Per hour?"

"Per every time you call me that stupid fucking name."

"What would you rather?" he goads, leaning against a window ledge on the back of a restaurant building. There's nothing down the alleyway, just trashbags and the distinct scent of fermenting piss. "Shugs? SB? Baby?"

You smirk, walking to the wall opposite him, mirroring his position, hands resting beside you on the ledge. There's a safe distance between the pair of you. A look, but don't touch type of vibe - but this time, unlike earlier on in your evening, you actually enjoy it.

"You really gotta make your mind up," your eyes roll, lips rising into a crescent. "One minute I'm a trust-fund princess with Daddy's money on tap, the next I'm a sugar baby with a different type of Daddy altogether."

Jungkook shrugs. "Just don't see why you waste your evenings roaming fucking Daerim of all places."

"Best dandanmian in the city," you say, referencing the abundance of traditional Chinese restaurants in the area. "Can't get the authentic stuff in Itaewon."

"Can't get hookers in Itaewon like you can in Daerim, either," he taunts you.

He doesn't really think you're a hooker, but he likes the way you grin whenever your eyes roll.

"Ah, so that's why you're here."

He holds his hands up to playfully admit defeat. "Guilty."

You laugh, knowing that there's no way in hell Jungkook will ever have to resort to hookers. Not when he looks like that. All doe-eyed and charming, floppy hair just begging for a pair of hands to run through it.

The pair of you let the moment simmer, droplets of water dripping from the drainpipe and into the sewer. He's lit by the neon light of a restaurant sign, red and yellow painting him like an impressionist masterpiece.

"You look cold," he acknowledges, but you shake your head and insist you're fine. Your hair is a little damp from the small shower you'd been caught in a little while previously, mascara smudged around your eyes. You looked like that before the rain, mind you. He shakes his jacket off and tosses it across to you, snorting quietly as it hits your face and crumples over your feet. "C'mon. I'm now about to ride home. I'll give you a lift."

He asks for your address, and you tell him that you'll just get a taxi from his place like you normally do. There's no need for him to go out of his way.

"The princess doesn't want the pauper to see her castle, huh?" he teases, always talking in bloody riddles.

"See!" you protest. "Always changing your mind! A minute ago I was a sugar baby, and now I'm a rich bitch again. Which is it, Jeon?"

"I dunno," he reaches behind himself, adjusting your legs and pulling you a little closer into his back, tapping your side to make sure you've got the jacket on. "You tell me, sugar."

He doesn't see you roll your eyes, but he knows you do it. You always do. Even when your pretty pink nails are clutching the fabric of his shirt, you pretend like you don't enjoy his company.

You've gotten good at playing pretend.

Jungkook only jokes about you being a sugar baby.

He doesn't fathom that you actually are one.

His engine begins to purr, and Jungkook kicks up the stand, setting off into the night.

The way you hold onto his waist is different tonight.

Physically, it's the same.

But it feels different.

And it is, because you're not just holding onto him; you're hugging him. Comfort in an old routine. You adjust your arms, keeping tight against his back, and he pretends like he doesn't notice the shift in dynamic.

He pretends as if he didn't notice your sad eyes earlier, too, and as if he can't feel the stutter in your chest as if you're trying not to cry.

Jungkook isn't a knight on a white horse, and nor does he want to be - but he doesn't mind being your rogue bandit who steals you away from the things that make you sad.

He's just an arc in your fairytale, not your happy ending.

But you've always been a sucker for a bit of a plot twist.

When you arrive at his, he wants to ask you to stay. He doesn't want an orange taxi cab to appear at the end of his lane and act like your actual knight in shining armour. He doesn't want you to ride into the sunrise with anyone but him.

And as luck would have it, your phone shares his desires.

Well, no. It doesn't. It's a mobile phone. It doesn't have cognitive thoughts - but it is out of charge.

"Different charging ports," he grits his teeth as he holds up his Samsung after you ask if he's got an iPhone charger. "I'm pretty sure I have an apple cable lying about though. You can come in for a second, get a little bit of charge just so that you're not stranded in a taxi without a way to contact anyone."

You nod appreciatively. "You sure?"

He doesn't answer, instead holding his door open and ushering you inside.

Jungkook cares in strange ways. He's practical, forward-thinking, trying to find solutions to problems that you'd normally shrug your shoulders at.

He's never told anyone that he loves them before, but he did once swap the hinges on his ex-girlfriend's bathroom door to the other side, so that it would stop hitting the sink basin every time she opened it. He shows his affections in meaningful ways, often without being asked or expecting anything in return.

Neither of you realise it yet, but this is one of those occasions.

It's not until you're perched on the worktop bench in his kitchen that he realises he let you in without hesitation. No longer embarrassed of where he lived, he kind of likes having you here.

You look out of place, silver pendant round your neck, expensive, and hair professionally coloured, nails done, toes, too. Not that he can see them. He just remembers a conversation you had once over chicken and a beer about the fact your toes always matched your nails.

Small details like that are what he thinks about when he's alone; like the way you blink a little faster when you're confused, and how you sprinkle Cheeto dust back into the bag off of your fingers instead of licking them like he does. He thinks about the way you laugh in his company, and how he's never heard you laugh like that with anyone else. And he tries to stop, but dammit, he thinks about how sexed up you look on those Daerim nights.

You're dressing like that for someone else, he knows that much.

But he gets to indulge in it too, when your body is pressed against his back as he takes you home.

He's stopped asking what you do in Daerim. He doesn't want to know.

For a few minutes a night, when he's alone, he likes to pretend what it would be like if he was the one you were dressed like that for. Only ever a minute or so. Gets him too hot. Finishes him off too quickly. Absolute sin.

"Kook?"

He doesn't even realise he's halted his movements until your voice breaks him from his thoughts. His jeans tonight are tight, and do a pretty good job of hiding the swelling between his legs. Fucking uncomfortable, though.

"Sorry," he doesn't turn to face you. "Was just trying to remember where I last had the cable."

"I was just saying that it's fine. It's really not that far. Don't wanna be a bother."

"Why'd you say shit like that?" he turns to face you, face twisted a little. He's annoyed.

"Like what?"

"Call yourself a bother. You do it a lot."

"I don't."

"You do," he insists, and you can't work out why he's so annoyed by it. You want to apologise all over again. "You just-" he takes a moment to find the right words. "I dunno who's conditioned you into thinking everything you do is bothersome, but it really isn't. If I didn't wanna help, then I wouldn't. It's not a bother. You're not a bother."

And you don't know why, but for some reason, you choke up a little. It's not like he said anything particularly groundbreaking, it's just for the last few months, your entire existence has felt like a drain on those around you.

The money you can live without, but you miss family dinners on Sundays, and face timing your little sister, more than you can even begin to explain.

And while no, you didn't want your parents' money, you didn't want to keep seeing a perverted old man just to be able to afford to eat, either. The flat rate was 500,000 now. Every single time. Without fail. You hadn't put the price up. He was just always paying extra. Always touching his prick. Always jerking himself off over your repulsion.

Earlier that evening, he had queried how much it would cost him to finish on your chest. You told him a million. He asked if you accepted bank transfers. You told him no. He offered 1.2 mil.

Part of you considered it. It's a lot of money. Not something to be taken lightly.

But when you ran into Jungkook, just like you knew you would, you were adamant you had made the right choice. He had scanned your body, getting a read on your mood, assessing what you needed, what you wanted, and then had offered up his jacket. All doe-eyed and sparkling. You finally got what all the girls swooned over, 'cause you were doing it too.

"Hey," he says softly, noticing the way your eyes are reddening. "Hey, hey, no. Don't cry, sugar."

You laugh through the first couple of tears. Stupid fucking nickname.

"I meant it," you sniff, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands. He's standing closer now, hesitant to touch, hands hovering around you. "20 thousand won, Jeon. Pay up."

His fingers tenderly wrap around your wrists, keeping them from rubbing at your face again. He's smiling, eyes ever encompassing, cheeks so appled that you bet you could get drunk off the cider he'd produce.

"Can we do it on an I.O.U. basis?" he speaks quietly, playfully. "I get paid on Monday."

It's a lie. He gets his commission cut straight from his sales figures. There's 2 million won in his rucksack. He only gets ten percent. 200K. His job's not nearly half as lucrative as yours, but it's still nothing to be laughed at. He's making bank.

"Nuh-uh," you sniff again, letting out a little laugh. He laughs too. "Told you that you couldn't afford me."

And then it's silent. You can hear your heartbeat. He moves a little closer.

"Told you I'd just pay in other ways."

His voice is hoarse, as if he's scared.

As if he fears the consequences of his claim.

Your eyes drop to his lips. They're trembling slightly. Preparing.

The grip he has on your wrists loosens. He's giving you freedom. He's giving you the chance to back out, to run away.

But you don't.

"Pay up, then," you all-but whisper, lips closing on his.

Jungkook doesn't stall, no, but it takes him a second to respond. To realise.

And once he does, his brows furrow into the kiss, demanding that you know just how much he wants this. Wants you. Has done for weeks, now.

He pulls your body into his, needing you close. Your body curves, his arm hooked behind your back to keep you balanced.

A surge of intensity washes over you like crimson paint. It'll stain you, and everyone will know: That's her. That's the girl who let Jeon Jungkook kiss her like he actually meant it.

He kisses, and he kisses, and he kisses, and he doesn't stop, as if he knows his first with you will also be his last - and when he finally does stop, forehead on yours, the pair of you are breathing so heavily into each other's mouths that it's as if you're sharing oxygen. Keeping each other alive. Both capable of first-degree murder.

And so neither of you pull away. There's no way he's doing time for you. There's no way you're doing time for him. Looks like you'll just have to kiss forever. Shame. Such a hardship. However will you cope?

"I-" he begins, before cutting himself off, easing his grip on your waist. One of his hands lingers, while the other pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes wincing. "Shit-" he finally lets you go. "I don't know what that was. I'm sorry."

You want to tell him that it's okay, that you didn't mind, that he could do it again - but it's clear he doesn't agree.

"Just adrenaline," you offer, sinking down to perch on the worktop bench. Your defeated posture is hidden well like this. "Don't sweat it."

He stays silent as he turns around to resume his rummaging, looking for a charger that will fit your phone. He knows there's one in there, he just can't for the life of him remember when he last had it.

Everything feels a little awkward. You half think that you should fill the void with something, that you should break the ice, but what was the point? You'll be out of his hair soon.

And you are, home twenty minutes later. You had only charged your phone for ten minutes at his, just enough to get you home. It's about to die again. Not before Jungkook pings you a message, though.

He doesn't expect a response, but he lies awake until he sees your read receipt confirm that you've seen it.

Sadness doesn't suit you, sugar. I'm not gonna pry, but if you ever need a ride earlier than normal out of Daerim, give me a call.

He spent a good six minutes debating whether or not to end his message with a kiss, eventually deciding against it. No need to make the message any softer than it already was.

To his surprise, a bubble pops up on your side of the chat thread.

His heart twinges, your response saying everything he wished he had with just one simple letter:

JUNGKOOK HAS A terrible habit of taking out his stress on the people around him; the ones that he holds closest.

"I just don't see why it's such a big issue," Jimin says through a mouthful of salad greens. His teeth chomp so loudly that Jungkook thinks they'll have to swing by the dentistry labs later that afternoon. Which Jimin'll probably like, considering he won't stop fucking rambling on about a dentistry student at the moment. "She's hot, she's got guys practically falling at her feet and she's interested in you. It's one party. Stop being so fucking boring."

Yoongi casts Jungkook a sympathetic look. He doesn't work so much at the moment, what with his chemistry finals coming up, and especially not in the Daerim area.

That's Jungkook's market now - but he did happen to have a drop-off for a last-minute order a couple of weeks back. Territory isn't an issue between the friends, with Jungkook respecting Yoongi far too much to ever tell him to back off, or to not take deals in that area.

He had been about to approach Jungkook that night, when he noticed you crossing the street, a smile plastered on your face. He couldn't see Jungkook's face from the angle he was at, but he could see how raised his cheeks were. And so he left the pair of you to it, knowing better than to stick his nose where it wasn't wanted.

Unlike Jimin, apparently.

"Not boring," Jungkook retorts, tossing the wrapper his chopsticks came in at Jimin's face. "Got a bunch of assignments due in."

"Dude, you've been MIA for weeks. If we didn't have classes together, I'd have sent out a search party by now."

"You're being dramatic."

"You're being boring."

"Kids, settle down," Yoongi interjects, and wonders why he doesn't just find friends his own age. Logistics, he decides. The perils of having to save up for university before he could actually attend.

Jimin, being Jimin, then proceeds to bicker with Yoongi, leaving Jungkook free to find your face amongst the canteen crowd. You're sat with friends, none of whom he's ever met.

Your hair is up, like it always is during school, but you've let your grown out bangs frame your face. Pretty, he thinks. Prettiest girl here.

But then you stand up, and Jungkook turns caveman. Head empty. No thoughts. Just nonsense. Jesus Christ. Who gave you the right? God damn.

A few months ago, he would have looked at you in that outfit - a silky sage green playsuit over a white tee, sunglasses resting on your head like an alice band and a pair of white converse on your feet - and he probably would have scoffed. Wouldda said some bullshit about the fact you're dressed like a child, or that the weather isn't good enough to warrant such an outfit.

A few months ago, he was a fucking idiot.

You feel his gaze on you, just like you always do.

And you ignore it.

You've been getting good at that. Pretending as if you don't feel his eyes. As if you're unaffected, unbothered by the simplest form of intimacy: a single look.

He knows you've been keeping your distance. Watching from afar is all he can do when you slink out of class before he can catch your attention. He tells himself that he doesn't care.

Jungkook mutes the audio track of the editing software he uses when he stitches together your footage, so he doesn't have to relive your conversations or hear you laugh, or worse, hear himself laugh.

It's all a bit nauseating.

Maybe a party would actually be a good distraction.

"Tonight, did you say?" Jungkook pipes up out of nowhere, only dragging his eyes away from you when he sees you pull your phone out to send a text.

He pouts. You never text him. Not once since last Thursday.

And you were nowhere to be seen on Tuesday.

He had called you, and for once, you didn't pick up. He didn't try again. Decided that it was on you just as much as it was on him.

That being said, he didn't get home till four in the morning, two and half hours after his last deal. Spaffed away an entire tank of petrol. Rode in fucking circles. Just in case.

"Now we're talking!" Jimin grins. "Tonight. It's her birthday, she's rented a bar in Itaewon - Dad knows the landlord or something."

Jungkook didn't know who 'she' was. Hadn't been listening to that part of the conversation.

"Well, you kids enjoy yourselves," Yoongi sighs as he gets to his feet. "Can't risk my finals over a few crappy drinks in a shitty bar."

"Oh boo-hoo!" Jimin pouts. "Spoilsport."

When Jungkook enters the bar that evening, he's greeted with everything he expects. E-cigarette vapours cloud the air, a cocktail of flavours violating his senses as he heads to the bar, shitty EDM pumping through the speakers. It's been a while since he let his hair down, so to speak.

There's something about him that commands attention. People gravitate towards him, even through the smoke clouds and sweaty bodies. Girls buy him drinks. Guys buy him drinks, too. Anything just to spend time in his presence. Like leeches, they hope to share some of Jungkook's aura.

It's impossible, though. It's Jungkook's authenticity that gives him such charisma. Trying to emulate it only ever comes off as tacky - like the guy towards the back of the room who's permed his hair to look like Jungkook's. Pierced his eyebrow, too. Looks like shit. Jungkook doesn't want to judge him, but he's a few drinks deep, and being kind is what got him into that mess with you in the first place.

No good ever comes from being nice.

He takes a shot. Tequila. Chases it down with lemonade. The girl next to him is playing with the bracelets on his wrist. Her nails scratch a little bit, and he quite likes it, so he doesn't resist when pulls him onto the dancefloor. He observes the way she moves first, and isn't disappointed. She knows how to move her hips, and seems to like it when he puts his hands on them. He can't really feel the sensation when she kisses him. The alcohol has numbed his lips. Maybe Jimin was right to force him into this.

By the time he goes to the bar for another drink, he's faded. Off his tits. Helped himself to some of Hobi's stash that he was supposed to be distributing that evening. A little bit of coke never does him any harm. He knows his limits. Tastes like shit down the back of his throat, but he kind of enjoys it.

At first, he thinks he must be seeing things when he catches you with an espresso martini in hand, laughing with people he doesn't know.

You've this whole life that he's no part of. A whole entire world. He really is an outsider looking in.

You're one of the elite; an old-money heiress. The type to own a miniature dog breed and only fly business class. It was stupid of him to think your interest in him had been anything more than entertainment. A 'little bit of rough.' Excitement away from the confines of the life he's sure your parents must have planned out for you.

It might just be because he's coked up, but he doesn't care about any of that.

All he can think about is the fact he's pretty sure you've never looked more beautiful.

He feels so lost looking at you like this, as if he needs to be closer, for fear of losing sight of you entirely.

And so he sits beside you at the bar, orders his drink, waits for you to notice him. Which you do.

You'd spotted him the very second you walked into the bar, his hands all over some girl you don't know.

In all fairness, you didn't realise he would be there. Sohyun, the girl whose birthday it was and an old friend from high school, has been fawning over Jungkook for months. Just superficial drawling, comments about his thighs and the fact she'd quite like to be suffocated by them. Harmless, really. You know she's never actually made a move.

Sohyun doesn't know you're working on a project together. You avoid the topic of him altogether, especially with her.

But she does notice the way Jungkook is looking at you like he's seen a ghost; haunted and comforted all in the same expression.

"You're here," he finally says, and it feels as if your chest is about to cave in.

Turning to face him, you're casual in your posture. Unbothered. Completely unaffected by him, and the lipstick that's painting those lips of his that you like so much.

You raise your thumb and swipe it across his bottom lip. He's silent as you do so, watching you, holding his breath. His lip moves like rubber beneath your touch, soft and supple, springing back into position once you release it.

You raise your thumb to study the lipstick you've collected from him. "Plum's really not your colour, Jungkook."

He doesn't say anything, a little transfixed. It's barely ticked past midnight. You should be in Daerim.

In all fairness, so should he. Hobi had some choice words for Jungkook when he told him that he wasn't working that evening at such short notice.

You swipe open your phone and repeat the step, filming your thumb as Jungkook becomes captive to your touch. You want to look, to see how wide his dark eyes are, but you're too busy feigning disinterest.

"There," you smile, forwarding the video along before you lock your phone. "Just sent you a video of how I see the city tonight."

You've no right to be annoyed. You know that.

Jungkook can be in a bar with another girl's lipstick on his chin if wants to be. He can stay out all night, and he can stay in beds that aren't his. It's his prerogative.

But you are annoyed.

It's irrational, and pathetic, and you shouldn't be.

You barely know him. Not really.

After you'd shown him your favourite tree at the Design Plaza a few weeks ago, he'd insisted on taking you across town to Garosugil, a street in Gangnam lined with beautiful tall trees. He questioned why you only had one favourite tree, when you could have had an entire row of them instead.

At the time, you'd enjoyed the way his eyes looked beneath the lights of the designer stores that neither of you could afford. You didn't question what he had meant.

It seems like you found your answer.

"I'm not the city," he eventually says.

And he's right.

He's not the city.

Fuck it, no, he's not the city, but his eyes sparkle like Itaewon on Friday nights, and his hands are strong like the World Cup Bridge. He's not the city, but you find it so easy to get lost in him without a map, and sometimes wearing his leather jacket makes you feel like you're eating comfort food at your favourite breakfast bar over in Myeong-dong. He's not the city.

He's not the goddamn city.

But it feels a little like you'd accidentally anchored your navigation pin in him regardless.

All you do is smile, and tell him that he's right.

"Look," he begins, and you can smell the spiced rum on his breath.

"It's okay," you interrupt. Who are you to make him feel guilty for his promiscuous encounters?

He doesn't know what you do in the dark. Not really. If he did, he probably wouldn't have kissed you last week.

"No, I-" he cuts himself off like he always does when he doesn't wanna fuck up his words. The alcohol is doing him absolutely zero favours. "I dunno, sugar."

Your smile is sad, and he hates himself. You lean forward, press a kiss into his rosy cheek and whisper, "That'll be 20,000, Jeon."

And because he's drunk, and he wants to make things better, he reaches for his wallet. You were about to walk away regardless, but damn, if the boy doesn't know how to hit you where it hurts.

"Really, Kook?"

It's like he doesn't know you at all; doesn't remember how you banter with him, how you flirt with him. Or maybe you were just stupid for thinking that you'd been flirting with him in the first place. Maybe he just speaks to everyone how he speaks to you. Must have spoken to whoever was wearing that lipstick in the same way.

He doesn't answer, not verbally, but his brows pinch together and his lips develop a frowning pout.

When he stumbles home that evening, he asks himself the same question: really, Kook?

In the morning, he wakes alone, with no recollection of how he got home.

He doesn't remember the girl from the bar, or the fact that Jimin threw up in a fish tank, or that they're now barred from three different establishments for encouraging people to snort fish food (which Jungkook had stolen while Jimin was emptying his stomach). Regretfully, he doesn't even remember your arrival at the first bar. Doesn't remember how, for once, you'd dressed to impress just him.

His lack of recollection means fuck all though, 'cause despite his headache, the thing weighing down most heavily on him is guilt. He feels a sense of duty when it comes to you; duty that he hasn't performed lately. Were you getting home safe? Getting harrassed by scummy fuckers on the Daerim path of destruction?

Out of habit, he checks his phone, ignores the messages from unknown numbers and goes straight to your message thread to check the damage. He's surprised to find that he didn't drunk text you, but even more surprised to find that you'd messaged him. It's a video, just a few seconds, but it's enough to provoke some of his memories back.

He watches your thumb as it glides across his bottom lip. Watches it again. Notices the lipstick. Notices the thumb ring he never realised you wore before, and the fact that your nails are black now instead of their usual pink. There's something erotic about it; the way you touch him. The way you filmed yourself touching him. He'll probably get in trouble for it, but there's no way he isn't adding that to your project.

You consider ignoring his call when your phone flashes with his caller I.D.

It's only just gone seven, and you're still in bed, still try to make heads or tails of your life.

But you're weak, and so you slide your thumb across the little green icon.

"Hey."

"Uh, hey."

"You good?"

"So hungover, I think I might die," Jungkook jokes, voice hoarse. You wonder if he always sounds like this in the morning. "Just wanted to check in with you though. Barely seen you all week, and then I end up with a weird-ass video in our message thread that I don't remember."

Ah. You cringe.

"Ran into you at the bar," you shrug, not that he can see you. "Didn't realise you were friends with Sohyun."

"Hmm?"

"Sohyun... the girl who's birthday it was?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah. Nah, no, not really friends with her. Jimin forced me along."

You don't know all that much about Jimin, but from your limited interactions with him, it doesn't surprise you. Not in the slightest.

"Good night?"

Your question sounds forced and awkward, and he doesn't quite understand why.

"No idea," he admits honestly. "Remember fuck all."

He sounds as if he wants to keep talking but doesn't know what to say.

You don't know what to say either.

It's a mess. You liked it better when he hated you.

"Were you at the bar for long?" He asks, genuinely curious. "You're normally busy on Thursdays?"

"Just a drink. Had a last-minute change of plans."

"Oh?"

"Yeah..."

You know he wants you to elaborate. He wants more without having to explicitly ask for it.

Which is apt. Seems like it's a common occurrence with Jungkook.

"So what did you call for?" you change the topic, not wanting to dwell. The aversion doesn't go unnoticed by him, but it does go unquestioned.

"I-" there he goes again, cutting himself off prematurely. Coward. "Are you free? Now?"

Oh.

Not a coward. Just cautious.

"Now? I mean, yeah, I guess."

Jungkook takes a second, and then he bites down on the grenade pin.

"Can you come over?"

THE WAY YOU keep Jungkook hanging on tenterhooks is deliberate.

You're unsure of him, of his motivations, and what he does in the dark. And so, while you want to let your guard down, you can't. It's probably something to do with your parents - the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally - making their love entirely conditional and withdrawing it so suddenly.

It's the kind of shit you would have spoken about with your therapist, but you can't afford her anymore.

Can't afford much of anything, anymore. So much of the money you've earnt recently is tied up in credit card debt or rent.

Foundation was the first luxury that you'd compromised, and you're still yet to buy any more. Cheap stuff always makes you break out, and thankfully your parents did give you decent genetics, at least, so your skin was pretty clear.

It's the lack of make up that suggests to Jungkook you're opening up; not hiding from him anymore.

But it's also what tells him something is incredibly wrong, when you show up at his door half an hour later with a graze beneath your eye. Little flecks of reddened skin creep up your cheekbone, and Jungkook thinks it almost looks like carpet burn.

He hadn't noticed it last night, but it was dark, and he was drunk.

He lets you in, takes your jacket, offers you a drink. Everything that he knows he should do. Asks how you are, keeps a safe distance.

You don't know why you're here. Why you didn't say you were busy.

Except you do.

It's cause you miss him whenever you're away from him.

"I like these," you smile as you look at the artwork he has up in his room. The studio space is small, cramped, like all semi-basements are, but it's distinctly 'his'. A lot different to yours. Everything you own is still in boxes, not yet unpacked.

You've refused to come to terms with that being your life now.

"Thanks," he nods, watching you as you explore the box of a room he calls home. "They're from a guy down by the coach station. Has a little stall."

"You'll have to show me," you muse, turning to smile at him. It's saccharine, but the graze on your face is just so bitter. He hates it. Hates that he doesn't know how you got it. "Think I'd like some for my place."

"I have a feeling they'd look a little out of place in a princess tower, sugar."

Your shoulders shake as you laugh quietly, not correcting him. He doesn't need to know that you're a basement dweller, too.

"How's the editing coming along?" You steer the question away from your living situation.

"Nearly there," he grins, brimming with quiet excitement. Something about the way your camerawork looks with his editing technique layered on top just really works. He's always been confident with his final projects, and this one scares him a little bit, but in a good way. It's his best yet. Maybe he did need you after all.

"Can I see?"

"Not yet."

"Kook," you say, and - oh god - you're pouting. Jungkook suddenly begins to feel nervous.

It's that scary feeling again. A fear of the good stuff. Trepidation.

"What?" he grins, walking a little closer to you, letting his hand stroke against your back as he sits down on his bed. His fingers catch yours. It's fleeting, but enough.

You both feel it.

"Such a tease," you say, talking about the project, but there's innuendo in your words, too.

"Some girls like it," he flirts back.

"The girl at the bar last night seemed to like it."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, boyish and charming. It's annoying, you think, how impossible it is to be mad at him. It's not because you're weak, or because you can't resist his charms, but because he has a way of playing things off as if they're no big deal.

The girl at the bar? A nobody, his shrug suggests. She doesn't matter.

And it's so easy to believe, because you're the one in his apartment. You're the one he wanted here, the one that he missed. Or at least, the one that he was thinking of when he decided that he could do with some company.

It might be nothing, just something to pass the time, but it makes you feel wanted. Desired. Needed.

So you accept his hand when he reaches out towards you, pulling you closer, positioning you between his spread legs. You're standing, his eyes level with your chest, unashamed as he looks at your body.

"You look warm," he husks.

Just like he always uses your body temperature as excuse to give you his jacket, he's using it as an excuse now, too. The desired effect is obvious.

His AC switchboard is on the wall behind his bed. You'd clocked it when you were walking around, observing his possessions. Yanmar, the branding reads, the plastic outer frame beige. Once, it would have been crisp white. Age has dulled it. The monochrome monitor has a clock symbol in the corner, an indicator that Jungkook has his AC set on a timer. It suggests a sense of permanence. This is his home.

You haven't set your timer yet. You just flick it on when you get hot. It isn't your home.

He watches you as you move, curious. He's smirking, because he just cant help himself.

And because he knows that you like it whenever he does. Gets you a little bit flustered.

One of your knees hooks over his lap, and then the other follows suit.

He'd have said you were straddling him. You'd have argued that you were simply reaching over to the AC.

And you do exactly that, flicking the switch, watching as it lights up. "There. Much better."

Touche, he thinks. Smiles. Grips your thighs, as if he's scared you'll stand up again. Scared to lose you.

In all honesty, he had been hoping you'd take your shirt off, but he isn't going to complain with you in his lap, instead.

Doesn't matter if you mix the eggs with the milk first, or the flour. You still bake a cake at the end of it all.

Jungkook looks at you in such a way that you find yourself thinking maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so horrible to let someone in. His eyes are honest, void of ulterior motives. He's doing this because he wants to. Because he wants you.

Wants that feeling back. The one where his lips are cushioned between yours, his tongue licking into your mouth.

Jungkook wants what he wants. Jungkook gets what he wants.

And, fuck, if it isn't bare minimum - but you know this, and you don't care. Bare minimum tastes pretty fucking good when you're licking it from his lips.

His hands roam, and you let them. He's rough with his movements, but the fleshy pads of his fingertips are soft, like silk against your skin. It's almost like he's afraid, filled with the knowledge that he can bruise, if he really wants to.

But he doesn't want to. He wants to ask about the graze that's sitting pretty where blush should be. Jungkook doesn't wanna hurt. He wants to heal.

"I catch you looking, you know," you tell him before he gets a chance, wanting to see how he responds. "Every now and again..." He hikes you forward in his lap. Places you dead centre over his cock. You can feel it. He can feel you. "...I catch you looking at me." He presses a kiss against the base of your neck, obsessed with the way it vibrates when you speak. "Why are you always looking at me?"

The fact that you're sat in his lap, grinding your hips against a solid bulge, should be indication enough.

Jungkook isn't going to spell it out for you. The eroticism of suggesting he's a fucking voyeur makes him want to laugh - but the way your nipples are tenting the shirt you're wearing distracts him.

His teeth graze your throat, hands creeping round to your tummy. His fingers are long, practically the length of the expanse between your hips and the underneath of your plump tits. Just a little further and he'd be holding them, cupping them, caressing. Just a little further.

"I look at you-" His hands continue their exploration as he leans back, watching the movement beneath your shirt. It somehow feels forbidden - like he can touch, but not look. After all, your question had sounded quite a lot like a telling off. "-because you like me looking at you."

He's fucking with you, trying to get a rise.

"Do I?"

The way that you whimper as he brushes against your nipples has him pulsing his hips. Your eyes close, head tilting back ever so slightly. You like this. The way he does it.

"Uh-huh," he mumbles, lips wet against your neck. His fingers knead into the flesh of your tits, nipples hard in his palm as he relieves his stresses. "Bet you think about it all day, don't you? Think about the way I look at you when no-one else does."

Yes.

"All day?" you smirk between dulcet moans. "You're lucky if I pay you any attention at all."

"I think you're lying," he declares rather boldly, hands all over you. "I think it plays on your mind. I bet you fall asleep thinking about it, don't you?"

Yes.

"Ddaeng."

"I bet you get yourself off thinking about it."

Maybe you do.

Maybe you've whispered his name in the dead of night, imagining how it would feel to have his body weight on top of yours. Maybe you get intrusive thoughts of that kiss every single time you try to draw close. Maybe Jungkook has made you cum without ever laying a single finger on you.

But even if he has, you won't tell him.

And you don't need to, because his phone buzzing on the bedside table behind you cuts the conversation dry. Jungkook glances towards it automatically, then back up to you. His frustration is evident, jaw tense.

"I gotta get this," he mumbles, encouraging you off of his lap. You don't resist, accepting the last five minutes for what they were: a momentary lapse in judgement. He sighs as he stands, adjusting his trousers, swiping his phone and putting it to his ear. He strolls just far enough away that you won't hear what or who is on the other line. "Hobi. Speak to me."

Hobi, you muse. A friend? A colleague? Another girl?

You swallow back the nauseating feeling in your throat, pretending as if the prospect of Jungkook with someone else doesn't chip away at your self-worth a little bit. It wasn't like you thought you had anything special between the pair of you.

But he was right. You did like him looking at you.

More than you had realised until the prospect of him looking at someone else arose.

From the corner of the room, you could hear Jungkook trying to interrupt the person he was talking to. The first syllable would escape, and then he'd hush again, never quite managing to get the words out in full.

"Ho-" His nostrils look quite cute when they flare, lips pursed, a pair of unique dimples becoming evident. They're different to the usual ones you notice. Full of surprises was Jeon Jungkook.

"Hobi, can I-"

He runs his hand through his hair, already dishevelled from your hands.

"Hobi will you let me fucking talk!"

Attaboy.

The pause that follows Jungkook's outburst would suggest that Hobi had said 'no' - and then a few more choice words. If Jungkook rolled his eyes back any further, they'd surely get stuck.

"Look, I'm a bit tied up right now- no! No, not that. Who? No. I don't know a Taehyung, and even if I did- Huh? Ain't got nothin' to do with Holangi. Don't know a single one of 'em."

You try to decipher the conversation, but fail.

"You're a real fuckin' cockblock, yanno?"

You blush.

"Fuck it, fine. But you owe me. I'm not saying yes next time."

He glances over to you, catching your raised brow. Next time?

A smile catches on his lips. You thought this would be a one time thing?

He's barely hit second base. If there's one thing you're yet to find out about Jungkook, it's that he loves to win. He won't be satisfied until he's got a home run.

Any other girl, and he'd have probably been running laps for fun by this point, but you... yeah, you didn't bowl him easy hitters, that was for sure.

Jungkook moves with confidence, like he always does, as he strides over to the sofa, the bulge in his pants considerably softened but still present. "Take a picture," he grins. "It'll last longer."

You roll your eyes, but it doesn't stop you from asking if that's an offer. He laughs - that soft, gentle thrum of his vocal chords that sounds so heavenly in your ears - and tells you to behave.

"I just gotta help a friend out," he says as he reaches over you to grab his rucksack. It's heavier now than it ever is at school, the jingle of crushed tin foil rustling as it briefly catches on your knee. He pretends not to notice the curiosity in your eyes. Pretty eyes, though. He quite likes them, especially when he's towering above you and can see the whites just above your lashline. Yeah, he likes them alot. "I'll only be an hour or so. You can stay here, if you like?"

The way he phrases it is so casual that it's almost like you're old friends.

That, or Jungkook's just used to having women he doesn't know very well stay at his place.

You're unaware of the mental gymnastics he's putting himself through. If he could kick himself without looking like a twat, then he definitely would.

Shrugging, you give him a polite smile. "I don't wanna overstay my welcome."

"Nah, you're fine. I can give you a lift back to yours when I'm home? I'll be an hour. Two, tops."

Finally you agree, watching as he leaves like a lovesick puppy, listening out for the familiar rattle of his exhaust pipe. There's a cough and splutter of petrol spitting onto the sidewalk as his motor roars into action, and then he's gone.

You don't hang around for much longer.

You tell yourself that you will. That it would be nice. That you and Jungkook might not be so ill-suited after all.

But as the clock ticks by on the wall, you find yourself getting antsy. You find yourself asking stupid questions. Who exactly is Hobi? What was in Jungkook's bag? Why is he always down in Daerim? Is that where he's gone now?

The thoughts grow, adapt, intrude. Before you know it, you're considering what you'd find if you opened the top drawer of his bedside cabinet.

Realistically, you know it would probably be a wank sock and a tub of vaseline - it doesn't matter though. Your mind is wondering. You need to scratch the itch.

Just a little peek. He'll never know.

Oh, how you loathe your brain.

What's the worst you could find? A revolver? His ex-girlfriends panties? Love letters? A crack pipe?

Somehow, you'd rather find a pipe than panties.

It's not that you want Jungkook to be a crack addict. It's just the more that you think about it, the more you come to realise that you really, really don't like the idea of someone else feeling how warm his torso is, or how his upper teeth always nip slightly when he starts kissing you, until the pressure of his pecks plump his lips. You've only experienced it a handful of times, and it's stupid to get carried away, but he just makes it so easy.

He didn't ask you to stay, you tell yourself. He asked you if you wanted to.

Moments of instability like this are exactly why girls like you don't spend time with boys like him. It's stupid. Futile. A game for fools.

You leave his apartment as you found it, with not even a note to say thank you. He's had a squeeze on your tits. You deem that thank you enough. If anything, he should be thanking you.

When he returns, just half an hour after your departure, he can still smell your perfume. He tosses his keys down, calls out your name, and is met with silence. It takes him a moment or so to realise that he's alone.

There's a sinking feeling in his chest that he doesn't recognise. Doesn't like. Hates, in fact.

But fine. Fuck it. He didn't want you there anyway. He'd just been doing a good deed. Being kind because - if your face was any indication - obviously someone else had been particularly unkind to you.

Jungkook thinks he knows who, now.

Daerim nights have always been sketchy, but the days are no better.

He's just the lowest rung on a long ladder of criminals who turn a profit when the sun goes down in Seoul.

Hobi had asked him to drop the stash in his rucksack off at a club, some gang-run joint that Jungkook doesn't know much about, so that he could get them back to his boss.

That had been the plan, at least.

He slings his bag down, now empty, and sinks into the sofa, not bothering to get a rag to clean himself up. No point. The dried blood will just wash off in his shower. It's not the first time this has happened. He doubts it will be the last.

Jungkook's nose is currently bleeding, dripping down his chin and hitting the ceramic tiles of his apartment with small slaps. A bruise is forming above his left eye socket, and his knuckles are red.

A punch to the face means very little to Jungkook.

He's young, but he's strong. Fast, too. It could have been a lot worse if he wasn't.

He pushes the back of his hand against his nose, sniffing, before unlocking his phone, and dialing a number he knows now by heart.

The dial tone bleeds out, just like his nose.

And so he hangs up, and calls the only person he knows he can rely on.

"Wassup, kid?"

Jungkook doesn't mean to sob, but he cant help it. He knows Yoongi has finals coming up. He doesn't need his bullshit on his plate, too.

"I got jumped Yoongs."

Fuck.

"You alright? Sound pretty bad? Where?"

"Daerim-"

"The fuck you doing there at this time of day?"

"Hobi wanted me to drop off my stash."

"Kook..." Yoongi speaks slowly, coming to a horrific realisation. A few punches had never bothered Jungkook before. Something bigger was at play. "The stash...?"

Jungkook can hear it in Yoongi's voice: fear.

"Gone."

Yoongi sighs down the line. "Hobi know yet?"

"No."

"Alright, get outta your flat," Yoongi begins, not wasting time. Now is not the time for emotions, and it's clear that Jungkook isn't capable of that just yet. "I need you to go somewhere safe, somewhere you can lie-low for a little bit alright? Let me sort it-"

"Yoong-"

"Let me sort it. I got you into this mess. Don't sweat it."

"Ple-"

"Kook. Seriously. Trust me with this."

Yoongi doesn't let him debate it any further - and it's just as well he doesn't, because as soon as he hangs up the phone, another call comes through. Jungkook wants to answer it. Really, he does.

Jungkook's just very aware of the fact that the guy who jumped him had almost been waiting for him. Right by the entrance of the apartment block which he always picked you up from.

In between blows, he'd warned Jungkook to 'stay the fuck away from the girl'.

The girl who's now returning his call.

"Hey," you say animatedly, having not expected him to call. You thought the pair of you would resume your usual awkward routine of pretending like nothing ever happened. "Sorry, I was in the shower. You good? Sorry I left, I just did-"

"I need a favour," he doesn't bother with formalities.

You want to banter with him, to flirt, but the tone of his voice warns you not to. So instead you tell him that you'll do whatever he needs.

"Can I come over?"

Fuck. Anything except that.

"Please."

YOU DON'T EXPECT to say yes. You don't expect to care more about him than you do about protecting your own dignity. You don't expect Jungkook to traipse down the stairs that lead to your slovenly open door with a glum look on his bloodsoaked face, as you stand there waiting for him.

But he does.

He makes no comment, no remark about the building. Just wraps his arms around your head, cradling you against his chest as you stand in your doorway. You can hear his heartbeat, thud, thud, thud against his ribs.

Go somewhere safe, Yoongi had told him. It was a no brainer.

"I'm sorry," he says, eventually pulling himself away from you. "I didn't know who else to ask."

You tell him it's fine, and you mean it. Keeping up pretences doesn't really matter so much anymore. Perhaps honesty was overdue from the both of you.

"The fuck happened to you?" You ask, tenderly reaching up to stroke away some of the dried blood from his lip. He winces, hisses, body tense, but he lets you continue. "Sorry."

"Could ask you the same, sugar," he speaks kindly, not wanting you to think he's being critical as he nods to the entryway behind you.

You grit your teeth together and let your hand rest on his shoulder. "King kicked the princess out of the castle."

And, suddenly, it doesn't seem embarrassing anymore. In fact, it seems perfectly apt that Jungkook knows. He doesn't pry, don't push for further clarification. Just nods. Accepts your reality.

"Castles are overrated, anyway," he presses a kiss to your head, and gently guides you through the threshold. The corridor is short, opening up to an open plan studio. The layout varies from Jungkook's, but it's similar in size. Small.

"Ignore the wallpaper," you say of the awkwardly granny-ish floral print. It's beige, so not totally offensive, but dear god, you think it looks like vomit.

"No," he grins. "It's... wow. Your landlord really knows how to make a statement, don't they?"

You perch on your bed and cringe. "A statement... a crime against interior design. Whatever you wanna call it."

Jungkook continues to pace around your room with a curious smile. He's partially deflecting from the fact he knows you're probably dying to ask about his face, and why he was so desperate to be with you, but he's also interested in the life you neglected to share with him.

Brown cardboard boxes are piled high in the corners, your possessions not yet unboxed.

This place is just temporary.

You've got three and a half million won sat on your desk. A couple more weeks, just a few, and you'll have enough for a deposit on a decent flat. Then you can get a regular job, something stable, and you won't have to worry. You could work through the summer and then figure out what to do next. Just as long as you keep on moving upwards, you'll be happy.

"So," you begin gingerly, as you head to the kitchenette beside your bed, wetting a cloth beneath your tap. "You gonna tell me what happened to your face?"

He takes your previous position, inviting himself to sit on the end of your bed, anticipating your return. There's light coming in from the thin windows by your ceiling, hitting directly onto your back. He thinks it's apt. Thinks you're the kind of girl who deserves a spotlight. Thinks that Mother Nature agrees.

Jungkook shrugs, in that lazy, boyish way he so often does, as you walk towards him. He spreads his legs, encouraging you between them, letting his hands graze your thighs. You pretend not to notice as you press the damp cloth to his cheek. Tiny crows legs appear at the edges of his eyes, face wincing from the contact. It's painful.

But being alone would be more painful. He chose to be here. To be with you.

And so he tells you what happened, with as much honesty he can muster. There are some things better left unsaid, his occupation being one of them. You listen attentively, dabbing at his wounds, a frown etched into the lines of your face.

"Stay away from the girl, huh?" you muse, avoiding his eyes as you study his face. His nose is still bleeding, but every time you tell him to tilt his head towards the ceiling, it ends up back in its original position. He can't see you as well with his head tilted back. Doesn't like it. Doesn't wanna do it. "Could be any girl."

Jungkook's dimple forms in his cheek. "No. No, it couldn't."

His fingers that have been grazing at your thighs squeeze tenderly, letting you know he means it. More than he thinks you know. More than he knows he should.

There's a chance that any words spoken between the pair of you could be misconstrued. He doesn't know what his feelings for you are, and you don't really understand yours for him - but you understand your body, and the electric current running beneath your lips, dying for a connection. A little spark.

So you do the only thing that makes sense: you kiss him.

And he kisses you back. Slowly, tenderly, deliberately. His lips melt into yours, hand pulling your legs closer. He encourages you onto his lap, as if he needs to be insufferably close to you. Once you're positioned how he wants, just like you were earlier, he grips your waist, keeping you stationed there.

Jungkook knows he should stop.

He knows he should have paid attention to the pair of fists that warned him off you as his skull hit the pavement earlier that morning, knows he shouldn't let himself get so wrapped up in such a red flag - but he just can't help himself. It's like you're laced in the narcotics he deals, and slowly but surely, you've gotten him addicted.

He's craving. Dying for a hit. Just a little taste of your tongue on his, the scent of your shampoo in his nose.

Red flags, red stop signs, pretty red lips all plump from the kisses he's smothering them in. Red blood, too. His nose is still a little damaged, and the way he's painting your cheek in crimson should repulse you.

Should repulse you.

Like fuck it does, though. You can smell the copper twinge through his plasma, and suddenly it's as if the Cullen's had the right idea all along.

When he pulls back, only for a moment, hands clutching at the side of your face to assess the look in your eyes, he notices it too. Hard not to. You blush all the fucking time, so much so that he knew the shade by heart, and the rouge on your cheek is far too vibrant, too scarlet. It's his fucking blood on you.

It should scare him, he knows. But the way you're looking at him, eyes all wide and glassy, lips swollen and waiting for more, has him unable to think straight. It has him obsessed, the way you don't care. The way he's covered you in blood and you still seem to want more.

But there's a softness to the way in which you're looking at him, mild confusion, as if you've got the same strange warmth running through your veins as he does. It's not a feeling he recognises, pulsing through his bloodstream with every beat of his heart.

Perhaps it's nothing. Jungkook tells himself that it is. Just adrenaline, probably.

You look at his lips, all crimson and blushed, and realise you much prefer the shade of his blood to the plum lipstick that had tainted them the night before. You're delicate as you wipe your thumb along his pouted bottom lip, just like you did in the bar. Except this time, the jealousy that had blossomed in your diaphragm is nowhere to be found. There's still a pinch beneath your ribs, but this time it's in your heart, and it's far more aching. This time, you feel his hurt.

Jungkook reaches down to where you left the damp cloth on your bed. It's wet and heavy in his hand, a little warm, too. He brings it to your face and dabs silently, cleaning you of the mess he's made. Fixing you. Restoring you to your former glory.

Its futile, 'cause his nose is still fucking bleeding, and you don't plan on leaving it more than a moment before you kiss him again. You simply don't care. Want him for all that he is, blood, sweat and tears.

But still, he insists on ridding you of his stain. Doesn't want to tarnish you. He's soft with the way he presses the cloth against you, mirroring how tenderly you were with him earlier. He's learning from you, adapting to you. Wants to be like you. Wants to be 'better'.

You watch as his eyes scan your face, brows twisted like they always do when he's about to say something but stops himself. The vertical groove just above his cupid's bow is red, blood tacky as it dries. If he kisses you now, he'll leave a stamp; a mark that says 'you're mine.'

It's too much. Far too much. You aren't his, and he knows this. He never wanted you to be his, in fact, for the longest time, he had wanted to be anything but yours.

But now he sits beneath you, crestfallen, heart in his throat, blocking him from speaking.

This was never part of the plan. He was never supposed to end up here. He was supposed to escape from the trenches, to get on the path of straight and narrow. Thrive. Succeed.

And it's not your fault, he knows this, but there's a little part of him that wonders what could have happened if he hadn't seen you that night in Daerim, hadn't seen the way your eyes look beneath night market lights, hadn't heard your laugh as he looked at his favourite view of the city.

You whisper his name, your palm resting flat on his chest, and his brows soften.

It doesn't matter what could have happened, anymore.

All that matters is what is happening.

The shortness of his breath, the flutter of his lashes against your cheek, the swelling between his legs. You can feel it, feel him, and he knows it. The way he's pulsing his hips upwards is testament to that.

It's a comfortable position, you sat on his lap on the end of your bed, not one that either of you wishes to break from. Not even as he begins to breathe against your lips, unable to properly control his reactions thanks to the friction beneath his briefs.

"Want you," he mumbles, pressing his lips into yours, the air in his lungs giving itself up to you. "Want you so bad."

You shake your head, brows pinched just a little. "I'm bad news for you."

And maybe that's it. Maybe he just wants you because he knows he shouldn't - but fuck it, if he can't let himself indulge in simple pleasures, then why bother getting himself beaten to a pulp over you?

"I'm bad news for myself, sugar," he husks against your lips, tickling them as he slips his tongue into your mouth. Deeper, deeper. Closer, closer. He wants it.

Wants it all.

Wants you naked.

Wants to know what it feels like to have you gasp in his ear as his hands roam beneath your panties.

Wants to know if you'd still look at him like you're stargazing even when he's railing you.

Wants it. Wants you. Just wants.

And what Jungkook wants, Jungkook gets.

He slips his hand up your shirt and pushes it upwards, before letting it crumple to the floor. You know that you should be more bashful, a little bit ashamed, but it's impossible when he's looking at you like this.

He has a visual now that he didn't have earlier. The glow of your skin beneath his bruised knuckles looks almost sinful, like he's plucking forbidden fruit from its tree. He'll pay the price for this, and he knows it, but he just can't resist.

Jungkook has always been a boob guy, always loved the way he could get girls moaning with just a little pinch, but never had he had a pair quite like yours. So full, so round, he's not sure his hands are big enough, and that doubt makes him throb. Soft and pillowy, he groans as he watches his fingers sink into them, utterly enthralled. His hips adjust, pushing upwards, pressing himself into you. He wants this. Wants it so bad.

You can feel the metal of his rings against your skin, and then you can feel his lips, his tongue, his teeth as they graze against the plush skin of your chest. He licks around your nipple, letting the air cool the wet trail, hardening you for him.

He's utterly obsessed.

His mouth pulls at the sensitive skin, suckles, sucks. His lashes are splayed on the tops of his cheeks, lips pouting around your nipple as he does so, small groans of pleasure vibrating against you. It will be a miracle if he can't already feel you seeping through your panties.

You whimper as his teeth graze your hardened nub, and his eyes flutter open. He doesn't detach himself, but instead, he keeps your gaze as he sucks. The pressure varies, and then it's hard. Really fucking hard. So hard you'll think he'll somehow give your nipple a hickey - but fuck, if you don't love the sensation.

"Christ," you gasp, before biting down into your bottom lip.

"Too hard?" He mumbles against you, peppering you in kisses and soft licks as if to apologise.

"No," you pant. "Was good. Was great. Just - fuck."

You laugh, soft and airy, and Jungkook smiles from the sound.

He likes this. Likes how you react to him.

And while he’s patient and gentle with you in a way that he isn't with other people, Jungkook has only ever known how to have sex in one way. It's ingrained into him, as if he was made to fuck like it; like he doesn't give a shit about the person he's screwing.

Jungkook doesn't do love, and you know this. He trades. Works in transactions. Settles debts. You don't really know this part, but you aren't stupid. You know he's never in Daerim for any good fucking reason.

You don't question it as his hands move south, slipping past your underwear. In fact, you're smug as he curses when he feels how wet you are, fingers slippery in your panties.

He pushes a finger into you, and closely follows it with a second. They curl ever so slightly, and it's at this point that you realise Jungkook is absolutely going to ruin you. Just a few pumps. Just to ease you up.

He's bored of waiting. Wants you now.

The pair of you move fluidly, minimal discussion needed, just occasional checks of 'you good?', or 'this okay?'. The answer is, always, without a doubt, 'yes'.

He gets you on your back, panties pulled off, legs not quite hanging off the edge of your bed, but nearly. He strips himself of his shirt first, and grins as he notices the way you whine.

"What?" he toys.

"Nothing," you flirt. "Just wish you'd hurry up. I'm a busy woman."

"Oh yeah?" The sound of his buckle coming undone is enough to make you fucking leak. "Busy doing what?"

You neglect to tell him. Not because you don't have a witty remark lined up, but because he's fucking naked now.

What a sight to behold he is. Body lean, honey skin flawless, muscles defined. You pretend like you're looking at his body, but your eyes are drawn to his cock. You'd expected length, but not the girth - and he has both in abundance. The tip of his cock is blushed and wet, with Jungkook just as aroused as you are.

Noticing your gaze, he rolls his eyes, and toys with your pussy again, lightly running his fingers up and down your slick entrance. When he pulls back, his fingers are still connected by thick clear fluid. His cock throbs.

"You're gonna get me so dirty," he hums, as he crawls onto the bed above you, before holding his fingers to your mouth. "Clean them."

Part of you wants to say no, but the other part of you can see his darkened gaze and the way his cock is twitching. You can't refuse.

His fingers are on the tip of your tongue, the tip of his cock nudging so close to your entrance that he may as well just do it. You raise your hips, encouraging, but he retracts a little just to tease.

The fingers that were in your mouth come to grip at the soft flesh of your cheeks, his thumb on the other side. "Don't you fucking dare."

There's tepid aggression to his movements, and it makes you feel vulnerable - but you like it. You like the way he's gripping your face, the ways he's looking at you with narrow eyes, just like he used to do across the lecture hall. You like being reminded of when you were nothing to one another, because it makes the satisfaction of feeling his stiff cock jump a little against your pussy as you moan so much more worth it.

He used to hate you, now he can't wait to bury his fat cock in you. Victory is yours, even if he's trying to act like he's the one holding all the cards.

You don't correct him, though. You let him think he has the upper hand. You'll play pillow princess just this once if it means you get to see him a little bit mean again.

"Dare what?" you pout, cheeks still squished between his fingers. He grips a little tighter, your chest rising as you gasp. He pulls your face towards his, sinking down into your lips, until he decided he's done with you.

He stands by the edge of your bed, and yanks your ankles towards him, pulling you close enough to the edge for him to fuck you like this.

The loss of his grip is unwelcome by you, a frown forming. He isn't looking at your face now, eyes down on his cock, which he's rubbing between your soaked pussy lips, but he can almost hear you brace yourself to whine. He smirks, one side of his mouth lifting, head knocking to the side slightly.

"Don't you dare try and set the pace," he finally husks, still not glancing up towards you. He's taking his time, making sure the head of his cock kisses every inch of your exposed mess. "Nearly got my nose fucking broken for this pussy-" he spits, hard and fast, right onto your clit, spreading it with his cock. "- so I'm gonna make sure I get what I'm owed."

He spreads your thighs back, his fingers gripping harshly just how you like it. Perhaps you should pretend to be embarrassed by the fact your cunt is leaking for him, begging for him, but the way he hisses at the sight, chest heaving, prevents it.

Jungkook's thought about this before, about how pretty and pristine you'd be, about the mess he'd hoped you'd make. Thought about it so many times. Fingers wrapped around his shaft in the middle of the night when no one can hear him chant your name as he spills over. Yeah, he's thought about it a lot.

His imagination has never done you justice. One look and he's obsessed. Wants to spend hours touching, caressing, licking you.

"Take it," you whisper. "What you're owed, Jungkook. Take it."

He looks up now, brows threaded together. You don't recognise the contemplation his face is laced in, but he doesn't give you the chance to question it, for you begin to feel that burn. The one your fingers can never give you. It's alien, and yet familiar, inherently natural but intrusive nonetheless.

"Shit," is all you can manage to say, eyes locked on his.

He wants to watch himself sink into you, watch as his fat cock forces your slick wetness out of your pussy, but he can't. Not when you're looking at him like that. Not when your chest is heaving and your eyes are watering beneath tense brows. Not when your mouth is hanging open and just begging to be fucked like your tight little pussy.

And then he starts feeling something a little strange. A little unfamiliar. A little bit like his heart has stalled to beat in time with the contractions of your chest. And though he's not in pain anymore, too busy feeling you, he's aware that it hurts. Aware that he can't fuck you like he wanted to, 'cause his chest needs to be against yours. Needs to feel the beating drum beneath your ribs.

He doesn't even realise that he's paused until you whine a meagre, "please."

"That's more like it," he hums, as he pushes into you, the base of his thick cock plugging the weeping mess that he's made. You know that as soon as he pulls out, you'll be whimpering, begging for the tip of his cock to kiss your walls once more. "See how nice things can be when you just behave yourself, huh?"

His hips push just a little deeper, and he knows that it hurts. Knows that the little gasp isn't entirely from pleasure. He's seen his cock. Doesn't take a genius to work out that it can do damage.

"You can take it," he tells you, and like a pathetic, whimpering mess, you fucking nod. He's still inside of you, still deeper than you thought possible, and then his hand is on your stomach. He grabs your hand and places it beneath his. "You feel that?" He retracts just a little, pushing back in just as deep. Beneath your hands, there's a bulge. External or internal, it doesn’t matter. It's him. He does it again. "You feel me taking what's mine?"

Whatever the fuck you moan is incoherent, but he doesn't give a shit, 'cause he's ploughing now. Bucking his hips into you like pneumatic fucking drill. Shit. He's done this before. Got it mastered to a fine art. Momenta worthy of a museum exhibition.

Your tits are pillowed on your chest, nice and round, wobbling as he takes command of your body. He slaps one of them, just to watch it ripple, before that firm grip of his is on it. "Perfect tits," he growls the compliment, not really meaning for it to come out. "Gonna put my cock between them later," he tells you. "Gonna cum all over them."

He doesn't tell you that he'll also clean them with his hungry tongue, before delivering his cum into your mouth. Figures he'll just let you find out. His brain is working at a mile a minute, trying to reign back thoughts of sharing his cum with you in such a filthy manner. God, he wants to do heinous things to you. With you. For you.

But for now, he needs to focus on his cock. It's rubbing inside of you, nuzzling. He knows he's weeping, and that his precum is getting mixed with your slick juices. Knows he won't last long if you keep whining like that. Mewling. Purring.

He stalls his hips, letting go of your tits as they jiggle back into position. Your cheeks are flushed, imprints of his fingers reddening your skin. Lips pouted and resting ajar, Jungkook thinks they've never looked more fuckable. More kissable. More whisper-sweet-nothings-against-able.

"You ever shut the fuck up?" he teases, but is quick to notice confusion flash in your eyes. He didn't mean it as an insult, but it's easy to read the hurt in your perplexed features, and the way you begin to try and push your legs together. It's futile. His cock is keeping you open.

But you feel embarrassed, as if your natural reactions to him are a turn-off. It's silly, because he's quite literally inside of you, fat and solid, using you to milk himself. Of course, he's not turned off, but you're hyper-aware of how vulnerable you're feeling right now. It had been fun to pretend like you were in control, but as soon as he slipped inside of you, all sense of power had evaporated.

He doesn't realise this though. Doesn't realise that his cock is nudging so deep into you that it's practically knocking against your heart. Knock, knock, knock. Who's there? Your mind taunts, but you daren't answer.

"Hey," he coos, one of his large palms stroking on the inside of your thighs. That uncomfortable, obscure feeling is back again. The one that tells him he needs to be closer to you. This time, he doesn't ignore it. His hips pulse, just the once. A reminder he's still very much into this. Into you.

His hands grip your waist, softly this time, as he manoeuvres himself onto the bed with you, keeping himself snug. Your head is by the pillows, Jungkook's knees on either side of your ass, his chest flat against yours as one of his hands cradles your jaw. He presses a chaste, airy kiss against your lips, and whispers, "I love the way you sound." He kisses you again, hips rocking. You're trying not to, but you whine. "Fuck, sugar. You're my favourite fucking sound."

Your legs hook over his back, and he groans now. The angle change lets him delve deeper, your walls massaging him so well. Jungkook thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He's slipping in and out of you with minimal force, skin slapping together. He makes sure to let his moans roll off his tongue and into your mouth. You eat them up and give them back. The pair of you aren't kissing anymore, just gasping and humming into one another's mouths. He's stuttering.

There's a pause as he adjusts his grip, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs. He likes it, the way you seem to melt around him in all capacities. His lips nudge against yours as his steady hips begin to rock into yours again.

You groan as he pushes down on your legs, pushing you as far apart as your bones allow. It's typical of him, seeing how far he can take things. Push them to the limit. Always gets him in trouble. There's a click, as air escapes from the socket where your leg meets your pelvis.

"You good?" He checks and you respond with a kiss. Hands tangled in his hair, you hope it conveys the fact you've never felt better. He laughs a little, soft and serene, into your mouth, the weight of his body keeping you trapped beneath him.

You're morbid in your thoughts, and consider how nice it would be for Jungkook to suffocate you like this; steal you of the air you breathe with his tiny giggles of satisfaction. So, so nice, you think.

And so you tell him. You tell him that you want his hand on your throat. He takes a second to respond - not because he doesn't want to, but more so because he can't believe you actually asked.

He doesn't normally fuck the girls he cares about like this. Then again, he never really cares about the girls he fucks.

"God," you moan as he pushes one of your legs over his shoulder. His body is clammy against yours, skin hot and damp, chest lean but built. He's working hard; not just for his release. For yours too. Rams into you, stuffing your cunt with his cock, dipping his head to lather your clasped throat in wet kisses.

"That's it, sugar," he growls as his teeth graze your neck. "Need to hear how good you feel. Need to hear what my cock does to you. You owe me."

You want to laugh. You're about to laugh. But then his head dips down to your chest, and he latches onto one of your pebbled nipples, sucking so hard that all you can do is tremble. He knows you like this. Knows it makes your pussy all creamy and slippery for him - and like clockwork, he's proven right. The sounds are lewd. He loves it.

"On your back," you husk, punctuating your instruction with a whimper as he suckles even harder. He shakes his head, eyes closed, mouth vibrating and full of your tit. Not a chance, he tries to say, but it just sounds likes he's forgotten how to speak. Too busy. Too close to spilling himself into you. Doesn't wanna get distracted.

So focused, he doesn't realise you're pushing him over until you're on top. He frowns as he detaches from your nipple with a pop, but his hands are running all over your body regardless. Obviously doesn't care that much. Course he doesn't. That ache in his chest has settled.

Until he starts thinking about it, and oh god, it's back and it's fucking unbearable.

"C'mere," he pulls you flush against him, as your hips begin to work against him. His hands cradle your face so he can kiss you as deeply as he likes, tongue slipping into your mouth, as his cock slips up and down your pussy. This, he thinks, is it. This is what fucking should feel like.

"Shit," he whispers. "Shit."

The friction of his surprisingly neat hair that rests at the base of his cock is nice. Real fuckin' nice. You're not even fucking him anymore, just grinding against it. Using it, using him, to get yourself off.

You think you're being slick, like he won't notice - but he does. Of course, he does. He's obsessed with your body.

"God, yeah, baby," his back arches, pressing his chest against yours, eyes closed. "Use me like that. Use me," he bites into your shoulder gently. "Fucking use me."

He means it. Doesn't give a shit about himself anymore. Just wants to feel you tremble as he holds you close. Wants to press kisses against your lips as your moans become undignified. He needs to be the reason you cum; needs to be responsible for your oxytocin rush.

You sit up a little, and Jungkook holds back a pout from the separation - but how can he complain when you're sat like that, his cock buried inside of you, hair a mess and with eyes like his favourite constellation? He's hypnotised as your boobs begin to bounce, pussy working up his shaft like the true Daerim woman of the night you are. He's forgotten about all of that, now. Can't think about anything except for how to not fucking cum.

He can't and he won't. Not until you do. But you're bouncing, and it's wet, and he can hear it, and it feels so fuckin' good. His toes are curling, torso tensing, eyes half-shut, pretty little pout hanging open. He's fucking whining. "Yeah like that," he encourages. "Gonna milk me so well, baby. Gonna... ah. Fuck. Gonna-"

Jungkook can't fucking speak. He wants to. Wants to tell you how fucking beautiful you look, how he wants this endlessly, how he never wants to let you go. Needs to tell you how right this feels, how good you make him feel, how he doesn't understand his feelings but fuck, just that he is feeling. Feeling so much.

You're not sure at which point he started calling you baby, but you're actually convinced that the name alone could tip you over the edge.

The pace of your hips is slowly, savouring. He doesn't quite get it. You were so close. Why stop?

The stillness of your movements makes way for something new. He feels a throb around his fat cock, which is begging for release. Notices the way your chest is shaking like you've got hiccups, tiny whines of pleasure making themselves known. Your pussy was always warm, but it's hot now, contracting around him.

And then he gets it.

"Oh, shit," he mewls, his hips slowly pumping upwards. "Yeah, that's it, baby. Let yourself cum. All over my dick," he encourages, hedonistic and self-serving. "That's it. Cream for me."

His slow movements as he fucks up into you amplify the sensation, the tip of his cock nudging languidly against your tight walls. Your entire body shudders, the feeling rippling from your chest right down to your toes. You rasp out moans, the sensation all too powerful, a creamy mess pooling at the base of his shaft. There's a jerk as your muscles spasm, your orgasm well and truly delivered. He pulls you down and into his chest, his strong arms wrapped around your back.

Your body rests on his, spent and sensitive, and he can tell you can't hold out for much longer. He pushes back the hair that's sticking to your clammy face, and presses kisses into your temple.

"So big," you hum, voice hazy, eyes shut.

"Just a little more, baby," he promises. " You're doing so well. Just a little..."

You've considered how Jungkook would orgasm on more than one occasion - and you're pleasantly surprised to find that your imagination was wrong. There's no grand declaration, nor large grunt. He's not aggressive, either, like you'd half-hoped he would be.

Instead, Jungkook kisses you as his hips begin to stall. His brows are creased, moans muffled against your lips. His torso shudders, abdomen as tight as his balls. "Baby," he drowsily mewls, and then it's happening. His cock pumps into you, unloading thick creamy spurts with every stroke of your pussy. The first one is so desperate that you're almost positive you can feel it paint your insides. You moan along with him, utterly obsessed with this, him, whatever the fuck just happened.

He doesn't withdraw immediately. Just lays there and kisses your skin, absolutely spent.

You don't move a muscle. You don't want it to be over. Don't wanna lose this. Lose him.

When you tilt your head to look at him, he's smiling. Eyes closed, cheeks appled. Serene. In a state of fucked-out bliss.

You tell him that he's pretty, and he lets out an airy laugh, covering his face with one of his hands. You move his hand and watch him fondly, enthralled with the grin that he's struggling to fight.

He turns to look at you, and the smile he's been boasting amplifies. "God, you're gorgeous."

It's not a new observation; just one he's never voiced before. One that he was able to resist saying. But you're naked now, chest pillowed against his, eyes glowing and nose blushed.

You hum, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "I'm glad you chose to come here."

Just like that, there's a knot in Jungkook's stomach that seems to anchor that feeling he keeps having.

"Yeah," he nods. "Me too."

IT'S THREE IN the afternoon by the time you wake from your post-fuck snooze. Jungkook's never had one of those before. Hated being sticky after sex with anyone else. Always had to shower - but with you, he wants to stick to you like glue.

"Should have filmed that," he hums, the tips of his fingers stroking up your arms. You aren't sure if he's joking or not. "Would have given us a unique take on the project. Probably wouldn't have gotten us very high grades, mind you, but art is subjective."

"Some would argue that the critique of art is objective," you muse back, still blissfully cum-drunk from the events prior to your nap. Jungkook's nose has stopped bleeding, and the pair of you have almost forgotten the reason he showed up in the first place. "Documentary maker by night, porn star by day," you flirt. "Although it's cute that you think you fuck like a porn star."

"I felt you shaking," he says, knowing there's no possible way that you didn't enjoy it. His nose feels a little cold after all the trauma of the morning, so he buries it into your hair. "Can't fake that."

"That's what I'm saying," you simper, pressing a kiss against his bare torso, just below the meeting of his collarbones. And then another, simply for good measure. "Porn stars never actually look like they're making the woman feel any good." You trail down his chest, tongue licking gently at the darker skin around his nipple. "You... yeah you don't fuck like a porn star." And then you suck a little. He hisses, in the best possible way.

"Don't," he says. "Not ready to go again."

You laugh.

Jungkook thinks he's reached Nirvana. Almost certain, in fact. Never had a girl do that to him before. He loves to give it, but hasn't ever thought to receive it. Wonders what other things you'll do to him that he's never had done before. He can feel his cock fucking twitching again, achy and sore, definitely not recovered yet from how hard he went earlier - but god, he wants it. Wants to bury himself inside you again. Belong to you.

His hands paw at you, one gripping on your chest, the other on your ass, pulling you closer. Your leg hooks over him, and he can feel how wet you still are on the side of his thigh. His balls fucking tighten. He can feel it happening, blood rushing to his crotch.

Yet despite it all, he just kisses you. Softly. Tenderly. Merely his lips languid between yours. Withdraws slowly. Keeps his eyes closed. Bliss.

"The fuck have you done to me, sugar?" he whispers, dark eyes opening to look into yours. His speech is husky, like he trying to steal the answers of a pop-quiz from you. You can't help him. You don't have a clue what the answer is. You're just as stuck as he is. "Got me feeling all fuzzy 'n' shit."

"Just a sugar rush," you smile. "It'll pass."

You're both acutely aware that it won't, but that will be a problem for another day.

"Tell you what," Jungkook muses, though his thoughts are shallow. He's not digging deep. Just talking for the sake of it. "I might not fuck like a porn star, but you don't fuck like a hooker."

He pulls your arm up so that he can study the crease of your elbow. You let him move your body like you're a barbie doll. You'll be his toy, you think, if he wants. No bother.

His fingers press at the thin skin that covers your veins, inspecting.

"Not a scratch," he assesses. "So you're not an addict either."

You laugh, slightly amused. "No? Maybe I just don't inject."

Jungkook gives you a stern look. Hopes you're joking. Tells you that you better fucking be joking. The sweetness of your laughter tells him that you are.

"So?" you press. "I'm not a prostitute and I'm not an addict. It's your lucky day. What of it?"

Jungkook tilts his head down so that his nose is nestled into the crown of your head again. Comforting, he thinks. Smells like laundry. You must have washed your sheets recently.

His next statement takes you off guard.

"Only ever see three kinds of women down in Daerim."

And you know.

You know he knows.

You can feel it in the way he protectively presses his lips into your skull, as if he's Prince Charming trying to rid his Sleeping Beauty of the nightmare she's been living. Wake up.

But Prince Charming rides a white horse, not a petrol-spitting, air-cooled, steel-framed shadow that rips through the city at night.

There are no nightmares, either. You're already wide awake. There's no saving you.

He sighs against your head. Pauses. Resists, and then confronts.

"I know what you do in the dark, sugar."

You don't say anything for a moment, and then you're pulling away from him, reaching for your shirt. He doesn't like this. Misses your warmth, but doesn't stop you. Instead, he follows, sitting on the edge of your bed, the corner of your comforter lazily protecting his modesty. His muscles are relaxed now, a little crease in his stomach from the way that he's slouching, hands in his lap. Those Bambi eyes of his are peaking through his hair, cheeks red and grazed from the morning encounter he'd had in Daerim.

He watches as you pull your shirt over your head, hair just as messy as his, and a graze on your cheek to match. He was pretty certain before that it had been carpet burn, but now that he's seen it up close, softly rubbed his thumb against it during pretty kisses, he's sure of it.

You avert his gaze. Feel shameful. Hate that he knows. You never cared before. It was just a fun little secret, the fact that he didn't know you were no angel.

But you want him to think that you're one, now.

For a moment, you were sure that he had.

Instead, now, it feels like you're falling from grace.

He reaches for your hand, but you pull it back. "Please don't."

And so he doesn't. Just sits for a little while instead. "Do you want me to get dressed?"

You really don't.

But your tongue is lodged in your mouth and it won't budge. You turn away, internally furious with yourself. It's been a while since you've gotten like this; so dreadfully panicked that you can't talk. It's a once in a blue moon kind of thing, the early onset of a panic attack, but you're hoping it won't reach the stage of no return. Praying.

"Babe?"

He sounds worried now, and it's making it worse. Feels like you've just reached the top of Bukhan Mountain without taking a second to catch your breath.

Has your chest always been this tight? Or has someone just been wrapping rubber bands around your torso without you noticing?

It isn't possible, and you know this, but it feels like it and - oh God - you can hear him shuffling, the buckle of his belt clanging. He's leaving, he's leaving, he's leaving, your ribs cackle as they close down on your lungs.

There's a light hum behind you, like a wasp is coming to send you into a state of anaphylactic shock and then it stops. His jeans are tossed to the floor once more.

"Yoongi?" Jungkook speaks quietly behind you into the receiver of his phone. "Wassu- Yeah, yeah, I'm safe. I'm good."

I'm safe.

I'm good.

"Where are- Yoongi stop. Stop it. I'm being deadly fucking serious-"

You don't realise it, but your chest begins to mellow as you listen in to his conversation.

"It's my mess!" He shouts now. "I'll fucking fix it. I don't give a fuck what Hobi says. Where you at? The Zoo? I'll be there- Yes, I will. Don't do anything fucking stupid."

And then he hangs up, chucking his phone into your bed with more aggression than he'd ever wanted to show in your presence. You don't see it, back still turned, but you hear it, the way his phone rebounds against the springs of your mattress.

"Shit," he hisses, and when you turn to face him, you find that his head is in his hands, elbows on his knees.

Crouching by him, your chest expands. You don't give a shit about yourself anymore. Your palms rest just behind his elbows, eyes anchored below his, looking up.

"He's got his fucking final in an hour," is all Jungkook says. "He's gonna miss his fucking final."

He lifts his head, tender lips pouted, eyes bloodshot from the pressure he's been placing on his palms. Looks right at you. Decides he'll never trust another pair of eyes more.

"I know what you do in the dark, sugar," he relays. "But I do worse. So much fucking worse. And I've just gone and fucked it all up."

And while he blames it all on himself, you know it's your fault.

He didn't stay away from the girl. He tempted fate, tugged on the red string, and accidentally snapped it.

Forlorn, he slumps, tongue wetting his bottom lip as he bites down on it. It's only to stop it from trembling. Clouds lurk in his eyes, trying to block his vulnerabilities from you, but it doesn't take a genius to work out that he's scared.

"Take it," you say, lips in a flat line, eyes stern. You nod towards the pile of cash on your desk, and his eyes follow. "Take it. Pay your debts. I can earn it again. I don't have a deadline. You do."

He shakes his head.

"I'm not taking the money you've earned."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not," he protests and you've got it in your right mind to slap his pretty face silly. "Gonna be totally honest," he adds, "Don't really want your sugar baby money. Kinda resent it a little. Resent the fucker who gave it to you."

Jungkook hates him.

Doesn't know him.

Loathes him.

"So then give him the middle finger and take it," you plead. "He got you fucked up into this mess, he got you jumped, he got your stash stolen. Take his money and get yourself and Yoongi out of it. You don't have time to be fucking arguing with me."

He wants to fight back. You stop him.

"We can argue later," you promise.

And that ever-present effervescent feeling is back in his chest.

"Sugar," he speaks quietly. "Don't do this."

"Kook," you respond, voice much firmer than his. "You gotta do this. Yoongi shouldn't be fixing your mistakes and you know it. We can work it out on an I.O.U. basis. It's okay."

"I.O.U. suggests I'm gonna keep seeing you for a while," Jungkook mumbles. He isn't feeling as confident in himself as he had done earlier.

You stand, offering your hand to him so that you can pull him up with you. Neither of you acknowledge the fact that he's stark bollock naked. It's really not the time. Nothing you haven't seen before, after all.

"Well, yeah," you shrug with a straight face, but there's a glint in your eye. "I'd hope so. Pretty sure you said you were fuck my tits later? Gotta hold up your end of the bargain, sugar."

And despite it all, he laughs, toying with your hands before slipping his finger between yours. "Don't call me that."

"Why not?" You squeeze his hands. "You're technically my sugar baby now."

"That's not how it works."

God, he knows he shouldn't be fucking about, wasting time flirting, but he just can't help himself.

"No?" You question, equally distracted.

"No," he says. "If you're paying me, and I'm fucking you, then that makes me a hooker."

He's not wrong.

"Oh, that's kinda hot," you smile, pulling gently on his hands to encourage him to lean down. He does as he's told, and kisses you like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"You're so fucked up," he whispers against you, knowing that it's exactly why he enjoys you so much.

You don't let the moment linger, though, tossing him his clothes and going to grab the money while he dresses himself. You stack it together, all nice and neat, using the desk to straighten the edges. The wedge is thick in your hands. Yellow 50's are laughing at you. Stupid girl thought we'd fix her problems, they chatter silently to one another.

"Three and half million won," you hold it out to Jungkook. He hesitates, so you force his grip around it and let go. It's his problem, now. Not yours. You smile so warmly that Jungkook can't help but let that feeling in his chest simmer. Your hair is still messy, mascara still smudged. He wants to kiss your cheeks.

Jungkook hasn't disclosed what exactly was in his bag.

But in the same way he knows there are only three types of women in Daerim, you know there are equally only three types of men.

There's only one demographic that he belongs to. Yoongi, too.

You don't say it explicitly, not like he does.

"Holangi are nasty fuckers," you acknowledge. "I know they raise the stakes just for the fun of it. Whatever got stolen, the street value doesn't matter. Take it all. You'll need it."

Take what I owe you.

When he kisses you goodbye, it's just like the first time; all breathy and needy, lips parted and pouting. Again and again, he presses down into your lips. His brows furrow, hands on your cheeks, chest pressed against yours.

The crimson paint that had stained you from his very first kiss returns. You're painted in red for the second time that morning, but this time only you can see it. Only you can feel it.

That's her. That's the girl who let Jeon Jungkook kiss her like he actually meant it.

But it's funny now, because you know that he does mean it.

When he finally leaves, his nose is blushed, his cupids bow too. Eyes glassy. Smile forlorn.

Disappointingly, as you close the door of your apartment when he's no longer in your line of sight, you remember exactly how Jungkook had kissed you for the first time:

Like it was going to be the last.

And it consumes you, because the kiss you just shared felt exactly the same.

Your chest is uncomfortable again, but it's not rubber bands this time.

It's that stupid red string that Jungkook had tugged too tightly on.

The one that he'd snapped right in half.

WATTPAD // AO3 // KO-FI // CARRD

#jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot

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joonsmagicshop · 5 months

Text

Wait, You're a Virgin?

Summary: Jungkook gets teased at a college party for being a virgin and asks you to help him out

Paring: Virgin Jungkook/Reader (Jimin and Tae for the plot)

Word Count: 8.8k

Rating: M/18+ because smut

Tags: porn with plot, virgin Jungkook, first time, fluff, smut, handjobs, blow jobs, eating pussy, fingering, fucking, college drinking, College AU

Authors Note: This all started because of the duality of Jeon Jungkook because how can one man be so small and cute but sexy at the same time????? Also please know if you are a virgin in college there is nothing wrong with you and it is totally A-ok. Everyone is on a different timeline when it's meant to happen it will happen

The library was your sanctuary and safe space.

A place where you could listen to the quiet hum of the heater and hear the soft sounds of pencils scratching against paper while you focused on the mountain of homework you had to complete.

You would not be hearing the sounds of rough sex in the library

Which was exactly what brought you here tonight.

Your roommate and her boyfriend had decided to have sex…again…for the third time today and this time, they were not being quiet about it.

You felt gross listening in, but even your headphones couldn't block out the noise of his grunts and moans so you hastily grabbed your stuff and threw it into a tote bag before getting out of there as quickly as possible and making your way to the library.

It was a Friday night and the library was busier than usual. You knew most college students were in the same boat as you. November was fast approaching and assignments and final exams loomed over most of the students as they all crammed to remember what they had learned.

You were planning on studying tonight anyway so you took your usual spot at the small wooden desk by the window and got settled in.

Textbooks were spread out everywhere and you started up your laptop as you pulled your hair back into a ponytail. You hummed quietly to yourself as you pulled your sweater off your body.

Right as you were about to start studying your phone vibrated loudly against the desk. Multiple people glared at you as you ducked your head and apologized, quickly turning your phone to silent and checking to see who was texting you.

You tried to stifle your giggles as you pictured Taehyung's horrified face as he stood by the door hearing your roommate going at it.

You grinned as you could imagine the blush that was covering Taehyung's cheeks. He had been harboring a massive, mega crush on Park Jimin since the start of the year. He had accidentally turned a corner too quickly on campus and bumped right into him. Jimin was polite and kept apologizing over Taehyung's apologizes and they both had a good laugh out of it

A week later he was claiming it was fate and Jimin and him were meant to be.

Tae had started to drag you to parties he knew Jimin would be attending. Most of the time choosing to stare at him from across the room before actually going over to talk to him. As the weeks dragged on Tae had become a lot more comfortable and got to know Jimin and his friends, easing himself into their group effortlessly.

You slipped your phone into your jacket pocket and smiled.

You slipped your headphones on and turned on some random background music track as you got to work. Every once in a while taking breaks to stretch or drink water, sometimes just staring out the window at the cars that would drive by. The sun had set hours ago and you checked your phone to see you had already been working for almost two hours.

Just as you were about to pack up, your phone screen flashed, signaling someone was calling you.

“Hello?” You said quietly packing up your stuff and trying to keep your voice low.

“Y/N. Need you to come to this party. Now.” Tae demanded with an air of urgency.

“Tae I said I wanted to get some work done…remember? Besides aren't you with your man?” You teased as you slung your backpack over your shoulder and exited the library, opting to sit on one of the comfy couches that were just outside the library.

“I'm trying to be with my man but I need you here. Right now. He's been man-napped and I need your help.” Tae said, clearly upset.

“Man-napped? What does that even mean?” You ask trying to hold back your snickers.

“It means someone has been all over him all night and I can't get him alone. I need you here as a distraction. Now.” Taehyung explained. You shook your head. Taehyung was always known for being slightly dramatic.

“Who's all over him anyway?” You respond as you lean back against the couch and close your eyes.

“Jeon Jungkook.” Tae grits out and you want to laugh

You really do

“Jeon Jungkook? Seriously?” You deadpan

Jeon Jungkook was very shy and quiet. He had been to multiple parties but you had hardly said two words to him. He had dark hair and big doe eyes that made him seem a lot younger. He mostly hung out with Kim Namjoon who could make friends with almost anybody.

“Yes. Jungkook. But he's…different.” Tae explained as you let out an exasperated sigh.

“Tae. Please. I need more information before I drop everything and show up to Jimin's” You explain to him rubbing a hand down your face.

“Oh. We're not at Jimin's were at Liza's, her parents….it doesn't matter. What matters is Jungkook is stealing my man Y/N.” Taehyung all but whines.

“Jungkook? Like the Jungkook that doesn't leave Namjoon's side?” You prod for more information failing to hide the disbelief in your voice.

“He's… okay well did you know he has a full sleeve of tattoos? Did you know that under all those baggy clothes he's fit as fuck? He's man-napping Jimin. I need you to come and distract him.” Taehyung finally explains as you sit up a little straighter.

Because no.

You didn't know any of that about Jungkook.

It seemed hard to picture him like that but you combed through your memory trying to figure out if you ever saw him in a short-sleeved shirt.

“1950 Maple Road. Text me when you're here.” Taehyung said before the phone line went dead.

You stared at your phone in disbelief as you called a taxi to take you there

“This is ridiculous,” You told yourself as you got in the taxi

“Jungkook is nothing to worry about.” You reminded yourself as you paid the driver and set off towards the house, texting Taehyung on the way.

“Tae is being dramatic.” You muttered under your breath as he met you at the front door.

You quickly dropped your bag and took off your shoes as you looked around.

The music was loud, but not loud enough to drown out conversation as Taehyung dragged you around the house. You saw some people you recognized from class and sent them small waves as you were brought from room to room before you settled in the kitchen.

“See!” Tae exclaimed as he not so subtly pointed towards the massive living room where Jimin and Jungkook were sitting on a couch together, Namjoon sitting on the floor, his long legs sprawled out.

Your jaw dropped.

It was Jungkook but not how you remembered him.

He was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and his tattoos were on full display. His legs were spread wide and his knee was bumping into Jimin's. His hands were around a red solo cup and he took a sip and scanned the crowd.

“Told you.” Taehyung hissed in your ear as he pulled you towards the couch before you could even process what you were seeing.

“Hey Y/N made it!” Tae announced as Jimin and Namjoon smiled and greeted you. Jungkook gave you a quick glance then turned to look around at the party. Clearly, he was still shy under this tough guy persona.

Taehyung chose to sit on the armrest of the couch next to Jimin so you had no choice but to sit on the armrest on the other side of the couch, next to Jungkook.

You weren't really paying attention to the conversation around you, it was about a video game you knew nothing about. Instead you tried to formulate a plan to get Jungkook alone. As his knee kept bumping Jimin's and Tae kept shooting you worried looks.

“I didn't know you had tattoos Jungkook?” You said nudging him to get his attention.

He looked up at you, his big dark eyes widening. You pointed towards his tattoos and he blushed.

“Yeah, I'm an art student so it…kind of fits the vibe you know…Namjoon said-” He was cut off when Namjoon swatted his knee and gave him a pointed look.

“I just wanted to wear short sleeves tonight.” He finished lamely and you giggled wondering what Namjoon had said to the boy.

Before you could continue Seokjin came by to talk to Namjoon about class and Namjoon got up from the floor and promised he would be back soon, as he followed Seokjin in the crowd.

Now it was just Tae, Jimin, Jungkook, and yourself.

Now was the time to make a move.

Before you could even open your mouth to say something a girl came up to the couch eyeing Jungkook.

“Hey, we are going to start a game of Never Have I Ever in the dining room. You should join us.” She said with a smile of her over-glossed lips, staring at Jungkook and Jungkook only.

“Yeah, Jungkook let's go!” You said excitedly hopping off the armrest and looking at him.

This was the perfect opening to get Tae and Jimin alone.

God, you were a good friend.

Jungkook looked unsure but the girl didn't give him time to say no. Instead, she wrapped a well-manicured hand around his arm and pulled him from the couch dragging him through the crowd.

Taehyung snickered as you shook your head.

“Well, I should go keep an eye on him.” You say excusing yourself and grinning as you make your way through the house, taking the long way to the kitchen, which was right next to the dining room.

You found a red solo cup and filled it with pop as you kept an eye on the party. Tucked back against the kitchen wall you had a great view of the dining room, where Jungkook was dragged into a chair by the girl and looking super nervous.

You also had a great view of the living room where Taehyung took Jungkook's place on the couch looking like he had just won the lottery.

You smiled to yourself as you sipped your drink and watched the party unfold. You were more than happy to be a wallflower, just taking it all in.

Your thoughts were interrupted when someone squeezed your arm and you looked to see Namjoon standing there with a dimpled grin.

“About time they got together.” He said nodding in the direction of Tae and Jimin whose heads were bent low, talking together.

“That's what I've been saying! The fact Tae dragged me here as a babysitter is ridiculous. He had nothing to worry about.” You admitted.

“Babysitter?” Namjoon asked as you flushed realizing what you just admitted.

“Uh. Shit. I shouldn't have said anything.” You said, embarrassed as Namjoon let out a soft laugh and adjusted his black beanie.

“Tae called me in a panic because he was worried about Jungkook. I'm supposed to be distracting him so Tae can have Jimin to himself. But I guess it all worked out.” You admitted with a shy smile.

“Ah. Yeah, Tae had nothing to worry about. Jimin has been telling me for months he thought Tae was hot. Plus Jungkook isn't like that. He thinks Jimin is cool. That's all.” Namjoon admits, sipping his drink again

“What did you tell him about his tattoos?” You suddenly asked as Namjoon let out a laugh and nearly spilled his drink in the process.

“He wasn't supposed to say anything! I told him, well I told him if he displays them instead of hiding under all these baggy clothes maybe he could get laid. I didn't think it would actually work.” He said surprised as you both looked over to the dining room where the girl was practically on his lap.

“Good for him.” You said with a small smile.

“Yeah. Listen, if Tae is having you play babysitter I'm gonna go talk to some people. Keep an eye on Jungkook. See you” Namjoon said squeezing your arm again and disappearing into the mix of people.

About five minutes after Namjoon left you alone in the kitchen the sounds from the dining room caught your attention.

You walked over, staying against the wall as you would much rather watch than play.

“Never have I ever gone skinny dipping!” A redheaded girl said completely slurring her words and thrusting her cup in the air, spilling half the drink on the table.

“Boring!” Someone called out and you watched as Jungkook seemed to flinch. You weren't sure if it was because of the question or because the girl was dragging her fingernails up and down his arm teasingly and shooting him what could only be described as bedroom eyes.

He was looking uncomfortable again, like he didn't know what to do with her and would rather be anywhere else.

“Let's get spicy shall we?” One of the guys said with a smirk that had your stomach twisting even though you were still against the wall not playing the game.

“Never have I ever had sex in public.” He called out.

Most people let out laughs and almost all of the table took a drink.

Except Jungkook.

Which got the attention of the girl who was currently tangling her fingers in the soft hairs at the nape of Jungkook's neck.

“What? You haven't?” She exclaimed loudly, which had most of the table looking over.

Jungkook looked like a deer in the headlights. You could see a rosy blush covering his cheeks and his eyes were wide and panicked.

Before he could answer someone else chimed in.

“Okay, never have I ever had sex!”

This time everyone at the table drank.

Except Jungkook.

The girl who was almost in his lap wasn't having that and stared him down.

“Wait you're a virgin? You are in college and a virgin?!” She asked obnoxiously loud as people around the table began to laugh.

“How old are you anyways?” a guy teased which got the attention of the whole table.

The girl took it a step further and grabbed her chair and made a big show of moving it as far away from his as possible.

The table erupted in loud laughter and Jungkook remained seated, a red blush covering his face and hanging his head in embarrassment.

“No seriously? How have you not fucked anyone before?” Another girl halfway down the table asked as the girl who was all over him a moment ago was rolling her eyes as if he wasn't worth her time.

Jungkook didn't lift his head. You could feel his embarrassment from across the room as the table kept laughing and teasing him with snide remarks.

You saw the same girl that was all over him about to open her mouth again and without thinking you stepped in.

You marched up to the table and raised your voice.

“Never have I ever been an asshole about something that is not my business and not a big deal anyway?” You said staring them all down with a cold look in your eye.

People stared up at you in shock and the crowd at the table completely went silent. Before anyone could form a sentence you continued.

“You better drink.” You said snarling at them as you nodded to Jungkook and he quickly raised himself from the chair.

Before you could move one of the guys spoke up.

“Why so offended? Are you a sad virgin too?” He teased as the table roared with laughter.

You didn't bother to respond, instead, you grabbed Jungkook's hand and stormed out of the dining room and to the front entrance, you grabbed your coat and bag and went right out the front door. Their laughter ringing loud in your ears.

Jungkook stared you down in awe and you finally turned to look at him after you calmed down a bit.

“I-You didn't have to do that. I mean thank you. But you didn't have to.” He said looking at you with a small smile.

Even though he said you didn't have to you could tell he was pleased that you got him out of that terrible game.

“Yeah, I did. They shouldn't have shamed you for that! It's stupid. Who cares if you have fucked a bunch of people or no one at all. It's not their business.” You replied firmly still feeling heated.

“Hey. It's okay.” Jungkook replied pulling you from your thoughts.

“I know I just. I hate when people shame people like that. It's wrong.” You admit finally feeling calm as you sighed and sat on the step.

Jungkook sat down next to you and rubbed his hands together trying to warm himself up.

You both stayed out there for a while. Not talking but sitting close enough that your legs were touching. You stared up at the stars and took in the silence.

“Listen you don't have to stay out here with me. I think I'm just gonna go home anyway.” You admit pulling out your phone to get a ride.

“I'll drive you home.” He said with a small smile as he grabbed your hand and helped you up.

“Jungkook you don't have to. It's fine.” You said.

“Think of it as a thank you for standing up for me. Come on it will save you money. I promise I'm completely sober. Couldn't drink during that game anyway.” He said with a big grin as he led you down the street to his car.

Once you both got inside he cranked the heat to take away the chill and kept the music low in case you wanted to talk.

Eventually, he pulled in front of your dorm and shut off the car you were feeling a lot more relaxed the further you got from the party.

“Thanks again for standing up for me.” He said. His voice small as he smiled at you softly.

You smiled back at him as you grabbed your bag from the floor and held it on your lap.

“Can I ask you? Are you…I mean have you….had…sex?” Jungkook asked as he stared you down with a confused look on his face.

You nodded.

“It happened with a guy I met in my first year. We saw each other for about three months and then had sex. It wasn't that great.” You muttered with a laugh. “Then he blocked and deleted my number and never spoke to me again. I tried to confront him in person but he acted like he didn't know me. It was super embarrassing.”

“That should not have happened to you. I'm sorry Y/N.” He said softly as he put his hands on the steering wheel and stared out the windshield. His side profile is illuminated by the streetlights.

“Yeah well. You live and learn, right? You haven't had sex and I got ghosted after sex. We're a great combo.” You said with a humorless laugh, fiddling with the straps on your backpack not sure what to say.

“Can I…ask you another question?” He says sounding nervous as he won't look at you, instead still staring out the windshield into the dark night.

“Of course.” You say softly.

“Would you? Want to have sex….with me?” He says slowly, as if he was testing the waters.

Your eyes widened and you felt your stomach swoop as you stared him down.

“I mean I'm a virgin and you didn't have the best experience and I just thought- forget it it's… God, I can't believe I said that out loud.” He rambled.

You put a hand on his arm to stop him as he finally looked at you. Eyes wide, lips parted.

“Jungkook where is this coming from? Talking about sex and having sex are two different things and before tonight. I mean, we hardly said two words to each other.” You replied feeling your heart hammer in your chest.

“I just- I don't know I want my first time to be with someone I can trust. Someone I know. And after tonight… I mean you stood up for me in front of an entire crowd. You could see I was uncomfortable and stepped in. You didn't shame me for being a virgin and I just, god I don't know, I want it to be with someone I like. And trust. And that's you.” He says lacing his fingers through yours as you're taken aback

He trusts you?

He likes you?

“You….like me?” You ask feeling yourself grin.

Jungkook stares you down and smiles.

“Out of all that you only took away that I like you?” He teased as you let out a breathy laugh and the tension dispels a little bit.

“Namjoon said if I dressed more confident, became more confident, maybe you would notice me. It worked tonight huh?” He said with a smirk as your jaw dropped

“And here Namjoon told me you were doing it so you could get laid! That liar!” You said, body shaking with laughter.

“Well I mean, I did ask for that too didn't I?” He said back as you stopped laughing and stared him down.

The car suddenly feels hotter

and way smaller

You felt your face heat up and realized he was serious. So serious about the whole thing.

“Namjoon has known I've liked you for… a while now. He told me that being shy won't get your attention so he helped me tonight by making me dress like this. I'm not just using you to get laid Y/N I do really like you. I think you're smart and pretty and I trust you with this.”

You swallowed hard.

“But also I want to get to know you. If you'll let me.”

Before you could form an answer Jungkook took your phone and you watched as he put his number into your contacts.

Your thoughts were going a mile a minute as he handed you back your phone. You stared down at it in disbelief as he grinned at you.

“Anyway, I should get back to the party. I'm Namjoon's ride home.” He says as you grab your bag and exit the car. Still trying to process what he just said.

“Text me yeah?” He said as you closed the door and he shot you a smile before peeling away, back to the party.

------------

You texted Jungkook to make sure he had made it home safe

He had responded within minutes.

He also sent you a funny meme

You sent one back

Which had you both staying up well past midnight talking and sending funny pictures and videos back and forth

He told you about his tattoos

He told you about his childhood

His parents

You shared your life with him as he shared his with you.

It was turning into a beautiful friendship and after almost a month you were as close to Jungkook as you were with Taehyung.

November was a busy month full of studying and homework. You spent most of your days in the library now anyway as your roommate and her boyfriend's idea of a break from studying was to fuck wildly in the dorm.

You knew it was part of the college experience but you wondered if at this point you should just move into the library with how much time you were starting to spend there.

It also made you think of Jungkook's

and what he asked for that night.

That specific topic has not been brought up since. However, you couldn't stop thinking about it.

About him.

He was so funny, and sweet, and kind. Even though he had this shy exterior once you got to know him he was pretty impressive and there were a couple of pictures he had sent you that you saved in your phone just in case.

Like the one of him coming out of the shower showing you his tattoo sleeve with a grin on his face.

Like he knew what he was doing to you.

But all that would have to be put on hold because exam season was fast approaching and even Tae was starting to head to the library to study more.

The weather got colder and you spent most of your days either studying, grabbing a warm drink with Tae, or when your roommate was out you would curl up on the very small dorm room couch and watch a movie, snuggled in your comfiest clothes.

Sometimes Taehyung would join you for a movie. Eating most of the snacks and talking over the whole thing, usually about how cute Jimin was.

Sometimes Jungkook would join you. He would attempt to fold himself up as small as possible to fit on the couch trying to give you space, eventually, you would cave and lay in his lap so he had room to spread his legs.

Sometimes you would go to Jimin's house. Where the group would have a movie night or game night and somehow you would always gravitate towards Jungkook. Either being on his team for a video game or sitting on the same couch as him during a movie.

Tae begged you to just ask him out at this point

Oh, how the tables have turned.

By the time December came around these hangouts were non-existent. Everyone was in study mode and you hardly had time to schedule a meet-up as your books were piled high and you were cramming as much as you could just to pass your classes before winter break.

On your last exam day, you got an early gift from your roommate. You knew she always went home for the holidays and usually left the same day as you. However this year she and her boyfriend wanted to do a mini road trip before they went home so they were leaving a couple of days earlier than usual.

You immediately texted Taehyung and voted for a movie night. One last hangout before you all go home for the holidays.

He agreed as long as he could bring Jimin

You agreed as long as you could invite Jungkook.

Jimin showed up wearing a bright red Christmas sweater and he brought loads of snacks.

Tae showed up in a green Christmas sweater giving you a kiss on the cheek and bringing some drinks

Jungkook showed up in a red short-sleeved shirt and jeans, apologizing because this was the most festive thing he owned

You didn't really care because he looked good in red.

Very good in red.

Taehyung and Jimin grabbed pillows and settled in on the floor as they got the movie set up. Jungkook got in his usual position on the couch and you followed suit, snuggling into his arms and pulling a blanket over both of you as Tae and Jimin were getting comfortable on the floor.

Halfway through the movie you shifted in your seat to get more comfortable as your right leg was starting to go numb. As you shifted Jungkook wrapped his hands around you tighter and you moved backward pushing yourself further into his lap when you felt something.

A hardness

Poking into your back.

You froze as his grip tightened around you.

“Y/N.” He whispered in your ear which caused goosebumps to break out on your arms.

You pushed back against it again and he let out a breathy grunt in your ear.

He was hard.

Very hard.

Oh.

“Y/N stop moving… please.” He whined lowly in your ear.

The movie was long forgotten as you sat there, his arms still wrapped around you, hardness still poking you as you fought the urge to shift around some more.

Finally, the movie ended and you untangled yourself from him. His boner was long gone by now but you could feel your skin flushed at the very thought of him being hard.

You jumped from the couch helping Tae clean as Jimin and Jungkook chatted.

“When are you and Jimin heading out?” You asked Tae in the kitchen as he helped you pack everything up and clean the multiple snack bowls.

“Tomorrow afternoon. I'm driving him to his house then we're celebrating apart. The relationship is too new for the whole meet the entire family thing.” Taehyung explains with a cute boxy grin.

You could tell he was over the moon to be with Park Jimin and you were happy for him.

“What about you? When are you and Jungkook making it official?” He teases back and you shush him and shoot a glance at the living room.

Before you can answer Jimin comes into the small kitchen and wraps his arms around Tae saying that he was sleepy and was ready to go home.

Jungkook offers to help you clean the rest as they both put on their coats and say their goodbyes. Giving you hugs and wishing you Happy Holidays as they leave.

Suddenly it's just you and Jungkook

and you feel nervous.

He begins busying himself with cleaning the living room as you assist him. Neither of you spoke as you cleaned up blankets and pillows and the leftover chips Taehyung spilled when he was leaning in to kiss Jimin.

You could feel this invisible tension in the room as you both worked in silence. The dorms were pretty quiet because most people had gone home for the holidays and you almost wished there was some kind of noise.

“Listen I want to say I'm sorry,” Jungkook said breaking the silence as you put a pillow back on the couch and stared at him

“I just. I didn't mean to freak you out. It's just… you were in my lap… and moving around and it just kind of happened. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable” He admitted shyly looking at the floor.

You stared at him in disbelief.

You weren't uncomfortable at all

You were horny

For him.

“Jungkook.” You breathed as you stepped towards him.

“I'm not uncomfortable at all. Random hard ons are natural you know.” You all but whisper feeling your heart rate start to pick up.

“Well, I wouldn't say it was random Y/N. You in those tight leggings and that sweater, fuck. You look so hot… and then you were squirming in my lap… I mean… God.” He says running a hand through his dark hair.

You looked down at your outfit and almost laughed.

You were just wearing a plain forest green sweater and black leggings.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” He admits with a shy smile which has you leaning in closer, breath fanning over your face.

“Have you kissed anyone before?” You ask voice low as he wraps his hands around your upper arms bringing you closer.

“Yeah.”

“Kiss me.” You all but sigh as he pulls you in and his lips connect with yours.

His kisses are soft and gentle. He takes his time pressing his lips into yours and his fingertips massage your upper arms.

You step closer so you are pushed right up against his body as he leans down and deepens the kiss. Tongue darting out to lick at the seam of your lips.

You open your mouth and let him take his time exploring you. His hands now rubbing up and down your arms.

All the days and weeks of talking, flirting, and getting to know each other poured out into this kiss.

You reach up and tangle your hands through his hair as he lets out a content sigh in your mouth. He walks you backwards so you are now pressed up against the wall next to the door, his body towering over you and caging you in as the kisses become more needy, and frantic.

You want to rip off his clothes and devour him whole. But you also know he is new to this whole thing and you want to take it slow. Make it good for him. Make it good for both of you.

You can once again feel his hardness poke against your hip and you grind down into it which has sweet moans falling from his lips.

You push your body into him harder as the kiss gets more aggressive. He is biting at your lips and pushing into you, his body covering yours as you can feel your stomach swoop and wetness coat your underwear.

You slowed down the kisses and Jungkook followed suit as you slowly pulled away and couldn't hide the grin that spread over your face.

He looked absolutely fucked out

Just from a kiss

His lips were red and slightly bruised, his eyes were wide, his hair was a mess and he was hard, so obviously achingly hard in his jeans.

You were sure you didn't look much better.

“Do you want to…?” You asked staring at him.

He nodded pulling up his shirt in haste and nearly getting it stuck over his head.

You smiled and shook your head as you helped him out of his sweater.

Sure you had seen him shirtless before, mostly in pictures but seeing it in real life was totally different. He was so toned and beautiful and you wanted to stand here for a lifetime taking him in.

“My eyes are up here.” He teased you as you finally broke your gaze from his chest and felt a blush creep up your neck.

“Jungkook are you sure you want to?” You ask softly taking his hands in yours and looking him in the eye.

“I've wanted to since that night at the party Y/N. God, I want to so bad. Please let me fuck you.” He replies which has your pussy aching.

“There are things we should do first before we dive right in.” You explain to him as he nods, teeth biting into his lower lip in anticipation.

“Please. Show me. Teach me.” He says, voice tinged with desperation as you bring a hand up to his arm and spin him around so he is now the one pressed up against the wall.

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath as you trail your hand down his chest. Down, down, down you go as his eyes follow your every move.

You give him some more pressure and his hips buck up into your hand.

His skin is soft but taut under your warm palm as you slowly bring your hand to rest on his waistline.

His breath hitches when you go lower, pressing your palm into his erection which has him twitching against you. Head thrown back against the wall and a pretty whine slipped from his lips.

“God you're so big.” You whisper which has his eyes closing and his head thrown back.

“You can't say stuff like that Y/N…god.” He admits as you bring your hand up to unbutton his jeans.

“And why not?” You tease as you shimmy his jeans down and he helps you. Kicking them off and flinging them somewhere in the room.

“Because it's so hot to hear you say that and I'm scared I'm gonna cum in my pants.” He says with a hint of shyness as you stare at him.

“I'm sorry I know you expect me to last long but when you say shit like that and do shit like that. Fuck. I don't think I will be able to.”

You smile as you palm him through the thin material of his boxers. Watching as his cock jumps into your hand.

“Jungkook I have no expectations. This is your first time and our first time together. Believe me. I'm gonna make you cum more than once. Don't worry about having to last.” You say as his eyes widen and you stare up at him.

“Fuck your perfect. Do you know how perfect you are?” He says pulling you in for a kiss. Pushing his erection into you to get some relief as you swallow down his moans.

“You have to tell me if you want me to stop or if there is anything you don't like.” You say firmly, teasing the hem of his boxers.

He nods as you finally pull them down and his erection springs free.

His cock is thick and red as you take it in. It slaps up against his stomach and you watch as pre-cum oozes out the tip and down his shaft.

You feel your body ache for him and try to push the feeling aside.

This is about him right now.

You slowly bring your hand up to your mouth as you lick your palm, getting it wet before wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock and he lets out a shaky moan as you begin to stroke him slowly. His eyes are blown wide and glued to your hand and how it is moving smoothly across his velvety cock.

“Good?” You ask as you twist your hand at the top which has him twitching in your grasp.

“So good.” He confirms.

You keep him pinned against the wall as you continue to stroke him. Watching as his breath gets heavier and his teeth gnaw at his lower lip. You want to suck him off. You really do. So you pull away and grab his hand. Bringing him towards the couch and having him sit down.

You grab a pillow for under your knees and when Jungkook realizes what you are about to do he lets out a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair, messing up his now sweaty locks.

“Wanna suck you off.” You mutter as Jungkook groans above you.

“Is that okay?” You ask and he lets out a little laugh

“Y/N at this point yes to everything. Absolutely anything.” He replies as you stare at him.

“Jungkook this is your first time. I need to know you want this. Consent is important.” You say firmly sitting back on your heels and staring up at him.

“I- shit sorry I just. Your right. Yes, you can suck me off.” He stammers as you smile up at him.

“Good boy.” You say as you watch his cock twitch against your cheek.

You stop your movements

and make eye contact with him

He is a blushing mess

and his cock is absolutely oozing pre-cum

“You like being called a good boy?” You ask with a knowing smirk.

“I…shit. Yes? Maybe? I don't know I can't think straight with you that close to my cock.” He utters as you finally slip him in your mouth.

You wish you could have recorded the moan that fell from his lips when you finally swallowed him down.

It was the sweetest thing you had ever heard.

Your hand came up to accompany your mouth as you jerked him off and sucked him down.

Jungkook was a mess above you.

His thighs were shaking and he was whining and moaning. His hands tangled in your hair to keep it pulled back and when he pulled a little bit too hard, you moaned around his length.

Your hand sped up along his shaft as you worked him toward orgasm. His body shook above you as you sucked and slobbered all over his cock.

“Gonna. Fuck. Please. Keep going.” He whined out as you work harder and stroked him faster, feeling his cock throb against your tongue knowing he was close and wanting to be the one to push him over the edge.

Y/N.” He warns, as you as you keep going.

“Y/N I'm gonna cum.” He warns you again as you pull your lips off him and stare up into his beautifully fucked out face.

“Wanna cum in my mouth?” You ask as he grips your hair tighter and you don't give him time to respond as you wrap your lips around his cock once more and suck him off as he groans and cums down your throat.

He must have been very pent up because the cum absolutely coated your tongue and you took your time slowing down your movements and breathing through your nose as you worked him through his orgasm.

He was breathing heavily above you and let out a soft wine as you pulled off his cock and swallowed his load.

You opened your mouth to show him and he raked a shaky hand down his sweaty face.

“You're going to be the death me of Y/N, I swear.” He mutters.

You moved the pillows from your knees and sat on the couch next to him. Cuddling him softly and letting him catch his breath.

He kept his head thrown back and eyes shut which gave you great access to his neck, where you were placing soft kisses against the skin.

“Y/N fuck.” He finally breathed out as he opened his eyes to look at you.

You smiled at him

You switched positions so you were now straddling his thighs as you started to kiss him. Your body is thrumming with need as his hands are playing with the hem of your shirt.

You nod against him, answering an unspoken question as he slowly lifts the material up and over your head.

You feel shy as he takes in your almost naked upper body.

You were glad you opted for a sleek black bra today.

His hands come around your body to unclasp the bra and once he gets it off he takes you in.

You sigh happily as you feel his lips explore your body.

His hands are wrapped around your waist holding you in place as he takes his time with you.

He slowly flicks your right nipple and you let out a high-pitched whine as you can feel him grin against your skin.

You start to grind against him as he licks and sucks your nipples. Wetness pools against your underwear as you grind harder against his thigh, desperate to relieve some of the throbbing.

“Can I take these off?” He asks as he motions to your leggings.

You stand up on shaky legs and nod as he peels them down your thighs.

He sucks in a breath as he takes you in.

“Should we go to your room?” He asks cocking an eyebrow as you nod and he lifts himself from the couch. His cock already starting to harden again as you make your way to your room and shut the door.

You turn on your bedside lamp and flop on the bed as Jungkook settles between your open thighs.

He can see the wetness that has stained your underwear and groans under his breath.

You waste no time in taking them off and throwing them in the room. Jungkook's eyes widen as he takes in your soaked core.

“Jungkook. Please.” You whine out desperate for him to do something.

Jungkook takes his time running his hands up and down your thighs as you spread yourself wider for him.

He moves his hands to rub along your lower stomach and you whine and buck your hips up, your core throbbing almost uncomfortably at this point.

“What do you want baby?” He asks.

“You. Please. Touch me.” You whine out as his fingers finally dip down into your folds and a broken moan escapes your lips as he brings your wetness up to your clit.

“Here?” He asks and you nod desperately as he begins to slowly circle your clit.

His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as he rubs you slowly. His touch is feather-light and almost hesitant which has you wining out for more.

“Jungkook. More pressure. Harder please.” You beg as he speeds up his movements, which have you arching off the bed, eyes rolling back and hands grasping at the sheets below.

He works at a steady pace. You can feel your legs start to shake as he slowly pushes a finger against your entrance. Starting at you for permission.

You nod frantically and when he finally inserts a finger you both swear in unison as your tight walls clamp around his digit.

“More. If you're gonna fuck me I'm gonna need more.” You reply as he slowly shoves in another finger and you feel the slight burn as your body stretches to accommodate him.

Jungkook takes his time working you. His finger still playing with your clit as he slowly thrusts his other fingers inside of you.

Whines and moans are spilling from your lips as you feel a tight coil of pressure snake around your body.

You can feel the beginning of your orgasm and you beg him for more.

He does as he's told and begins to finger fuck you with more force. Which has your body arching off the bed and your knuckles turning white as you grip the sheets harder.

“Cum for me princess. Cum around my fingers.” He mutters as you feel the coil get tighter and tighter. You are on the edge and when he curls his fingers and rubs up against the spot inside you so nicely you let go.

Your body thrashes on the bed as you tip over the edge and cum hard all over his fingers. Jungkook works you through it whispering sweet praise which you can hardly hear over the blood pounding in your ears as you feel euphoria radiate off your body.

He feels you coming down from your high and pulls his fingers out. Not really sure what to do with the wetness he decides to lick it up which has a small moan leaving your lips as you watch him with lust-blown eyes.

Once he is finished he cuddles beside you, just as you did for him as he strokes your hair and whispers sweet nothings in your ear until you come down.

Your hands are shaky as you curl up next to him. Burying your face in his bare chest letting your breathing settle.

“Fuck. Are you sure you've never done that before?” You ask as he lets out a laugh and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“I think you're a liar Jeon Jungkook. There is no way you haven't done that before. What the fuck.” You whine out as you lift your head to look at him.

He is grinning widely and you still stare at him in disbelief.

“That was my first time. And god you were so hot.” He replies as you stare into his eyes, taking him in wanting to remember this moment.

“Still wanna fuck you though.” He mutters lowly as he grinds his now hard cock into your side, you grin at him before leaning over to your bedside table and grabbing a condom and lube.

He sits up and watches as you tear open the packet. Your hands slightly shaking with nerves as you roll it down on his hard cock.

You apply lube and spread it evenly trying to calm your own breathing.

“How do you want it?” You ask

“I…shit however you want it. Whatever is easiest. I just wanna be inside you.” Jungkook replies as you feel your pussy throb at his words.

“Maybe I'll be on top. Just to get used to your size. You're fucking massive.” You groan as Jungkook's cock twitches against your hand.

“Told you you can't say shit like that.”

You throw a leg over him as you guide his cock to your entrance.

His breathing is already heavy as you slowly sink down, letting the head of his cock slip in and stretch you out.

Even though he did prep you the sting is still there as you sink down on him. Taking your time and taking deep breaths as you go.

He is stroking your hair and breathing deeply as you finally take him all the way down. You shift your hips back slightly to get more comfortable and Jungkook lets out a grunt as his hands come down to rest on your hips holding you steady.

You still your movements and stare at him.

His eyes were blown wide and his lips parted. As if he can't believe this is happening.

You can't believe it's happening yourself.

You feel full to the brim with his cock as you wait for your body to adjust. You can't help but squeeze against him which has him whining and gripping your hips harder.

“You're so tight. Fuck.” He moans out as you bury your face in his neck and let out a shaky breath.

You slowly start to move up and down, trying to get used to the delicious stretch as you keep your face pressed into his neck, pressing hot kisses against the skin as you slowly grind against him.

“Fuck feels s'good.” He slurs out as you begin to pick up the pace, finally feeling the burn start to subside which was replaced with a neediness that you had never experienced before

Jungkook shifts his hips and starts fucking up into you. The tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot and causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head.

“Fuck you're so wet. So tight. Fuck. Shit.” He grits out as he fucks up into you with more force this time. You grind down to meet his thrusts as moans spill from both his and your lips.

You feel the coil of pressure start to build and you know you aren't going to last long.

Not with the sounds Jungkook is making

Not with the way he is thrusting up into you

Not with the way the bed is thumping against the wall.

“Can I go harder?” He asks and you nod desperately as in one swift moment he flips you both over and pins you against the bed.

You let out a gasp as you watch him fuck into you. His hips snapped to meet yours, grunts and moans falling from his lips as he chases his high.

His hair is falling into his face and he never looked more beautiful.

You could feel your orgasm fast approaching and you snaked your arm between your sweaty bodies as you scrambled to find your clit.

Jungkook was fucking you deeply. His balls were slapping against you and by the sounds that were spilling from his mouth you could tell he was close too.

“Not gonna last much longer. Y/N. Fuck.” He moaned out as you rubbed your clit and just his words sent you over the edge.

You whined and arched your body up to his as your orgasm washed over you. Your pussy clenched around his cock as you rode out your high. Your eyes were shut tight and you could still feel Jungkook thrusting up into you as you clenched harder around him.

“Gonna cum, need to cum.” He whined in your ear as you finally came down from your high and watched as he fucked you harder.

His hands prying your legs open wider as he rammed into you.

Your body was still sensitive from your orgasm as you watched him, not being able to tear your eyes away from how hot he looked.

“Cum for me Kook. Be a good boy and cum deep in my pussy.” You whined out as that sent him over the edge and you felt his cock twitch and empty inside the condom.

You did your best to squeeze your muscles as your body milked his.

Jungkook flopped down on top of you with ragged breathing as you both came down from your high.

You stoked his hair as he laid on your chest, cock now softening inside of you as you stared up at the ceiling.

Felling good.

Feeling very well fucked.

He slowly pulled out of you and you whined as he sat up to throw the condom away.

You went to the bathroom and came back with a warm towel as you cleaned the both of you up.

As you were cleaning around the base of his now soft cock Jungkook grabbed your hand.

“Y/N I like you. I like you a lot. Please be my girlfriend.” He asked staring up at you.

You threw the towel at your hamper and cuddled next to him, naked bodies intertwined.

“Thought you'd never ask.” You said pressing a kiss to his temple before you both fell into a post-orgasmic sleep.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook/reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook/reader #bts #bangtan #fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff

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jqngkooz · 4 months

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tis the damn season’ (2) | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: 18+ (no smut in this chapter just a makeout scene 🙈)

genre: f2l? more like idiots to lovers, mutual pining, angst, fluff, eventual smut

warnings: infidelity and just general bad decision making skills lmao, jealousy, arguing, swearing, one mention of a dick, kissing, making out. jk’s a bit of a player but he has his reasons.

w/c: 3.2k

a/n: pt.2 is here!!!! so sorry it took a while. enjoy :)

summary: When Jimin convinces you to spend christmas in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with your entire friend group, you’re forced to face the feelings that you’ve been suppressing for your best friend Jungkook after all these years.

“I must say, you’re the most stable person I know and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you crumble like this.” Yoongi is kind enough to be up at 6 am with Jungkook, making him coffee as he sits at the kitchen island with his head on the cold surface.

He spent the whole night tossing and turning next to the girl he’d stupidly invited in an attempt to not seem like a loser to you. Clearly, you didn’t feel the same way, that was evident by the fact that you almost married another man and still didn’t even reach out when you broke the engagement off. He just didn’t want you to think he was a loser who had spent the last three months sulking. He had.

“I know, I’m a mess,” Jungkook starts, face pressed into the table, “and she’s nice, Isabelle I mean, and I like her…”

Yoongi places the cup of coffee next to Jungkook and finishes his sentence for him, “But she’s not y/n.”

It’s weird. In senior year Jungkook had gotten a girlfriend. She was a cheerleader with a swishy ponytail that had latched onto your friend group, always wanting to be around him. You’d gotten weirdly distant at that time, cancelling your after-school study sessions only for him to find out you were doing them with Jimin instead. It’s like sometimes he got the feeling that you didn’t want him to be with other people and that gave him hope that you might have felt the same, but you never told him. No angry love confessions in the rain, nothing. You never made a move. And it messed with his head until he felt dizzy and utterly confused about just what the hell you wanted.

“Did you invite her here just to make y/n jealous?” Namjoon’s voice booms a little too loud as he comes down the stairs and into the kitchen, causing Jungkook to sit up and wince.

He sighs, “Yes, well- no not exactly.”

“Then why?”

He looks up at Namjoon who looks slightly disappointed and his heart pangs a little, suddenly feeling like that 15-year-old who would do anything for Joon’s approval again.

He groans, “I thought she’d be mad and ignore me or something.”

Namjoon shakes his head, he knows you would never.

“I just thought if I brought another girl she’d think that I moved on and we could just go back to being normal again.”

Jungkook looks up at Yoongi as if he’s checking for approval, he’s met with a very disapproving stare. Yoongi sighs, “Jungkook, are you stupid?”

He frowns, big round eyes staring at Yoongi. “No?” Maybe he was, waiting 10 years to tell you he loved you when it was far too late was kind of stupid.

“She loves you, you realise that right?”

Jungkook sighs, “Yeah I know b-”

Yoongi cuts him off, “No, not as a friend idiot. She loves you.” He shakes his head rapidly.

“You know she messaged me every week asking how you were after you fell out? She made me send pictures of you and Bam because she missed you. Jungkook, you put her in an awkward situation, she was engaged. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t feel the same way. You never asked her how she felt, did you?”

Taehyung knows Jungkook like the back of his hand. He knows that his guilty pleasure is chilli cheese fries, he remembers a time in college when that was all he ate for an entire week. He knows that Jungkook unwinds on a weekend by watching crappy reality tv because he caught him one time before he could change the channel. He also knows that Jungkook doesn’t like losing. And that’s how he knows this plan will work.

Truthfully, Tae has always been flirty with you. He’s flirty with everyone, but you usually laugh him off, never taking his compliments seriously. That’s why Jungkook’s a little confused at your sudden interest in him. All day you’ve been clinging to him and laughing at his jokes like he’s the funniest guy in the world. Jungkook knows he’s not that funny. Even now as you all attempt to build snowmen in the cabin’s garden you both look like something out of a hallmark movie, all bundled up with hats and scarves as you throw snowballs at each other.

It’s Seokjin who notices Jungkook’s frown as he stands next to his snowman watching you and Tae.

“Why is your snowman buff?”

Jungkook breaks his gaze away from you two, turning to Seokjin. He can still hear your giggles as Tae shoves snow down the back of your coat and chases you with another lump of it that’s probably big enough to knock you out.

He shrugs, “Wanted it to look like me. Why does yours have a dick?”

“Wanted it to look like me.” Seokjin remarks, eliciting probably Jungkook’s first smile today. “What’s got you all frowny?”

Jungkook shakes his head, the tassels on his woolly hat shaking with him, “Ah, nothing.”

“Does that ‘nothing’ have to do with those two?”

Now his attention’s back on you again. You’re far too close to Taehyung’s face, brushing snow off of his cheeks and apologising, saying you hadn’t meant to actually get him in the face.

“Just didn’t know they were that close.”

“They’re not usually.”

It’s when you come jogging towards Jungkook and Seokjin that the conversation stops. You’re a little out of breath from all the running as you stand in front of them, admiring Jungkook’s snowman with a smile.

“Always the perfectionist. Mine’s already fallen apart. How is yours so stable?” You laugh.

“I dunno.” He answers, unusually sharply and it has you turning to look at him with a cock of your head.

“Everything okay?”

That’s Seokjin’s cue to leave and he busies himself with trying to kick Jimin’s work of art down.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” He doesn’t know where to look and settles on his shoes. At least they’re not boring into his soul like your eyes are right now.

“Okay yeah, I don’t know. Just checking.” You smile again as if you truly have no idea why he seems upset. Of course you do, yours and Tae’s whole act is painfully obvious to everyone else in the cabin, but Jungkook isn’t exactly the most rational thinker when it comes to you. “Where’s Isabelle?”

“Oh, she’s uh, inside. She doesn’t like snow.”

You frown, “Who doesn’t like snow?”

He shrugs, finally looking up at you.

“I think my toes are gonna freeze off if I’m out here any longer. I’m gonna go warm up so I’ll check up on her.” You add.

No. That’s the worst thing that could happen. You and Isabelle alone? Talking? She’d surely tell you that she wasn’t actually Jungkook’s girlfriend, just a casual hook-up and that she has no real idea why he invited her. He shudders at the thought.

“So you’re not dating?”

Once you’d pressed yourself up against the heater until your fingers gained some colour again and double-layered on fresh socks, you padded down the stairs to find Isabelle sitting on the couch alone.

“No. He made it very clear it was nothing more than sex for him, which is fine, but I don’t know if that’s what I want anymore, in life you know?”

You nod. Isabelle is lovely, she’s sweet and gentle and you’re sure you would have been friends in another life if she wasn’t fucking the guy you’d been pining over for years.

“And I guess I’m a little confused. When I brought up getting more serious he avoided the conversation and things got awkward. Then he invites me here, it’s all a little confusing. I don’t wanna talk badly about him, I know he’s your best friend and he’s a great guy but- I feel like he’s messing with me.”

“Isabelle, this is our first conversation and I can already tell how good of a person you are. I care about Jungkook too but you’d be crazy to think that hook-ups are all you deserve,” You sigh, “If you want something more, go and find someone willing to give you that.”

And you truly mean that. Sure, you’d had conversations with his past girlfriends like this, and maybe those times you had an ulterior motive when you advised them to go and find someone else, but seeing her sit in front of you so vulnerable, you mean it this time.

She nods, “I’m well into my 20’s, I’ve never had a serious relationship and I want it. I want kids one day. I want it all. How do you do it?”

That makes you laugh.

“Not very successfully. I was engaged, for a while. I broke it off a few months ago. He was a nice guy, he was stable and he was always there, but I never had that feeling you know? That teenage excitement. I never felt that with him.”

Well, that’s not entirely untrue. He never did give you that electric feeling that you’ve always been searching for, you just leave out that only Jungkook seems to give it to you. You’d had endless arguments with Mark where he’d pressed you to just tell him why you weren’t putting your whole heart into it. He could always tell that he was far more invested than you were, and he knew the reason why. He knew exactly what, or who, was stopping you from fully committing to him. He hadn’t blamed you as you left him, he understood that you just don’t pick who you love.

When everyone starts piling in from the garden, you excuse yourself into helping an almost frozen Taehyung warm up.

Jungkook can’t bear the sight. You carefully take off Tae’s hat and scarf as you rub his arms in an attempt to warm him up while he watches you far too lovingly. He’d rather retreat upstairs to his room and let his head spin with the image of you and Tae and the worry of what you and Isabelle had been talking about while he slips further and further into madness. He doesn’t expect you to follow though, bumping into you in the hallway.

“Hey,” you start, “can we talk?”

“About what?” He’s still pulling on a fresh sweater as you stand in front of him in the quiet hallway. All the noise of the house is coming from downstairs and he worries you can hear his heartbeat in the quiet up here.

“What are you doing with Isabelle?”

That catches him off guard and he frowns down at you. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you think it’s unfair messing with her like that? I’m only saying this as your friend, she’s such a nice girl. What exactly are you doing?”

“I don’t understand what you’re insinuating?”

You cross your arms. It’s one of his more frustrating traits, pretending he doesn’t understand when he doesn’t want to talk about something.

“Jungkook.” You deadpan.

He runs a hand through his hair, “No, I’m sorry, I don’t understand why you’re interfering with my love life. I don’t know what she said to you but what we have right now is working perfectly fine.”

You scoff, loudly. How very rich of him, to criticise you for interfering when that’s all he’s done to you your whole life, interfere with every guy you’ve ever liked. “Seriously? You wanna talk about interfering?”

He laughs dryly, looking away from you. He knows you’re right. All he can do is attempt to deflect.

“I didn’t interfere with you and Mark. I never did, I told you how I felt. It’s different.”

“What and you think I was able to just carry on after that confession? You think I brushed that off like it was nothing?”

“Sure seemed like it.”

Now he’s just being hurtful, and he knows it. He can see it in your eyes. Whenever he’s mean to you, you get a look. Eyes glossy and eyebrows peaked in confusion.

“That’s not fair Jungkook.”

“What’s fair about any of this?” His voice is louder now and you pray everyone downstairs isn’t listening in on the conversation, especially not the girl he brought here. “What was fair about you turning me away that night? Do you think it was easy for me to see you with him? It was fucking horrible, okay? I hated every second you were with him. Now today you’re hanging off of Tae’s arm. So excuse me if I’m not being fair, I’m not exactly having a nice time right now.”

Tears threaten to spill down your cheeks and you mentally scold yourself for being so damn emotional. You know he can see right through you right now. He stands with a hand on his hip, looking like he’s mad at you and you hate it. You hate it so much that your face tells him just how much you hate it.

He continues, a little softer this time, “I just mean that maybe I’m not exactly over what happened, okay? You didn’t even hear me out. You dropped me from your life. That’s hard to get over and I’m- I don’t know.”

“I had to drop you Jungkook. There was no chance of me having a successful relationship with you in my life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re exasperated now, frustrated that you have to spell everything out for him. This time your voice is louder. “God, every single boyfriend I’ve ever had has hated you. You have literally ruined all of my relationships and you don’t even realise it. I couldn’t physically bring myself to commit to anybody with you looming over me, always like a damn question mark in my head, okay?”

Truthfully, he had no idea you felt like that. He’s always been pretty poor at picking up on hints and cues and he completely missed that. He always felt that you meant so much more to him than he meant to you. You went about your life and your relationships just fine while he sat at home and yearned for you, that’s what he had thought up until now.

“What?” Is all he can manage.

“How am I supposed to be with other people when you’re always a possibility? As soon as I think I’m finally over you, you come back and-”

“Over me?” He steps towards you, like a reflex at your words. “What do you mean over me?”

“You know what I mean.” You’re practically whispering now. It’s somehow embarrassing to be so vulnerable and you feel even more sympathy towards the Jungkook who turned up at your door and confessed to you now that you’re in his place.

“You never even told me you liked me, now you’re telling me you’re over me?”

“How could I tell you Jungkook? I was engaged.”

His head is a complete mess, spinning and cartwheeling.

“You’re telling me that that night, when I told you I loved you, you didn’t turn me away because you didn’t feel the same?”

“No!” You shake your head, “I thought it was so obvious, how was it not obvious to you? I turned you away because breaking one guy's heart was easier than breaking two. If I told you I felt the same, Mark would have left. That’s why I had to leave him because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair being with him when I’m in love with someone else, okay?”

He’s completely silent. Just staring down at you. There’s a lot he wants to say, years and years worth of things, but his brain can’t even string two words together. Maybe he is stupid, but he never thought that you felt the same. Of course, he considered it a possibility, but a far-fetched one. Hearing you say that you love him doesn’t even feel real, he’s not even sure if he’s awake right now.

“You love me?”

“Yes. And you’ve moved on and I know that’s my fault because I missed my chance to tell you I felt the same but-”

He cuts off your rambling, “I haven’t. Moved on I mean. Not at all.”

“You invited a girl. Obviously, you have, and that’s fine.”

Now he has that desperate look again, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as his eyes dart across your face. “We’re not serious. I’m in love with someone else.”

It’s your turn for your head to spin. Sure, he’d said it once before, but you never expected he’d still feel the same way. It’s weird, how you two always seem to pull together. No matter how bad of a time it is, it’s like you can’t stay away from each other. Even now with your faces inches apart, you’re spiked with the horrible feeling that you’re doing something bad. Even if he’s not serious with her, it’s not right for her to be sitting downstairs while he’s up here with you, yet again confessing his love.

“What’s going on with you and Taehyung?” He says quietly.

You reply far too quickly, “Nothing. Was trying to make you jealous.”

That’s enough for him and he steps impossibly closer again. He sucks in a sharp breath, looking down at your face as if he’s weighing up whether or not this is a bad decision. The little devil on his shoulder wins because he’s grabbing your face and crashing his lips on yours. It’s hungry and desperate the way he kisses you like he can’t bear not being on your lips for a second longer. You melt into him as you wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. You can taste just how sweet this moment is and you savour every second of his vulnerability.

“Bad idea” You mumble onto his lips as his hands move from your face to wrap themselves around your waist and pull you flush against him.

“Don’t care.” He replies, pulling back for a second to catch his breath. You pull him back in, afraid that if he has even a second to think this through you might lose him, but he kisses like he wouldn’t dream of letting you go. He lets none of you go to waste and it’s a dance of tangled breaths as he finally softens, slowing down a little. He pulls away again, looking at you for a while before planting a small kiss on your mouth, pulls away, and plants another one. You feel winded, you’re out of breath, your lips a little swollen and your chest heaves slowly with an endearing warmth that you swear you’ve never felt before. It’s Jimin calling your name from the bottom of the stairs that makes you both jump and pull away from each other.

“We should probably go down.” He breathes out, scratching the back of his head. It’s so charming, how he kisses you like you’re the last meal he’ll ever have and almost immediately regresses into his shy self the minute he pulls away. His cheeks are dusted red and his lips are covered with your pink, smudged around his mouth and down his chin a little.

“You have lipstick all over you.” You point out, giggling quietly.

“Oh shit. Get it off.”

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fic #bts x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bangtan #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #fanfic #fanfiction

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jjksblackgf · 1 year

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the lick it series

summary — it's in the ups and downs of life that you can find someone to make your toes curl. genre — smut, established relationship au rating — 21+

cater to you

pairing — kim seokjin x reader summary — Seokjin likes to get pampered by his partner. He's also a fan of the ponytail trope. He thanks heavens everyday for dating someone who knows what he likes. release — link here

no rose petals

pairing — min yoongi x reader summary — Min Yoongi is a man that knows how to plan a date night. but he can't get too mad when his date deviates from those plans. release — link here

salty treat

pairing — jung hoseok x reader summary — a boring date night at the movies always has a chance of getting more interesting. but Hoseok needs to keep it together before they get caught. release — link here

too daring for you?

pairing — kim namjoon x reader summary — Namjoon can't keep your roleplaying idea off his head, so he'll make sure to surprise you with it when you least expect it. release — link here

champagne & suds

pairing — park jimin x reader summary — a romantic trip is only complete with a nice bottle of champagne and the comfort of a bathtub. release — link here

blue waters

pairing — kim taehyung x reader summary — you can always count on the fresh breeze of the Maldives to inspire young hearts for some exhibitionist shenanigans. release — link here

cherry flavored

pairing — jeon jungkook x reader summary — You bet with your boyfriend that he can't handle more than five minutes of your tongue, but Jungkook never turns away from a challenge. You'll make sure to keep him in his place. release — link here

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whysojiminimnida · 2 years

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Hi! I was reading your “Yeah But Are You SURE IT'S A HICKEY (Part 2)” post and I have a few questions. What do you mean by handle hair? And Jungkook’s hair looks way shorter in the interview, are we sure it’s from the same day? Its totally possible he got a haircut, though. I hope this doesn’t come across as rude. I’m not trying to disprove anything you said, I just want to understand :)

I get this question with some regularity, anon, it's not just you. So, here's a little more about handle hair: what it is, what it's for, and why some bitches think it's hilarious (it's me, I'm some bitches):

There are links upon links in there but I honestly should probably at some point make my own weird little master list about handle hair, hand tats, ring placement, peace signs, shoulder grips and angles of rotation because I seem to be... disorganized. Have fun and let me know if you have questions :)

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dgtn · 1 year

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Ok so you probably knew this was coming…..

Just like JK with his ponytail …

Jimin with a ponytail…🔥🔥🔥

And the 2 of them together …

Have a great weekend … 😍😍😍

💛💜🌈

#jimin #jungkook #jikook #kookmin #minkook #ponytails look good on them

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peachywritess · 1 year

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workout agenda ー jjk

☁️ genre: M(18+), smut, best friends to lovers kinda? fluff at the end

☁️ pairings: personal trainer!best friend!jungkook x fem!reader; also jimin and hobi are mentioned.

☁️ warnings: explicit smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), kind of dom!jungkook, praise kink, loads of cursing, creampie. i don't know what else to add lmao help

☁️ word count: 2,7k

☁️ author's note: hi, wow. first time ever writing smut, so enjoy i guess? this is the definition of "that escalated quickly" and i'm aware of that. also this jungkook has me weak bye. lemme know if you would like a part two hehe.

Having a personal trainer as a best friend definitely had its perks - like the fact that, this said best friend, would constantly beg you to let him coach you for just one workout. But knowing him, giving in would mean working out every day and you enjoyed your life as it was.

"Please, please Y/N, just this time! I won't ask you anymore, I promise."

Jungkook, Hoseok, Jimin and you were sitting in a café for a "study date" - which resulted in more talking than studying, and Hoseok bursting out in laughter when you started putting real effort into your assignments.

You took a sip of your chai latte and glared at the dark-haired man sitting right in front of you.

"He's at it again, such a child." Jimin shook his head, eyes focused on the screen of his laptop, and an amused smile on his lips.

"Kookie, we talked about this." You sighed, already knowing his response. "I am not working out with you."

"Dang it!" He sat back on his chair - its wooden material screeching as he put all of his weight on it - and this gained a giggle from Hoseok who was watching some dancing videos on YouTube.

"Y/N, you know that he won't give up until you say yes to him." He said diverting his attention from the phone screen to you.

"Come on, Hobi, you should be on my side." You responded, acting exhausted although you were mostly exaggerating your reactions.

He shrugged and looked back at his phone - that's when you felt Jungkook's gaze on you and, when you finally looked at him, his expression had entirely altered. He was pouting, his chin rested on both his hands, and he was fluttering his eyes trying to persuade you.

"Once again, I am not working out with you, Kookie!"

So there you were, walking on the treadmill in Jungkook's personal gym to warm your body up. After weeks of pestering, Jungkook had finally succeeded in convincing you.

However, your eyes weren’t particularly attentive to the small digits showing your heartbeat, or the minutes you had passed on the equipment, but were interested in something more appealing.

Jeon Jungkook was a literal god. He was wearing a tank top - that fit his body too perfectly - exposing his beefy arms covered with tattoos, which you had counted numerous times. His wavy jet-black hair was held in a low ponytail and some strands of his locks flawlessly fell on his forehead.

Everything about him was perfect in a way you could not comprehend - you almost felt dumb, crushing over your best friend. However, you had been doing that for years.

Sometimes - or maybe too many times - you imagined how his biceps would feel, and how his fit body would look standing atop of you, wavy hair framing his pretty face.

Was it okay for you to be thinking these dirty things? Was it okay to be feeling this heat between your legs whenever you watched him do pull-ups?

“So have you warmed up enough?” His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you immediately locked eyes with him, nodding in response before stopping the treadmill. He always had this gentle and calm manner of talking to you while looking so fucking good, and this nearly upset you - like, he had no reasoning being this hot.

"What? Should I do a thirty-minute warm-up like you?" You raised an eyebrow, teasing him.

Jungkook laughed and decided to tease you back. "You wish."

You gasped, faking disbelief as you poked his side - a spot you knew was very ticklish - making him giggle even more. You gazed in awe as he laughed, his eyes squinting.

“Alright, alright, let’s start with a simple sumo squat. Let me grab the resistance bands.”

You watched him retrieve the equipment and admired his back muscles tense as he reached for a box in an upper shelf, where he kept all the additional gear needed for certain exercises. You were staring - and he knew. In fact, you were both pretty aware of the thing going on between the two of you since freshman year.

You tried to act innocent, prettily smiling at him and nodding in agreement to everything he said, giving him thumbs up when he corrected your posture, indeed trying hard not to show what you truly felt. The truth was that you had no idea how to tell him and - “Jungkook, please fuck me” probably wasn’t the best way to confess to your long-term best friend.

“There you go.” He handed you the resistance bands, and you quickly wore them just above your knees.

“Man, what took you so long?" You scoffed, yet again acting annoyed. It was an inside joke between the two of you, you didn't get offended when the other acted like this: it was strange but unique.

You started the exercise, by squatting down and up with slow and steady movements. He was right beside you, arms crossed enhancing his biceps and head slightly tilted to the right. You glimpsed at the large mirror on your left, making sure he didn’t notice you gazing at him from time to time.

His dark-chocolate eyes observed you, analyzing each one of your movements and biting his lower lip. He always did that when he was focused, but it truly drove you crazy.

“Try widening your knees more, and keep that back arched or you will definitely kill your lower back.”

His tone was calm and focused and you liked how professional he was. He was really passionate about his job, in fact, Jungkook was one of the best personal trainers in Seoul and had made a name for himself.

Clients loved him because, instead of shouting at them as many others did, he made everyone feel comfortable and enforced their confidence never once doubting them.

His duality baffled you - one minute he was smiling and being adorable, acting like a cute puppy, and the other his whole expression would completely shift and you would notice a different light in his eyes.

“Like this?” You innocently questioned, although you very well knew what you were doing. You then arched your back more - way more, exposing the roundness of your butt.

You heard him nervously chuckle. "Y/N, you will break your back."

Jungkook was fairly amused, in fact, he thought you were the cutest thing. You acted all annoyed and bothered - but now there you were trying to show off to him.

“Here, let me just…” He got closer to you - close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your shoulder. He was taller than you, so he had to somehow bend down a little and it made you feel trapped. One hand rested on your right hip, while the other was cautiously placed on your abdomen: his hands were rough - due to the multiple calluses, he had - yet his touch felt extremely soft.

Your throat had dried up, and you had helplessly tried to seem unaffected by his closeness. But in spite of that, you couldn’t deny to yourself how fast your heart was beating, and how the spots he was touching had started to heat up.

"Did you buy this set just for today?" He was referring to your outfit: you were wearing a light blue sports bra and matching leggings that complimented your curves - and yes, you had obviously bought it for him.

"No, I bought this like a year ago."

"You? Owning gym wear?" He slightly chuckled, knowing you weren't the type to hit the gym daily.

"There are some things you don't know about me, Jeon Jungkook." You stated trying to sound as playful as before, but he had noticed a change in your tone.

"Oh, really?"

You nodded and started moving again as he guided you, holding you firmly. You unsuccessfully attempted to focus on the movements, and not on the scent of his cologne nor the fact that his chest was now pressed against your back.

"Like the fact that you are begging me to fuck you right now?" He whispered into your ear, lips brushing against your earlobe as his breath sent tingles down your spine.

"Probably." You managed to answer - almost completely out of breath - not knowing if it was from the workout or from the way he was tightening his grip on you.

"Fuck, can I kiss you?" He sounded almost desperate. "Because I will fucking do it now if you are okay with it."

You wasted no time, turning on your heels to finally face him and, locking your arms around his shoulders, pulled him toward you. Your lips crashed in a mixed kiss - there was neediness, tenderness, and excitement, all combined as you finally got to know how he tasted.

"Shit, I've wanted this for so long." He managed to affirm as he briefly detached from you, before kissing you again. "For so fucking long."

He proceeded to effortlessly lift you up, hands squeezing your butt as he walked across the room, not even knowing where to go himself. Jungkook then spotted the desk he used to create his own workouts, and carefully placed you on it, lips never leaving yours.

"W-Wait, Kookie." You extended your arms forward, gently pulling him away from you. You finally caught your breath, your lungs relaxing.

His expression shifted - he seemed worried.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm- I'm so sorry." He mumbled, running his hands through his perfectly combed hair, ruining it. "I got carried away, and didn't think that- that maybe this wasn't okay for you."

Typical Jungkook. He was so selfless, always putting other people's benefits in front of his own, worrying that what he did might upset someone. A smile depicted on your face - he was adorable.

"Kookie, I want this more than you think." You intertwined your legs around his torso, pushing him towards you so that he was now on top of you, biceps tensed to keep himself from crushing you.

His eyes widened in surprise, and you reached for his cheek gently stroking it. "You're so cute when you get flustered, you know?"

"And you look ravishing right now, you know?" He mimicked you, embarrassment having completely left him as he literally devoured you with his eyes. "So pretty, all dressed up for me."

Then, yet again, his lips were on yours but now his hands were exploring your body: a hand cupped one of your breasts as the other buried in your hair. There was something different about his touch: it was like he was yearning for you like he was craving for more with every passing second.

You hurriedly reached for his tank top, unsuccessfully trying to pull it up - so Jungkook helped you by taking it off, exposing his chest. You couldn't help but trace every perfect line on his abdomen, wanting to kiss him all over. You had seen him shirtless, but it didn't feel the same.

His attention shifted from your lips to your neck, where he started leaving a trail of wet kisses before stopping just above your breasts. He gave you a questioning look, and you nodded. At this point, you would have agreed to everything he wanted to do to you.

He lifted your sports bra up, exposing your hardened nipples and you promptly blushed, feeling overwhelmed. Reality hit you like a high-speed train: you were about to have sex with Jeon Jungkook, and he had just seen your boobs.

"Getting all flustered, aren't you?"

You blushed, covering your eyes with your palms - you felt so exposed and yet you totally liked it. You peeked through your fingers, watching as Jungkook took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it.

You moaned - mouth agape and body completely on fire - and you instinctively yanked his hair, pulling away the hairband that held them together. His locks tickled your skin as he played with your breasts for a little longer, crotch rubbing against your thigh.

"Fuck, Kookie, I want you now." You whined, the heat between your legs now unbearable, pussy begging for some friction.

"So eager. If you ask me nicely, maybe I'll give you what you want."

He laid a few kisses on your ribs, then on your stomach, and then stopped as he was looming over the lower abdomen. A smirk appeared on his lips, seeing you squirming under him was driving him crazy, so he playfully blew on your belly - just to tease you.

"Kookie- fuck, please I want your cock. Please, Jungkook, fuck me."

"Such a good girl." He breathed out, before pulling down both your leggings and your panties. He groaned as he admired your exposed cunt. "You are so wet for me already, princess."

The name he had just called you made your heart lose a beat, and you swiftly closed your legs, feeling your pussy pulsate. Jungkook smirked at your reaction, having never seen you so vulnerable, and grabbed both your knees to open your legs yet again.

"Shit, you are so pretty, Y/N."

If that was what Heavens felt, then you wanted to die every day. Jungkook's mouth was on your pussy, eating you out: he licked the length of your cunt, gently sucking on your clitoris, gaining lovable moans from you. You yanked your head back, as you grasped his hair, pleasuring tears blurring your vision.

His lips were soft, and he made sure to do everything to make you feel good. You were absolutely stunning - and he craved more.

"F-fuck, fuck me, please."

You groaned when you felt his lips detach from your pussy, fresh air tingling your bare skin. You were trying to catch your breath when you felt him thrust into you - without any warning. He stretched your walls and although it initially stung a bit, his cock felt too good.

"Shit- I couldn't wait any longer." He murmured in your ear, strong arms embracing you, holding you tight. You hugged him back, feeling him closer than ever. It all felt... warm.

He started pounding into you, keeping the same rhythm as he moaned into your ear. You felt light-headed as he fucked you harder, starting to lose all sense. You were now moaning uncontrollably, and Jungkook enjoyed every bit of it.

"You love it, huh? How I am fucking you dumb?"

He pulled away from the embrace, using his core muscles to raise himself slightly. He then grabbed you by the ankle, bringing your leg over his shoulder.

"Oh- Fuck, Jungkook!"

It was so deep, waves of pure pleasure had started running all over your body. You were now probably drooling, too.

"So good- it feels so good, Kookie."

Jungkook was now hugging your leg, brows furrowed, and head lowered down. His hair was completely hiding his expression, but you could hear his groans as he thrust harder and harder.

"You're so good- Y/N, so fucking good for me." He bit the skin of your inner thigh, leaving a big purple mark before looking directly at you. "Look at me, I want you to look at me. Can I cum- Can I cum inside of you?"

You nodded in agreement, as you were reaching your high, feeling your muscles tense.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You cursed in a high-pitched voice as you cummed on his cock, spasms of pure bliss pulsating through you. After a few more thrusts, Jungkook let out a loud moan, cock twitching inside of you.

"God - Oh my fucking God." He deeply exhaled, body relaxing onto yours as he kept his cock where it belonged, while you were still sobbing from the fireworks of pleasure. Jungkook made sure not to crush you, putting his weight on the elbows.

He looked at you, a tender smile on his lips and dark eyes full of love. You wished you could have taken a picture of this moment to keep it forever: drops of sweat streaming down his arms, plump lips, some strands of hair attached to his forehead - he was beautiful.

"I love you." He tapped the tip of your nose, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

You smiled, cupping his cheeks with your hands, before squeezing them a little.

"I love you too, but you know, next time you want to fuck me, just tell me."

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chimcess · 2 months

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Waterlog || pjm (2)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 11.5k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: PINING, sexual tension, sad backstory, parental issues, more than likely bad swimming terminology, probably some bad work out advice, i'm trying my best lol, tae is too much but i love him, talks of past drug use (not reader or jimin), strong language, mental health things, medication use, allusions to depression, did i say pining?, reader is horny and awkward 99% of the time, can we blame her?, mood swings, i think they are so cute together, i promise more romance is coming soon A/N: Howdy. I know we're having a pretty slow start, but I think it'll be worth it in the end. I enjoy a good slow burn, especially when there's so much awkward sexual tension involved. Thanks for reading!!!

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Waking up the next morning, I was greeted by a loud knocking on my door. Stumbling, I told whoever it was that I was on my way. The knocking stopped but was quickly followed by Violet’s loud voice. My things were here, and I needed to let the movers inside.

“Christian and Kook are here already,” She added. “Managed to get an extra pair of hands, too.”

I changed into a pair of jeans and threw on a pull over. It was not supposed to be as cold today, but I did not think a short-sleeved shirt would be enough to keep me warm. Sliding into my boots, I opened the front door.

Violet was there, her hair in a braid again, wearing a blue plaid shirt and bootcut jeans. Beside her was Jimin, a large smile already on his face. Two other men were here. I was certain I had seen one of them before. He was very handsome with a heart shaped face and soft chin, large, asymmetrical brown eyes, and downturned lips. His hair was very obviously dyed, the blue so bright when the sun hit it my eyes hurt.

The other man was less familiar. His hair was black, styled into a trendy wolf cut, with his bangs pulled out of his face into a ponytail. He had a pure, youthful, and elegant look about him, and a few piercings. There was one on his eyebrow, one on his bottom lip, and so many on each ear I could not count them all. If I could describe him in a single word, it would be cartoonish. His eyes took up most of his face, large and doe-like, with all of his other features soft and small. Like the blue haired man, he was very handsome.

This upset me more than it should have, because despite how wonderful they both looked, all I could think about was how much I preferred Jimin. It was incomparable, actually. While they were certainly my type, I could only see how not Jimin-like their features were.

“Good morning,” I greeted them awkwardly, my voice scratchy. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“It’s such an honor to meet you,” The blue haired man’s enthusiasm caught me off guard. Despite me never making the move to shake either one of their hands, he reached for mine anyway. He reminded me of a labrador retriever, and I could imagine a tail wagging in time with his vigorous handshake. “I’m Taehyung Kim. I used to watch you, like, all the time back in the day.”

I knew that name. Studying his face a little more, it hit me. Taehyung Kim, a.k.a., The Seal of Michigan, a.k.a, V. I never understood why he had been given that last one, but it must have some sort of meaning to him because the guy lights up when anyone uses it. He was a famous snowboarder and had been to the 2020 winter Olympics. He was just a few months younger than Jimin.

“That’s very kind of you to say,” I gripped his hand back a bit more now. “I watched you at the last Olympics. You did great.”

He blushed and let go of my hand, “I didn’t win anything, but I had a lot of fun.”

That was true. The kid was brand new on the scene and let some of his nerves get to him. I had learned the hard way that hesitation could ruin a great performance, but I was sure he would do better in January. The Winter Olympics were always a few months ahead of summer, and I would surely be watching Taehyung this year. If I was going to spend time with Jimin then I would need to get along with his friends.

“It’s not always about winning,” I tried to comfort him. “I didn’t win every time either.”

That placated him. Jimin quickly introduced me to Jungkook after. He was an NHL player for the Red Wings. I admitted that I had no idea who he was and never really watched hockey before, but that only made Jungkook swear to make me an avid fan before I left Michigan. For some reason, I believed him.

It did not take long for the movers to get all of my furniture and boxes into the house. With the boys’ help, I was tipping the two men much earlier than I anticipated. All three of them insisted on helping me unpack despite me telling them I could do it on my own. The place was entirely too small for the four of us, but we managed to make it work.

I had told them my bedroom was off limits. I unpacked my clothes and put my underwear away. My room was the largest in the house. With enough space for my full-sized bed, nightstands, and dresser, I was pleased. The only downside was not having a closet, but I did not bring anything nice enough for it to really matter. It was inconvenient but not the end of the world.

I was, however, happy to see more color. My blanket was dark orange, pillowcases covered in baby pink cow print, and the otter plushie Namjoon’s mom made me was resting right in between them. I installed some simple shelving above my bed, warmly lit Christmas lights wrapped around the bars, where I displayed my books and a few of my plants. The rest were lined up on the windowsill beside the bed.

Brightly colored art now hung on the walls, a large mirror above my dresser, and a peg board for my earrings made the space feel lived in. Whatever books could not fit on my shelves got stacked and put on the nightstand. I still wanted to buy a rug and curtains, but that was on the bottom of my list of priorities.

The boys were all talking and laughing as they worked which helped me relax. I hated being trapped in quiet spaces. Finished with my room, I went to check in with them and move things around. I doubted any of them would get the knick-knacks just right.

“Don’t worry about the decorations,” I said, announcing my presence. Taehyung was staring at two of my paintings with mild panic. “I’ll take that.”

Snatching the photos, I smiled at him. The living room was coming together nicely. Jungkook pushed the dark green loveseat against the wall and all of my throws were on top of it. My largest potted plant was beside it and I decided then I would keep it there. Moving the throw pillows to the floor, I started to put my wall art up. Hoseok complained that I was going to become a hoarder if I bought any more shit. Andrea, however, said that I had great taste, so I listened to her instead.

“You’re a big face of Earthy colors,” Jungkook said, looking around the house. “Lots of plants, too.”

I shrugged, “My fiancé had a lot of succulents and stuff, so I guess it rubbed off on me after a while.”

In truth, Namjoon not only had succulents and cacti, but an entire apartment filled with plants. He had a small garden in the back, vegetables and herbs growing in despite the weather in Colorado making it difficult. The man had a green thumb and loved taking care of things. I had been in charge of them once we moved in together and learned to love it. Even after he died, I couldn’t imagine not having at least five plants in the house.

I noticed the room had gone eerily quiet. I realized then what I had said. It was the first time I had spoken about Namjoon with any of them. Knowing I had made the atmosphere awkward, I tried to break up the tension.

“What colors do you like, Jungkook?”

I could physically feel the mood lighten.

“Black,” His reply was quick. I groaned. He laughed. “What? I like the clean look.”

“It’s not clean,” I argued. “It’s depressing.”

Taehyung took my side, “My house isn’t as decorated as yours, but I have more going on than either one of them. I’m a huge fan of video games and photography so I have a lot of stuff hanging up.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jimin chimed in from the bathroom. He placed himself in charge of getting that room squared away. “His place isn’t as nice as yours. It’s all cluttered and disorganized."

“Nu uh,” Taehyung argued childishly.

“Dude, you have stuff everywhere,” Jungkook shot back, handing me another picture frame.

“They’re lying,” Taehyung told me.

“You’re so full of shit, Tae,” Jungkook sighed.

“Literally the dumbest thing to lie about,” Jimin snarkily threw in from the bathroom.

“Bullies,” Taehyung was addressing me again and this time I could not help my chuckles. “They always gang up on me.”

As the boys continued to bicker, I worked. I finished hanging up the art above the sofa and got to organizing the throws. Taehyung had already pulled out my rug, and I started figuring out how I wanted to place all of the floor pillows. Namjoon never used the couch, no one in his family did, and I had become so conscious of their comfort that I always had a large array of pillows on the floor for them to use. After a few years, I had joined them, and I kept up the trend once I moved to the Springs. The sofa was little more than decoration.

“Damn, these are nice.”

Looking over my shoulder, I was surprised to see Jungkook holding up one of my medals. I was positive I had not packed it and the box he was hunched over was completely unfamiliar as well. Embarrassment and anger swelled up in my chest. I had placed Minho and Tilly in charge of coordinating with the movers so I could focus on work and training Hoseok before I left. If I had to guess, Tilly had thought it wise to ship over a large package of my most prized possessions for some God forsaken reason.

“I don’t know why those are here,” I hoped my voice sounded playful and carefree. I did not want another tense moment. “One of my friends must have packed them.”

“Holy shit,” Taehyung was now holding the medal. “These are heavy. You have so many.”

Walking over to the box, I took out the rest of the medals. Tilly had only packed four of the eight Olympic medals I owned, probably running out of room. Framed photos of me swimming, with the rest of my team, and my coach were also in the box. My swimsuit from the last Olympics I competed at was folded at the very bottom of the box, my goggles and cap wrapped up in the fabric, and underneath it was something I had not been expecting. A framed photograph.

I remembered that night as if it were yesterday. I was eighteen coming off the back of two major wins and making my mark in the athletic community. I had just moved to Denver; Victor had gotten divorced the year prior and his ex-wife moved to Colorful Colorado taking his daughter with her. My coach demanded he was close enough to see her every weekend. It really did not matter to me where I lived, so it was one of the easier decisions I had to make.

I knew Hoseok lived in the area, and we had always been friendly at the meets we had in common. I ended up getting his number from Ozzie and after getting coffee I knew we would be friends for life. The picture was taken at his New Year’s Eve Party. I needed to get laid, he had said, and he knew a few guys he thought I might hit it off with. That was where I met Namjoon.

He was a college student, fresh faced and stumbling over his words. I was charmed by him almost instantly, even if Hoseok was positive the two of us were too different to last. I could recall the smell of fireworks in the air, the way his voice cracked whenever another one would go off, and how excited his eyes looked whenever I asked him about his major. Namjoon spoke for hours about Philosophy, all of his favorite poets, and the way he believed the universe worked. He was so clumsy it was practically a disability, and the loud sounds were so nerve wracking, he flinched whenever the fireworks boomed.

Picking up the small picture, I smiled. It was taken right after midnight. Hoseok’s sister said we looked so sweet that she could not help herself. I had all but ripped Namjoon’s hair out when the countdown began, kissing him before midnight ever came. His hands rested gently on my hips, and he huffed like he had run a marathon when we finally pulled apart. His breath was hot when he went back in for more, panting into my mouth as I clung to him like an addict. It was a beautiful moment. It was a moment I would never forget.

Suddenly, I was no longer mad at Matilda. I was sure it had been her who did this. Minho would not go through so much trouble if he thought it would upset me. Either way, I was happy to have the picture. While I was no longer in love with Namjoon, my heart slowly healing itself and making space for someone new, I would never forget our time together. It was too perfect, too magical; too loving to forget.

“Is that him?” Taehyung asked. The way he said it told me that he knew what had happened. I doubted there was a person in our world who didn't know. “The guy who died?”

I nodded, “His name was Namjoon.”

“Damn, that’s rough,” Jungkook’s voice was very gentle, and I could hear the compassion in it. “Sorry to hear that. Hope you’re doing okay.”

I smiled at him and nodded, “It was a few years ago.”

Taehyung was the one who broke the moment this time and I was grateful for the reprieve.

“These aren’t all of them, right?” He pointed at the medals still in the box. "Olympic medals, I mean."

I shook my head, “No but I guess she just grabbed the ones I had at my house. The other four I keep at my school. They’re in a case in my office.”

The ones Tilly had packed away were from 2012. Andrea had been the one to convince me to bring my other medals to school. Before that I had them all stored in a box in the deepest corner of my basement. I hated looking at them. Hated everything that they represented. The only reason these had been hanging up was because I could not be bothered taking them down.

“Where should we put them?” Jungkook asked.

I shrugged, “No idea. Just keep them in the box for now.”

Truthfully, I had no intention of putting them anywhere. While happy to have the photo of Namjoon and I, my feelings on dragging these things around had not changed. I would be very upset if I lost or damaged any of this stuff. Putting everything away, save the picture, I closed the box back up and placed the photo on my coffee table. I would find a better place for it later.

Like all of the times I had been around him, Jimin bled into the background. I listened for his voice, waited for him to add something to the conversation, but he kept to himself. Even when he left the bathroom and joined the three of us, he only answered in one-word sentences and made sound effects to show he was listening. Taehyung and Jungkook seemed used to it, so I had to believe this was just how Jimin normally was.

“You should come and grab some drinks with us,” Jungkook smiled at me.

The boys were going out for a late lunch since we finished a little later than we had thought we would. I was appreciative that they had invited me out but declined the offer. All of them were disappointed.

“Why not?” Taehyung wiggled a large set of keys at me. I could not imagine what all of them could be for and the sound they made when they moved bothered me. “You worried the food’s going to suck or something?”

I shook my head, laughing, “No, it’s nothing like that. I just don’t feel comfortable going to a bar.”

Jimin smiled at me, a small, tight-lipped smile, and I almost laughed at myself when I realized I was holding my breath. I was being ridiculous. I would call Hoseok tonight to get my head screwed back on.

“It’s not a bar,” It was heavenly to hear his voice again. “Taehyung and I don’t drink. Jungkook just likes to sit at the bar so he can watch the games.”

“Oh,” I replied dumbly. “I guess I can come along then.”

Jimin offered to give me a ride while Jungkook and Taehyung rode in the hockey player's beat up Jeep. He was just as quiet on the ride to the restaurant as he was back at the house, and while I wanted to break him out of whatever shell he had put around himself, I had no idea how. We were supposed to work together and barely spoke. Ozzie was not going to be happy about this.

“What time are we getting your car?”

I jumped, not prepared for the question. His eyes were still on the road, and it looked like he was forcing himself to not look my way. It hurt my feelings, but I knew I would have to get over it. Whatever his problem was, it had nothing to do with me and I would not let it get in between our working relationship.

“Whenever you want to go,” I replied, going back to looking out of the window.

“We’ll pick it up after we eat. My mom invited you over for dinner. by the way. If you're up for it.”

This had been the most he had said all day, but his voice was off. It was embarrassing how quickly I had become attuned to his little mannerisms, but I was so sure that something was wrong with him it was eerie. His tone was flat and disinterested, and I knew I had done nothing to upset him. Something was obviously bothering him, and I would have to silently support him in my own way. I was not comfortable being more upfront and something told me that Jimin would not like my overstepping.

“I might,” I purposely kept my tone light, hoping he did not realize I could see the darkness in his eyes. Looking at him, I asked, “What is she making?”

“Beef and radish stew,” The mundane topic seemed to ease his frown. “She got a yellow corvina from the Asian market yesterday so she’s going to roast it. Do you like fish?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “It sounds nice. I’ll go.”

A ghost of a smile graced his pretty face and I felt like I had won the lottery. Carefully composed, I looked back out of the window, hiding my little smile behind my hand. He was quiet again, the only sounds in the car being our breathing, but it felt lighter. Finally, I let myself admire the scenery.

Taehyung and Jungkook were already at the bar when we arrived and as soon as we sat down, the snowboarder was quick to hog all of my attention. While Jungkook watched a baseball game on the big screens, Taehyung talked animatedly about his family. Jimin was quietly sipping on a Coke in the seat next to me. It was strange to see how easily his friends ignored him. Like they knew he did not feel like talking.

“My sisters are both in college,” Taehyung continued to ramble. “Twins. It was a nightmare being the baby brother.”

I nodded along and tried my best to keep up with him. I kept getting distracted by Jimin. He barely moved and seemed to be mindlessly watching the tv. He looked so sad it broke my heart. Still, no one else said anything so I kept my thoughts to myself.

“Oh!” Taehyung gasped, noticing a few people who walked in. “I’m going to go say ‘hi.’ It was so great meeting you.”

With a bright smile, Taehyung told the boys about the group and Jungkook decided to join him. Jimin did not even acknowledge he had said anything. Leaving us alone, the restaurant was loud and filled with their chattering.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, trying to make conversation. Picking up the menu the bartender had left with Taehyung when we first arrived, I gave it a quick once over. “We can split an appetizer.”

Jimin looked tired and sad, but I did not know what to say or do for him. We were not lovers, not even friends. We were a pair of strangers who were expected to work together. This seemed much easier over the phone. I took a nervous sip of my drink.

“What are you thinking?” Just the sound of him talking eased my anxiety.

“Uh,” I had barely looked at their menu and pointed to a random item. “Fried pickles?”

Jimin smiled lazily and looked at me, his eyes amused.

“You don’t sound very sure of yourself.”

I shrugged, embarrassed. “I just said the first thing I saw.”

Putting his cup down, Jimin grabbed the menu from my hands and laid it flat on the bar. We leaned over the small paper, our knees touching. I could smell his cologne now and my mouth watered. He smelled so good I struggled to focus.

“Most of the shit here is awful,” His voice had more life in it now and I was glad to see the corners of his mouth pulled up. “Only things worth getting are the chips and salsa, fried cheese, and pasties. The pizza is fine, too, but not worth the money.”

Talking distracted him from whatever had been on his mind, and it made Jungkook and Taehyung’s behavior odd. They were obviously very close, but if I could see how much happier he looked when he was shooting the shit, how couldn’t they? They probably knew something I didn’t, but it did nothing but rub me the wrong way. My friends would annoy me until I had no choice but to talk back.

“Chips are usually pretty safe,” We both agreed on it. “Do you just want chips? I don’t mind getting you a burger or something.”

He shook his head, “Like I said, most of the shit here is awful. Don’t waste your money.”

I ordered the chips for us, and the bartender was happy to help us out. This place was pathetically empty save us and the group Jungkook and Taehyung ditched us for. They were very loud and rowdy, something Jimin said was completely normal. Apparently, they all knew one another but he hadn’t felt like spending time with any of them.

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked, heart pounding. My anxiety over the question was ridiculous, but I felt like this was a good moment to ask. We were both comfortable and the tightness around his eyes was finally eased.

“Just one of those days,” He replied, voice soft.

I sighed, “I get them, too. They’re the fucking worst.”

He chuckled darkly, “It’s like you wake up and that’s already taken all of the energy you had for the day.”

“Why’d you come to the house?” I asked, flagging the bartender for a refill. “I wouldn’t have been upset if you bailed.”

Jimin flushed, “I said I was coming so I came.”

No, I thought, you thought I was going to be mad if you hadn’t shown up. Hamilton had this poor kid so fucked up and scared it pissed me off. As long as I knew Matt, he had always been an ass, but to think he had his trainee putting shit before his mental health and wellbeing made whatever sliver of respect I had for him vanish.

I took a long sip of my drink, “We can’t work together if you don’t talk to me. That will piss me off way more than you canceling on me.”

“Okay,” He let out a very large breath. “I’ll let you know next time.”

As we ate our chips, we moved into safer waters. Jimin was still less talkative in person, but nowhere near as tense as he had been all morning. I found that music was one of his favorite things, and I discussed my own interests in more depth and detail than I ever had before. Jimin’s taste was varied but stuck mostly in 90s R&B and soft Indie artists I had never heard of. At some point I ordered spicy wings and had to admit Jimin was right- they really were awful.

We left the other two behind to go and pick up my car. Jungkook and Taehyung seemed more than happy to watch us leave and the large table barely acknowledged my presence. Jimin accepted their happy shouts when he approached, hugging the ones who stood up to greet him, and forced one of his small, pitiful smiles at a particular brunette who kept batting her eyelashes at him. He introduced me but none of them seemed to really care. Especially the brunette.

“Let me get your number,” Taehyung said to me, holding out a hand for my phone. “We need to hang out again.”

I was nervous about giving him a way to contact me. He reminded me of Tilly, though ten times more energetic, and she always found a way to get on my nerves (the box being one of many examples). Taehyung had yet to overstep the imaginary boundaries I had, but his complete lack of personal space etiquette was astounding. He touched me more in one day than any of my friends in an entire year. He seemed like the type of person to text every day and send a million pictures of himself doing random shit. Even with that in mind, I handed my phone over. He was too nice to say no to.

“Do you like sushi?” Taehyung asked, handing me my phone. “There’s a great place in Detroit we can go to.”

The idea of being trapped in a car with the snowboarder for 45 minutes was not appealing. I could only imagine how much he could talk when he was really excited about something. I would entertain the idea if Jungkook or Jimin came as a buffer, especially if one of them could sit up front. Taehyung yapping away in my ear would give me the biggest migraine I had ever had, and my anxiety over not being entirely focused on the road would make me snippy and rude.

“Only if I can come,” Jungkook piped up. “You’re not going to Bash without me, dude.”

“Well yeah,” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Y/N has to meet Milo and Darcy,” He looked at me, grinning happily. “I think you would really get along.”

I had no idea who either of those people were, but I did not want to ask any questions. Jimin was inching back towards me and telling the others goodbye, and I did not want to hold him up. Taehyung started making plans that I did not pay any attention to. He could always text me when he figured out what he wanted.

“We have to get going,” Jimin was back beside me. “Y/N’s car is sitting at the dealership. It was good seeing everyone.”

I waved at the table and started walking away before Taehyung could touch me. He was definitely a hugger. Jimin was quick to catch up with me, giggling about my “escape.” It had started to snow again, gentle flurries twisting and turning in the wind, and I had forgotten my heavy jacket at home. The long sleeve I was wearing would do nothing to keep me warm.

“Here,” Jimin taking off his jacket. “You need this more than me.”

Draping it over my shoulders, Jimin told me to zip it up. Stunned, I moved on autopilot and shoved my arms through the sleeves. Everything smelled like him, oranges and spice, and his warmth was still clinging to the thick fleece. I could not remember the last time someone had given me their jacket. Dazed, I followed Jimin out to the parking lot, eyes locked on his back. He was in nothing but a thin, black and white striped shirt.

“Thanks,” I said once we were both in the truck, already shrugging out of the light beige jacket. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He held up a hand, “Keep it. The heater is out.”

I shook my head, “What about you?”

He reached into the back and held up a purple hoodie.

“I’ll be alright.”

I put the jacket back on and buckled in. Jimin slipped into the sweatshirt and started the truck. After buckling up, he backed out of the parking lot. I caught sight of the brunette as we left. She was red faced, shouting into her phone. I looked away. Whoever she was angry with was definitely getting an earful.

“Wonder what Tom did this time,” Jimin mumbled.

“Hm?”

“Tom’s Annie’s boyfriend,” He supplied. “They’re always arguing. Worse than Jungkook and Darcy, they break up every other week, but Tom and Annie are at each other's throats every other day.”

I grimaced, “Sounds like my friends. They finally called it quits last year, but they were insufferable.”

Jimin chuckled, “So, what’s Colorado like?”

I talked to him about Andrea and Seokjin first, how we met and how much I loved their daughter. Hoseok and I’s friendship got quite a few laughs out of him, but those quickly died off when I brought up Namjoon. I told him about the day we met and the coffee date that happened a few days later, and that seemed to brighten up the mood again. Namjoon stories were bittersweet but took up such a large chunk of my life it was impossible to gloss over.

“When’s the toxic couple coming up?” He joked.

“I’m getting there,” I replied.

Hoseok and Matilda had known one another longer than the rest of us. Growing up together, no one was surprised when they finally hooked up in high school. It was, however, short lived bliss. Matilda got caught up in the wrong crowd and began doing drugs. Hoseok had tried to help her get through it, but they could never see eye-to-eye. That started their toxic cycle of getting back together, Tilly going to rehab, her relapsing, and them falling out again. It was not until she went two years ago that it managed to stick, but their relationship was too tumultuous to make it very far. They decided to stay friends and she became a constant member in our group.

“That’s crazy,” Jimin shook his head. “Happy she’s doing better now.”

“Me too.”

The rest of the drive was spent talking about Colorado and how beautiful it was. He stayed away from swimming, mostly wanting to hear about the school I worked at and the places I went to in my free time. He kept me talking for the entire 45-minute car ride, question after question keeping me on my toes. He did not like talking about himself, whenever I tried to switch the conversation to his own interests he barely responded before going back to his interrogation. Before I knew it, we were pulled into the dealership and getting down.

“You can leave,” I told him.

“I want to make sure you’re good before I go,” He replied.

The cashier was lovely, her voice bubbly and sweet as she helped me out. Jimin lingered longer than he needed to, helping me fill out my paperwork and making small talk with the dealer. I took my keys and went for a quick test drive before I was finally able to convince Jimin to leave.

The drive back was quiet. I was used to the silence when I drove, but Jimin’s voice had been soothing. Frankly, I was a bit bored without him around. I decided to call Matila and ask about my medals. She apologized but I doubted how sincere she actually was. After catching up with her, hearing all about the guy she went on a date with, and a five-minute rant about Hoseok spending way too much money on Minho’s birthday present, I hung up before she could give me a migraine. As much as I liked Tilly, she was someone I had very little patience for and her voice, high pitched and loud, was like nails on a chalkboard.

I got back in town a little after 3. Violet and Calvin were both home and watching some black and white Western. Calvin offered to make me lunch, but I was quick to decline. I just wanted some space.

As soon as I got in my apartment, I curled up in bed to take a nap. I was overwhelmed after talking so much and desperately needed to recharge. I set an alarm for 5 so I could make it over to the Park house in time for dinner. Quickly sending a quick text to Hoseok, I turned on thunderstorm sounds and closed my eyes.

Na-Yeon and James were both excited to see me, talking about their days and asking how I was settling in. Eloise was there as well, the twins in the back room playing again. Jimin was going to be late. He had gone for a last-minute swim with Milo. When I asked them who that was, it was Eloise who answered.

“That’s Vincent’s fiancé.”

“Who?” I was even more confused.

“Taehyung,” Na-Yeon answered. “You know he hates that name as much as Jimin hates his, Lou."

Eloise blushed, her entire face turning a bright shade of red.

“Sorry,” She scratched behind her ear. Looking back at me, she sighed, “We went to school together. Old habit.”

Now V made sense. It never occurred to me that Jungkook and Taehyung could have their own American names, and neither one introduced themselves that way either. James came to take the seat beside mine, the dining table more crowded then was reasonably necessary.

“Does Jungkook have a second name?” I asked.

“Ian,” Eloise replied. “He goes by both, so I don’t think he cares as much as Tae and Jimin. I know his girlfriend uses both.”

I assumed that was Darcy. Why else would Taehyung assume she would go with us on a day trip to Detroit?

“They call him Ian on the team, too,” James chimed in. “His name is too hard.”

Namjoon never had an American name, at least, not one I had ever heard. The only person I could think of was Hoseok. A lot of his friends called him Jay, something about an old nickname from school, but that was it. Seokjin just went by Jin, Namjoon went by Joon, and Minho went by…well, Minho. None of their parents used American-Friendly names, and Seokjin’s father’s English was still poor even after living here for so long.

“Y/N,” Na-Yeon brought me back to the conversation. “What banchan do you like?”

“My eomeo-nim made these delicious, braised potatoes,” I answered, thinking back on our dinners together. “Kimchi, of course. My ex made the best braised lotus roots. They were always yummy.”

Na-Yeon seemed pleased by my answer. James and Eloise started rambling about their own favorites. Unlike Namjoon, Mr.Park was a big fan of seafood. He grew up in Busan near the Jagalchi Market, which, according to him, was the largest seafood market in South Korea. Eloise talked a little about her favorite Korean dishes before jumping into what she grew up eating. Her father was Scottish and her mother French, so one night she was eating Scottish Pie and daube niçoise the next. It was fun hearing more about Eloise. I would have never guessed she was a first generation American.

“It’s something Tony and I had in common,” She added. “He learned quite a bit of French before he died. Unfortunately, my Korean is taking much longer.”

“Mine isn’t that great either,” I admitted. “Namjoon’s family spoke English and never liked to make me feel awkward. I can follow a conversation fairly well, but only if you speak slowly.”

James laughed, “I will remember that.”

The front door opened, and I could hear loud talking. Eloise sighed. Whoever was with Jimin did not pass her inspection it would seem. She and James seemed to have a small conversation with their eyes. The men were still at the front of the house. Finally, Eloise looked away and scowled.

“Must have brought Milo and Tae over,” She muttered. “I’m going to go check on the twins.”

Eloise left the table. James told me to ignore her. She and Milo did not get along for whatever reason and she chose to ignore him. It was not my business, so I accepted that explanation.

I prepared myself for a bad interaction. So far, Eloise was such a quiet and sweet person I could not imagine anyone actively disliking her. Then again, this was Taehyung’s fiancé, and he was the nicest, most bubbly person I had ever met. It did not seem likely that he would hang around bad company. It could just be a case of personalities clashing.

“Annyeong,” Taehyung greeted us brightly, immediately finding me. “Babe, come say hi.”

A massive, pale man followed in behind him. Milo was a good-looking guy, bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, with a solid build. He reminded me of the male swimmers I worked with, his huge size and bulging muscles intimidating. His fashion sense was not as good as Taehyung’s. Ill-fitting black bottoms and a Rick and Morty t-shirt that made me want to roll my eyes. I was definitely biased, my loyalties already in Eloise’s corner. I did not need to know a backstory to be weary. The dude looked enough like Matthew Hamilton to make me dislike him just off principal.

“Milo, Y/N,” Taehyung introduced, gesturing between the two of us. Behind him, Jimin snuck into the kitchen and gave his mom a kiss on the cheek as a greeting. He looked nice in his gray tracksuit. “Y/N, this is my fiancé, Milo.”

I managed a disingenuous smile, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” He replied. His voice was smokey.

“Where’s Lou?” Jimin asked, coming around to greet his father.

“Checking on Harper and Cam,” James told him.

There was not enough room for all of us to sit at the table and I ended up giving up my seat to Na-Yeon. Jimin helped her set the table while I was put in charge of gathering Eloise and the kids. Walking down the hallway, I found the kids’ playroom and knocked.

“Dinner’s ready,” I announced, poking my head inside.

The room was bigger than I thought it would be. Each side was decorated in stereotypical boy and girl colors, Cameron’s bed and wall art a wide variety of blues and teals with dinosaur decals on the walls, while Harper’s was a mix up of baby pink and white. Her bed had more stuffed animals on it than I could count and all of them seem well loved. Their toys split the room in half, a large, circle rug in the middle of it all. Most of the toys were thrown on the floor and Eloise was telling them it was time for them to clean it up.

The children looked so cute in their little matching outfits. Harper’s black hair was braided down her back and the ribbon tied at the end of it matched her cream-colored overalls. Cam’s hair was on the longer side as well, falling to his shoulders with a slight wave. His bright red converse stuck out against the rather plain outfit he was wearing, and I had to assume he put up a fight behind them. Harper started to sing the Barney song as they cleaned.

“Feeling, okay?” I asked their mother. She was sitting in the chair on Harper’s side. “You ran off pretty quickly.”

She shook her head, “It’s nothing. We’ve never gotten along.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Do you want to eat here? I’ll sit with you.”

She smiled, “We can play nice, don’t worry. Thanks, though. I appreciate you asking.”

Dinner was as uneventful as Eloise said it would be. She and Milo greeted one another and then acted as if the other did not exist. I stood up to eat, Taehyung, Milo, and Jimin with me while the others sat down. Cam was excited to talk about school and Harper rambled on and on about her imaginary friend Butter Squash. They were both very sweet and it made me miss Dani. The last time I saw her was when we went skating the weekend before I left.

Taehyung was as talkative as ever. His touches also become bolder. By the time I left, he had an arm around my shoulders and his body pressed against my side. Milo was unbothered by our closeness. He and Jimin spoke the most and again the guy I knew when no one else was around seemingly vanished. This one was too put together, too closed off, and no one, and I mean no one, seemed to care. Every time he laughed half-heartedly or nodded along with whatever Milo was talking about, I felt more confused. Why was he so hot and cold all of the time?

During my drive back home, I tentatively attempted to listen to the radio. I only lasted around a minute or so before I switched it off. I needed silence. The Parks were such a lovely family, but tonight was too much. Between unpacking and Taehyung, I was drained. Hoseok had asked me to call him when I got home but I was going to wait. If it was important enough, he would call me himself.

I fell asleep as soon as my face hit the pillow, my medication making it a dreamless night.

The rest of the week was quiet. I called my friends back home to check in Thursday morning and was happy about Hoseok’s progress. The kids were really liking him, and he thought he may have a permanent job for next year if I decided to keep working with Jimin. I told him not to get his hopes up.

Jimin and I spoke through text daily. He was still going about his normal routine while I brainstormed training and scheduling. By Saturday I was ready to start testing out different ideas. We both seemed eager to get started, actually. Sunday, like I expected, was very quiet. That was his mom’s day, so I tried not to bother him. Violet and Calvin kept me company.

The Andersons were nice people. Violet was always coming to the back and inviting me to join them for breakfast, and her husband enjoyed asking me about my life. Calvin was far more personable than his wife was, but they managed to balance one another out. Sunday evening was the first time I noticed Calvin’s memory issues. He had no idea who I was. I came inside and Violet had to tell him I was their daughter Nancy’s babysitter. He was under the assumption that she was still 10. I left them alone when Violet asked me to pick her up from school. She came out back a few hours later to thank me for going along with everything, and I made sure that she had my phone number in case she needed me to help out if things got out of hand.

It was still dark outside when I left Monday morning. Jimin and I agreed to meet up at 6 am to start our day, but I wanted to get to the gym early. Time to set up and get myself in the right headspace was important to me.

The location he had sent me was more remote than I had originally anticipated. Jimin owned the little gym. It had been a swim school in the past and the place he had first learned he loved the water. He and his mom went to classes together when he was young. The place had been too expensive for the previous owners to keep up with and they were planning on selling it, but Jimin bought it off of them and converted it into a public gym/pool.

In our text exchanges he called it his retirement plan, but I was sure the place meant more to him than that. He had no interest in it until after the cancer diagnosis. If I was to over analyze it, I would say he was trying to hold onto a happy memory. This was their place before sickness and death ran through his family. I would imagine anyone would want to keep something that held so much sentimental value if they could.

Pulling into the parking lot, I was first struck by two things. One, it was open and there were people inside, and two, it was huge. Most of the building was nothing but windows giving me a great view of the muscled men inside. Bright fluorescent lights made my sensitive eyes hurt, and I could hear the faint sound of music coming from somewhere near the gym. The small group of men were together, all of them lifting and spotting each other while talking, and a sense of dread filled my belly.

I was always anxious when I went to a new place, but a new gym was a nightmare. I had bad experiences in the past. Overly friendly creeps who liked to stand around and watch me while I worked out. None of the guys inside gave off bad vibes, but I was still in my car and none of them laid their eyes on me. A woman in a gym was like a drop of blood in water. I had to hope they were not sharks.

Gathering courage, I grabbed my duffle and made my way inside. A pretty, dark-skinned, young woman was sitting at the receptionist desk, and I felt more at ease. If they left her alone then maybe they would not cause me too much trouble either. The music was louder inside, and I recognized the Ciara song. It was a great one for cardio. Fighting the urge to dance, I greeted the receptionist. She put down her magazine and gave me an award-winning grin. She had a nice, dimpled smile.

“Hi there,” She had a thick, Southern accent and I could not tell you where she might be from. I was awful at telling them apart. “Do you have your membership card?”

I laughed nervously, my grip on my bag tightening. “No. I’m here to train with Jimin Park. He said I should have something on file.”

She nodded, her smile unwavering as she looked at her computer and asked for my name.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” I replied, foot tapping along to the Lil Wayne song that came on. I had this one on my own workout playlist back in 2008. I could not help mumbling the words under my breath, “She-she-she lick me like a lollipop.”

“Found you,” The girl grabbed a few sheets of paper from a pile on her side of the desk. “Just fill these out for me and we’ll get your card printed. Your fees have been paid already so no need to worry about that.”

I nodded, half listening. This song was great. Why has it been so long since I last heard it? I went to the gym all the time. I needed to put it back on my playlist. Honestly, the entire Carter III needed to find its way back into my rotation.

“My name’s Giselle if you need anything,” The receptionist pointed to a cluster of chairs right at the front entrance. “You’re super early so Christian isn’t here yet, but I’ll give you the key to the pool room so you can do whatever you need before the boss gets in.”

I smiled at her, “Thank you, Giselle.”

“Anytime, ma’am.”

It took me a few minutes to fill the paperwork out and scan my ID, but Giselle made everything as quick as she could. One of the men working out had come by to ask for some wipes to clean off a few of the machines but left without anything more than a ‘good morning’ thrown in my direction. When we passed by the rest of them on the way to the pool house, we were completely ignored, so it was safe for me to say that they would not be a problem for me in the future. Creeps were never subtle about their creepiness.

“I have to double check with Christian, but I think I’m supposed to give you a spare key,” Giselle said, unlocking the pool. “I’m just going to be sure before I promise you anything. Don’t want to get fired.”

I could tell she was joking. Jimin did not strike me as the type of guy to fire anyone over something like that. It only made sense for me to have a spare key since we would be coming around so much, and I would feel bad about disrupting the staff whenever I needed to get inside. They did not get paid enough to deal with that on top of all of the rest of their duties.

“We keep it locked until 9,” Giselle continued, leading the way inside. “Then we close it back up at 5. Maintenance comes in every Tuesday to treat the water, so you’ll have to be out of here no later than 7. Boss man knows this already so you shouldn’t have any problems with that.”

The pool room was very bland and bare bones. The smell of chlorine hung heavily in the air while the lights around the pool walls illuminated the dark room. It was very big, and I itched to go for a quick dip. The coolness of the water would be nice against my skin. I had grown hot with nerves and gotten a little sweaty.

“We have a few other staff members that will be in around the same time the boss man comes in,” Giselle continued to give me the rundown. “I’m sure he’ll introduce you to everyone just in case you need anything. I’d say make nice with Yoongi first. He’s our in-house massage therapist.”

Pointing to a door on the far-left wall, Giselle let me know that was the pool locker room and the door right next to it was a shortcut to the back offices. Management, marketing, and facility supervisors were usually all back there and I would more than likely never see them. They were not the most social people and worked from home a lot. I could tell by Giselle’s voice that she did not particularly care for management.

“Drew should be here by now,” She checked her smart watch. “She’s the general manager. I’m going to go and grab her and see about that key. She might come back to say ‘hi’ but don’t hold your breath.”

I chuckled, “That bad?”

Giselle rolled her eyes, “Drew’s fine, but Dominic is usually following her around everywhere and he’s annoying. You’ll get what I mean if you ever see them together.”

I laughed, “I’ve had my fair share of weirdos. Thanks again. I appreciate you showing me around.”

She beamed, “It wasn’t a problem. You gave me a reason to get up from the desk, so I’d say it’s a win.”

We spoke for a few more minutes until a very large, bulky man popped his head in looking for her. His black t-shirt clung to him tightly and his shorts were a hideous neon pink color. He did have a nice smile, one that took up most of his face and teeth so white they looked fake. Giselle introduced me very quickly, and the man, Sam, turned out to be one of the personal trainers on staff.

“You’re the Olympian, right?” Sam asked. Jimin must really like people who talked a lot, because I had never met more outgoing people in my life before moving here. Everyone he surrounded himself with was just full of energy, and I wondered if it was purposeful. Jimin himself was a rather quiet and sad person. “Jimin talks about you all the time.”

I laughed awkwardly, face heating, “That’s me.”

“Sick,” Suddenly an image of Sam surfing in California flashed through my mind. He just seemed like the type. “Well, I have to go and help out a client, but it was nice meeting you. Gigi, can you go back up front before Drew pitches a fit?”

Giselle sighed heavily, “Tell her I’m coming,” Looking at me she asked if I was okay on my own. “Come and get me if you need anything, okay?”

After assuring her that I was fine, Giselle left behind Sam. The two of them bickered like an old married couple, and I wondered about their relationship. He did call her a little nickname. I shook my head. Regardless, I had other things I needed to take care of before I could get lost in thought about two strangers.

Unpacking my duffle, I threw on my whistle and stopwatch before getting to work on my schedule. I had brought a lot of my personal swimming gear with me like training bands, coach communicator, and forearm fulcrum. Back in the day, I was the brand ambassador for Finis, so I had a lot of their products. The tracksuit I was wearing was from Speedo, and I had so much of their stuff for the same reason. Being a famous swimmer had its perks.

I had planned on doing a lot of drill and some short-burst efforts with Jimin. He had been without a PT for a few weeks now, and while I trusted him to stay in shape, it was no secret someone would be performing less on their own than with guidance. I did not want to over work him when he was, for all intents and purposes, been on a vacation. So, while I wanted to rush head-first into training, I would try to ease into things a bit before going full asshole on the kid. Like Victor would say, “Three times a week for three weeks.” After that, he was going to be at my mercy.

It was just past 6 when Jimin walked into the pool room. I was flipping through my training plan for the day and humming along to the music blasting through the speakers, echoing off the walls. Whoever was in charge of the playlist had a thing for the early 2000s.

“Morning,” His soft voice brought a smile to my face. He sounded tired. “What do you think about the place?”

Stealing a look at him, I had to hold back the gasp that I wanted to let out. He was wearing a black tank top and shorts giving me a great look at his skin. Embarrassed by my reaction, I internally scolded myself. I needed to get over this crush already. I was about to see a lot more of his body once he went to the back to change. I bit my lip. I had no idea how I was going to deal with him in a speedo.

“It’s very nice,” I was happy with how nonchalant I sounded. “Wasn’t expecting it to be so big.”

I wonder what else is big… I nibbled on the inside of my cheek. I really needed to get my mind out of the gutter. Scratch that- I should have dealt with this problem the second I realized it was there. I was going to force myself to call Hoseok today. He would know what to do, and if not, at least I could vent a little.

“Sleep okay?”

I jumped out of my ever-degrading thoughts.

“Yeah,” I sniffed. “Had fun with your mom? I wanted to give you two some space, so I stayed to myself.”

He smiled and I melted. Yeah, this needed to stop. I was too grown to be acting like this around a man.

“I appreciate it. We missed you at dinner, though. My dad kept complaining that things were quiet now.”

I chuckled, “Eloise and the kids not loud enough?”

He shook his head, “She didn’t come over.”

He tossed his sports bag next to mine and pulled out his swim gear. I caught a flash of his speedo and quickly looked away. The visuals going through my mind were distracting enough.

“Do you want to go over everything before I get changed?” Asked Jimin.

I shook my head, “No, go ahead. It’s going to be a chill day.”

“You got it, coach.”

I did not breathe until I heard the locker room door slam shut. Tossing my clipboard onto my bag, I roughly rubbed my face. I needed to pull myself together.

My attraction was easy to ignore and forget about when he was not in my face, but the second I got my eyes on him it was all I could focus on. I was awkward and fumbling all over the place whenever he was around. I focused on him far too much, far more than I should be due to our relationship, and it was driving me insane. I needed to take a breather, but I did not have enough time and I did not want to make him worried. Jimin seemed like the type of person who would become consumed by anxiety if he thought I was upset with him in any way. No, I would have to suck it up and get through this training session like an adult.

The locker room door opened. Jimin’s bare feet were loud against the gray, stone floor. I refused to look at him. I wasn’t ready yet. Bending over, I grabbed the clipboard and cleared my throat. I was hoping to get him in the water first, and then I could safely conduct myself in a professional way. The less skin I had to see at a time the better. I pointed at the pool.

“Like I said, it’s going to be an easy day,” He was walking away from me, and I felt the tightness in my chest lighten. “You’ve been without a trainer for a bit, and I’m not sure how intense your workouts have been since. Your warmup is just 10 minutes of easy swimming, and then we’ll go over our main set.”

I heard him get into the water with a splash and relaxed. I could handle him in the water. No one looked good with those stupid goggles on. I walked to the edge of the pool, clipboard in my hand, and stole a quick look.

As suspected, he did not look as potent like this. His hair was hidden beneath a red and white cap, and blue goggles obstructed most of his face. It was impossible to make out most of his body as he glided through the water, but I got a great look at his arms. He was more muscular than I gave him credit for. He was smaller and more lean than other swimmers, but I could see why he was able to dominate.

He was very fast, but I could already tell he was pushing harder than I wanted him to. Blowing my whistle, I let him know I only wanted him swimming at 80% effort. Jimin pulled a face and lifted his goggles up. Now that he was stagnant, I got a clear look at his chest and swallowed thickly. He needed to start moving or else I might have a heart attack.

“Why?” He was incredulous.

“Like I said, I don’t want you to overwork yourself. You’ve been on a vacation for four weeks now and we need to work our way back up to more intensive sets. It’ll only be for a couple of weeks.”

He pushed back again, “I’ve been coming here every day for hours. I think I’m fine.”

I shook my head, “I’m not trying to be a dick, and I’m not calling you a liar, but I am skeptical of the quality of the training.”

“But-”

“I haven’t been here to see your routine,” I cut him off before whatever smart ass comment he was planning to say could even come out. Jimin’s annoyance was plain as day, and I was not about to put up with a tantrum. “I’m known for being a hard ass, and I’m going to push you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. You can ask Coach Bunch about me if you want. I will make sure you’re in the best shape of your life this year, but not at the expense of getting you injured.”

He took a deep breath before responding, “With all due respect, I’ve been putting in a lot of work by myself. I don’t think I need kid gloves.”

I smirked, cocking my head to the side. “Is that what you think this is?”

“Isn’t it?” He shrugged, pouting.

He was cute when he was mad.

“Humor me,” I replied. “We do things my way for the week and if I think you’re good to go by Friday then we’ll get back to normal training. How does that sound?”

Jimin thought for a moment before smiling at me.

“I can live with that.”

I chuckled, “Good to know. Now, put your goggles back on and finish your warmup. We’re wasting time arguing.”

As I suspected, once we started our drills, he did not perform up to the standards I had for him. Even at 75% what he was capable of, I could already see the areas he needed to work on. His butterflies were beautiful, but I could pick apart his breast and back strokes. I was happy with his free swim at the end, and I was going to start there the next session. I was hoping by starting off with compliments that we could become more comfortable with one another before I had to get serious. Those breast strokes would drive me insane until he could execute them perfectly every time.

“How am I doing?” Jimin asked during a cool down, doing a few laps before we started our drills again. “I know my breast strokes aren’t that great. I’ve always struggled with them.”

At least he was self-aware, I thought.

“We definitely have stuff to work on,” I replied. “Don’t worry too much about that right now. We can start talking about it more next week.”

He sighed, annoyed, and I laughed. He was very grumpy when it came to his swimming. Not wanting to upset him again, I decided to give him something.

“I would like to watch you swim a bit more and make a plan before giving you my opinion. My coach used to do that with me, and I found it helpful.”

We trained until eight-thirty, and I looked over my notes while Jimin cooled down. We did not talk as much as I would have liked, but it was probably for the best. His body was distracting, and I did not think I was doing a very good job at hiding my reactions to him. He did not seem to notice, or he was simply sparing my feelings, either way he was happy to keep relatively quiet. We only talked about training while he was in the water, and I was grateful he was maintaining his professionalism.

“When will we be back again?” Jimin asked, his last few minutes running down on the timer. “You said Wednesday, right?”

I nodded absentmindedly, in my own little world as I flipped through my notes. I had more than I thought I would have, all of them having to do with fixing his form and how we could go about it. New exercises, grueling training days, and a few new tools that I was not sure he had ever used before, would mold him into a swimmer I would glow with pride over. Park had always been a talented man, but I wanted to see if we could reach for something more. Something bigger and better than he could have imagined. I wanted to make Matthew fucking Hamilton look like the incompetent bastard I knew him to be.

“We’re done for the day,” I sighed, clicking the alarm off. “Do you want me to come for your night swim?”

Jimin ripped the goggles off, rubbing his eyes and already going to release his cap. I bit down on the inside of my mouth. He was so pretty and soft, and the way his muscles flexed as he swam to the edge of the pool made my stomach flutter. I looked away before he hoisted himself out of the water. I did not need that image floating around in my already depraved head.

“You can come if you want,” He replied casually. “I’m mostly hitting the gym when I’m here in the evenings. I only take a dip for thirty minutes and leave.”

I hummed, fighting the urge to look at his body. I focused instead on my breathing and writing down what he had just said. I did not want to forget that. It might be useful for me in the future. If we could exercise together, it would give me an opportunity to guide him through some of my favorite tricks to help with swimming.

“Will someone else be with you?”

“Probably Jungkook and Darcy. They’re my usual gym buddies when Milo is working.”

“Darcy’s his girlfriend, right?” I wanted to see if my hunch from the other night was right.

“Yeah. They’ve been going out for a couple of years now. She’s alright. Not as shy as you.”

I snorted, “You think I’m shy?”

Then I made a critical mistake. Looking over at Jimin, I nearly choked on my own spit. His skin was perfectly smooth, not a blemish in sight, and cream-colored. His body was just as pretty as his face, smooth abs and a tiny waist that led to toned and thick thighs. The tiny scrap of red fabric covering his private area did not stop my eyes from glancing. I looked away before I started to stare.

Hoseok was going to have a field day with this.

“I know you are,” He teased, his voice so soft and sweet. I briefly wondered what he would sound like in bed. I fought desperately to rid myself of that imagery. This could not be happening right now. “You’re so shy you can’t even look at me right now.”

His cocky attitude should have annoyed me, but instead it only further fueled my lust. Every time I had seen this man, he gave me such tonal whiplash it was beginning to drive me insane. First it was this innocent little angel facade that quickly became sarcastic and witty when he decided he could play around without me getting angry. Then it was the whole sad puppy thing he had going on for the last week. Now here he was, practically naked and getting riled up over me telling him what to do, and puffing his chest with confidence I never thought he was capable of. It would have pissed me off if I did not find him ridiculously attractive.

“Go get dressed, Park,” My voice was clipped and too harsh. I winced and quickly worked to soften the blow. Getting defensive only made me look worse. “We can get breakfast if you’re not busy. My treat.”

“Sure, coach.”

When I heard the locker room close, I let out a deep sigh. My sexual frustration was getting in the way of my work, and I hated it. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I sent Hoseok a text.

Me: I think I’m crushing on Park

Me: Help me get rid of it

The reply did not come until I was done packing up my things. The workout stuff I had brought with me had been useless today, but I was afraid of forgetting where they were the next time I might need them, so they never left the bag. My phone vibrated just as I was done zipping up my bag. I could hear the shower in the locker room and clenched my thighs together. I was still thinking of how pretty his belly was, the tattoo on his ribs pitch-black against his pale skin, and how solid his calves looked. I unlocked my phone and nearly cried laughing when I saw the response.

Hobi: HAHAHAHA

Hobi: Sex is always the answer

Hobi: Never thought I’d see the day you became a cougar

I have no idea why I thought he would be any help. So, I licked my wounds and messaged Andy (like I should have done in the first place) and knew whatever she had to say would be far more helpful than my stupid best friend’s word of “advice.” I just had to hope it would be enough to make all of these feelings stop.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga

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jiihu · 10 months

Text

너랑 나 — 𝐲𝐮 𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧

﹅ summary — meeting jimin at your birthday party your mom threw for you, you found yourself instantly infatuated with the older woman.

﹅ content — age difference (reader is 18, jimin is 27), slight power imbalance, doctor!jimin, slight angst

﹅ word count — 2.6k

﹅ a/n — a little bit of inspiration from call me by your name! jimin is sort of ooc here, but i wanted her to seem more “formal” ^^

you trudged up the stairs, away from "your" party, which consisted of your parent's friends, and not a single one of yours. you let out a relaxed sigh as the bass of the music became less and less noticeable in your chest. pushing open the door to your bedroom, you let your foot close it behind you and fell onto your bed.

"this is not how i expected my 18th birthday to go," you groaned into your pillow, grabbing your phone and turning on your side, fully expecting to spend the rest of your day here and not downstairs. your parents wanted you to make connections with some of the people for your "future", but that was the last thing on your mind today. not only did you not want to spend your evening with tens of middle-aged adults, but you also wanted an escape from reality, without having to think about your future too much. at least for today.

while you were lost in your thoughts, you heard the loud rev of an engine, and you stood up from your place on the bed. leaning over your nightstand, you peered through the blinds and watched as a sleek, matte black sports car pulled into your driveway. you stared intently at the driver's side door as the purr of the engine rattled in your chest, reminding you of the bass faintly vibrating from downstairs.

your fingers were frozen in place as you held the blinds open, watching as a platinum-blonde woman stepped out of the car, running a hand through her hair before tying it in a ponytail. you felt as if you were starstruck, watching her adjust her clothes, before she laughed, removing the stethoscope from around her neck. you were almost in a trance-like state, and although you couldn't hear her laugh, you imagined it was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard.

it seemed as if she'd just left her shift at the hospital, still having on the same scrubs and work shoes that nurses wore. once she felt that she was presentable enough, she reached into the backseat and pulled out a light blue gift box with a white bow on top, using her hip to nudge the door closed.

heart pounding, you stumbled backward, the sudden movement causing the blinds to drop back into place. your mind raced, trying to process the unexpected arrival of this captivating woman. who was she? what was she doing here? and most importantly, why did she have a gift for you?

curiosity tangled with apprehension as you peeked through the blinds once more. the woman had begun made her way to the front door, her steps powerful, yet graceful at the same time. with each passing moment, your intrigue grew, overpowering your initial shock.

you debated whether to remain hidden or confront her. the desire to meet her moved you forward, and with a sudden surge of courage, you hurriedly left your room and padded down the stairs. the distant sounds of laughter and conversation from the party came and left as your mind focused in on the enchanting woman at your doorstep.

you reached the front door just in time to see her positioned to knock, her hand hovering in mid-air. it was now or never. swallowing your nervousness, you opened the door, revealing a surprised expression on her face.

"hi," she said, her voice as smooth as silk. "i'm dr. yu. i apologize for my tardiness, but i was told there's a very special girl here having a party for her very special birthday?"

you couldn't help but be captivated by her piercing gaze and the genuine warmth in her smile. "yes, it's my birthday," you replied, feeling a surge of excitement and curiosity at her gift.

dr. yu's eyes sparkled with amusement. "happy birthday!" she exclaimed, holding out the gift box she had been clutching. "i know we haven't met before, but i'm a close friend of your parents. i've heard a lot about you, and i thought it was only right to put a face to the name.”

you became more flustered at her words as you accepted the gift. "thank you," you stammered, caught off guard by the unexpected gesture. "that's very kind of you."

dr. yu's smile widened. "it's the least i could do. birthdays should be special, and i wanted to make sure yours didn't go unnoticed."

as you stood there, speaking with dr. yu, a sense of familiarity washed over you. perhaps this encounter was the escape you had longed for, a break from the monotony of your party. a break from the constant concern over your future. you found yourself drawn to her presence, yearning to know more about her.

with a sudden burst of spontaneity, you mustered the courage to invite her inside. "would you like to come in? it's quieter inside, away from the crowd," you offered, hopeful that she would accept.

dr. yu's eyes crinkled with a mixture of surprise and delight. "i'd love to," she replied, a hint of curiosity in her voice. "lead the way."

you shuffled through the crowd, hoping to quietly lead her away from the seemingly ever-growing party to her room. as the stairs were in your line of sight, your dad stepped in front of you.

"y/n! i see you've met jimin." jimin eyes snapped from the back of your head, and looked over to your father.

"she really is a lovely girl. you've raised her well," jimin's dark eyes did a once-over of you, making you feel slightly exposed, while simultaneously making your heart race.

your heart skipped a beat as jimin's gaze lingered on you. the intensity in her eyes sent shivers down your spine, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding your senses. you tried to maintain your composure, feeling slightly flustered as they both looked at you expectantly.

"thank you," you managed to reply, your voice betraying a hint of unease. it was as if jimin's presence had the power to unravel your carefully constructed facade, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

your father's smile widened, oblivious to the tension between you and jimin. "i'm glad you two met. jimin here is a renowned neurosurgeon at the hospital. she's been a close friend of ours for a long time."

you struggled to find the right words, your mind racing to process the information. jimin, a neurosurgeon? the charming woman who had appeared at your home in an expensive sportscar was not only captivating but also held a respected position in society. the realization only deepened your sudden fondness for the woman.

"i'm honored to meet you, dr. jimin," you said, your voice filled with genuine admiration. "thank you for the birthday gift. it means a lot."

jimin's eyes softened, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

"the pleasure is mine," she replied, her voice laced with a subtle undertone of something you couldn't quite decipher.

jimin's words hung in the air, leaving you with a sense of intrigue and curiosity. there was something about her presence that captivated you, a pull that drew you closer. as your father excused himself to attend to other guests, you and jimin stood there, locked in a silent exchange of emotions.

feeling a mix of nervousness and boldness, you gestured for jimin to follow you. leading her through the bustling party, you managed to navigate the sea of people and find your way back to the staircase. the distant sounds of laughter and music gradually faded into the background as you climbed the steps, guided by the dim glow of the hallway lights.

reaching your room, you pushed the door open and stepped inside, inviting jimin to enter. the room brought you back to your senses, making you feel calmer than before, like a sanctuary away from the chaos downstairs. you motioned for jimin to take a seat on your bed while you settled into your desk chair, facing each other.

the atmosphere felt charged with anticipation as you observed jimin. her blonde hair sat on her shoulders, framing her face and accentuating her features. her eyes sparkled with intelligence and warmth, and the subtle curve of her lips hinted at a gentle smile.

"dr. yu," you began, breaking the silence, "jimin. i didn't expect my birthday to turn out this way, but i'm glad you decided to come. it feels like a nice break from everything."

jimin's smile widened, her eyes never leaving yours. "life has a way of surprising us, doesn't it? sometimes the most memorable moments come from the unexpected."

you nodded in agreement, a growing sense of warmth bubbling up in your chest. there was a natural ease in the way you conversed as if you had known each other for much longer than a few moments. unlike the rest of your parent's friends, jimin never once made you feel like an unintelligent child in her presence. you felt as if you could talk to her about anything, and she'd never make you feel judged for it.

curiosity burned within you, urging you to learn more about her. "so, jimin, tell me about yourself. how did you become a neurosurgeon?"

a soft chuckle escaped her lips, and she leaned back, her gaze shifting to a distant point as she dove into her story. jimin recounted her journey of dedication, hard work, and passion that led her to pursue medicine. she shared stories of the challenges she faced, the lives she touched, and the fulfillment she found in her profession.

as jimin spoke, you found yourself hanging on to every word, drawn to the obvious passion she had for her career and the empathy that she held through the way she spoke of her patients. her passion for making a difference in people's lives made you feel more attracted to her than before, as you felt a smile spread across your face while she continued.

in turn, you shared your aspirations, dreams, and the uncertainty you held about your future. you talked about your love for the sciences, your yearning for independence and exploration, and the weight of expectations that sometimes felt suffocating. it was as if the barriers you had built around yourself crumbled, allowing you to open up and reveal the deepest depths of your heart and mind. some that you didn't even know existed.

hours seemed to slip away unnoticed as you exchanged stories, laughter, and shared experiences. the conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving a web of connection between the two of you who had found solace and understanding in each other's presence.

eventually, as the night grew late, you both realized that the party downstairs had quieted down. the house was enveloped in peaceful silence, the remnants of laughter and happiness lingering in the air. jimin's gaze met yours, an unspoken question passing between you.

"thank you for spending this time with me," you said softly, breaking the momentary stillness. "tonight was better than anything that could be in that box."

jimin chuckled, her hands reaching behind her to grab the box. she pushed it into your hands expectantly. you looked up at her and she nodded, gesturing for you to open it. you ripped the paper from the box, opening it to see a red leather box with gold letters engraved on the top. "jimin! i can't take this! how much did you spend on this?"

"don't worry about it, birthday girl. this is your special day, and it won't come again, so enjoy it while it lasts,” she smiled warmly, gently lifting the lid as your eyes settled on to a small silver necklace with two interlocked rings on the end. you lifted it from the box, the weight of the metal leading you to believe it was even more expensive than you'd originally imagined.

wordlessly, jimin took the necklace from your hands, leaning over you to clasp it behind your neck. your breath hitched at the proximity, feeling jimin's warm breath hitting your bare skin. her fingers trailed down the necklace, her eyes never leaving yours. your eyes flickered between hers and her lips, your own slightly parted, almost anticipating something.

"happy birthday," she mumbled, before you pressed your lips to hers, her hands eventually coming up to gently hold your waist. you moved back and looked up at her, looking for confirmation, her eyes half-lidded and her gaze almost unreadable. you pulled her back in for another kiss, lacing your arms around her neck, she grunted as you pulled away, pressing your forehead to hers, giggling at the surprised look in her eyes.

she playfully rolled her eyes, her hands trailing down from your waist to your thighs as you drew her in for a sloppy kiss, your gift box hitting the floor with a light thud. she hooked her fingers underneath your thighs, maneuvering you onto her lap as she deepened the kiss, her hands caressing your back.

"jimin? y/n?" you heard your dad call out. jimin jolted from her position on your bed as if she'd been physically hurt, forcing you to push yourself from her lap and onto the bedsheets behind you.

"y/n, i'm so sorry. shit," she mumbled, running a hand through her hair, the same way she did when she was standing by her car. two complete scenarios, yet you still feel the same rush you did the first time.

"don't apologize, jimin. you didn't do anything. i wanted this." she shook her head, picking up the discarded box from the floor, and letting out a deep sigh.

"y/n, i'm just," she ran her fingers through her hair once more. "this isn't right. not only are you my colleague's daughter, but you're nearly ten years my junior. jesus christ..." she trailed off as the realization hit her, her teeth starting to chew on her lip.

"jimin, i promise you didn't do anything wrong! i mean, i initiated it, and i'm eighteen!"

"yeah, barely!" she let out a huff, tucking the box under her arm. "i'm sorry for raising my voice, y/n. please understand where i'm coming from." she gave you one last look, like a puppy in a kennel before leaving your room. you stared at the space where she once was, feeling as if you were about to throw up. you couldn’t decipher if it was from the adrenaline from her kiss, or the feeling that you’d never meet someone else like her again. just as she'd come, like an angel in disguise, she left, leaving an empty feeling in your chest.

you heard the front door open and close moments later, and you moved into the same position you'd been in earlier when you watched her arrive. she looked up at you and gave you a small smile, waving her hand in your direction. you held your hand up between the blinds as an act of acknowledgment, as if your heart wasn't being shattered as you watched her walk away.

she started up the car, the roar of the engine feeling almost familiar to you at this point, and wasted no time before pulling out of the driveway and speeding down the street. you heard the door creak open and turned around to see your dad standing in the doorframe, a warm and comforting smile adorned on his face. "you like jimin's car too, huh? it caught everyone's attention tonight. i almost thought a lion was in our driveway," he joked, and you could barely find it in yourself to muster up a smile.

"yeah, i like her car."

#fem reader #yu jimin x reader #aespa karina #karina x reader #karina imagines #kpop imagines #girl group imagines #gg imagines #aespa x reader #aespa imagines #⸻ writes! 📄

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hamsterclaw · 10 months

Text

Anywhere but here

You wake from a traumatic injury to find everything around you isn't the same.

Pairing: Jimin x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Nurse Jimin, smut, angst

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings: Swearing, sex, traumatic injury, hospitals, memory loss

When you wake, it’s like you’ve been reset to factory settings. You’re not a robot, but there was a you before, and now there’s a you after.

The accident cut your life into halves, and that’s the reality that you’ve been dealt.

The people around you are nameless faces apart from your family. Your parents, your younger sister and a man you don’t know but he says he knows you.

You can’t imagine what it’s like for them to lose the woman that was the old you and pick up the new you, metalwork in your thigh and a scar along the back of your head that they gave you an uneven choppy haircut to fix.

You don’t have the headspace to try and remember the names of everyone else who cares for you.

There’s the slim woman with a ponytail and kind eyes who always smiles cheerfully when she greets you.

There’s the stern looking older woman who never smiles but has gentle hands.

And then there’s the young guy who looks like he belongs in a magazine who you find a little intimidating, to be honest.

The brain injury means you take longer to process, sometimes you know what you want to say but the words won’t come. It’s annoying but you’re assured it will get better.

More pressing is the frame on your leg from where you broke your femur in multiple places. It took you a while to get used to trying to get around on crutches without help, because there was no way you were going to ask the young guy to help you to the bathroom.

You don’t think there’s anything left of your dignity but you’ve got some pride still.

You’re sitting awkwardly on your bed, listening to the man you don’t know but who seems to know you, trying to shift positions because your leg is singing a chorus of pain, when the young male nurse walks into the room wheeling a portable blood pressure monitor.

‘Time for some observations,’ he says, politely.

You take the opportunity to move into the chair and hold out your arm.

The nurse frowns a little. ‘Your blood pressure and heart rate are up. Are you in pain?’

‘A bit,’ you admit, an understatement.

‘I’ll get you pain relief,’ he says.

It’s another fifteen minutes before he comes back with the meds, another fifteen minutes after that before you can draw a breath.

The man who you don’t know but you’re told you used to love is telling you about people you don’t know, and it’s not nearly distracting enough.

When he leaves you want to cry with relief.

The door to your room opens, the nurse walks in. He checks on the IV that’s running, you hold out your arm because that’s the routine.

As he disconnects the drip, he turns to you.

‘There’s a call bell,’ he points out. ‘If you’re in pain don’t wait, just call and one of us will come.’

‘Thank you,’ you say. You’re wrung out, emotionally exhausted, physically stretched, and all you want to do is pull the covers over your head and be alone.

You’re never physically alone in hospital, there’s no fucking privacy, and somehow you feel lonely anyway.

***

The calendar on the wall orientates you to the day and month, and you’re not so bad that you can’t remember the year.

It’s your birthday today they say, another year older even though you’ve gone nothing but backwards since the accident.

Your family bring you cake, fluffy slippers, and love that makes you feel warm. The man, you know he’s called Taemin, that you were about to marry him, why do you think of him as ‘the man’ in your head?

He calls you sweetheart and you think he means it less and less every day.

Today he kisses you, lips on yours and you weren’t expecting it, weren’t ready.

He pulls away, a flicker in his eyes that looks like disappointment that you see before he can hide it.

You want to say that it’s not fair, that you can’t be expected to be the person you were before, but the words don’t come.

You stammer an apology, make it worse.

You only feel relief when he leaves.

Lately they’ve been letting you wheel yourself down to the restaurant, out to the front of the hospital.

It’s tiring, but it’s nice to be out of your room.

You press the call bell, and the male nurse comes in.

He looks rushed, busy, but he’s already here so you might as well ask.

‘Can I borrow a wheelchair to go downstairs?’

He says, ‘yes, of course. It’ll take me a while because it’s quite busy at the moment, but I’ll try and bring one up when I can.’

You thank him and settle in by the window to wait.

The late afternoon sun turns into early dusk, and he doesn’t come back.

You’re getting ready to manoeuvre yourself back into bed when there’s a knock at your door.

It’s the male nurse, dressed in his street clothes instead of scrubs.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘It got so busy, I completely forgot.’

You look at the wheelchair he’s handling.

‘Would you still like to go?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ you say. You’re worried you sound desperate but you’ve been cooped up in your room all day and you want to go out even if you don’t get to see daylight.

He helps you into the chair. The ID badge tucked under his jacket says ‘Jimin.’

You try to commit it to what remains of your memory.

‘Jimin,’ you say, hoping that saying it will make it stick.

‘Y/N,’ he replies, giving you a smile that makes his eyes scrunch up.

‘Were you on your way home?’ you ask.

‘Yeah,’ he says.

‘Thank you for this,’ you say. You put your hand on his arm, and he moves it away so quickly it’s hard not to feel stung.

‘Sorry,’ you say, putting your hands in your lap.

He’s quiet as he pushes you to the lifts.

‘I can push myself,’ you tell him. ‘You should go home, it’s past your shift.’

‘I’m heading down anyway,’ he replies, very politely.

You sneak a glance at his profile as the lift descends.

He’s pretty, even fourteen hours into a thirteen hour shift. His nose is straight, lips full, and his skin glows like it’s lit from within.

You catch a glance at yourself in the mirrored wall. Your uneven hair that you’re still growing out makes you grimace.

You look down at your lap quickly.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks.

You force a smile. ‘I know the docs saved my life, but they ruined my hair,’ you say, trying to make a joke of it.

Jimin’s quiet again.

‘I was joking,’ you say, quickly. ‘I’m grateful for everything.’

Thankfully, the lift doors open.

‘Good night,’ you say, smiling at him.

He asks,’will you be ok?’

‘Yes,’ you say. Wild horses couldn’t drag any other answer from you.

He looks at you for a moment longer, then he nods and turns to leave.

***

Physical therapists are demons in disguise, you think disgruntledly to yourself as today’s therapist tries to encourage you to get out of the chair.

Your thigh is screaming in pain, you’re tired and dizzy and sweating from exertion.

As soon as the therapist leaves, you press your call bell and a nurse arrives.

It’s not someone you’ve met before, you know they’ve been short staffed lately.

His ID badge says Matsu.

You ask for pain relief.

He says, firmly, ‘you shouldn’t ask for pain relief unless the pain is bad. The last thing you need is an opiate addiction.’

You’ve never been denied pain relief before.

You feel a wave of shame.

Is he right? Are you addicted? Does it matter?

The pain’s bad though, your stomach’s churning and clenching.

‘The pain is bad,’ you say, dignity be damned, pleading.

‘I’ll check on you in an hour and if you’re still in pain I can give you some then,’ he says.

He’s out the door before you can formulate a reply.

You sit very still, try to distract yourself. The pattern on the ceiling’s swirling, you’re concentrating so hard.

The door opens, the male nurse called Jimin comes in, and you bite your lip so hard you taste metal on your tongue.

He’s saying something, but you can’t hear it over the rush of blood in your ears.

He comes closer, leans over you, voice firmer now.

You can hear your name.

You gaze up into his face, and he looks so kind, and concerned, the tears start trickling down your face.

‘Please,’ you whisper. ‘I’m in pain.’

Jimin leaves and comes back, hangs an IV on the drip stand above your head, connects it up and opens the port.

The cold trickle through your veins makes you shiver but soon enough relief comes, so sweet and welcoming you start crying again.

You don’t know how much time has passed before you realise Jimin’s still in your room, typing notes into the computer.

He says, ‘don’t let it get that bad next time.’

His voice is quiet, neutral, but you can’t help the flash of anger.

‘I asked for the painkillers, and the nurse told me to hold out as he didn’t want me to be addicted,’ you reply, sharp.

You can hear the tone of your voice as it comes out, and you hate it. The thing that you resent most about the constant pain is the way it’s draining away your generosity, your indulgence, your humour.

You can’t stand yourself.

Jimin, instead of snapping back, somehow manages to reply with a kindness that makes you feel even worse.

‘I’m sorry the nurse said that,’ he says, sounding regretful. ‘Please know you can ask for pain meds anytime.’

You’re still crying, indulging in your moment of self-pity, wallowing in it.

God, you hate yourself.

The only thing you hate more is the pain.

***

You’re going for another trip out, you’ve started spending more time outside now that the weather’s better.

You’re waiting to be let out of the double doors to the ward when the nurse, Jimin, passes by.

‘There’s a hairdresser in the hospital,’ he tells you. ‘They’re open now, and they didn’t have any customers when I checked.’

You look at him, considering.

‘Since you said you didn’t like your hair,’ he adds.

You smile. ‘Thanks. I’ll check it out.’

You look at your reflection in the mirror of the elevator on the way down, and impulsively, decide to visit the hospital hairdresser.

It takes you a bit of back and forth to find it, you’re sweaty and frazzled by the time you press on the buzzer.

A woman with bright orange streaks in her hair answers. She gives you a once over, then smiles, kind.

‘You must be Y/N? Jimin said you might come.’

You’re surprised. ‘You know Jimin?’

‘Honey,’ she says, taking the handles of your wheelchair and pushing you in front of one of the mirrors, ‘everyone knows Jimin. He’s a sweetheart.’

‘He’s easy on the eyes too,’ agrees another woman, smirking. The tag on her chest says ‘Suzie’.

‘Jimim said those neurosurgeons did a number on your hair,’ the first woman says. She winks at you. ‘Lucky for you I’m an expert on cleaning up after them.’

You’re startled into a laugh.

Her smile brightens. ‘You’re so pretty! And you’ll look even better when we’re done.’

An hour later, you find yourself in the lifts on the way back to your ward.

You can’t stop staring at yourself in the mirrors.

Is this what you used to look like? You’ve seen a few pictures of you. Taemin’s lockscreen is a picture of you and him on a beach, but you don’t think you look exactly the way you looked before.

Rhonda, the hairdresser who greeted you at the door, had waved you away when you tried to pay her, saying all patients got their haircuts on the house.

You’re waiting to be let back into the ward when you hear a familiar voice.

It’s Jimin, smiling at you so broadly you blink a little at how pretty he looks.

‘You went! Your hair looks beautiful,’ he says.

You look at him searchingly but he seems perfectly sincere.

‘Thank you,’ you tell him. You give him a half-smile. ‘They like you a lot down there.’

Jimin laughs. ‘That’s because I let them do whatever they want to my hair.’

He rakes a hand through his hair to illustrate, and you notice he’s got a new undercut beneath the blonde curtain of his hair.

‘Pretty,’ you say, admiring.

Jimin glances at you. ‘Just like you,’ he replies.

You laugh, because he can’t possibly be serious. ‘Please, in this old thing?’

You pluck at a fold in your hospital gown, and Jimin says, deadpan, ‘the green specks in the fabric really complement your eyes.’

You laugh again.

Jimin asks, ‘Need a push back to your room?’

‘Nah,’ you say. ‘I can do it.’

Jimin nods. ‘Let me know if you need anything.’

It’s only when you get back to your room that you realise that your conversation with Jimin, short as it was, is the first real conversation you’ve had in a long time.

***

Taemin’s looking at you very seriously, and a sudden flash of intuition tells you what he’s going to say before he says it.

‘I can’t do this anymore,’ he tells you.

You concentrate hard on the hand he’s put on top of yours.

Was his touch ever familiar to you? All you feel is detached.

You search his face, the curve of his brow, the line of his jaw. He’s attractive even now, but did you ever really love him the way he said you did?

It’s only been a few months since the accident.

Did he ever really love you if he’s this keen to move on without you?

The tears come as a surprise.

He looks alarmed now, as the wetness spills from your eyes, down your cheeks.

You know it’s unfair for you two to be in limbo like this, especially when you don’t think the old you is ever coming back.

It’s just the new you, the now and forever you left.

You assure him you’re fine, that it’s the right thing to do.

He tells you he’ll pack up your things and deliver them to your parents’ house.

You tell him to throw everything away.

What use do you have for the trappings of a life you can’t remember?

It seems like hours before you gather yourself together enough to go back to your solitary room.

You put yourself to bed because you think you’ve had enough of today, and you can only hope tomorrow will be better.

***

It’s Halloween, and you’re amusing yourself with the thought that you don’t even need a costume this year to look frightening.

You’ve had another operation, your leg’s healing well enough that the surgeons have taken the frame off, leaving a collection of red scars and a leg you don’t trust without the external metalwork.

Without the scaffolding that held you upright for months.

Your hair’s grown out, the scar across the side and back of your head is covered but if you run your fingers along your scalp you can still feel it.

The doctors tell you that you’ll be home before Christmas.

You refrain from telling them you can’t remember a home apart from this hospital bed.

Nobody likes a killjoy.

You glance up as someone knocks on your door.

It’s Jimin, a satin cape over his scrubs, plastic fangs peeking out between his lips.

‘Are you here for my blood?’ you ask.

It’s a joke you wouldn’t have been quick enough to make a month ago.

Jimin frowns at you. ‘Where’s your costume?’

You gesture to your leg. ‘I’m the Tin Man,’ you tell him.

‘You are pretty heartless,’ Jimin agrees.

You snort. ‘You’re a nurse, aren’t you supposed to be caring?’

Jimin says, ‘I do care. There’s going to be fireworks later, I got permission to take you to the park if you want.’

You can’t believe your ears. ‘The park? As in, out of the hospital? Do you mean the car park?’

Jimin smiles. ‘I mean the park next to the hospital. An actual park.’

‘When?’ you ask, guarded, not letting yourself get excited, worried he’s going to tell you it’s a joke.

‘I clock off at eight, I’ll take you then.’

You know how hard he works, you’ve been on this ward for months and you think he’s been here almost as much as you have. And you literally live here.

You want to ask why he’d spend his precious time off with you but god help you, you want to go to the park more.

You haven’t been off hospital grounds since you were admitted, a mangled mess of broken bone and blood.

Jimin’s looking at you. ‘If you don’t want to —-‘

‘I want to!’ you say, so quickly you startle both of you.

He’s still eyeing you carefully, so you say, ‘I just feel bad taking up your time off.’

‘It won’t be long. I don’t live far from the hospital anyway,’ Jimin says.

He smiles, and he looks so kind you feel like crying. ‘So are we going?’

‘Yes,’ you tell him. ‘Yes I’d love to.’

***

You feel an unfamiliar fluttering of butterflies in your stomach as you wait by the entrance to your ward for Jimin to finish handing over his patients.

Jimin hurries up to you. He looks a little tired, but he smiles kindly at you. ‘Ready?’

He’s dressed in his street clothes, a plain t-shirt, a hoodie and jeans, and you catch yourself thinking how pretty he looks, even in casual clothes, tired after a long shift.

Shit.

Do you have a crush on him?

At least you don’t have to think about him having a crush on you, you think ruefully. All he’s seen of you are your dumb jokes which you can’t even blame on your brain injury, your hideously scarred leg and your terrible post neurosurgery haircut.

You think you’re good.

Jimin takes the handles of your wheelchair as you leave out the main entrance of the hospital.

‘Thanks for taking me out on your own time,’ you say, wishing you could see his face.

‘It’s not a problem at all,’ Jimin tells you. ‘Like I said, I live close.’

You feel lighter the further you get from the hospital, the fluttering in your stomach getting stronger.

Is this what happiness feels like? Excitement?

Jimin parks you by the side of the lake.

‘I’ve got some time off after this, anyway,’ he says.

‘Yeah? Going skiing?’

Jimin looks at you, bemused.

‘Sorry,’ you say, apologetic.

Your injuries are from a skiing accident. At least that’s what you were told. You sure as hell can’t remember it.

You want to say something else, but you’re distracted by the sudden eruption of fireworks, over the lake.

A starburst of metals burning in the sky.

You don’t realise you’re laughing until you notice the way Jimin’s looking at you.

His face gleams red and orange in the light reflected off the lake.

He’s beautiful.

You stop, self-conscious.

‘Don’t,’ Jimin says. ‘Don’t hide it on account of me, you look so happy.’

A shower of purple falls gently, and it’s so pretty you could cry.

You could keep watching forever.

‘I haven’t seen your fiance in a while,’ remarks Jimin.

Distracted, you say, ‘we broke up.’

Jimin looks at you sharply, you feel the need to explain.

‘He said he couldn’t do it anymore,’ you tell him. You shrug. ‘It’s ok. I know I’m different to how I was before.’

Jimin says, casual, ‘What a dick move.’

You’re startled into a laugh. ‘Isn’t it? But I don’t have any feelings for him either, not now anyway. It would have been a farce.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Jimin says. ‘If you’re committed in health ——‘

‘I don’t know how committed we were,’ you say quietly. ‘I can’t remember a damn thing about us.’

You’re both quiet for a moment.

You ask, to break the silence, ‘what are you doing with your time off?’

‘I’m going travelling,’ Jimin says. He looks at you sideways. ‘I’m going to Tuscany with friends.’

You’re excited for him. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Tuscany,’ you say. ‘You’ll have to show me pictures when you get back.’

Jimin smiles. ‘Of course. But at the rate you’re healing you might not even be on the ward when I get back.’

You hadn’t even considered this.

‘I’ll be gone three weeks,’ Jimin says, gently.

‘Well, send me a postcard,’ you say, laughingly. ‘You know where I live.’

‘Deal,’ Jimin says, offering his hand. You shake, as the lights rain down around you, burning bright in the dark.

***

You’re struggling at physical therapy today, more so than usual. Your breathing’s heavier, and it feels like you’re fighting through mud.

Your physical therapist, Mara, finally stops you, just as you’re about to ask for a break.

‘Are you feeling ok?’ she asks, concerned.

‘I’m fine,’ you grit out. ‘I can do more.’

‘I think we should stop.’

You just have enough consciousness left to hear her calling for help as your vision goes dark.

The padded mat is cool under your cheek.

You hear rapid footsteps, voices, and then, nothing at all.

***

You lose two and a half days before they allow you to wake.

First and most pressing, the tube in your throat that it hurts to swallow around, pushing air into your lungs. Breathing for you.

The line in your neck, the stitches holding it in that itch, madly.

You would scratch it but your hand’s tethered with the weight of a probe on your finger, another line in the back of it.

The tube in your nose, hooked up to a pump.

The catheter between your legs, attached to a bag hooked carelessly on the side of the bed.

You’re in intensive care.

When your breathing tube comes out, a cough and a splutter, you ask what happened.

It turns out you had a wound infection that made you septic. You’d collapsed after a physical therapy session.

If you hadn’t already lost half your life to the skiing accident, you’d mourn the loss of the last few days. As it is, all you can do is what you’ve been doing.

Try to move on.

Your muscles, painstakingly built up through months of physical therapy, have weakened even though you’ve only been asleep for two days and change.

Breathing becomes an exercise in endurance that you’ll never take for granted again.

The lines come out, one by one, and then, at the end of your first week, you’re finally line free, untethered again.

Just your battered body for company.

Sohee, the older nurse with gentle hands, coaxes you through your bad days.

You think of Jimin, more than once, sunstreaked and golden in the fields of Tuscany.

You hope that wherever he is, he’s having the time of his life.

Your family, initially terrified by your deterioration, are now talking about where you’ll live when you get discharged.

Trying to help you get over the setback from your sepsis.

You’re trying not to let your discomfort show on your face as Matsu tries for the third time to draw blood from your abused veins.

He buries the needle, deep, and you bite your lip at the throbbing that results.

The door opens, and you look up, grateful for the distraction.

It’s Jimin.

He’s tanned, and glowing with good health, and he stands out like an angel in these four walls that have been your home for months.

‘Jimin!’ you say, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face.

‘Y/N,’ he says, with such warmth there’s a glow in your chest.

You flinch as Matsu moves the needle in your arm, and Jimin’s face darkens.

‘Hey, Matsu, I can take over.’

The tone of his voice brooks no argument.

Matsu nods, and Jimin takes his tray from his as he leaves.

‘I had a little jaunt to the ICU whilst you were gone,’ you say, lightly. ‘It’s not as nice as Tuscany, but it was a change of scenery at least.’

Jimin smiles. ‘I heard. I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece.’

His hand is warm on your arm as he prepares to draw blood.

‘They did a number on my veins,’ you say.

Jimin hums. ‘I know,’ he tells you. He��s gentle, thumb pressing on your skin as he searches for a vein.

‘There goes my life of being a junkie,’ you say dramatically. ‘I wouldn’t be able to find a place to shoot up.’

Jimin says. ‘Tuscany was lovely. You should go someday.’

‘Yeah?’ you ask, interested. ‘Tell me more. Where did you stay? What did you do?’

You feel the prick as Jimin draws blood, and he says, quietly. ‘I’m in, you can relax, ok? I’ll be done in a minute.’

You close your eyes as Jimin tells you about the vineyard where he and his friends stayed. His voice is low, melodic, and he distracts you so well you barely realise when he’s done.

He places a plaster on your hand, thumb smoothing the edges.

His touch calms you in a way you haven’t felt in weeks.

You turn to him. ‘Thanks Jimin.’

‘I’ve been doing this for years,’ he says.

‘Not just for this,’ you say, gesturing to the plaster. ‘Thanks for the company.’

‘Apparently you like it so much you got septic so you’d still be here when I got back,’ Jimin says, grinning at you, easy.

You laugh. ‘One day, when I get out of here, I’m going to make you breakfast, and the best coffee you’ve ever had.’

Jimin snorts. ‘Can you even cook?’

‘I don’t know,’ you admit.

You both laugh.

‘Well, I look forward to it anyway,’ Jimin says. He gets up, holding up the vial he’s just drawn from you. ‘I should get this labelled up and sent off.’

You’re still smiling long after he’s left the room.

***

It’s Christmas day.

Your family are visiting, they’ve even brought in turkey, your favourite roast potatoes which you used to love, and you haven’t had such a good day in a long time.

You’re still in your Christmas pyjamas, looking out the window after they left, when there’s a knock on your door.

Jimin steps in, slightly bemused at the collection of food and presents you’ve been bequeathed.

‘I know you don’t know who you were before, but you’re very loved,’ he observes.

You’re oddly touched.

‘They left me a tonne of food, have you eaten?’ you ask.

Jimin smiles. ‘I’ve been eating all day, all the staff working today have brought in things for Christmas lunch.’

He pauses. ‘And dinner.’

He laughs. ‘We’re all set until the end of the year, I think.’

‘Dessert?’ you offer. ‘It’s my mum’s sticky toffee pudding, I won’t be able to finish it.’

Jimin considers the container you show him. ‘I can heat it up and we can share it?’

‘Deal.’

Jimin disappears with your container and comes back with two bowls and two spoons.

You eye the tiny gummy snowman candy he’s placed on top of your helping.

Jimin sees your expression, laughs. ‘They’re good. Sohee gave me a whole bag of them.’

He perches next to your window, and you eat in silence.

‘There’s a big tree in the main hospital, do you want to go and visit it after this?’ Jimin asks.

You nod. ‘Also, I got you a present.’

You rummage in your pile of presents for the gold box your sister helped you get.

Jimin accepts, looking shyly at you. ‘You shouldn’t have got me anything,’ he says.

‘Don’t worry, I don’t expect special treatment,’ you tease. ‘I know you save the best treats for Mrs Kim in room 12 anyway.’

Jimin laughs. ‘May I?’

He unwraps the box, and a moment later is staring at the gold Christmas bauble ensconced in delicate tissue paper.

He runs his thumb over the design etched in the glass. ‘The tree of love,’ he says.

You smile. ‘When you came back after your holiday, you looked so happy and recharged, and I thought this would remind you of it.’

Jimin smiles back at you so bright and pretty he’s blinding. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you.’

He puts it carefully back in the box. ‘The tree I was going to show you isn’t as beautiful as this, but shall we go now, anyway?’

‘Sure.’

You grab your crutches.

‘I can get a wheelchair if you want –’ Jimin offers.

‘It’s my Christmas present to myself,’ you tell him. ‘I’m not going to use a wheelchair again.’

Jimin looks at you for a long moment.

When he opens his mouth, his words aren’t what you expected.

‘I guess I could carry you, if the worst happened,’ he says lightly.

You roll your eyes. ‘Lead the way, Park, I’m fine on my crutches.’

Two lifts and a walk across the link corridor later, you find yourself standing in front of the giant Douglas fir in the front foyer of the hospital.

It’s huge, at least 20 feet tall, and covered in blues and silvers.

You sigh. ‘It smells so good.’

You catch Jimin looking at you.

‘It reminded me of you when I saw it,’ he says.

‘Does it also have a bad leg?’ you ask, teasing.

‘I used to go hiking with my family, every weekend,’ Jimin tells you. He’s looking up, away from you, at the star on the top of the tree. ‘This tree reminds me of that.’

He turns to you. ‘My dad used to do a bit of woodworking, and his favourite type of wood was Douglas fir. You can paint it easily so it can be any colour you want, and at its core it’s light and strong. Look after it, and it lasts a lifetime.’

You’re trying to think about how this relates to you when Jimin says, ‘You’re rebuilding your life, painting yourself different, but you’re the same person at your core. You’re one of the strongest people I know.’

You don’t realise you’re crying until he reaches out, gently, to wipe your cheek.

‘Do you believe in fate?’ Jimin asks.

‘I don’t know what I believe in now,’ you say, honestly.

‘I never did,’ Jimin says. ‘I wanted to leave nursing for a long time. I actually put in my notice last year.’

You’re surprised to hear it. From what you’ve seen, Jimin loves his job. He’s damned good at it.

‘I was on one of my last shifts when you were brought in,’ Jimin says. He’s looking at you now, an expression on his face that makes your heart skip several beats.

‘Seeing you pick up the pieces after you had something so devastating happen to you —-’ he breaks off, throat working as he swallows.

‘It made me realise how much I love my job,’ he says. ‘I think I was meant to do this. I’m good at it.’

‘You’re great at it,’ you say, earnest.

Jimin reaches out and puts his hand over where yours is braced over your crutch.

‘Here’s to next Christmas, when all this is behind you,’ he says.

You don’t know what to say, so you grasp his hand. ‘Merry Christmas, Jimin.’

‘Merry Christmas, Y/N.’

You stand there, hand in hand, admiring the sparkly tree, enjoying the relative lull in activity in the normally crowded hospital foyer this Christmas night, until your legs start to give out, and then Jimin walks you back to your room.

***

You’re in your room, just back from physical therapy, when Sohee walks in. ‘We need your help,’ she says, brisk.

You look up, curious.

‘It’s Jimin’s birthday, and the tradition here is that if you work here and it’s your birthday, you get slimed.’

You’re incredulous. You can’t imagine anyone would ever dare to slime Sohee, with her perfectly starched uniforms and her stern demeanor.

‘Park manages to evade us every year, but this year, he has a weakness,’ Sohee continues.

She looks right at you. ‘You.’

You splutter. ‘Me? How am I Jimin’s weakness?’

‘He likes you,’ Sohee says, matter of fact. ‘He’d never act on it, not whilst you’re in his care, but he likes you, and this year, Park Jimin’s going to get what’s coming to him.’

‘What’s in it for me?’ you ask, nonchalant.

‘I’ll get the catering staff to give you an extra helping on Sunday roast day,’ says Sohee, like she’d been expecting you to ask exactly that.

‘I don’t want to hurt Jimin,’ you say.

Sohee rolls her eyes. ‘No one wants to hurt Jimin. But he’s the quickest out of all of us, and he’s slimed us all over the years, and no one can catch him.’

‘Come on,’ Sohee wheedles. ‘You’ll be discharged next week anyway.’

You sigh. ‘What do I have to do?’

***

You shift nervously in your chair as you wait for Jimin to respond to the call bell Sohee activated before she left.

He knocks on your door and enters, a smile already on his face. ‘Are you ok, Y/N?’

‘I’m sorry,’ you start.

Jimin’s two steps away when the door bursts open, and Sohee, Matsu and the other nurse, Alice, rush in.

Jimin looks at them, then you, and steps in front of you quickly. ‘Ok, ok, you can slime me,’ he says, hands out. ‘Just don’t get anything on Y/N.’

Jimin stands perfectly still as Sohee and Matsu unceremoniously dump buckets of green and purple slime over his head.

You don’t miss how the slime makes his scrubs top mould to his torso.

Jimin turns, slips, and you reach out to stop him from falling.

You lose your balance and Jimin, trying to stop you from falling, slides to put his body under yours as you end up in a heap on the floor.

Jimin’s looking at you, concern in his eyes. ‘Are you ok?’

He looks so ridiculous, covered in green and purple slime, that you can’t help but laugh.

A moment later, he’s laughing too.

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him.

He’s still smiling. ‘I can’t believe you helped them,’ he complains. He shifts a little, and suddenly you’re very aware of the hardness of his torso under you, how his thighs strain against his scrubs bottoms.

‘I’ll leave you kids to clean up,’ Sohee says, not unkindly, ushering Matsu and Alice out of your room. ‘Happy birthday Jiminie!’

Jimin helps you get up. ‘Be careful, it’s slippery,’ he says, holding your arm.

You’ve never been this close to him before.

He wipes his hand on his thigh, then brushes a streak of slime off your cheek. ‘I’ll get cleaned up, then I’ll come back and clean the room, ok? Can you get cleaned up on your own?’

You nod. His hand is still against your cheek.

You’re thinking about what Sohee said about Jimin liking you. Is she right?

Jimin pulls his hand away, and you mourn the loss of his warmth.

‘See you in a bit,’ he tells you.

***

You take one last look back at the room you’ve spent the last few months in whilst you’ve been recovering from your injury.

You came in, in pieces, and now you’re walking out, changed in ways you can’t even fathom.

Your dad and mum are in the car with your things, you’ll be staying with them for a while until you learn to live independently again.

You’ve said your thank you’s and goodbyes. To Sohee, who made good on her promise to get the catering staff to give you extra roast potatoes on Sunday. To Matsu, who you’ve seen grow in compassion since the initial days when he wouldn’t give you pain meds. To Mrs Kim who was constantly saying how much you reminded her of her daughter.

To Jimin, who dropped by after his shift yesterday and gave you his number. He’d told you to call him and it’d seemed like he meant it.

You close the door behind you and see Jimin, rushing down the corridor.

‘I was worried I’d missed you,’ he says.

‘You’re not even at work today,’ you remind him.

‘I live close. Besides, I couldn’t not say goodbye on your last day.’

Jimin smiles. ‘Ready to face the big bad world again?’

You smile back. ‘All my monsters are in there,’ you say, gesturing to the empty room behind you.

‘We should meet up,’ Jimin says. ‘You owe me a breakfast and the best coffee I’ve ever had.’

‘We can meet up,’ you say. ‘Anywhere but here.’

You reach out, and enclose him in a hug.

‘I’ll see you soon, ok?’

He holds you a moment longer, then lets go.

‘Yeah.’

You walk down to the ward doors, press the button to let yourself out.

You give Jimin one last wave, and then, you’re out.

***

You’re watching TV with your parents after dinner, when the news comes on.

‘Hey, that’s your hospital,’ you dad says.

You watch, interest piqued as the newscaster reports on upcoming nursing strikes.

‘They should strike,’ you say. ‘They’re underpaid and underappreciated.’

Later, in your room, you’re looking at the number Jimin saved on your phone.

It’s been two weeks since you left the hospital, and you’ve not got in touch with him.

It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him, but you’re worried about what things will be like, now that you’re out of the hospital.

You think of the news report you saw, and you make a decision.

***

It’s the first time you’ve really been out since you left the hospital. You’ve been with your mum to the store, round the corner to the park, but you haven’t made any longer trips than that.

Your leg’s completely healed, you don’t even need crutches anymore, but some days there’s still an ache deep in your bones.

You get headaches but they’re nowhere near as bad as they were.

You hear the chanting, the sound of a hundred conversations, as you walk over to where there’s a crowd gathered, picketing in support of the nursing strike.

Every face is unfamiliar, and you’re starting to wonder if it was wise to come and support the strikes when you see him.

He’s dressed casually like the other times you’ve seen him in off-duty clothes, his hair styled back, holding a placard that says, ‘Safe staffing saves lives’.

Like he senses your eyes on him, he turns, and your eyes meet.

In an instant, he’s making his way through the crowd, to you.

He stops a step in front of you.

‘Is it really you?’ he asks.

You smile.

Jimin wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer as a group of people push past.

‘What are you doing here?’ he scolds. ‘You shouldn’t be in a crowd like this —’

You put your hand against his cheek, and he stills.

He moves his head, closer, so close your lips touch.

You’ve wanted this for so long, and this new version of you takes what she wants.

You kiss.

Jimin makes a soft noise, deep in his throat, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head as your lips meet again.

By the time you come up for air, you feel flushed, giddy, your heart pounding a million miles a minute in your chest.

Jimin presses another soft kiss on your cheek before he pulls away.

‘I’m so glad you came,’ he says.

***

Jimin’s shucking his shirt over his head in the quiet of his bedroom, only the moonlight to show you the beauty of his form.

He gathers you back into his arms like he couldn’t stand even that short time apart without touching you. You don’t think he’s stopped touching you at all since you met him at the picket line.

You’re not complaining.

Jimin pulls you closer so your lips meet again. His lips are soft, full, pressing against yours firmly.

He doesn’t shy away, so you don’t either.

He tugs your top over your head, litters your breasts with kisses, tugs the cups of your bra down so he can get better access.

He laves your nipples with his tongue, like he enjoys the sounds you make as he sucks on your flesh.

You can feel his hardness against your centre as he strokes his tongue and hands over your skin.

You reach down to touch him, and Jimin grunts as you curl your fingers around his cock.

‘We don’t have to—’

‘I want it,’ you tell him, lips against his skin, hand on his ass.

‘I want to give it to you,’ Jimin groans. ‘Fuck, are you sure?’

You’ve never been surer of anything in your life.

Jimin rolls a condom onto himself, hissing a little. He positions himself above you, and you move to make room for him between your thighs.

He nudges in a little, gentle as he’s always been with you, and the stretch is so good you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

Jimin presses his face to yours. ‘Tell me to stop if —’

‘Don’t stop,’ you say. ‘Don’t you dare stop.’

Jimin seals his lips to yours as he drives the rest of himself into you. He stops when he’s all the way in, stills.

He lifts his head to look at your face. ‘Are you – is this ok?’

You smile, breathlessly. ‘Can’t you tell, Jimin?’

Jimin groans as you clench around him.

‘You’re so wet. Fuck —’

He moves, and your eyes close with the pleasure of it.

‘Fuck, Jimin —’

He moves again, and you cry out as he rocks his hips against yours.

It’s overwhelming, the weight of him against you, the way his skin gleams with sweat in the moonlight, the soft whines he makes on every thrust. The feel of him inside you.

It’s his voice that eventually tips you over the edge. ‘You’re so pretty,’ he vows against your ear. ‘I can’t believe you’re here —’

You cry his name as you come, and he keeps going, seeking his own release now, gentle even when he’s taut with need.

He kisses you again, grinds hard, deep, and then he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to ever let you go.

***

You can hear Jimin moving in his bedroom, and sure enough, he emerges, shirtless, hair mussed from your fingers through it.

You admire the beautiful lines of his cut torso as he walks towards you.

‘Who knew you were packing all this under those blue scrubs?’ you ask, teasing.

Jimin smiles, pulls you into a hug. ‘What are you doing in my kitchen?’

‘Making you breakfast,’ you tell him. ‘A promise is a promise.’

Jimin leans down to kiss your neck, and you shiver at the touch of his lips.

‘Later,’ he tells you. ‘I’ll make us breakfast later. Come back to bed.’

He grasps your hand, and you follow him back to his bedroom.

You have no idea where this is going, but you figure this is a hell of a good start to the rest of your life.

#park jimin fic #park jimin imagine #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut

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