#jk i still love his voice with all my heart

[jeonsweetpea]

Will It Fit?

Roommate!AU | Roommate!Jungkook x Reader

genre: fluff, smut, comedy, lil angst, slight idiots to lovers

rating: explicit

description: So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can’t exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom…

word count: 6.7k

warnings: size kink, JK has a big dick (no, really), slight pain kink, light choking, dirty talk, Dom!JK, flustered/shy JK at first, unprotected sex (this is fiction, we all wanna be raw-dogged by JK okay), lube, JK loves OC’s panties a LOT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, OC gets embarrassed at first but JK is sweet about it, oral sex (male & female receiving), cursing, Soft Dom!JK, JK is overly concerned with how big your dildo is, embarrassing moments from both parties, spanking, prone bone, creampie, confession scenes, 

a/n: As soon as I saw JK’s OJO face from that GCF, it kicked me into gear to write this. I’ve had this idea for SO long, but never had the motivation to finish it. I was supposed to release it last winter, so hope you’re all excited for it! Asks and reblogs are much appreciated (I read them all!). Also, much love to @jkeuphoriadreamland for bouncing ideas around with me. 

“[Y/N], I can hear you in there.” 

The muffled, disgruntled voice came from the other side of your door. Your eyes fluttered open and your hand stilled in your panties, your heart rate spiking. Maybe if you didn’t move a muscle, he’d go away. 

“I know you’re up,” he added. You rose up from your bed.

“Um… exactly what did you hear?” you squealed, face burning up at your terrible acting skills.

“Unlock this door.”

You didn't know what compelled you to saunter over and open the door a mere crack, but oh the sight before you was almost worth the humiliation. Jungkook was in nothing but gray sweats that sat dangerously low on his hips. He had a bad case of bedhead, but his locks looked so soft that you wanted nothing more than to grab onto them and make out with his beautiful lips, which were captivating you just as much as that intense gaze of his. 

“Hey… you…” you said with a meek smile, which he did not return.

“It’s 2 AM in the morning. I have work at 5. As hot as you sound, we either do something together so we both get satisfied or you let me get my rest because I am incredibly frustrated right now.”

Your eyes widened at his curt response. You’ve never seen him so tense, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek as his glare bore into you. He leaned against your door frame with one arm, leaning in close enough to make you break eye contact. He tapped on the wooden frame with his index finger, awaiting your response. 

“Sorry…” 

God, you sounded absolutely pathetic . 

“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?” Before you could respond, he let out a tsk sound and retreated back to his bedroom. You stood there in a trance until his door shut loudly, snapping you out of it. You wondered if he realized how much worse he left you than when he found you. 

Fuck, was he always this hot when mad? 

You went back to your room after closing the door. Climbing into bed, you got under the covers and laid flat on your back deep in thought. The only reason you were masturbating in the first place was because your room was freezing cold. You thought the heater was fixed, but your room was somehow still the coldest one in the apartment. You knew you’d never be able to go to sleep at this rate, so you decided to do something that would tire you out and hopefully lull you into the rest you craved.

It was supposed to be simple. You, your hand, your phone, and sweet, sweet release. Damn Jungkook for interrupting you. It’s bad enough his room was nice and toasty while you were suffering. Yeah, you heard his loudass snores. You assumed he was deep in the REM cycle so how the hell did he catch your moans? Ugh.

If he was so annoyed with you, then he should have warmed you up instead!

You shook your head and got under the covers, groaning at your lewd thoughts. 

He’s my roommate. And he’s too good of a roommate for me to fuck things up. 

“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?”

Those words echoed in your mind. The way he changed his tone to a lower register with his Busan dialect slipping through was incredibly sexy. It was the perfect mix of frustration and anger and made your thighs rub together in want. Leaning over your nightstand, you opened the drawer and grabbed a velvet drawstring bag. Slipping off your pajama shorts, you pulled out your trusty dildo. Impatient, you closed your eyes and imagined Jungkook taking you right then and there. However, the moment you allowed the tip of the dildo to touch your entrance, all pleasure was lost. It was cold!

“Damn it…” you muttered. “I gotta warm it up. Ugh!”

You left your room in frustration and entered the bathroom, turning the sink on to the hottest setting and running it over your toy. 

This might’ve been the most desperate masturbation session you’ve ever had, but you didn’t care. This was all Jungkook’s fault!

The next morning was Saturday. You were eating your breakfast on the kitchen island while mindlessly scrolling on your phone when Jungkook came out of his room. As soon as you two locked eyes, you almost choked on your food and had to chug some water to calm down. The man, confused, ruffled his hair and watched you through drowsy eyes.

“Are you okay?” he said, followed by a yawn. 

You nodded as you beat your chest with your fist to get everything down. “Yeah… I just… didn’t expect you to be home. I thought you had work.”

“Oh,” He sounded more awake now. “I read my schedule wrong. Turns out I’m off every other Saturday now.”

“... Oh. Cool.”

He circled around the kitchen island to get to the fridge and you recalled last night’s events, mortified he had heard you. Should you apologize again? After all, you’re both two grown adults; there’s nothing to be ashamed about. If you didn’t say something now, that icky feeling would only fester inside you. 

“Hey Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” he said from behind the fridge door.

“About yesterday… I hope you can forget all about it.”

As the refrigerator door shut, you were greeted by the sight of the most adorable man sipping a carton of banana milk. His eyes were wide and brimming with curiosity from your words. 

“Did something happen yesterday? I was knocked out.”

You blinked at him twice. “Do you… not remember talking to me last night?”

“Hmm? I did? I was fast asleep, don’t remember a thing.” He took the seat next to you. “Why? What did we talk about?”

Pure relief washed over you like a tidal wave as you shook your head. “Oh, nothing much. My room’s a bit too cold. It was hard for me to sleep.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to the landlord. Do you want to sleep with me?” You shot him an incredulous look and he began to stutter. “I-I mean! Sleep in my bed! Not with me in it. Unless you wanted to—ah—fuck me!

There. That’s the Jungkook you knew. He’s never crossed the line and flirted with you, so you didn’t either out of respect. But… It was too hard to resist teasing him. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Unless I wanted to… fuck you?” you repeated innocently. This was new territory for you—teasing him. His flustered reactions were so damn adorable though. The way his nose scrunched and his eyes darted around everywhere except for your face. If anyone was watching you, they’d swore you had hearts in your eyes. 

He set his drink down and proceeded to cover his face with both hands, panicking at his poor choice of words. “That didn’t come out right. Oh god… this is embarrassing.”

You covered your mouth to stifle your giggles. “It’s okay. I don’t want to peg you—I mean, take your bed.”

Jungkook dropped his hands, speaking the next sentence in pouts. “Hey, I don’t want to be peg—not the point. No, seriously. My room’s really warm.”

“I mean… if you really want me in your room, all you have to do is ask, you know,” you remarked. Jungkook’s cheeks were flushed with a tinge of pink, adding an extra charming element to his already cute self. Were you being too bold? 

It didn’t matter because seeing how his lips trembled and how he could barely hold himself together was fun to watch.

“I didn’t realize it was that easy…” he mumbled, more to himself than you. You tilted your head at him and he noticed how you crossed one arm over another “Not that I’m calling you easy!”

“Uh huh. I’m watching you, Jeon Jungkook. Hmph.”

“No, wait. I’m sorry.”

You placed your index finger on his lips to shush him, even going so far as to tap his lip piercing teasingly. “Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?” 

You watched as his eyes widened once more and that caused you to realize what you were doing. My god. Using his own words against him was satisfying, but all this newfound confidence was going to get you in trouble. You cleared your throat and withdrew your hand, grabbing your breakfast plate and heading over to the sink before things could escalate.

“Uh… I’m gonna go to the gym. Run some errands or something,” Jungkook stammered as he got up, nearly toppling out of his stool. You bit your lip to hold in your laughter as he recomposed himself. Walking in the same direction, he flinched when you got near his proximity. “W-What are you doing?”

He’s so cute when nervous.

“Nothing. Grabbing my keys. I’m heading out too.”

“O-Okay.”

Your smile made his heart rate escalate. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

You spent the day with your closest friends on a brunch date, followed by a trip to the mall, and then hot cocoa in the evening. It was much needed after the week you had and after bidding them farewell, you went back to your apartment. Upon entering, you took off your shoes and put them on the shoe rack.

“Jungkook? Are you home?” you called out. 

“Yeah! I just finished showering!” he called back in the distance. You went further into the apartment and plopped down on the couch. 

“Damn,” you muttered, rubbing your arms. “Wish I could have showered with him. It’s so cold outside…”

As if on cue, Jungkook called for you again. “[Y/N]? Could you come here?”

You took off your purse and slowly rose up from the couch, hesitant. This had to be a dream. Why would he need you to come to the bathroom? He must’ve forgotten a towel. Or a t-shirt. Or pants. The specifics didn’t really matter because your hormones were going berserk at the possibilities. 

You walked through the narrow hallway and stood in front of the bathroom door, excited at the thought of teasing him again. “I’m here. What’s up? Did you forget your towel or something? Silly boy.”

The door swung open and the shit-eating grin you had on your face dropped to the floor in an instant. 

“Why is there a dildo in the bathroom, silly girl?”

Shit. Quick, say something. Anything. Don’t just stand there like a gaping fish! Oh dear, how many seconds have passed? You must look like a total idiot.

Fuck! I forgot I left it here!!!

“Well…” you started to say, “I’m assuming it’s yours.”

Out of all the things your roommate could be calling you for, this was not on your radar. The awkwardness was more suffocating than the steam from his blazing hot shower minutes ago and you wished it lingered around long enough to make you disappear. 

Jungkook made a puckered face at your accusation, picked up the object, and shook it side to side, the bendy silicone material flopping everywhere. His big doe eyes were the highlight of his classic OJO face, the blatant confusion so adorable if you weren’t absolutely mortified. For the second time this week. 

God, and how could you even focus when he was dressed in nothing but a towel, his hair still slightly damp. The bulging muscles of his biceps were a feast for the eyes as well as his tattooed sleeve. You yearned for the day he’d use his arm as your necklace, but of course that shouldn’t be a priority at the moment. If anything, it was his fault you had to use a dildo anyway.

“[Y/N], you know damn well this isn’t mine.” He met your gaze and flashed you a soft smile, biting his lower lip. “I like mine bigger.”

You covered your face in shame, wishing the floor could open up and swallow you whole. “Good god, Jeon.”

“You still didn’t answer my question. Why is it in the bathroom?”

You gulped, finding enough strength to not die of embarrassment. “It’s getting colder outside and the heater doesn’t reach my room as well as it reaches yours. So…”

“Yeah…? But I’m not following.”

“The… thing in your hand—”

“Dildo?”

You visibly cringed. “Yes, okay, THAT. It got cold and I don’t like cold objects... Inside me. So I took it to the bathroom to run hot water on it to warm it up.”

“Before you use it?”

“No, to melt it. Yes, to use it!” you snapped, feeling the humiliation burning through your body. “I wasn’t aware you weren’t working today, remember? I clean it after each use so please just give it back!”

You ran over to yank it out of his hands, but he lifted it up high out of your reach. While cackling. That motherfucker. “Hey, maybe I want a turn.”

You had to bite back. “I knew you liked being pegged.”

“I do not!”

“Then give it back!”

“This thing is huge though. It fits?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now.” You jumped up but failed to reach it due to his quick reflexes. 

“Doesn’t it hurt? Because if something this big went up my—”

“Jungkook!”

“I’m just saying!” he said with his arms up in the air like you were about to tase him. “I find it hard to believe, that’s all. It’s really big. Like damn.”

Without thinking, you ripped his towel off his waist and he gasped, scrambling to shield his privates while you seized the opportunity to get your toy back.

You stormed out of the bathroom and ran to your room, locking the door afterwards. Falling to your knees, the embarrassment caught up to you, causing you to hang your head low in shame. You could hear the soft shuffling sounds of his footsteps approaching your door, followed by a gentle knock.

“[Y/N]? Are you okay?” He pressed his ear against the door to hear small sniffles. “Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you upset. I was teasing, I thought you wanted to tease me back and—I guess I took it too far.”

“Go away, Jeon,” you said, throwing the dildo at the door. Jungkook nearly had a heart attack at the loud thump and jolted back, clutching his chest. 

“Holy shit, that scared me,” he said, which earned a small chuckle from you despite the tears. “Hey… come on out. Please. I’m not judging you.”

“No. I’m humiliated. You heard me yesterday and now caught me today. I can’t face you ever again. It’s over!”

He placed a hand on your door, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I didn’t even know we started, so how could we be over? You’re cute.”

That made you snap your head up. You quickly wiped away your tears and rose from the floor. “This isn’t fair… I’ve been embarrassed twice now.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“You heard me masturbating yesterday!” you exclaimed, frustrated at his obliviousness. “You woke up and told me I had pretty lips or whatever and suggested we do something about it together!”

“I mean, you do have pretty lips. Yup. That sounds like me, yeah,” he said, nodding to himself. “But I really don’t remember. Come on out. I wanna see you.”

“No.”

“Would it help if I shared something embarrassing about me?”

You narrowed your eyes at the door, considering his offer. “... Go on…”

He sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Well… you know how I’ve been doing your laundry for you?” 

“Yeah…”

It was your most hated chore. Putting the clothes into the washer and dryer wasn’t your issue, but folding them was so tedious. So you and him made a deal. You were in charge of dishes and he would do the laundry. However, the one thing you refused to let Jungkook wash for you were your bras and panties. Those you handled yourself.

“You… left a pair of panties in my basket once by mistake.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. I washed them for you but um… before that, I might’ve… sort’ve… jerked off with them.”

Your doorknob jostled for a second as you unlocked it. Jungkook waited as the door swung open and was greeted by a displeased you, hands on your hips and all.  

“What? They were really pretty…” he added. “They were pink and had lace—”

“You… PERVERT!” you shouted, hitting his chest repeatedly. Of course, you were aware your feeble punches did nothing to his insanely toned pecs. Jungkook stared at you fondly, catching the hint of a smile that threatened to spill from your lips. 

“Oh, I’m a pervert? Says the girl who has an 8-inch dildo,” he countered, snatching both your wrists. 

“At least I’m able to take 8-inches!” you retorted, laughing at the situation. He joined in your laughter and then said,

“Good! That means you’ll be able to handle me!”

Your brain fizzled out at this point as the laughter subsided. “... What?”

Jungkook’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped. “... You heard me. Go ahead, take off my towel again. See for yourself.”

He guided your hands downward to the soft fabric, which was already on the verge of unraveling itself with his prior movements. You stared at his pelvic lines, excitement bubbling beneath the surface while you tried your best to maintain a calm expression. 

“... Pervert,” you mumbled. Jungkook chuckled, taking one of your hands and placing it directly on his boner. 

“Maybe. But only you can make me feel this way.”

You bit your lip, feeling the heat radiating from beneath the fabric and your curiosity peaked. Tucking a finger into the towel, you pulled it down and let it fall to the ground. 

A loud squeal came from your lips as you covered your mouth. “Holy shit!”

Jungkook covered himself after seeing your reaction with both hands, embarrassment crawling up his spine. “Sorry, I’ll put it away.”

“No, no, no!” you said, putting your hands out in a stop motion. “Sorry, I just… you… you weren’t kidding.”

“Does it scare you?” His tone was sincere, his eyes genuinely showing concern. “Because… I don’t want to hurt you. And I know it can hurt. That’s why I was so curious about the dildo. Will it fit? Will I fit…?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how he phrased it, but quickly stopped when you noticed the fear in his eyes. Your thoughts wandered to if he had slept with someone prior and if it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Truth be told, you’ve never been with anyone as big as him so it’s all new for you.

“Well… if I’m prepared well enough, I can take it. The dildo fits but sometimes not all of it goes in. Um… man, this is embarrassing to talk about, ahhh. I feel like I keep making a fool of myself in front of you.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened at your vulnerability, taking your hand and placing it on his chest. His heart was beating just as rapidly as yours if not more. Then he put his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you close. 

“That makes two of us. But you make me crazy.”

He was so close that your senses were intoxicated with the fresh scent of eucalyptus and cotton wafting off him. His eyes shifted to your lips for a split second before meeting your gaze once more. 

“I really want to kiss these pretty lips of yours… If you’ll let me,” he said, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb and whispering the last part.

You begged him to kiss you already, so he leaned in and finally pressed his warm lips against yours as you closed your eyes. It started off as a gentle smooch, like a little tease to test the waters. When he pulled back, you leaned forward and chased his lips urgently. You felt him smiling into the kiss as he moved in tandem with you, deepening the kiss while switching positions to press you against a wall. One of his hands pinned your wrists above your head while his free hand slithered down the side of your body until it rested on your hip, giving you a firm squeeze.

“Jung—mmph—Jungkook…” you moaned. He used that chance to ease his tongue into your mouth and the kiss went from passionate to messy. When you moved your wrists in the slightest, he asserted dominance and pinned them back down into place. 

“You think I’m going to let you go so easily now that I have you?” he asked, the hunger in his voice evident. He carefully tugged your bottom lip in between his teeth and pulled it back in a seductive motion, which turned you on even more. 

Once he broke the kiss, the only thing that remained was a string of saliva that broke seconds later.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he said in between pants.

“Since you’ve jerked off to my panties?” you teased while catching your breath.

He rolled his eyes. “Like you’ve never rubbed one out to me before.”

You scrunched up your nose at his response, unable to counteract his statement right away. “Hey… I wouldn’t have had to rub one out if you warmed me up in this cold weather.”

He smirked. “All you had to do was ask, you know.”

Releasing your hands, Jungkook went into your room and grabbed the dildo off the floor. He left you for a short moment and you waited there, confused, until you heard the sound of running water. He came back a minute later and then grabbed your hand, leading you to his bedroom.

“Had to wash it. Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up properly for the real thing.”

He guided you to his bed and helped you remove your jacket, blouse, and leggings. His grin was extra toothy because the set you were wearing was the exact set he jerked off too before. 

“What?” you asked, amused.

“N-Nothing.”

When your back was turned for a second, he mouthed the words ‘Oh my god’ and pressed his hands together as if thanking the universe for this very moment.

Now left in your bra and panties, you laid on his bed and he climbed on top of you, his lips latching onto the side of your neck. You mewled at the sizzling contact, pulling him close by his soft locks so that his hot skin was pressed against yours. He trailed his searing kisses down to your collarbone and then settled between the valley of your breasts. 

“The bra is pretty… you’re so pretty,” he said, full of admiration. He pulled one of the cups down to gain access to your breasts, capturing your perky nipple between his lips. He sucked tenderly, swirling his tongue around before tugging on it hard enough to elicit a moan. His other hand was greedy, slithering into your already soaked panties. His middle finger dipped in between your folds and he rubbed in circular motions to coax some more slick out of you. 

As you arched your back and moaned his name, he dipped one finger into you and began to pump it slowly. He added another one when you begged for it, sounding so desperate that he had to oblige. 

“Please fuck me already. I can’t take it,” you breathed. Jungkook only curled his fingers deeper inside, grazing your sweet spot while shaking his head. 

“Patience, beautiful. I need to make sure your sweet pussy can take it, remember? Gotta prep you well.”

“But I can take it, I can, oh god please.” 

“If you’re a good girl for me. Can you take another finger?”

You nodded eagerly, so he added a third finger and you squeezed your eyes shut from the delicious burn. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, observing your expressions carefully. You clutched onto the pillow and panted heavily. 

“Y-Yeah, I—god—your fingers feel good…”

He began to finger you with all three digits, the tightness of your walls bringing some resistance to his actions. But with a few more neck kisses to relax you, it became easier and you became more undone. 

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered into your ear, his heavy breath tickling it. He finally removed his fingers and grabbed the dildo at the end of the bed, bringing up to your lips. 

“Show me what those pretty lips of yours can do.”

You stuck out your tongue and licked a long stripe on the toy in a tantalizing slow motion, causing Jungkook to grunt. That damn smile of yours was going to kill him. You were the perfect minx—sweet and naughty. He didn’t have to tell you to suck it because you already were. 

“Such a good girl. You’re going to handle my cock so well.”

He removed the dildo out of your mouth and reached into his nightstand to pull out a bottle of lube. You stared at it like it was foreign to you and Jungkook was quick to notice.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it. I know it.”

He chuckled, admiring your determination. “Still, I want to take my time.  Besides… it’s not every day I get to fuck someone so beautiful.”

He popped open the cap and squeezed a decent amount of lube onto the toy. Then he got back in between your legs and slowly began to insert it into you. You squirmed from the slippery, cold contact but Jungkook captured your lips into a deep kiss, igniting your body with fervor. 

He thrusted the dildo as deep as he could, stopping when there was resistance from your panties. Which you were more than thankful for because you already felt full. But then he began to pump it in and out of you at a steady pace, only accelerating when your moans became more constant. 

“Shit, shit,that feels so—“ Your words were swallowed by his lips and that stirred something within you, allowing Jungkook to easily glide the toy back and forth. He soon increased his speed, the obscene sounds your pussy was making the only thing that could be heard in the room. 

You broke away from the kiss and began tearing up from the intensity. 

“J-Jungkook, I think—“

You couldn’t, actually. Your orgasm crept up on you and made your entire body convulse. You shut your eyes to only see white, your ears were ringing, and your pussy surrendered to the pleasure. 

Jungkook removed the toy out of you gently and then kissed your sweaty forehead, giving you a bunny-tooth smile as you calmed down from your high. 

“Did you cum?”

You smacked his arm playfully. “Did I cum… pfft. No, actually. I’m waiting for a real man to make me cum. With a fat cock.”

“Well not to toot my own horn but…” He grinded his swollen cock against your thigh. “I think I meet the requirements.”

Now that things slowed down, this was the first time you really got to look at his cock properly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to prep you. It was as big as your dildo but much more girthier. It was a mouth-watering sight. 

Flipping the switch, you got on top of Jungkook this time. His eyes widened in surprise but then eased into a smile. You leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Let me take care of you now.”

“But I want to fuck you so bad.”

“You can wait, darling. My pussy is yours.”

His dick twitched at that. You giggled as you got in between his thighs, stroking his member a few times to hear those cute, breathy moans of his. 

Will it fit…? God, I hope so.

“Are you afraid you can’t take it?” Jungkook asked with concern. Shit. Did you say that out loud???

“I can. I will.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t—“

“Jungkook,” you said, squeezing his dick tightly, almost like a warning. “I can take it like a good girl. And if not, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

He closed his eyes and nodded as you began to suck him off. There was no way you could take all of him in your mouth but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. You went as far as you could and stopped when your gag reflex kicked in. Using your hand to stroke the area you couldn’t reach, you swirled your tongue and bobbed your head up and down. 

Jungkook’s abs clenched and unclenched at the action and he rested on his elbows to watch you. The way your bra cupped your breasts at this angle was enticing, your pretty lips working so hard to please him, and the view of your ass in those panties could make him cum right then and there. 

“Fuck, you’re so good at this—don’t stop.”

You smiled at the praise and continued, loving how he took a sharp inhale of breath when you cupped his balls. He put his hand on your head and pushed you down gently, not wanting to overdo it with his size. You controlled the pace, but he just wanted to touch you and admire you. 

“You’re too good to me…” 

You released his dick with a satisfying pop sound, kissing the tip and smiling. “Teach me what you like.”

“I love everything you do,” he said, grunting when you began stroking him again from the base to the tip. “Your hands are so much softer than mine.”

You stopped momentarily to spit on your hand before resuming your lewd actions and he threw his head back. 

“Fuck [Y/N]. That’s so hot.”

“Yeah? Have I been a good girl? Are you going to reward me?” He snatched your wrist, his eyes darkened and full of lust. 

“Can you handle it?”

You turned around on all fours, shaking your ass side to side to tempt him. “Take me, baby. Raw.”

His OJO face returned from your bold suggestion and you flashed him a wink. 

“I’m on the pill. Promise,” you informed. 

A burst of energy surged within him as he grabbed the bottle of lube and hurriedly squeezed some onto his cock. You giggled when he squirted a bit too much, haphazardly trying to divide it between two hands and spreading it evenly. But things turned serious when he grabbed your hips, yanking you closer to him.

He pulled your panties to the side and ate you out from behind first, loving how delicious your backside looked with them on. You moaned in delight and he placed a hand on your upper back, forcing your face down into the mattress. His tongue dipped into your folds and he flicked it on your clit a few times, loving the whiny sounds you were making. Then he pressed his entire mouth onto your pussy and sucked hard. 

You were overwhelmed with pleasure and were on the verge of cumming when he removed his mouth and replaced it with something else.

“Are you ready?” He teased his tip at your leaking entrance and you shuddered. 

“Yes, please fuck me.”

“Breathe baby. Relax as much as you can.”

You obeyed, feeling him push himself into you smoothly, knowing he prepped you more than enough. At least, that’s what you thought until he got in halfway. From there on, it felt like he was invading your walls and stretching you to new limits. 

There was a mild discomfort and Jungkook kissed your back lovingly to relax your tense muscles. You sighed and allowed him to bottom out, feeling the wind knock out of you when he did. 

“God!” you shouted, fisting his bedsheets. 

“F-Fuck… you feel amazing I—can I move? Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt… I just feel really full.”

“Okay,” he said in a restrained voice. “I’ll go slow.”

He gripped your hips tightly, like he needed something else to focus on or else he’d lose control and fuck the living daylights out of you. He eased himself out of you but only half way, wanting to savor your warmth a bit longer. Then he pushed himself back into you, making sure to go as slow as possible.

“Your ass looks amazing in these. You should wear them again.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought of doing this with him again. “Maybe if you spank me.”

He stilled his hips. “You really want me to?”

You began rocking your ass back and forth on his cock. “Yeah. I’m not that fragile… I can take it rough when I want to.” You swore you felt his cock twitch at this. “Hmm, looks like that excited you. You wanna fuck me rough, Jeon?”

He delivered a spank on your cheek, the sensation sending waves of pain and pleasure through your body. Your pussy tightened from this and it made Jungkook hiss. He spanked the other cheek and then both cheeks and you moaned, the slight pain distracting you from the girth of his big cock. 

“You think you’re in a position to be a brat?” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you up so you were on all fours again. Laying on top of your back, he whispered in your ear, “Do you know how badly I want to fucking ruin you?”

He bit the shell of your ear and you let out a content sigh as he slowly thrusted in and out of you. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he reminded you. “But god, you feel so good. So tight. So slippery and wet. I just wanna have my way with you.”

You couldn’t wait anymore. “Please do. Make my pussy remember the shape of your cock. It’s yours to wreck.”

Jungkook got off your back and grabbed a nice fistful of your hair into a makeshift ponytail, forcing your head up as he thrusted into you to the hilt. That feeling of being full hit you full force and you submitted, letting him rock his hips back and forth to the pace he deemed fit. He undid your bra with his free hand, letting the undergarment fall onto the bed as he cupped one breast.

Your moans came out unashamed and full of whiny desperation. The intensity was becoming too much, but it felt too good to stop. There was no more discomfort, only lust and the desire to be fucked so hard that it had your eyes rolling. And Jungkook was more than willing to deliver.

He then grabbed a nearby pillow and placed it under your stomach, pushing your back down until you laid flat. 

“I’m not sure, but I read this makes things feel better on Reddit,” he explained quickly as he helped remove your panties. “But let me know if you want me to stop.”

You’re smitten by the fact he cared this much about you but also trying hard not to laugh at how he admitted to going to Reddit for sex advice. He was too precious.

“I will.”

With your ass propped up higher thanks to the elevation of the pillow, Jungkook eased into you once more and you bit into your pillow. He started to slam his hips into you, gripping onto the headboard to steady himself. 

“Fuck!” you said through gritted teeth. 

“Am I going too fast?” he breathed, slowing down his thrusts.

“No, it’s okay. I want it. I want you.”

Your words unleashed his primal urges to finally give it to you. He shoved his cock deep inside you, each thrust making your ass jiggle, the sight so unbelievably sexy that he had to spank you again.

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me harder!” you shouted. Jungkook laid on top of you, wrapping his bicep around your neck and planted a kiss on your cheek as he fucked you harder. You begged him to choke you and he obliged, squeezing your neck just enough to make you slightly dizzy. 

It was euphoric having that slight danger while being used for his pleasure. Your pussy tightened so much that Jungkook felt he was going to cum. 

He slowed the roll of his hips and then pulled out, quickly flipping you onto your back. Thanks to the pillow from earlier, your hips were propped up at the perfect height. 

“Spread your legs for me. Wider. Hold them open.”

You were so drunk on lust that you did everything he asked. He held onto your thighs and inserted his cock into you again, the new angle making your moans come out strangulated. He was so huge, you swore his tip was brushing against your cervix. Picking up the pace gradually, you took the abuse of his fat cock and screamed at how good it felt. 

“I can’t get enough of you,” Jungkook said through pants, wrapping a hand around the column of your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

His hips began to stutter and you felt your pussy growing sore from the stretch. Anymore and you’d be in tears. You wanted to cum too, so you snuck your hand down to your clit and rubbed in circular motions. Jungkook used the last remaining bits of strength to fuck you for a few more minutes, which was more than enough for you to reach your climax. 

Cumming a second time was more painful than the first time due to the over sensitivity. But somehow it was more enjoyable because you had never felt something so intense. Jungkook kept coaxing you with sweet words, promising he was almost finished. 

He rutted into you for the last few seconds, counting 3, 2, 1 before spilling his seed inside you. His body laid on top of yours, the two of you sticky and sweaty but it was comforting just being in his embrace. 

“Jungkook?” 

“Yeah?”

“Get off. We gotta pee.”

He laughed at your serious tone. “I think I need another shower. Care to join me?”

Your roommate literally just fucked your brains out 5 minutes ago. Why were you feeling self-conscious in the shower with him? It didn’t make sense!

With the hot water on, you took a deep breath before feeling a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. 

“Questions, comments, concerns?”

Oh my god, you had to marry this man. “Um… I think I’ll be sore for the next few days.”

“I’m sorry.

“Don’t be. I enjoyed it a lot.”

He turned you around, so that you were facing him. “Enough to do it again?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?”

“W-Well… I mean—“

Look at him fumbling over his words. Adorable. “You’re such a pervert.”

“I can’t help it. You turn me on.”

You covered your chest, feeling shy. “Is that all I’m good for…?”

He immediately understood what you meant. “Of course not. Look at me,” he said while tilting your chin up. “Don’t you know how I feel about you?”

Your lips curled into a smile. “Well I learned today that you jerked off to my panties and you count down before you cum.”

You couldn’t help but explode into laughter at his OJO face when he heard you say that. 

“Hey! I do it to let you know when it’s coming!”

“Yes sir,” you teased with a salute. “I appreciate your punctuality, sir!”

“Oh my god, you’re so cheeky.” He hugged you again and booped his nose into yours. “I like you. You know, when a boy likes a girl and they go out on a date and then—oh shit, I did things backwards.”

You giggled. “I think I prefer it this way. I like you too. I’ve… liked you for a long time.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because! I didn’t want to make things awkward. But I guess things ended up being awkward anyway…”

“Because you were masturbating to me?” 

He had such a proud smile on his face. 

“Whatever! Panty thief!”

“You left them there.”

“You should’ve told me!”

“I did!”

“After you had your fun! You are so—”

He gave you a surprise peck on the cheek to distract you. 

“Awesome?” He smooched you again. And again. You couldn’t help but giggle. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Mmhmm. So… do you want to stay in my room tonight?”

“As long as you warm me up.”

“Oh, for sure. I’m great at that.”

“Because of experience or Reddit?”

There was his OJO face again. “Hey~!”

I truly hope you enjoyed the fic! Thank you for giving my writing a chance. :) Also I have an AO3 if you're more comfortable commenting there. Thanks!

#ggukienet #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenarios #my scenarios

[frmisnow]

✧˖ ?!— ALWAYS WITH YOU ౨ৎ . - (NSFW.)

— ‧₊˚ — 𝜗𝜚 : " i want to cum in you every way possible ?? "

summary. your husband spontaneously realizing he wants to have kids with you, was most def. not on your bingo cards!

notes. teeheehee, i need husband! jk injected into my veins!! no but fr might just do a few drabbles of dad kook cause he rly is daddy if you think bout it (+ this is for my dearest pookie, you know who you are!!)

warnings/includes. (017 / breeding), talking about having kids (duh), tit play, overstimulation perhaps??, after care :), he's just so smitten rly

he wanted to get you pregnant.

maybe that sounded to forward and it probably was considering you despised kids- okay, perhaps didn't despise but not necessarerly a fan either. but god did his heart tight in his chest when he saw you with kids, the way your voice tone instantly shifted to something more sweeted, the way you fixed their hair, smiling innocently not knowing all the fucked up fantasies in the head of your husband.

as he observed you, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of mother you would be. Would you soften, your edges rounding into tenderness, or would you retain that fierce independence that he had fallen in love with?

and the more he thought about the further did his mind wander: you both the bringing the kids to school, a little family on the dinner table, the bedtime stories you'd both tell to bring the kids to sleep, the first steps, heck- the first words.

regardless he knows you'd be a good mother, a great one at that (and a hot one but we move)

admits all the cute fantasies there was all the fucked up stuff leashed under it, the thought of seeing you belly-full was strangely endearing to him that he could take care of you even better then he already did, that you'd just carry something of his, a teny tiny mini mix of him and you.

"god, i can't believe she's making me look over her son, he's a cutie but a menace nonetheless," you shrugged after setting your sisters son up with some other kids, "earth to jungkook" you waved dramatically in front of his face as he seemed still rather zoned out. "i want to have a child with you," he blurted out instantly.

to say that your jaw was on the floor was an understatement, you never thought that jungkook out of all people would want kids so early on, you'd always seen him as a free spirit, doing whatever- whenever but a child meant commitment for a lifetime.

you moved closer to him, removing one hair strand that was losely hanging behind his hair, his gaze unfocused, eyes never settling as if he was scared of what you'll answer, "i want to have kids with you but i don't wanna plan things out if it happens, it happens and if it doesn't right now, it doesn't- let's take it slow"

you saw his expression shift not necessarly sad but still a bit dozed, you ran your hands through his hair as if to cheer him up, squeezing his cheeks after, "you're the only one i could imagine making a family with"

you did in fact not take it slow- not even in the slightest.

"wanna have everything with you, do anything, fuck- you'd be such a hot mom, baby" he groaned out, lips against your skin, gently biting and licking the fragile skin.

"everything just feels so right with you," Jungkook whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he peppered kisses along your jawline. "I never imagined wanting this until I met you"

your mind felt dizzy, hazy even and you could damn well feel your panties getting ruined solely by his words and what did you do? mentally blame it all you being 'drunk' when you knew that you only had one drink during this whole evening - no, the thought of having his children couldn't possibly have this big of an reaction on you, could it?

"i want to cum in you every way possible," he caresses your hair innocently till pulling just a bit harder, gaze dozing off like he didn't just propose his want for ruining you as a whole, slowly kissing all the bare skin of your upper body till stopping at your chest, "have i ever told you how much i love your tits?"

"huh-" he didn't give you a lot of time to think, licking and nibbling like he had been starved of your company and body for months, leaving a few dark hickeys behind, mouth going back to your ear mumbling something almost inaudible about being 'so hard' for you, only you.

you didn't know how much stamina this fucking guy had.

the sound of skin slapping against skin, whines and sobs having have filled the apartment for damn long, you were sure you heard some sorta banging against the walls from your neighbours - certaintly wouldn't be the first time.

whenever he came in you, he watched the cum drip out of you even going as far as tasting the release of of his fingers himself, his hips almost like moving on their own after everytime reaussuring you "just to make sure"

whispering sweet nothings into your neck, cock slapping in and out of you, how you'd make the "prettiest fucking babies" and how he'd "always be there for you"

and after he's done with you, he'd help you clean up, softly washing you, gently placing tiny little kisses over your shoulders, getting you all wrapped up in bed later, clinging onto you like you were about to fade.

your eyes barerly open as his hands brushed over your hair, so slowly like he was luring you to sleep, "you're so important to me"

you fall asleep with a smile on your face, the one he so adores.

#kpop smut #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagines #bts x you #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #✉️ frmisnow! 1k follower event

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (02) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11.9k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii really touched with all the love for this story! I don’t know about you but this hits harder with all the boys away and we’re missing them so badly. But we’ve got this! 💕 But thank you thank you for all the messages (sorry I can’t get to each one!) and the interest and excitement. Hope you enjoy this one ☺️

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Despite hoping that he wouldn’t, Jungkook, in fact, pushes you further away on his second day on the job. 

To his defense, it was partly your fault. You smiled at him last night - perhaps due to your delicious dinner that you didn’t even know was from him - and it disarmed him. 

The words you uttered after just flew over his head and he just nodded, too out of it to confirm what you’d said. It probably had something to do about you not coming to his penthouse, because it’s Tuesday morning and you’re still not here. He’d expected that like yesterday, you'd prepare his breakfast, and after all that transpired, debrief after yesterday’s meetings and discuss the next steps. That was his routine with Lucas, and for all the things that you seemed to know and do right - from his room design, the doneness of his eggs, and his coffee - this was a miss. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be assisting me from the start of the day?” Jungkook says over the phone, his tone sounding annoyed. “I’ve been waiting for you since 6:30.”

Your heart drops at his words, the memory from last night of him agreeing to you sticking to the same schedule you had with Hoseok suddenly feeling like some made up scenario. You remember telling Jungkook that you go straight to the office the rest of the week; you’d only go to Hoseok’s house on Mondays to prepare his clothes and brief him because he’s able to manage from Tuesday onwards. Your new boss, for some reason, perhaps misheard your question. And now you’re the one in trouble. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bring yourself to say, your voice in a panic because regardless of who’s in the wrong, making him wait is not a good start to his day nor yours, and especially not to your already rocky relationship. “I can get a cab then head to you.”

“So you want me to wait for you some more?” He chides, his dry laugh making you want to throw your phone just so you won’t hear his voice anymore. “Just stay wherever you are, but I want the meeting minutes from yesterday ready when I get there since you’re not here to go over them with me.”

Jungkook hangs up and your head thumping on your desk is immediate. It’s barely the start of the day and you already want to go back home and probably never come back. 

You left the office at 9 last night, knowing you were too exhausted to continue working on the annotated documents, and then got soaked in the rain on your way home. You planned on coming to work early - given that your boss didn’t require you to go to his penthouse, a claim you stand by - so you can continue, but now he wants the meeting minutes in an hour, and that isn’t usually due until three days later. 

Neglecting the sandwich you planned on eating for breakfast, you work on your notes from the first meeting and then move on to the next. Every footstep you hear makes you anxious, and you breathe a sigh of relief every time you find out it’s not him. Every minute counts and you’re thankful for each one. Until, of course, you run out of it. 

“Send them to me now and meet me in my office,” his voice echoes through the hallway that leads to his room. 

Jungkook walks straight past you and doesn’t even give you a look.

“Yes, sir,” you squeak, quickly sending the email then scurrying to where he is. 

You find him seated on his chair, his leg crossed over the other one as he goes through the notes on his iPad, his furrowed eyebrows making you sweat in worry. He doesn’t seem pleased. But from what you’ve witnessed so far, you doubt there’s much that pleases him.

He encircles words and scribbles on the sides, mumbling “incomplete,” “what does this mean,” and “this is not what I said.”

Jungkook sets the device on his desk and groans. He turns to you with a hard glare, and you clearly see just how displeased he is. Not that you have any defense - it’s your job to do what he asked in a manner that’s up to his standards - but you already felt discouraged in the morning, and your meal skipping caused you to lose focus in the afternoon, resulting in your less than satisfactory documentation of the meeting.

“Ms. Cho, do you know the value of these documents? And why I require them to be comprehensive and done on time?”

“Uh, ye-yes, sir,” you drag out.

“Why?”

It’s too early for this, you think to yourself. Clearly you know why they’re important; you’re just too tired to articulate the reasons to him. But you try, as the words form in your head. You’re about to say them when he stands from his chair and walks towards his desk, leans on the edge and then intently looks at you, as if he’s judging even the way you’re breathing or standing. And you’d probably fail, given how your body seems to cower in his presence. 

“Because decisions are made through them,” he says, drowning out your thoughts with his stern voice. “I attend numerous meetings everyday. Decision points can be buried in the discussions unless they’re documented properly. And even when they are, they’re not actioned upon immediately unless I have access to them and unless they’ve been processed and verified. I don’t leave those conference rooms and forget about what took place. They stay in my head, that’s why I ask you to write them down, and that’s why I require you to meet me first thing in the morning so that I can process them with you, and let those points guide me for the rest of the week.”

His glare continues, so does his voice getting louder. “My job isn’t just to sit around and listen to people. I make decisions. And it’s your job to make sure I have all the correct information to make them.”

“I… I understand, sir. And I… I apologize for the oversight,” you stutter, still unable to look at him. “But about this morning, uh… you, uh last night, I—”

“Was there an explicit statement from me about not having you come in the morning?”

“No, sir.”

He lets the silence draw out, perhaps to let your own words sink in. He does have a point. You stand by your claim that you’d asked, and he nodded, but you should also know that such gestures aren’t clear responses, and that’s on you to make sure that you’re both on the same page. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say with conviction. “I made an assumption when I should have clarified. And even then, it’s your first week as Vice President. I should be assisting you in all the ways I can.”

Jungkook watches your form, hands clasped together with your nails sinking into your skin. Your head is bowed down, unable or unwilling to look at him this whole time. He knows he’s at fault, too, but he’d never admit it; he’s not exactly the type to do that. 

You stand there in submission and a part of him wants to apologize, but that’s not the type of weakness he wants to show, not when he needs to establish authority and more importantly, distance.

“I require Lucas to still come every morning because that’s the only time we can debrief about the previous day’s activities,” he says, making his voice calmer now. “We go through the minutes, clarify things, finalize them, and then disseminate so that people don’t forget. Teams collaborate effectively when there’s accountability and when timelines are adhered to. It’s my job to make sure they comply. And that means it’s your job, too. I don’t have to remind you of your roles now do I, Ms. Cho?”

“No, sir,” you respond, finding the strength in you to finally look at him, his hardened stare still unnerving you. 

He uncrosses his arms and walks back to his seat. “My cousin and I work very differently from each other. It’s on you to adjust.” 

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in acknowledgment. “I’ll be at your apartment at 6:30 every morning and I’ll do better with my documentation and preparation of all the files.”

Jungkook just hums then proceeds to work on something on his desktop, which you take as your cue to leave. You bow again and excuse yourself, but his voice stops you as you open the door.

“Push back this morning’s meeting to 9:00,” he says. “And make sure you have something to eat. I can’t have you be unfocused again like yesterday.”

You survive the rest of Tuesday. You eat snacks rather than proper meals, and you find that that helps you more with time and focus. The meetings for that day are less intense, but with you still figuring out exactly how Jungkook wants the documents prepared, you stay up after hours and work on them for the next day, with you constantly going over the recording to make sure that you documented everything correctly. 

You arrive at his penthouse at 6:30 every morning during the week. You make his breakfast while he takes a shower, which is really whatever’s in his fridge or pantry. He doesn’t seem to mind what you prepare for him, and you’re glad that he doesn’t find any more severe reasons to dislike you. There’s still the occasional correction of your minutes, but you chalk it up to him just being too particular. There are terms he uses that you’re not familiar with; he’s an architect by training after all.

Perhaps it’s why he’s as specific and detail-oriented as he is, and more visual than anything. Hoseok is a perfectionist like him, but the older man has everything organized in his head and then executes them, whereas Jungkook needs them all laid out before him. Whether it’s about a policy, a process, and especially a design, he makes sure they’re drawn out, and the way they all just make sense to him is immediate. 

You suppose that’s what he’s used to. Plans need representation beyond words; he doesn’t seem to be the type to use much of them, in fact, unless he’s correcting you. But that’s what you’ve noticed. At some points during the meeting, he’d draw something on his iPad and send it to you; you both discuss it the next morning, with you finding the words for it for proper documentation. 

But his mind doesn’t seem to stop, as you catch him on the way to work sometimes doodling some design on this leather notebook that he carries with him everywhere. Whether it’s the Arts Center or something else, you’re not sure, but you know that any moment he pulls it out, he’d spend a good amount of time on it before getting out of the car.

He remains distant and disengaged as you expect him to be. Unlike Hoseok who asks you how your evening went or how the trip to his house was, Jungkook doesn’t talk about anything that doesn’t concern work. And so when he isn’t talking about it, there’s just silence - whether in the car, in the elevator, or the walk to his room. There’s none of the laughter or the questions about how you’re coping with all your tasks, and there’s definitely nothing about his life that he shares. Not that you thought he would, but the difference with your old boss is striking, as you think of the times when Hoseok happily talked about the salsa studio he was at with A-yeong over the weekend or the movie they watched together the night before.

The comparisons remain in your head throughout the week. You try to focus on your responsibilities but you realize that you haven’t properly moved on from the culture and environment that you used to enjoy when Hoseok was still leading the team, and that has affected your work in obvious ways, and especially your approach to it. 

There’s anxiety with every task that Jungkook asks of you, even if they’re things you’ve done so many times in your three years as the VP’s assistant. You find yourself constantly clarifying his instructions, prompting him to question your ability to take them. You feel like he’ll be displeased regardless of what your output is, yet you still end up spending too much time going over files that you forget to eat or clock out too late. You don’t get proper sleep either, nervous about what the next day will bring. You second-guess yourself constantly, and all the confidence you built in all your time here doesn’t seem to have as strong of a foundation as you thought. 

So when you make another mistake the following Tuesday, whatever belief in yourself that you have left dissipates. 

“Ms. Cho, where is the folder?” Jungkook asks, his gaze hardening the longer you look at him without a word. 

You’re currently at a restaurant, given that your boss has a meeting with Mr. Hu, the owner of the company that produces quality materials that Jungkook wants for the Arts Center. This was scheduled just yesterday, which is also when he’d asked you to put together the rough draft plans and design that he worked on last weekend. The project is in its early stages but the plans are clear to Jungkook and he wants to secure this deal early on, especially with Mr. Hu leaving the country for a few weeks. 

You finalized this last night and left it on your desk along with the portfolios that Yoongi and the support team have been taking from your shelf. Given the week you’ve had - lack of sleep and frustration more than anything - you rushed to get ready and mistakenly took a portfolio and not the folder meant for this meeting.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir, but I seem to have taken the wrong files,” you stutter, eyes on the ground as you clutch the portfolio for support. “They… they were on my desk along with others and I left them in the office.”

There’s a long pause before Jungkook speaks, the irritation clear in his voice.

“Do you at least have a soft copy?”

“It’s on a USB, sir,” you reply, nervously raising your head. “I left it as well.”

You try your hardest not to look at him, even if it seems like he wants you to, just so you can see the burning way he does it. Because you feel him huffing, you can see how he’s clenching his fists as he controls what he’s feeling, which is definitely anger towards your stupid mistake. 

Jungkook clears his throat before turning back to the man seated across from him, his voice apologetic as he explains that you weren’t able to bring it. 

“Ah, what a shame,” Mr. Hu says, judgingly glancing at you. “I was really looking forward to seeing your plans, Jungkook. I could’ve advised my people to check on the materials you want this early.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook says. “Perhaps I can email them over to you?”

“Oh don’t bother, I’ll be chasing the Italian sun for the next three weeks,” the older man chuckles. “I’ll see you when I get back. By then, I hope you and your assistant have sorted things out and could give me actual information about what you want.”

“We will, I assure you,” Jungkook says, before saying goodbye to him.

He walks past you and you follow, with no words said as you both wait for the car and enter. 

You can hear him panting, and you know enough that's due to an extreme emotion he can’t express. He won’t look at or say anything to you, and that feels more terrifying. 

His phone rings, and not only does the person on the other line talk about what just happened, you happen to hear it, too.

“Hey, I heard what happened with the big boss,” the man says. “Did you really go to the meeting unprepared?”

“It wasn’t me, but yeah, what a mess,” Jungkook huffs, his head leaning back on the chair, his eyes closed as he calms himself down. “What did he say? Is he angry?”

“Nah. You’re a Jeon; he can’t be. He was just a bit annoyed because he was supposed to have a meeting with another client but he chose to see you.”

“Fuck. What an embarrassment,” Jungkook groans.

“Well, he does have high praises for your father.”

“And this is his first time working with me. My dad’s gonna hear about it and give me shit for it.”

“Just another normal day at the office, right?” The man laughs. “So, was it your assistant that screwed up?”

Jungkook hums his yes, knowing you’re two seats away from him, although he’s unsure if you can hear their conversation. For your sake, he hopes you can’t.

“See? This is why you should’ve taken Lucas! That guy was always two steps ahead of you.”

“That’s what I said, but when are my requests ever granted? Never. Another normal day at the office, huh?”

“If she’s pretty, maybe you can forgive them and just suffer through her incompetence,” the man laughs again. “I mean, she’s got to have some redeeming quality somehow. If she doesn’t, that just sucks for you.”

“You really enjoy making fun of my misfortunes, huh?” Jungkook huffs.

“Just sometimes. Not used to you not having your way, that’s all.”

“Well, nothing is going my way, that's for sure. But whatever, I’ll figure it out. Make sure Mr. Hu holds out for me, okay? I need you to help me this time.”

“Hey, I may laugh at your misfortunes but I always have your back,” the man says. “Good luck, VP. I’ll see you soon.”

Jungkook drops the call and you feel him glance at you but you remain stiff on your seat, unwilling to move nor look anywhere else that isn’t your lap. You’re glad that he decides to close his eyes for the rest of the ride, though, so you take your chance to shift towards the window and watch the buildings fly by, willing your tears not to fall.

You hold out until you arrive at the building. That is, until Jungkook heads straight to his room and asks you to follow. 

“Own up to your mistake and look at me,” he says, his voice seeping with disdain. 

You lift your head and meet his eyes, his gaze piercing right through you and you’re unable to move, to speak. But you try - a futile attempt, really - at appealing to the compassionate side of him, if it even exists. 

“I’m so, so sorry Mr. Jeon,” you plead for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to forget the folder. It’s been a tough week and—”

“A tough week?” he mocks, his voice getting louder now. “As if you’re the only one who’s had one? I come here and find myself doing your job. I spent the weekend drafting the designs because I need that deal early only for you to screw it up! My father’s been on to me about this project and I need everything done right but I can’t seem to because my assistant, who’s supposed to be assisting me, can’t even get the most basic things done. All you had to do was bring the folder. You didn’t even have a contingency plan of having a soft copy. Were you not trained for this role?” 

You visibly shake but Jungkook doesn’t let up.

“Answer me.”

“I… I was, Mr. Jeon,” you tremble. “I know I’m not the smartest but I work hard and I—”

“You work hard?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In what?”

“In preparing your files and organizing everything for you and…” you try. 

A month ago, you’d be saying these things and more with so much conviction.  But all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to break you down and make you doubt every single skill you’ve developed and been praised for the past few years.

“And I can criticize each of those tasks in just this one week you’ve been my assistant.”

“I… I just needed guidance, sir, because it’s a new—”

“I need guidance. I need assisting,” he sneers. “My father wanted me to keep you because you apparently know how things are supposed to be done but you’re asking for guidance from me?”

There’s silence on your end and you’ve never felt as small as you do right now. The way Mrs. Byun abused her power over you and humiliated you during your first years here continues to be unmatched, but being treated this way by a man whose family you respect somehow hurts you more. 

You want to give up now. You’ll lose everything if you decide to just quit but it’s not like there’s much left of you to go by anyway, given the week that you’ve had. But if there’s anything your mother taught you is that the lowest you can go is when you don’t fight for yourself, so you gather what little dignity you have left and look him in the eyes. 

“You do things very differently from Mr. Jung like you said, and I admire your thoroughness,” you start, trying your hardest to calm the tone of your voice. “You’re adjusting to your new role with a new team and a new assistant that you didn’t choose but somehow you have to trust and that’s unnerving if you’re used to being in control of everything. With all due respect, however, perhaps if you let the people around you adjust as well, we would all find a way to work together effectively and respectfully. A little bit of compassion wouldn’t hurt, and it goes a long way.”

At his silence, you continue, digging your nails deeper into your skin to help you remain stable.

“I apologize for all the mistakes this past week. I know it has been unpleasant for you as well. I’ll do better, that I can promise. But if the way I work is not something that is up to your standard, then there’s only one thing to do. Me quitting would put you in a worse light; you can fire me if you think it is best,” you bravely state. “I can deal with the consequences.”

Jungkook continues to just look at you, unable to say anything this time. Perhaps he isn’t used to someone speaking to him like this. Maybe he’s finding the right words to hit you back and break you even more. The tiniest part of you wants to think you’ve softened him up a bit; hopefully he’ll be less angry at you the next time.

“Is there anything you need me to work on, Mr. Jeon?”

“No,” he answers. “Just hold off all calls for me for the next hour. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Understood, Mr. Jeon.” 

You bow and head out the door. 

Jungkook watches you leave, and the farther you become, the more he wishes you’d stay.

He’s unsure why. Perhaps it’s the way you spoke to him, similar to the way you did the first time you met over a week ago - with conviction and grace despite you putting him in his place. Maybe it’s him, trying to find the words to apologize without seeming weak, or to encourage you without being comfortable. The tiniest part of him just wants you around; he doesn’t know what it is about you but he finds himself feeling intense emotions because of you - frustration, fear, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret. 

He returns to his seat and glances through the window, the angle of his chair allowing him to see you outside, although he’s unsure if you’re able to see him. Either way, it’s not like you’ve ever looked his way anyway, so he feels a little safe doing this now. 

You’re seated and turned away from the desk, with your fingers pressing over both your ears, as if you’re blocking out the sounds of the room; perhaps you’re blocking out his voice that’s probably still echoing in your head. He’d seen you do this last week, too, after you failed to show up at his penthouse in the morning. He thinks it’s your way of dealing with stress, a quiet one, in contrast to boxing like what he prefers to do. It’s the only time he’d ever allow himself to express anything, after all, other than getting mad at you apparently. 

You finally turn around, but it’s not long after when Do-hyun arrives and takes your place, leaving him to wonder where you’re off to. He focuses on his work like he meant to do, opting to read and send emails while he calms himself down. His eyes always turn to your desk, though, and when he sees that he’s halfway done but you’re still not back, he decides to head out.

“Mr. Jeon,” Do-hyun stands up and greets him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Where’s Ms. Cho?”

“She had to go to the washroom so she asked me to cover for her first,” she responds. “But, uh… She’s been gone for half an hour. I… I’m not sure what she’s up to but I can—.”

It’s at that moment when you return, and the way that both Do-hyun and Jungkook look at you that you know they can tell. You can’t exactly cry for 20 minutes and then expect to ease the swelling of your eyes for the next 10. But you act like nothing’s amiss, so you dismiss the younger woman and turn to Jungkook.

“Was there something that you needed from me, Mr. Jeon?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Just, uh…” he stutters now, taken aback by the casual way you speak to him despite your glassy eyes. “I’m meeting the CEO and President tomorrow to discuss the Arts Center. Put the initial plans in presentation format and send it to me first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, returning to your seat and not sparing him another glance. 

You work on the presentation in between the other things you need to finish. You draft memos and letters for Jungkook’s approval, and it’s half past 4 when you enter his room to have them signed. 

“I’m heading out at 5 for dinner,” he says as he signs the documents. “I’ve added points on the shared file for the presentation. Make sure to include those.”

“I will, sir.”

There’s a brief moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.

You wish he’d offer an apology.

He wishes you’d say that you’re okay.

You want to tell him that the Arts Center already sounds amazing; you hope it turns out the way he imagines.

He wants to tell you that he won’t fire you, that despite how he’s been, he doesn’t want you to go anywhere.

But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and then head out the door. 

He leaves at exactly 5, merely nodding at you as he leaves. 

Jungkook sees you again that evening, four hours later as he drives home after having dinner with Seokjin and Taehyung, the brothers he’d grown up with. The office is on the way, and it’s near the bus stop where he spots you, trying to catch a cab that someone always gets to before you do. 

The rain has started to pour, and his anxiety builds; he was never fond of it, given the memory it holds. But it’s you in your thin coat that suspends that for a while. You’re clearly shivering, unable to get a ride, and getting wet from the downpour. You cross the street, seemingly just submitting to the weather, and you disappear amongst the crowd of people just trying to get home. 

He checks his phone as he gets a message and sees the email you sent 20 minutes ago - the presentation he’d asked you to submit in the morning. This is you, making up for today, he guesses. He’s why you’re braving the rain. If he’s being honest, he’s why you’re suffering at all, and he can’t help the way his heart stings at the thought. 

The convenience store is bright and dry unlike the streets outside, and that’s why there’s a substantial amount of people seeking shelter from the downpour that came out of nowhere. 

You welcome the rain. It served as a distraction when you were growing up and your mother’s ex-partner would yell nonstop. You’d hide in your room and cover your ears like your mother taught you to do. When she was able, she’d stay with you and cover your ears with her own hands and tell you that it’s gonna be okay, that even if you can’t stop the scary sounds, you can drown them out enough that they’ll stop bothering you. 

You didn’t think you’d ever do so again but you’ve done that twice in one week, and all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to lecture you about what your job entails. He didn’t yell, but his voice was still piercing, firm and low as if he reserves that intensity for instances of pure frustration. 

That kind of thing takes a lot out of someone. It’s different when a boss is out to abuse their power and take advantage of you. Mrs. Byun made you do her work so she could spend her lunches out and then take credit for outputs without acknowledging you. She sucked up to the directors to overcompensate for not knowing how to answer their questions. And then she had the guts to embarrass you and call you out in front of the team for not being able to do your primary tasks, which was only because you were doing hers. It took a while but her incompetence caught up to her and her departure felt like freedom. But the experience with her was constricting, suffocating, humiliating. It was dehumanizing, too, as you went home to an empty apartment every night, feeling less and less of yourself.

But the way Jungkook treats you hits differently. You’ve survived the worst and ended up in a good spot under Hoseok’s leadership where you built your confidence. During those years, you felt capable, like you were trusted; you felt that your hard work earned you respect. 

Now, you feel all that crumbling. You feel exposed, bare; as if you’re realizing you’re not that good after all. How you’ve been isn’t like you. You’re meticulous, analytical; you’ve sat in so many meetings as an observer and know how things work, how the directors think, and the kinds of outputs expected from you. But recently, you find yourself just lost, questioning everything all the time, and so incapable.

You let yourself feel the burden weigh you down as you eat a small cup of noodles and call it dinner. You walk down the aisles and pick out your favorite snacks, first eating the roasted almonds as you head out the door. 

The rain has let up, with but a drizzle left this late evening. You catch the bus and munch on pepero and chocopie this time. You’re in your neighborhood by the time you tear open the frosted mini donuts. You’ve been mindlessly eating the whole time, but once you get off your stop, you start walking towards the community center. The public library is closed but something about sitting outside the door gives you comfort, just like it used to when you were growing up.

Your mom couldn’t really afford daycare. She’d spend her lunch break picking you up from school then dropping you off at a library where her friend worked; that nice woman always looked after you until your mom came back to pick you up. Some days when she wanted to take you away from the mess that was her partner, she’d take you there, too. 

You read mostly picture books and colored on your coloring book and played with your paper dolls. Even as you grew up, you didn't really read; you just liked that the library was quiet, comfortable, that it made you feel safe. 

Your phone beeps and you see a photo that your mother has just sent of her dry living room floor. 

[From: Mom] it isn’t leaking anymore! 

You smile, imagining her sigh of relief and the way she’s probably humming about the house. You decide to call her; another bit of comfort would definitely help.

“Hi, darling,” she answers after the first ring. “Min-woo went to the hardware store when he arrived in the afternoon so he could fix the roof. What a relief.”

“That’s great, mom,” you reply, wishing you were back home with her. “You can have a good sleep tonight, then.”

“I will. What about you?”

“I hope so.”

“Have you had dinner?”

“Hmm, yeah,” you hum. 

“And where are you now?”

“Outside the library,” you say. 

There’s silence that comes after, a way in which you both say things without words sometimes. Your mom is good at that, and even if you can’t see her, you know there’s love in her eyes. And even if she can’t see you, she knows there’s sadness in yours. 

“So, work has been tough lately, am I right?”

Even without any confirmation, she already knows. She probably knew when you said that everything was fine after she asked how things were going during your visit over the weekend. She probably picked up the faintness of your smile and the way you fell asleep on her lap while you both watched TV and she combed your hair like she always did. 

“The new boss is quite hard on me,” you admit. “He expects too much, asks me to do too much… I’m trying but I keep making mistakes. I’m missing things I normally don’t. I’m not like this, mom. I… I’m better than this.”

“Oh, darling,” she sighs, wishing she’d hugged you a little tighter before you left. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Maybe you’re still adjusting. That’s valid, you know? It’s only been a week.”

“Yeah, but he acts like he’s the only one who needs to adjust and that I just magically know how to do things his way,” you groan. “It… it just makes me feel like I’m not good enough. That I… that I shouldn’t be here.”

“___, you didn’t suffer through your first few years there just so you would continue to doubt yourself,” she responds. “You deserve your role, regardless of what he thinks. You work hard and that means everything.”

“Not to him apparently. Even if I work hard, if it’s not up to his standards, it doesn’t mean anything. I can’t even do anything about it because he’s the CEO’s son.” 

“You can quit, you know?” She says after a beat of silence. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much, and especially if it’s unfair. Just because you know you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should.”

The thought settles in your head. You did just tell Jungkook that you’d rather he fire you, which honestly terrifies you because much as he’s insufferable, you do need this job. Helping your mom over the weekend reminded you of that. From the health insurance to the salary, you don’t have to worry too much because you can finally repay her for all her hard work in raising you, in protecting you, in surviving for you. 

“I know,” you sigh. “Maybe I just let the tough first days get to me.”

“Whatever it is, you shouldn’t suffer. And you definitely shouldn’t suffer alone,” she advises. “I’m glad you came over during the weekend even if for unpleasant reasons. I got to hug you even if I didn’t know you needed it.”

“I always need it, mom,” you admit. “I don’t have to say it. It’s the only one I get anyway.”

“Well, it’s because it’s the only one you accept,” she points out. 

“True,” you laugh. “But I… I’ll do better. I’ll get my head straight tonight and treat tomorrow like my first day and you know, show him I’m capable.”

“That’s good. And you can come over again this weekend if you want. The storm should be gone by then. The girls want to go to the park. I know they’d love to hang out with you. If you don’t have plans of course.”

“You know I only ever have actual weekend plans when Jimin and Soomin visit me. But yes, I can take the trip on Saturday. If Jungkook wants me to do any work… screw him.”

Your mother laughs, only because she knows you don’t mean it. You know it, too. Regardless of how you think of your boss or your job, you know the value of your work, and you’re not one to sacrifice it for any reason. 

“Are you feeling better, darling?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “The rain’s stopped somehow. I needed to be here. And I… I needed to hear your voice.”

“Good. You know you can call whenever. I don’t have to summon you with photos of a roof or grilled makchang or something every time.”

“I know. And I will. I’ll see you soon.”

You drop the call and start walking back home. Talking with your mom is the strength you need to get through such a tough day. It doesn’t change your situation; maybe Jungkook will still be upset with you in the morning but you’ll handle it, just like you handled all the difficult times before. 

Your mother taught you something else - it was grace. You’d fight back if you need to, but you can always do it with gentleness; sometimes that works wonders, especially if you can’t afford to respond with rage. 

You’re quite nervous walking to Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning. 

Before he left last night, you were sporting glassy and swollen eyes, after all; it wouldn’t have taken much for him to know what you were up to by being away from your desk for half an hour. But you’d been too upset to think of what he would think about it, so you acted like it was nothing when you returned to your seat, took note of his instructions, and watched him walk out. No other words were spoken and quite frankly, you don’t know what either of you could have said after what transpired. It’s a new day, though, and like you told your mother, you’ll just focus on your work and try to get that old version of yourself back, the one you’d felt slipped away this past week.

You enter the front door - as he’d told you to just go in so you don’t disrupt his workout - and immediately hear the loud sounds of leather hitting leather. He seems to be aggressively punching the sandbag, with more evidence of it coming in the form of his deep and successive breaths that you can hear as you walk towards the kitchen. You stop on your tracks, though, as a pair of red laced underwear lays crumpled on the floor.

That definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning so it must’ve been from last night. You’re not one to judge; he did have a frustrating day that you caused and releasing all that stress in this way is understandable. You just wish he had the courtesy to clean up, knowing that his assistant would be coming but then again, you also don’t know if that’s too much to ask of him.

You don’t realize that you’ve been staring at the underwear until you hear him, his deep breaths in tandem with his steps. You walk towards the counter and set him a glass of water before he notices what’s got your attention, but he still does, as he stops at the spot where you were and lets out a grunt. 

From your periphery, you see him pick up the piece of lingerie then throw it in the trash. You turn to him and bow in greeting, and Jungkook merely nods, the slightest of head tilts to acknowledge your presence, seemingly avoiding your eyes, even as you ask what he prefers to eat this morning. You’d like to think that in the recesses of his bitter heart, there’s remorse over yesterday at least, if not over the past few days. But you’ll take it; his silence is better than anything at this moment. 

You follow him towards his bedroom, stopping briefly as you look around and make sure you’re not intruding. You’re unsure if the woman is still here, but he picks up on that.

“She’s gone,” he says, walking to his bathroom. “I never make them stay.”

It’s a part of his life that you’ve only heard of. The gossip that Do-hyun hears from the washrooms in the office may be true, considering his weeknight bang and the left-behind underwear on the kitchen floor. He still had some energy based on his morning workout though, and you don’t know why the thought of him fucking someone and then boxing in the morning is making you feel hot all over. 

You snap yourself out of it, knowing it’s inappropriate and definitely not what you should be worrying about. He’s a stressed, obviously attractive, and rich bachelor; you’re not surprised he’d have women at his beck-and-call and be nonchalant about it.

You walk inside his closet and choose the shoes and accessories he’ll wear today before heading back to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. He walks in 30 minutes later, and you approach him to fix his collar and his tie like you always do, now getting used to his natural scent with hints of jasmine and bergamot. Your eyes focus on the silk necktie, hoping you’re able to control your nervous breathing being this close to him. 

He may still be annoyed at you and you may be invading his space, and the realization makes you step away quickly, taking his plate from the counter and placing it on the dining table. You open your iPad and go through the presentation he asked you to do, surprised that he’s already added a few things.

“Is the presentation final, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. “I see you’ve already looked through it.”

“Sort of,” he responds. “I woke up at 5 and reviewed it before my workout. Let’s go over them now.”

He looks through his iPad as he eats, going over each slide with you as if he’s practicing. The more he speaks, the more you envision the Arts Center and how he wants it done. The way he puts together the ideas into a coherent design is impressive. You almost see it as he does, and much as you thoroughly dislike him right now, for the sake of all the good things that this center will do for people, you really want him to succeed. 

You remind him of a few more things before he finishes his meal, and it’s not long after when you’re in the car, the silence thickening the tension between the two of you once more. This continues until you reach the office, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the distance between the both of you now. 

While you do feel better, the anxiety remains. You don’t want to mess up. And as you enter his room to give him papers to sign and you see him going through his presentation while the leather notebook he was drawing on earlier lays open on the desk, you find yourself also just not wanting to disappoint him. He clearly works hard and despite his treatment of you, you want things to work out for him. 

It’s an hour later when you’re both walking towards the elevator to head to the conference room on the CEO’s floor. It’s just Jungkook with his father and cousin today where he’ll present the initial plans for their comments and their verbal endorsement of the draft budget. 

It’s a massive project that’s working within strict timelines and Jungkook is adamant on getting this ready by mid-next year. You can tell how much he wants to deliver this well - the board of directors would be his next audience and a boost of confidence would be much needed. 

You make him a cup of coffee the way he likes and sit next to him. The distance allows you to keep your eyes away from him; with the pressure he’s under, you don’t exactly want to be close to where you can easily trigger him. 

CEO Jeon and Hoseok arrive, greeting you with their bright smiles, a reprieve from the stoic looks and tight-lipped and furrowed brows you get from Jungkook everyday.

“Hi, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “A week has passed, huh? How has it been?”

“Challenging,” you say honestly, “but still good. I’m learning new things, Mr. Jeon.”

“That’s good,” he smiles, glancing at his son whose eyes are focused on his laptop. The elder seems unconvinced by your half smile but he nods, turning back to you. “By the way, I heard on the news that the typhoon hit your hometown pretty badly. How’s your mother and her family? Mr. Ri mentioned that there was an incident over the weekend. Is everything okay?”

You’re used to CEO Jeon asking things like this prior to meetings. He believes it’s a way to release certain feelings and not keep them hidden, and while you don’t really want to talk about it right now, you appreciate the concern. 

“She, uh. A large tree fell over our house last Saturday,” you say, to the surprise of both CEO and President. “I had to travel in the morning to help my mom. A portion of the roof was damaged and she had to call a company to fix it. Min-woo and the girls were away and mom didn’t want to deal with the workers since she was alone so I had to stay over the weekend.”

“That’s unfortunate,” the elder Jeon laments. “How is your house now? And your mom?”

“The roof is sealed. But she slipped on some debris and had to be assisted; she was being stubborn about it. She’s okay, though.”

“Ah, it must’ve been a tough few days. And for you, too,” Hoseok says. “I mean, given all the work and then having to be there for her. I’m sorry, ___.  But I’m glad she’s doing better. Tell her I send my regards, okay?”

“I will, thank you.”

Jungkook tries not to look affected as the older men ask you more details about what happened that he, of course, didn’t know about. There’s that guilt over how he treated you yesterday, learning now what you had to do over the weekend. You don’t seem the type to blame any oversight or mistake on something like that, but he would know that the tiredness and preoccupation could definitely affect things. Even more, he’d implied that you don’t work hard and that you’re being a burden to him, which is far from the truth. 

The conversation ends and he’s unable to look at you, as he stands from his seat to begin his presentation. Everything is set up, including a pointer and a marker and a glass of warm water on his side. He proceeds, presenting his design, the materials, the budget, and the timeline. 

You take note of all his answers to the questions and the ideas he comes up with on the spot, with him repeating things and stating how he wants certain points written down. You’re immersed in your own task, feeling like you’ve found your rhythm because you’ve done this so many times but the fear got ahead of you. This morning, it’s as if you’re in your element again, and there’s relief that fills you this time.  

The meeting is moved to a restaurant after the third hour. There’s an event that the CEO suggests that Jungkook’s team organize as a way to build linkages with the arts and culture networks, making sure that the younger Jeon becomes known in those fields as well. 

You have to go by memory as you listen and eat your meal, but the distance from Jungkook remains. You merely nod at his words and avoid looking at him unless you need to. It’s your way of getting over last night, you think. You still have his look of frustration etched in your mind and it’s still a bit fresh; you’d need at least another day before you can look at him normally again. You hope that other than Jungkook himself, no one notices. 

But you suppose you’ve underestimated Hoseok’s ability to pick up on your behavior; it’s one of his strengths as a leader, after all. He’s always been good at reading people, a skill that Jungkook clearly didn’t develop. 

“Hey.”

“Mr. Jung,” you greet, a wave of nostalgia hitting you because his smile is one you used to see everyday, regardless of how stressed he was. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, not really. It’s just been over a week but I’m still getting used to the bigger office and the new secretary but I just wanted to check in,” Hoseok says. “You and Jungkook have been very busy, I rarely catch either of you.”

“Well, he wanted to get all the introductions out of the way so he can focus on the Arts Center,” you reply. “There’s a lot happening with that one so he’s in meetings and calls all the time.”

“Ah, of course. It’s a good design and I’m sure it’ll boost the local arts scene. He got inspired during his travels in the Southeast Asia sites and has been talking about it for years. It’s good he has the freedom to work on this now.”

You merely nod, not having much to say about your boss’ passion project that’s just made him angry and frustrated. Quite frankly, you don’t know how he is when he isn’t working on such high-pressure matters, but you can already tell he isn’t someone you’d want to be around in any other context. 

“But how about you? Are you getting enough rest? All these meetings and then traveling home on the weekend is tiring, ___. I hope you’re looking out for your health.”

“I am,” you try to assure him. “I can handle it.”

You smile before shifting your eyes to your desktop screen, not wanting to look at him any longer because a second more and you’d probably burst into tears. Experiencing Hoseok’s kindness for these few minutes has just reminded you of what you constantly miss - that feeling of safety and care, of someone looking out for you and not holding you back. 

“I’m glad you are,” he smiles again, holding your gaze when you glance at him, and Hoseok hopes that in this short moment of calm, he’s able to give comfort that he just knows you need. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop by. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“I’ll see you, Hoseok.” And as if you knew why he came over in the first place, you add, “and thank you.”

Jungkook sighs in frustration as he watches your fading smile before returning to type away on your desktop. He was about to call you to ask for a project portfolio on the shelf but stopped once he saw you talking to his cousin. You seemed a tad bit lighter than usual; Jungkook could only assume it’s your natural state, even if all he’s seen of you is that of perpetual worry and stress. 

He thinks to himself that a part of that is because of him. Maybe a big part, he admits. He wouldn’t have known about your town in Daegu or that your mother resides there and that you had to go home over the weekend, hence, your oversight yesterday. He’s at least decent enough to acknowledge that he shouldn’t have been so harsh on you in the first place. He’s just not used to things not going his way; he wonders now what the people under him suffered through to make sure of that.

Not wanting to disturb you, he decides to get the portfolio himself, so he exits his room and leans on your desk, his eyebrows scrunched as he reads through the spine labels of the folders. He doesn’t notice you stand up and attempt to ask what he needs but he does find it, reaching over on the third shelf for it. 

“I could’ve gotten that for you,” you huff.

Jungkook spots a small pout as you utter the words, disarming him a little.

“It’s… it’s fine,” he mumbles, willing his mind to go back to what he was thinking about before you said something, which is the other project he wants to look at. 

But you pick up on his words. “Seongbuk, 2021,” you repeat. 

You look up and know exactly where the portfolio for that project is. You drag your stool with your foot and walk up the steps, carefully pulling out the folder and underestimating just how heavy it is. But before it can slip out of your fingers, Jungkook gets a hold of it, his right hand gripping the spine while his left palm supports your back. 

You stiffen when you realize just how close he is to you then step down the stool, somehow nervous to look at him.

“I, uh, sorry. You were about to fall.”

You stiffen again because he didn’t just apologize, did he? Your eyes are glued to the ground and you don’t see Jungkook’s surprised look.

Because he did just that. What felt more alarming than his apology was that it had been a reflex for him to have his hand behind you, his heart leaping a bit because you really were close to falling. An injured version of you isn’t something he wants to deal with, and he convinces himself that it’s because it would look absolutely terrible for his assistant to get hurt on the job, and especially in his presence. 

“Is that all you need, Mr. Jeon?”

“Uh, yes,” he responds. “Be, uh, be careful.”

He takes both folders and heads back to his room, his face buried in the pages as you sneak a glance at him from the window.

“So, how’s the second week as VP going?” Hoseok asks his cousin from across the table of their favorite Japanese restaurant during their Friday lunch. “Worse than the first?”

Jungkook, not keen on answering truthfully, merely shrugs. 

“Well, I can bet you though that ___ is definitely having it worse than last week.”

“Did she say anything? About me specifically?” Jungkook asks, his curious eyes telling Hoseok that it’s more of concern than anger. 

“Of course not. She’s there to protect you, Kook, not tell on you. Is there something to say? About you specifically?”

Jungkook knows how well his cousin can read people, especially him. They’d grown up together after all, and had gotten close because the older man always stayed next to him, knowing how shy little Jungkook used to be. So he narrates what happened - that he’d gotten angry, that he was being too strict, that he wasn’t leaving you room for adjustment. He’d of course excluded his own oversight and need to establish distance and authority, chalking it up to not having the familiarity and conveniences he’d been used to back in Singapore. 

“I feel like working with father even closer now, it’s like I’m under a microscope,” Jungkook continues. “I don’t wanna mess up. I just don’t wanna give him a reason to criticize or question me.”

“Well, if he learns about how it’s been with ___, he’ll do exactly those things,” Hoseok responds. “He cares about his people, you know? I’m sure that’s the one thing he wants you to do right.”

“Can’t say I’d know. It’s not like he’s any more compassionate than I am. We’re talking about a man who yells at the managers who can’t get things done right.”

“They were abusing their power, that’s why,” Hoseok explains. “And I’m not here to defend the man - I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger twice and saw how he’d push people to their near breaking point a few times but he’s not a terrible person. I’ve seen him be understanding and caring to his staff way more; you just haven’t been around that much.”

“It’s not what I saw growing up.”

“Well, we remember what we want, and forget the parts that don’t make sense to us.”

Jungkook stays silent as he munches on his steak.

“He wants to get closer to you, you know?” Hoseok continues. “He hopes that with you being around, he can mentor you, learn from you. All those years that you were home, you felt so far away from him, farther away than Jeong-sik who wasn’t even here, and he doesn’t know why.”

“He can’t expect to be a rich, ambitious businessman and be close to his son,” Jungkook huffs. “All he ever cared about when I was growing up was work. Sure, he had rare good moments, but we all know it was to compensate for always being too busy. He pressured me to do well at school then missed awarding ceremonies. He scheduled some family time then left me and my brother in some cabin in the woods by ourselves. He wants to work with me here then disallows my requests. What does he want from me?”

“Your time, I suppose. Maybe your understanding, too.”

“Did he give those to me when I was younger? He had so many chances these past 30 years and he wants those now?”

“People are complicated, Kook. Sometimes they lose sight of what’s important, of what’s in front of them… doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” Hoseok says. “And it doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a second chance. I mean, don’t we all want that? Don’t we all grow out of our bad habits and just yearn for something good?”

“Not everyone does that.”

“Maybe not, but your father has. And he just wants another chance. And whether or not it was her fault, I’m sure ___ wants that, too.”

“Did you really ask me to treat you to lunch only to advocate for the people I don’t really care much about?” Jungkook laughs bitterly. 

“No,” Hoseok chuckles. “I really wanted to try it here. But also, uncle took me out to drinks before you arrived and was all honest with me, which was a little weird but I guess he thought he could get some perspective from you through me. And ___ was my assistant and I think highly of her. It’s upsetting how things started for you both. I guess I just feel kind of caught in the middle between you and the people you actually care about. So yes, I deserve this free lunch.”

Jungkook doesn’t correct his cousin, more for the fact that Hoseok really does get caught in the middle - always has, even between him and his older brother whom Jungkook never really got along with; it definitely isn’t because he acknowledges that he cares about you. There’s no reason for him to feel that; you’re just his assistant, after all. 

Being beautiful and capable and hardworking doesn’t have anything to do with being cared about. 

“I… I admit being too hard on ___. I get that she’s good and stuff but maybe that fits with your leadership style more,” Jungkook tries to reason. “Maybe she just thrives in a team where she’s led by someone like you, someone who’s good with people and who’s process-oriented and I don’t know, someone who isn’t as tough or meticulous like me.”

“I’m sorry, Kook, but you sound stupid. You clearly don’t know anything about her. She’s experienced all the lows - the disrespect from the men, the abuse of power from the women, all the long hours and ridiculous deadlines, the loudest of yells and the craziest demands,” Hoseok exclaims. “She’s been here for just eight years but it feels more. Sometimes I don’t know why she stayed but I’m glad she did, selfishly, and that’s because she helped me so much. Are you… are you giving her reasons to leave so you can have Lucas with you?”

“No,” Jungkook dismisses the thought, although he does admit it entered his mind before he even started. “I’m just… not used to her. And the mishaps didn’t help. I just wanna be able to do my job and do it right.”

“And you will, if you just loosen up a bit and give her a chance to show you that she can help you. It’s just that I’m not seeing that same joy and energy in her eyes and her smile,” Hoseok explains. “I was thinking last Wednesday that maybe it was because of her mom but during the meeting this morning, it was the same. I’d hate to think that’s because of you. Because if it is and she’s thinking of resigning, I won’t stop her. I might even suggest it to her. “

The thought of you being gone causes a lump in Jungkook’s throat. It’s selfish, really, because despite how he treats you, he still wants you here. It’s just as silly, and stupid, and something he doesn’t have a clear reason for. But other than his cousin not trusting that he could treat you fairly, it’s the possibility that you might just quit yourself, something you seem to be capable and willing to do. And that voluntary departure is something he doesn’t want to deal with. Once you leave, you’ll just be gone; he won’t have a reason to seek you. 

“I’ll do better,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll stop being such a pain in the ass and be… kinder, I guess.”

“She’ll probably see right through you if you fake it,” Hoseok laughs. “Just be fair. Trust me, that’s what she’d want, too. Correct her if you need to, but do it constructively. And please, try to smile every once in a while. It won’t hurt you. Nor would it ruin whatever tough guy image you have.”

Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes but he lets out a chuckle. His cousin won’t ever let go of the fact that 18-year old Jungkook had his first tattoo because he wanted to look tough. 

“I still have to establish authority, Hoseok. I can’t do it like you do.”

“Well, you’re missing out. Smiling always makes you feel a hundred times better.”

“She’ll probably see right through me if I fake it,” Jungkook repeats his cousin’s words almost mockingly. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m not… cheerful. It’s like, how I’m compared to you.”

The two start walking back and Hoseok takes a jab at the younger man. “Actually, I heard that I’m the handsome one, too, and the stable guy, the family man, the man you’d take home to meet your parents…”

Jungkook laughs along. He agrees, and while it was not Hoseok’s intention at all, it does make Jungkook wonder even hours later - given all the things that characterize him, which are nothing like the older man’s - who would want him? Who would even take a chance on him? Who would even think it’s worth it to be with him?

Chaerin did, and then he self-sabotaged and lost her. Maybe the women he meets at clubs and takes home, but then all they want is a good time anyway, just like him. Maybe it’s someone he’s never met, but he also doesn't know how to be someone that someone else would love. 

Maybe there isn’t any. And maybe that isn’t so bad. Perhaps he’d have to start getting used to that fact; it’s easier than realizing he’s not meant to be with someone after all. 

He pauses the thought and decides that’s for the weekend version of him to lament over. This Friday afternoon, he’s focused on firming up the project details with the design and logistics teams. He’d just finished his meeting with them, with you barely looking his way just like you’ve done throughout the week - which he can’t fault you for because he was doing the same - and he’s back in his room to coordinate with other units. 

You, on the other hand, seem to be fixated on the quarterly reports that you’ll be handing over to him. It’s past 5 and he knows you’ll be staying up late again, given that he’d ordered you at the start of the week to finish the reviews by Friday. He’s given you too much to do, and after everything he’s done, letting you off early is a way for him to apologize without actually apologizing. 

He picks up the phone and calls you.

“How many reports do you have left to review?” He asks.

“Three more, Mr. Jeon,” you answer. “I’ll finish them tonight, please just give me another hour and a half.”

“Are you going home to see your mother tomorrow?” 

“Uh, yes, sir. I leave in the morning,” you say, curious at the question that you never thought he’d ask.

“You should clock out now, then.”

“Oh, but the reports, sir. I—”

“It’s okay,” he says, surprising you. “I’ll be busy with Arts Center details this weekend so I won’t have time to sign off on the reports anyway so you can continue them on Monday.”

You’re too shocked to speak that it doesn’t register that you’re indeed not saying anything.

“Ms. Cho?” Jungkook repeats your name.

“Oh, uh, yes, as long as it’s okay, Mr. Jeon.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

“That’s, uh, thank you,” you mumble, turning on your roller chair to retrieve your bag and start packing, only to look up and see through the window that Jungkook can see you right now, smiling like a giddy child. There’s this movie that’ll show on your favorite local channel and you’re glad that you’ll be able to catch it tonight. 

You’re unsure what Jungkook’s eaten to be dismissing you this early. Maybe it was the lunch he had with Hoseok earlier; maybe it was the older man knocking some sense into him. You don’t have the energy to think about it, given that you now also have time to cook yourself proper dinner and enjoy eating it while watching and curling under your comfy blanket on your tiny couch, just like how you used to enjoy your Fridays. 

You’ll deal with the unreviewed reports and Jungkook returning to his normal, grumpy self on Monday. Tonight is all about you, and the weekend version of you is about being with your mother, her partner, and your stepsisters. There’s nothing like being with the people who make you feel safe; you’ll deal with the stress when a new week rolls by.

Jungkook watches you excitedly leave your desk. He can’t imagine the relief you’re feeling of being relieved this early and then spending your Friday evening the way you want, however that is. He lets himself wonder for a bit how you would spend time by yourself. Yoongi did say your friends aren’t in Seoul and your family obviously isn’t.

But then again, maybe you do have a partner, and maybe that’s why you looked as happy as you did. He’s not quite sure what to do with the slight distress at the thought, but with the absurdity of the amount of times he thinks about you, he decides it shouldn’t matter anyway. 

He has his own plans, too, like watching sports over bottles of beer that night, and then playing video games the next day before going to a bar with Seokjin and Taehyung. 

That Sunday, he works all morning then works out in the afternoon. In the evening, he decides to meet his friends again. 

Entering the club, he spots the table where they are - Seokjin has his arm around a woman and his lips glued to her ear; he pulls her closer as she laughs at his words. Taehyung has one next to him, too; they’re engaged in some serious conversation, it seems, given how passionately they’re talking to each other. That is, until his hand slides inside her dress; maybe it wasn’t that deep. 

Jungkook doesn’t know how his friends can converse with the women they find in these places. Given, Seokjin tends to stick to the same one for months and Taehyung is just naturally flirty and friendly so maybe it’s not that hard. 

For Jungkook, it’s just not something he’s able to fully or even properly do. What does he say? He’d brag about his work and his lifestyle if he was the type, but he isn’t, and there’s nothing else about him that he’d like to share. He’s always straightforward when it comes to these things. He’s picky; he does have a type, after all, but he always knows what they want and so do they. 

So when he spots a woman by the bar - the one who’d bought him a drink last night - he just smirks as she takes her shot and bites her lips when she catches him looking. 

“Hey, I finally caught you sober,” she giggles in his ears after she meets him halfway. 

“And I finally caught you without a man next to you,” he whispers. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah, he was just my plaything last night,” she responds. “I could be yours.”

Jungkook chuckles, enjoying her bluntness. He takes her hand and waves at his friends; they already know he’s taking off and they won’t hear from him for the rest of the night. 

It’s the way most of his evenings go anyway, whether he’s here or in Singapore or elsewhere, really. 

Jungkook likes the thrill, he likes the shallow intimacy he gets from the feelings of ecstasy and carnal desire. He likes that he doesn’t have to share anything about himself apart from his name so they could scream it, likes that there’s nothing about the other person to uncover, and that there’s nothing about himself he has to be honest about. He likes that he’ll remember the pleasure until the next day but nothing else - not her breathing, not her gentle touches on his chest, not her soft whispers of his name. 

There’s nothing much about her he’ll care for other than that she had a good time. And there’s nothing about tonight he’ll regret, except not making sure that she left his apartment like he always asks them to do.

Because it’s Monday morning, and there’s that woman wearing his coat and nothing else. 

And then there’s you, dressed in your skirt and blouse in his living room, with a look of shock on your pretty face. 

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook series #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #boss jungkook

[taegularities]

colour me in: translucent | jjk (m)

Summary: And whenever the world seems to fall apart and your thoughts cast a shadow over your heart, he rushes to lift you to your feet. Conjoining your hearts and souls, again and again and again.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; some healthy angst, so much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: y’all. So. Much. Fluff, talk about stars, talk about his hometown, mention of a wedding 😁, 1 nara mention, a guest appearance!!, and another guest appearance…, daddy issues mention, oc has a tummy ache :(, banter, conversation with her mom, badass oc, their friends <3, moving and work stress, overworking, kook panics in this one, oc does too, tears and tears and tea–, abandonment issues, overthinking!!!, they communicate too late bc they’re scared, pregnancy scare, mention of throwing up, kissing and hand holding <3, petnames, insecurities/slight envy; explicit sexual content: diving right into the smut as the chapter starts 🤭, tie around oc’s neck ha ha, oral (f. receiving) (over panties and without 🥲), fingering, brief masturbation (m.), making out, jk takes the backseat and oc drives for a while <3, bit of choking, they’re half clothed for a bit, tiddie and butt love, tears, flirting, big dick jk, soft dom jk, emotions omg 😷, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, he unloads in her mouth 😄, and yeah, maybe more but i forgot – lmk if you notice smth! also… THE 👏 EN 👏 DING 🚨🚨🚨 ➳ word count: 35.8k 💀  ➳ a/n: here it is… after a long ass fight with tumblr and my tears, it’s here! i don’t have much to say this time except that this chapter means the world to me. and i hope you love it just as much. shoutout to @missgeniality for betaing parts of this and helping me with difficult scenes, i truly struggled!! <3 if you guys enjoy this one, let me know and don’t be shy to reach out!! love you and let’s dive in 🥺 ➳ listen to: say you won't let go by james arthur | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs | DC SERVER

The whispers cease the moment your door closes.

The whispers of the world, of all traffic, of all passersby, of all echoes. And those in your head, susurrating since you left the glass building and its conference hall.

They dim the moment you drop your palm off the door; your heart is still a nervous mess as you take your shoes off, watch him take his shoes off. He places them neatly in the shoe cabinet, jacket hung on one of the coat hooks.

Right here, you’re surrounded by a tranquil, quiet dome. Not as subdued as the emotions the outer world elicits; just an arena that feels perpetually warm, sepia and still.

And amidst that warmth, there’s yearning. You feel it in every nerve of your body, burning through your limbs. Stunning sentiments pull at your soul, making it heavy; and your heart floats, perpetually above the clouds.

As he rubs his cheek with a soft hand — you know, because you were holding it just two minutes ago, clutching it in the car for dear life —, you take a step forward, your mouth open, but not quite capable of saying all that’s weighing on your tongue.

They’re good things; amazing things. And he hasn’t yet gathered all his thoughts either to truly voice what he’s been hiding since you left the chaos. Only opting for the living room, painfully slowly, as if he’s waiting to face you again.

And maybe… maybe he really is. And maybe he doesn’t need to talk at all.

Because he stops the moment you speak, tenderly calling, “Jungkook.”

It’s all he needs. Combined with the lightest touch to his elbow, a hint of your voice is all he needs. He wants to keep hearing his name. Again and again and again. And today, announcing it to the world, you promised that you’ll be doing just that.

Shit. What have you done to his heart? He wants to ask questions that neither of you has an answer to; or, not one that can be verbalised. One that could explain this euphoria.

So he doesn’t say anything at all.

Instead, he stumbles as he turns back to you again, taking a deep breath before his head tilts. The unbounded amount of want is swimming in his tired eyes, and you barely manage a hushed, “Should we—” before his fingers flutter and he—

Dashes straight toward you. One large step, both hands jacking up to take your face captive. He raises your head, eyes closing, mouth parting an inch before it’s locked with yours.

If he hadn’t started, you would have.

The same thumb always caressing your skin pulls your lower lip down. An unfaltering habit, tender whenever he spirals. You trip backwards, with him in tow, immediately gripping his arms with a wild, accelerating heartbeat.

Your soul was already awake, lit up from today’s events; but he dunks it in a brighter shine — and now it flushes pink.

For a while, your kiss’ sounds are all that echo off the wall, mixing with your sighs. He starts gently, head angled, diving deeper.

Every now and then, he tugs at your lip ever-so-slightly, teeth and tongue dragging over it. The wet muscle is soft against yours, and you let your touch drop down to his waist to hold him closer.

But there’s not that much time to dissolve into him right here, against your entrance door, because Jungkook backs away before you can bid your sanity adieu. Maybe that’s for later.

Maybe you need to be okay with his breath grazing your skin for now, for the words he murmurs so close to your lips, “You’re crazy for this. Absolutely crazy.”

You are. Both okay with this, and incredibly crazy.

There’s never been more certainty in your actions or your intentions than whatever you do with him. For him — if that deems you crazy, then you absolutely are.

Heated from the kiss, Jungkook steps away, but not without entangling your fingers with his. On the way to the bedroom, you ignore everything that doesn’t entail him.

Like, the humming of the fridge. Or the sound of the traffic outside, audible through the tilted window. And the buzzing of your phone; it’s been doing that for a while now.

Of course it is.

But you don’t hesitate to deposit it on your bedside table mere seconds later; you barely manage to put it there, nearly watching it slide down as Jungkook pulls you back. You clash against his body, and the tongue once again mingling with yours only enhances your disorientation.

God, you’re a lost cause. Nothing else to expect with his palm holding your jaw, arm slung around you, kissing you senseless.

Time slows down; the sensation turns electric. His motions are rhythmic, fingers brushing your neck. And despite the bitterness he must have felt at the conference, he tastes so , so sweet.

Heady desire growing, you grip the back of his head, pushing it closer. You’re insatiable. Yearning for more of his damp, soft lips, hysterical when he lets out a craving, small moan.

“Do you have any idea,” he starts, giving your neck no more than a handful of teasing pecks, “what that did to me?”

He moves back until you plummet into the mattress; your eyes follow when he leans in and falls to his knees. Placing a hand at the nape of your neck, tenderly moving your face a bit closer to his.

“Without a warning, too,” he continues, “what, were you planning to drive me mad for so long?”

Not the angry kind of mad. His smile and the fondness in his eyes reveal that much. No — the mad that a lover is.

“Did it work?” you ask, and he flashes his teeth, beloved crinkles around his eyes.

“Did it? What do you think?” He kisses your nose; then, the apple of your cheek. “You didn’t notice any of it today? Or any other time before that?”

“I wanted to… I want everyone to know. I was going to tell you when you came home, but… I wanted to say it in front of everybody. That,” you touch the collar of his blazer, rubbing it between your fingertips, “I’m done with their games. I don’t care anymore, Jungkook.”

“I know… You don’t care.” His hand leaves the nape of your neck, caressing your face. “But you care about me, yes? You care so much.”

It’s not really a question. It’s a statement, a reassurance to himself. A mantra, as if he needs to repeat it and let it reverberate in his mind until he’s grasped its meaning.

“I do,” you whisper, peeling the blazer off his shoulder by only a few inches, “and I want to stay. Can I… just stay here?”

“You’re crazy,” he echoes once more, emphasising his words with a shake of his head, “to think I’ll let you go again. You’ll see.”

Although he still establishes a brief, temporary distance between the two of you right after; you’re reluctant to stop feeling his warmth when he stands. He towers over you, and you muster utmost courage to not faint.

Because the sight is one to behold.

How he removes the blazer in a swift movement, discarding it on top of the table at the wall. He rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, but only one side, glancing at you throughout the ordeal.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask.

“Why is your mouth open like that?”

“Do this exactly in front of a mirror, and… and you’ll know why.”

He smirks. “Right. And stare at yourself in the mirror for longer than a second, and you’ll know why, too.”

God, this guy…

And he actually doesn’t stop.

His pupils keep wandering; to your eyes, to your lips, to your heaving chest. To how you close your legs when he loosens his tie with tattooed fingers, lettered knuckles on full display. He opens a single button of his dress shirt; enough to reveal a patch of golden skin.

The tie dangles off his neck, doing wonders to your mind, and you resist the urge to grab it and pull him down to you. But you don’t need to; you only get to cherish the sight for another second.

Because right after, he pulls it over his head, baring the highly kissable mole on his neck before—

“What are you doing?” you wonder, eyes wide, and probably filled with anticipation as he puts the tie around your neck. “I’m…”

“Looks a lot better on you.”

One more shake of his head. You subtly catch a jerk behind his pants, and your gaze drops instantly. Behind the dark slacks, he’s already waiting for you, and the thought leaves you frothing at the mouth.

“You’re not looking bad yourself…” you say, drifting off, barely looking into his face as your hand reaches out. “May I?”

“What, baby?”

“Just…” 

You move forward, a palm to his thigh, and close your eyes before placing a kiss to the growing bulge. It twitches under your lips, and you drag your mouth lightly over his dick’s outline.

“Should’ve known,” Jungkook breathes, affected straight away, “but somehow, this is worse than your hand.”

“Really?”

He clicks his tongue when you do it again, unfazed by the layer between you as you give his clothed cock an open-mouthed kiss. Two of his fingers settle underneath your chin, and he raises your head in order to meet your gaze.

Then, he pushes you back a little, within a second back to one knee; then the other. He cocks an eyebrow as if to reprimand you, but then gulps down a chuckle as he says, “Really. But wait a bit more.”

You need to wait, because he prioritises your pleasure. One demand you’re ready to give into.

So, so prepared, when he asks politely, “Open your slacks?” You do. The way he drags his hands over your thigh and up to your hips, starting to discard your pants, is arguably less polite. “Here we go. Raise your ass.”

You help him out as best as you can. But he attaches his lips to your naked thigh the moment it comes into view, scattering kisses over your hot skin as he casts it off of you entirely.

You raise your feet a bit above the ground, and he uses the moment to separate your legs. Doesn’t even bother taking off your panties first; casually making himself at home between your limbs.

Light-headed, you open your eyelids halfway to glance at the blurry ceiling light; you never noticed when you closed them. Maybe when the sweetness spread over your thighs’ skin.

Maybe he’s as dizzy as you — only, when your whirling stare descends to his face, he’s smirking. And for a second, you don’t understand why. Puzzled, you keep looking, observing the tempting lick over his lips; the deep exhale; the barely-there blinking.

And then he says, “Never thought about it. But you should wear light-coloured panties more often.”

“…Why?”

But you soon get why.

Because you feel the arousal behind the fabric. How it glues your pussy to it, the damp spot probably growing. It’s visible — that’s what he’s liking so much.

He can see all of the desire you harbour for him, showcased so blatantly. And despite the embarrassment, watching his face flush in that rosy dust boosts your ego, too.

Your face burns.

“You’ve been like that for…” he starts, shrugging his shoulders in curiosity, “how long now?”

“Long enough. And I dare you to do something about it.”

Because fuck, he talks too much. In hindsight, only really when you need him to shut up; deliberately.

“Oh god,” he exclaims, dramatic as ever; as he raises a hand, you nearly think he’ll place it on his chest for further effect, but he only touches your knee, “now if you’re daring me, I’ll have to.”

“Mhm. I’m sure you’re not a sore lo—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’s a rude interruption, and the sudden push of his fingertip against your clit is ruder. It’s a momentary touch, fleeting, as opposed to the slow and calculated way that he buries his face in your panties. Eyes glued to yours for a moment.

And then…

Then, you relish the first taste of Heaven — as does he, you suppose.

Because the satisfied sigh is outrageous, hot against your covered folds. He licks over the damp stain, only the tip of his tongue; thoroughly salivated, because you feel the wetness seeping through the clothing.

There’s no moment between the start of his action and your immediate, ”Fuck.”

And to him, your reaction sets just the tone for a woozy night to come. He nods between your legs, gelled back strands tickling, hums so sweetly. You adjust on your seat, though the subtle change affects nothing; only drives you wilder as you shift deeper into his face.

His tongue is painting circles over your clit. Drawing out sensations, and you don’t understand how… there’s underwear between him and you. A barrier, aching to be removed, so how is he doing this, howishedoingit—

“No! Oh god—”

You can’t decipher why you voiced the rejection; you don’t want him to leave. Frustrated when he does, mouth open, waiting for you to speak up until you do, “Sorry. Sorry, I don’t fucking know…”

“Babe…” He shakes his head… He’s doing so much of this today. But one of the loose strands keeps moving so gorgeously over his forehead, so if it was up to you, he could keep doing it. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry…”

“Nah.” He says it when you press your lips together, hot and bothered as he licks another stripe along your cunt. “Didn’t mean it that way. Open that pretty mouth. Do scream, yeah?”

You could melt into the ground. Or into the sheets; he always knows what to say. No matter what the situation. A verbal monster once, a graceful poet another time.

They say, get you a man who can do both. But he can do all million things known to humankind and the book of romance.

His mouth works deeper into where you ache. Tongue action expanded, he returns to the panties, seeking one of your nether lips to tease it, pull at it. He’s ruining your garment, making it stick to your pussy.

Pries your legs open when he comes back to the clit, and then drops down to the overflowing sex again. The sensual gestures are toying with your nerves, and you still can’t figure out how. Leaves you waiting, yearning, craving the lack of a blockade in between.

And once the uncomfortable, wet cotton of your panties rubs against the inside of your folds, you finally speak up, “Why are you—”

“Sorry,” he interjects, aware of his bestiality. You see it in his stupid wicked smile. “I know. This is just…” Big eyes stare back down, albeit hazier than before; his finger touches the drenched patch for a second. “So good to look at.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Of course.”

Shit, he’s so cheeky. If you had the strength, you’d wipe that bubbly smile off his face; not good for your heart. Would smooch it away. But fret not — you’ll get your chance, too.

For now, you need to grant him this win. Not least of all, because it feels so good for you, too.

So you don’t defy him when he suddenly moves in more. Hooks a finger into your panties and slides them aside, letting them snap back against the juncture between your pussy and leg. And then, you guess the actual fun starts.

Because he throws one carnal look at you before his arms wander under your legs. You can barely gather your thoughts before he digs in again, properly this time. Lips directly attaching to your skin, he starts diligent work on soiling your body.

And god, does he do it well…

So experienced. Aware. Studied you and your body well enough — because the agonisingly slow tease isn’t random. He knows how much you hate it; knows how much you love it.

How it builds anticipation, and how it grows your desire.

He’s a little fuck, but maybe that’s why he never fails to break you this hard. You know he’s enjoying this — delighted when your eyebrows furrow, close to weeping as he breathes against your pussy.

Even though a man starved, he takes his time. For a second. Then another. And then parts your folds with his fingers, whispering, “Would you say that’s better?”

Like he’s at some meeting. Goddamn.

You blink, responding, “I don’t know. Better than the panties, worse than…” His finger slips in mid-speech, just halfway through when you manage a breathy, “this.”

“I… Shit, you’re… hot as fuck.”

Right.

Even you’re turned on by how your head tips back again, eyes rolling inward when he diminishes the distance and kisses your cunt. Nobody else is going to raise your confidence like he does.

“Mmmh,” he voices as the make out session intensifies, smacking noises sounding from below. He lifts his lips by a mere inch, only to mumble, “So hot. So fucking good.”

And that’s it — back to business.

“Nnnghkook…”

The arms he dropped under your legs sling around them, hooking in, and somehow, he’s able to reach to your back like that. Raises your legs in the process, pulling you in. Deeper in your heat, big button nose against your pelvis.

Your right hand attempts to grip his hair before you threaten to fall backwards, failing miserably. You immediately place both your palms back on the bed, because you doubt you can trust that damned left arm to hold you upright — quivering like this.

The tip of your tongue touches the arch of your upper lip, and then you tilt your head, warning him, “Fuck… if you don’t fuck my brains out today, Jungkook…”

Brains? Plural? Acting as though even one’s present in your head right now.

Jungkook chuckles, licking you dry; the little sound combined with the sinful ordeal is a delightful one. Contrary, but gifting the moment some reality. Some tenderness. You’re having fun.

He stops to throw the escaping strands back again — all in vain, of course — and brings his hand to your ass, moving you over the bed until you’re off the edge. You yelp, close to falling, but he holds you carefully.

Ass half dangling, he throws your legs over broad shoulders, kissing your thigh before he promises, “Don’t worry at all. Won’t leave a single thought in either of our heads.”

You wince when he bites the flesh of your leg, and then proceeds to advance his soft lips to the tender ache. He collects saliva on his tongue, probably ready to dive in again; moves in at least, tickling your pelvis with his breath.

His nose takes a deep breath, inhaling you, dizzy from your scent. And his thumb — it floats over your clit, preparing for more insanity. But when the position elicits some discomfort, you say, “Put me on the bed. Can I… bed properly.”

Fragments of sentences. They make him smile.

“Sure,” he says rather calmly; you’re anything but.

It’s not normal. Watching a guy like Jeon Jungkook push his hair back with his jaw on full display; tongue darting out.

He signals his approval once more as he pats your thigh, and you make quick work at weakly turning around and crawling onto the bed. You’re still trembling as you get on all fours, very conscious of what you’re doing.

Casually, you say, “I’ll get the lube, too.”

Of course you know what might follow. What will follow. He never stops raving, daydreaming, bragging about your ass — walking past you in the kitchen, just to grapple a handful and to innocently claim, “What? I love your butt.”

But before he strikes this time, you’re only barely able to grab the lube out of the drawer, placing it next to the pillow instead of handing it back to him. Because… because before you know it—

There’s already a finger to your pussy.

“Shit,” you curse, “you and your impatience.”

“Do you want me to wait?” he asks, as purely as the butt-love-statements as his touch retracts. Mellow voice; only a flutter of his lashes is missing, really. “I can wait.”

No, he can’t. Liar.

“No,” you repeat, readily letting your upper body fall. You bring your fingertips back to your ass, tracing it down until met with your arousal. “Don’t do this to me now.”

You know his answer before he utters it, “Don’t you do this to me now.” You hear a click of his tongue; a poised beam plays around your lips. “Alright. But.”

He snatches your legs from under your body until you’re flat on your tummy; you grunt just a bit. Not expecting the soft, little, “Do tell me if I do too much.”

As if…

He knows his limits. But the constant, caring pleads still always grip your heart; so you nod.

“Okay.”

Simultaneous with a fond slap, that word is the last verbal sign of his presence that you receive for a while. Whatever follows is a pure testing of limitations; of jumbling up your senses.

Because the moment Jungkook lifts your ass to his face, his tongue is already out. Experimental at first, of course, patient. He takes a second for languid kisses and soft necking, fingers exploring the inside of your thigh as if to soothe your restlessness.

And it helps. Your limbs shake a bit less, your mind focused on where his touches go. Fingertips near your folds. Lips kissing around your pussy. Then, repeating the same brush of his hands as before, but on your other leg, moving inward. 

Despite the first taste he already got, he’s suddenly changed his tactic; and you’re greedy. Mewling in tiny, quiet sounds, barely realising that they’re coming out of you. You repeat his name over and over, but it never quite tumbles out in its entirety.

So you keep it at moaning, eyes closed, so infinitely relaxed.

He moves back, gently asking, “All good?”

“So far… do more, please.”

It’s what he always waits for. You know. Jungkook has a fetish for your pleas, and the tiniest fragment of your beseeching voice is usually enough for him.

Like now.

Encouraged, he pushes your shirt up to your tits, halting right under them. He touches your naked stomach, brushing your belly button, grazing a palm over your lower back and straight to your ass.

The tongue ghosting around your sex finally dares a step forward. Gets a little taste of what’s to come. Circles around your folds, then to your nub; spit gathered on the tip, never too hard, oh-so-mildly — and maybe that’s what makes it even worse.

The lack of any force. How pleasant it feels. And you let him know — respond with a desperate, unheard sound, goosebumps sprawling over your skin.

Jungkook discerns it as a signal to go on; to do more. His nose buries between your ass, pushing his tongue in a little further, alternating between licking and kissing and collecting spit. Your lust shoots to the sky; you twist and move, but he holds you in place with a single hand.

And when he disappears, you regret it immediately. You hear him say, “Hey, hey… Don’t you want me to fuck your brains out, sweetheart? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Mmhyes, yes, please.”

“…Then stop moving.” His nails are harsh against your waist, and you whimper. “The more you behave now,” he leaves a kiss on your butt, loosening his grip around your waist, “the harder I’ll go later.”

“…Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.”

He chuckles. What an ass; leaving you physically and mentally covetting, and then enjoying your reactions.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks, biting a little, stroking your hips, holding onto your ass cheeks.

“Mhm.” It’s all you can voice at this point. You don’t have any power over your body; can’t lift it off the mattress. “Love it.”

“Perfect.”

And then, everything seems to happen faster.

Arousal and orgasm have already built from his advances, and he gives you the rest when he starts drawing circles around your pussy again. Heightens your senses, slurps and drinks you up. Every single time it feels like he’s learned something new; you swoon at the attention to detail.

What might he be looking like right now?

Perhaps he’s biting his lip. Maybe his eyebrows are furrowed, usually tell-tale signs of either him enjoying his meal or him enjoying his meal.

“Shit,” you mumble, but you don’t think he hears it — too busy sucking at your folds, adding a finger to the mix.

Sometimes, the licks are generous, wide-tongued; sometimes, he focuses on each part individually. The insides, the clit; how you sound, how you wind.

There’s truly an utter craze you feel for this man; no matter which hazy or soft or delicate situation, he fits you like a missing puzzle piece. Like a match made in Heaven. Knows what he’s doing.

Because he knows you. Because he studies you. Observes you.

Sex is only one instance of his attentiveness.

And perhaps that’s the whipped thought that pushes you over the edge eventually. Maybe that’s why the moment passes so quickly and explosions blind you all of a sudden. Why your face glows so hot, sweat collecting over your upper lip.

It must be.

Because as he stimulates you for another minute, your sensitive cunt submits, the knot in your lower stomach unwinding. He unties it fully, eliciting a stirring feeling that makes your pussy flutter.

“Holy shit…”

You only register your voice when the peeping in your ear stops. Your voice is still damped, the world around you vanishing a bit; except for him. Always except for him.

And.

You also notice that your fingers are hurting. Did you dig them into the sheets too hard? Tug too hard? You don’t know… but their pads are almost numb.

Jungkook’s mouth is still there, though lighter now, and his finger is slightly slapping your cunt, encouraging you to keep letting go. Catching you on his tongue.

And then… it’s over. You remain quiet.

You’ll be a mess for the foreseeable future; or at least, the upcoming one or two minutes. Your back and neck are already covered in a sheen of sweat; it’s so unbearably hot, as opposed to the recklessly approaching cold outside.

Remaining like this, you let him kiss your body through your orgasm, delicately soothing the pain his fingers caused across your ass. Hovering above the small of your back, he asks, “Can you move?”

“Not yet. But…” You scan the spot next to the pillow until you find the lube, throwing it back to him at last. “I can watch.”

No objection. So you turn around.

When you finally meet his gaze again, having started missing it, he’s already unbuckling his pants. Right there, towering above you, looking directly at you. Jaw chiselled, lips swollen.

You decide to spur him on; bring the tie between your covered tits before gentle fingers grasp them deftly. Rolling your digits around their outline before squeezing them. There’s an instant reaction: The hard bite of his lip, the rushed discarding of his clothes.

And fuck, he’s beautiful. So pretty how he despairs bit by bit, only letting his pants make it to his knees before his cock has sprung out. A true monster, bloodshot like this, further growing as it twitches and jerks… blue veins wanting to be licked.

But it’s lube-day, and neither of you can wait.

So you let him make a fist around his thickness, stroking it and momentarily letting out a groan. His chest seems to deflate, shoulders dropping as he jerks himself off once more, squirts some lube into his palm, and returns to his intentions.

“Good,” you praise, watching his cheeks grow rosier, “wish you could go all out.”

“I can’t.”

You know. You know, because he’s storing all his patience for what’s to come. With and for you.

Breath stagnating, you watch a drop of sweat trail down between his tanned pecs and then into his shirt; fabric sticking to his skin. He doesn’t notice it, dazy as hell, wiping his tip clear of the precum. Every damn time you’re in disbelief when his cock grows in size, firmer and rock hard.

So many veins adorning it as it rises to his belly button; you’re sure you’ll feel them against your walls, too. You get on wobbly knees, hair already a mess, both of you still in your soaked white dress shirts.

Jungkook’s mane is falling apart much as yours, messier now, but soaking him in so much more sex appeal. There are no boundaries to his beauty; it transcends your understanding.

Enough of watching, you mentally capitulate a minute later. Too many moans and clipped vocals fill the room, whiny once, deep later; so you float up once your body allows, targeting his cock straight-forwardly.

You only deliver one surprise kiss, helping him out as you drag your tongue along the tiny slit. He reacts, caught off guard, voicing, “Oh—”

But against his possible expectations, you don’t continue. Instead, you drag your hand along his cock only twice — up and down, feeling the smooth skin, the slippery lube, the hardness underneath.

And then, you order, “Sit. Please.”

“What?”

“Here,” you point to the headboard, on your knees, kissing his sides and up his chest until you reach the open button. “Sit down for me.”

He pauses. Waits for a moment, touching your cheek when your face aligns with his. And when you keep your begging, soft gaze intact, he huffs out a broken laugh, and states, “Not sure if I can trust you to not kill me. But…” A kiss to your left eyebrow. “Anything for you.”

And whatever happens next, passes by fast.

How he obliges, dick dangling in front of his body, waiting for ruin. How he hisses a little when the sweat-drenched back touches the cold headboard. And how you adjust your body, soon sitting in reverse, facing the closet.

Floating over his cock, straddling him, spreading your pussy with your fingers. He stutters behind you, grasping for words, but silences when you move and wiggle your ass a little, only dropping a few inches until your cock can prod your entrance.

And that’s all you do. Multiple times. Practising restraint, focusing on the closet, blinking rapidly. Perhaps you’re more patient this time, because from behind, you hear another sharp hiss, and then a somewhat agitated, but endlessly turned on, “The hell are you doing to me?”

“Nothing,” you promise; the jest costs you all your energy, “what are you talking about?”

“You’re so funny, aren’t you?”

His words are accentuated by sudden grabs of your ass. One or two pinches. You should’ve known. But despite his impatience, he never forces you down onto his cock. Lets you do.

“I’m not trying to be,” you argue, aligning yourself with him gradually. Preparing yourself mentally and physically. Leaking to no end. “You’re just delusional.”

“Must be. Too good to be real.”

If you had it in you, you’d laugh. But the approaching sins and the image of his affected expressions fog your brain. Your body burns, your lower tummy tenses; your muscles feel heavy as you loom over him, and you only endure another moment.

Because soon enough, your thirst overpowers every other thought; the weight of your desire drags your body down, thankful that he’s keeping his cock upright. And then, just like that… so easily, no resistance detected, you slide down.

His tip splits you open first, eliciting an immediate sensation. New every freaking time; like the craze he fucks your mind into space with wipes your memory each time.

“Hnnngh, this is just…”

Whatever it is, there’s no word yet invented for it. So you give up right away, squinting your eye shut until you see dots and forms, breath stuck in your throat. The lack of regular inhales muddles your mind, and you feel further heat rise to your cheeks.

“Go— slow,” he pants behind you.

Of course he’s not all the way in yet. No matter how much it feels like it; you could keep going and going. Hard and monstrous, burying inside you, no end in sight.

The filling feeling catches you off guard each time; the way he leaves no room inside, causing butterflies in your stomach, wandering straight to your pussy. A ridiculously perfect phenomenon, like a key to its lock.

God. You’re overspilling.

As soon as he’s bottomed out, you relish the feeling of his skin against your ass for a moment, registering how his fingers sneak to your flesh slowly. And then, you angle your body forward, clutching the sheets before you start moving.

You keep your pace slow. Put all your intention on delicate motions, all the way up with a whimper, and then slamming back down with a gasp. The farther you go, the wetter you get. Until you’ve probably left a shimmering liquid all over his cock, gliding too damn easily.

“That’s… that’s new,” Jungkook mutters. At least that’s what you think you hear. “Gotta do it again.”

And you’re not even done with this time. But you understand — oh, you fucking understand. There’s something about not yet seeing his face but imagining all of it. How fucked out he must look. How red the apples of his cheeks must be. How sweaty his hairline is.

You grip the sheets tighter, legs closer to his, head between your shoulders. All you manage between the heavy breathing is a high-pitched, ”Jungkook—”

“Yes. Yeah, baby. This is…”

“I know. I know, keep talking.”

Which is an unfair command. He can think as much as you; you can barely comprehend letters, even less put them into actual words. But somehow, he still mutters whatever nonsense he can think of.

“Gotta do it again,” he repeats as you fasten your pace.

“Why always play such an angel, huh?” he asks as you moan and whine.

“When you’re a… a fucking demon. Literally,” he declares when you blow out breaths, letting out a crying sound.

He feels glorious inside you. Solid and gorgeous. He holds your ass cheeks in a tight grip, the strength nearly bruising when you let a hand wander back between your legs, grazing his firm balls.

When you turn around to check briefly, slowing your motions, he looks up, meets your eyes. Apparently, he wasn’t gazing at you directly at all; and you imagine there wasn’t much to see other than a bouncing mane anyway.

What he’s actually so distracted by must be…

“How’s it… it look?” you ask, circling your hips, feeling every vein, as predicted.

“It looks…”

Must be art.

Combined with his love for your ass, he must be enjoying the view; at least judging from the constant kneading and spreading. Allowing a direct, front-seat show of his cock appearing out of you, disappearing inside of you.

Glistening. Sucking him in. It must…

“Looks so fuck—ing insane from where I sit.”

The swear word is interrupted by a millisecond, breathy as hell. Allows a glimpse into how delirious he might already be, possibly faring worse than you. Impatient, seeking more.

And you do know your Jeon Jungkook well.

Because not even another breath later, his body that slid down halfway, bolts up. You feel the shift clearly; it pulls you backwards along with him. Only, you realise the movement isn’t the only source straightening you so fast.

First and foremost, it’s the freaking hand. Covered in letters and more ink, tugging at the dangling tie and following it up to the slowly unravelling knot before… abruptly snaking around your neck. Fingers right under your jaw, lifting your head.

He tugs you in until your back collides with his chest, and to your chagrin, you notice that neither of you has gotten rid of those stupid dress shirts. You won’t be able to wear them again without drifting to this memory…

Sleeve open, he wraps his arm around your body, just under your tits, and whispers, “Why… drive me mad like this?”

“H–huh?”

“So far away. Weren’t you ffffu—” The messy zero you’re drawing with your hips interrupts his string of thoughts, and he spends a second finding it again before he finishes, “Weren’t you far away long enough?”

Shit…

This isn’t just an affair. This isn’t temporary. Your brain still can’t quite understand that you’ve actually occupied this man’s heart.

That your gestures and touches aren’t a fleeting dream, but blissfully real. That you’re his, and that he’s yours.

He’s right. You were far away for too long.

So you sneak your arm back, around the back of his neck and pull him closer by his hair. His lips brush your cheek and then retreat to your ear. Nibbling for a moment. Kissing it.

You don’t know what to focus on — on the way his teeth light up your nerves, or the way his hand moves down your shirt and bra, and up your body. Soon taking your tits captive, squeezing hard, pinching your nipples.

“Move a bit,” he orders, though you don’t really have to.

His hand remains on your neck, so he pulls you forward; guess he’s sick of the shirt, too.

“You too,” you murmur.

“Yes. Patience, love.”

No. Fuck no.

Is it the nickname or his actions that empty your head this time? You don’t know. But you react.

Moaning, but it soon transitions into a yelp when he jerks up suddenly, balls deep. Your voice breaks, and you’re breathless; grateful when he unbuttons your shirt, dragging it down your shoulders.

Helping him however you can, you pull at the clothing almost aggressively, over your hand until it’s stuck there. Sporting a shirt paw, you hear Jungkook laugh behind you, peppering more kisses to your shoulder as he says, “Ah… take it easy. You’re with me tonight.”

One quick pause, and then, “You’re always with me. No rush anymore, okay? Yeah, baby?”

He aids you out of the shirt and tie with tender pecks. Thoroughly affected when you only nod so softly, eyebrows kissing. He unclasps your bra swiftly, breathing against your neck as he bares your body once and for all, putting the garment aside.

And then his forefinger moves along your neck again, only barely touching over your vocal cords; feeling your gulp before he journeys further down, back to your tits. Probably leaving scars; his nails are reckless today.

“Wanted to see those pretty tits so bad,” he says, though he doesn’t halt here — tiptoes south to your pelvis, and then to your clit. “Been thinking about this all day.”

Really? 

So each of these touches consume his thoughts every damn moment of the day, too?

“You wanna see them… properly?” you wonder. You haven’t moved in a bit, lost in him, mentally tracing the lines he draws on your body. “‘Cause I wanna see you.”

“Mmmmhm. Doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Then I’ll…”

You don’t speak further; busy with your further advances. Your pussy feels lonely the moment you let him slip out. You’re terribly wobbly on your knees, your thighs visibly shaking as you turn around.

Jungkook holds a hand towards you, a safety net in case you tip over. He holds your wrist gently as you move over the mattress; never more than now are you glad that his isn’t as soft as yours back at the house.

Keeping your balance, you straddle him again, back in a similar position, albeit finally facing him now. And your eyes roll back just the moment he fills you up again.

Your legs are exhausted; the moment you start moving, you barely make it far enough, and Jungkook notices immediately, whispering, “My baby tired?”

And when you nod, he holds you tight, wrapping you in his arms, and—

“Hold– hold onto me, okay?”

You do. And then — he thrusts up once.

When your head falls, his eyelids drop a little, nose touching your jaw as he says, “I could fuck you all goddamn day.”

“Do it… you can now.” His head descends to your chest, mouth open. You’re not sure what you’re opting for, but you still call his name, “Kook…”

Repeatedly lunging in, he collects the words he needs to say, so irresistibly frenzied when he vows, “I’m yours. Okay? And… I need you to stay. Am yours, baby.”

Out of nowhere — or maybe not. Maybe these very sentiments were swimming in his eyes all the time; you could just not see them yet.

Lips a hair width apart, you opt for one single kiss, only a ghost touch. You tell him, “Promised the world. Will promise it to you… too.”

“Good.” His nails scrape your back, and you tug at his hair. A moan tumbles out of him, transforming into words as he holds your body in place, pumping into you, “Fuck, you– feel so good. Just you. So, so good.”

“Ngh, I—”

“I know, I can… can’t breathe, either.”

He kisses your shoulder, the skin flaming under his mouth. Although late, you imitate his prior gesture, peeling off his intruding shirt as smoothly and fast as you possibly can. It’s been a wall between you for too long now; you need to see those pretty tits, too.

And once the buttons open and the shirt flies, you finally bask in the toned beauty. Soaked chest, brawny, chocolate chip nipples as hard as yours. Soon pressing into you, lips thirsting for you, slamming against your mouth.

The fever rises, the temperature akin to lava. Your sounds are desperate and wanting, and you hold onto him for dear life. And before you know it, you’re not claiming your throne anymore.

Suddenly, you find yourself floating for a moment, and then sinking into the mattress, and then curling your hands into fists and him slamming into you harder, deeper, all the way in...

Fuck.

Towering over you, he spreads your legs wide, temptingly licking his thumb before it presses down onto your swollen clit. One jab. A second. Another and another and another.

“Yes. Yes, please—” you beg and yell, letting him pound you into oblivion.

The first hint of stars already grace the darkness behind your eyelids, but then Jungkook starts delivering rapid, light slaps to your nub. He’s chasing your high as much as you are; you know. The chaos unfolding doesn’t hold him back from observing your reactions.

Only focusing on his own end of pleasure when you’re done.

Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, and you cling to his arms, his hands pushing into your waist. And it takes just a moment longer. And another second. Several more shoves, the curve of his cock dragging along your walls and your sensitive spot.

Thoroughly drenched, both of you, as he drives all of him into you. Parting your legs whenever they attempt to shut again. And the universe finally expands, a million celestial bodies dying and imploding, much like you and…

Suddenly, you’re off the cliff.

Falling into a deep ocean. Or the vast night sky. You don’t know — you don’t feel real.

All you know is that your thighs and ass are wet. That you ruined yet another sheet. That Jungkook is out of breath, fucking you through your high, ensuring that you come back to him only bit by bit, so, so slowly.

Gentler now, you feel his body subside, down to you. His skin is glowing with sweat when your eyes crack open just a slit, though they instantly drop close again when he kisses you once more.

He does it only softly this time, as if he’s trying it out. Gauging your reaction. And you do reciprocate the touch, even if weakly. You’re still too gone to look at him properly, but that doesn’t deter him from casting another spell in your heart.

Because his words reach every fibre of you. Butterflies swarm your stomach as he says, “I still can't believe that you’re staying. You did this… you fucking did this—”

“Why not? Wh–why can’t you believe it?”

“Because you’re staying with me. You stayed with me. And…”

Somewhere, it stings. That he’s surprised by constant company. By someone not leaving… by someone worth all his affection glueing themselves to him. And yet, you understand.

That’s a pain the two of you share.

He stares through your gaze, as if he’s frisking for something specific. With each passing moment, it’s like he’s realising something new, yet unable to really verbalise it.

Like something’s burning on his tongue.

But all he does whisper is, “How do I ever stay away from you now, huh?”

“Don’t.” You touch his face, and he doesn’t waste a second to lean into your touch, kissing your palm. “Please just don’t.”

“Won’t be able to… And it sucks that—”

He frees your face from your stick hair strands, still moving inside you. His own tresses hang into your forehead; his thumb touches your lower lip.

“That I can’t be with you every damn second of the day. I mean…” He leans in. Pecks your eyelids; your heart bursts. “What if I can’t move an inch from you?”

You keep staring. Unable to answer. Keep looking and drinking in every emotion laid bare in his confessions. Your misty mind feels calm; not as heavy as hours ago.

And you’re woozy; so indescribably giddy when he adds, “You… you mean so much to me.”

Damn. Damndamndamn.

And you’re fucking obsessed with him. Want his kiss on you all the time; words tattooed on your brain, etched into your soul.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh— yeah?”

“Can you…” You gulp, drooling at the thought, and then spitting it out at once, “Finish in my mouth.”

“Shit,” he exclaims, though the word is more a maniac laugh than anything else, “you know exactly you— you can’t say this to me.”

You know. Because any image of his cock ramming your throat empties his head.

Once more, he mumbles, ”Damn it,” before he’s picking up on pace. You move your hands over his broad shoulders, soon curling your fingers in to hold tight — it’s what the situation suddenly requires. Because gradually, his hips slam into you faster.

The dull sound of his thighs meeting yours repeatedly is lewd, volume increasing when he starts jackhammering into you. Your rhythmic, breathless cries become irregular and broken, turning into screams, and you feel a droplet escaping the corner of your eye.

Throat dry and jaw aching from the parted mouth, you keen from the sensitive feeling inside. You’re so full. So invigorated. Holding onto him tight, so you don’t crumble.

And just as you yell out a dozen curses, Jungkook, voice raised, states, “Fuck, fuuuck, gonna come, babe, f— open your mouth—”

You do. Instantly, tongue out, choking because it’s so much harder to breathe like that. Jungkook trembles over you, lips wet; his arms threaten to give out, letting his body nearly collapse on you, but just a moment before he does, he pulls out.

Hurrying, his knees dig closer to you, cock and ass right above your face as he holds the length between strong fingers. Secured in his palm, he strokes himself over you, glancing into your hungry eyes.

“Pretty girl,” his other digits raise your head by your chin, and his body is swinging, unstable; shoulders high. “My sweet baby… You can’t just…”

Pinching your chin fondly, he digs his cock into your mouth, still pumping the base and touching his balls. You raise your head to not suffocate in the process, and he lets your chin go to grip your hair, lifting you halfway just in time before—

His load finally spills. All of it. So much of it. Hot and sticky, thick as the ropes shoot straight into your throat. You nearly gag, keeping yourself together, swallowing diligently as he empties his balls.

There’s fucking buckets of it, shit…

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing, and once he’s done, you close your lips around his cock. Still hard, although slowly softening, you lick the remnants of his arousal and whatever’s left of you. The tastes mingle, and your head spins…

And then, he pulls back. You’re beaten, gulping, smacking away the saltiness.

Still overwhelmed from the taste, you let your head fall back onto the pillow; but your fingers still seek his touch. The mattress next to you flattens again as his knees retract, and soon enough, laying down beside you.

Both of you are too done in to speak, even less to move. So you let a few minutes pass. Then, you find his fingers, entangling them with yours; waiting a bit more.

And only when your heart rate calms a bit, you stir, hearing him suggest, “Quick shower?”

You smile. The kisses aren’t over yet.

For a while longer, the profuse heat lingers.

The radiator is off, and some of the windows were open when you came home. And despite choosing to stay bare after the shower for some more, you don’t register any of the cold yet; you’re sheltered, safe and so, so warm.

Jungkook’s fingers keep trailing up and down way after you’re done, lips planting generous kisses to your scalp and face. He paves his way to the corner of your mouth and then up to your eyebrows; and when he reaches your nose again, you lift your head abruptly.

Chasing his kiss, even if for just a second, a hand on his cheek and shoulders rising. Occasional giggles and smiles, tickles and pinches keep you busy temporarily; you don’t know how much time passes, nor do you care.

You only snap out of your daydreams when his kisses gain on urgency, tongue diligent. A palm creeps dangerously close to your ass, threatening to slink to your beaten sex.

But your reaction is quicker than his sly attempt, and you say, “Wait— no. Can’t do it again.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Of course.” Damn his shoulder shrug. You tap his pelvis before you wrap a leg around his waist, teasing, “I didn’t feel the twitch at all.”

He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. But it’s not my fault that you’re so stubbornly sexy.”

“Stubbo—” You giggle mid-sentence, imitating the shake of his head. “I hope you know I’d let you tie me down and do whatever the fuck—”

“My god. Stop saying it like that.”

“—but my body won’t let me yet. I also still stink.”

“Stink?” He shifts dramatically, burying his nose between your tits. His voice is muffled when he asks, “Do you?”

“Stop. You’re so weird,” you scold, but the word is drenched in laughter; you forcefully lift his head again. “We still need to change the sheets and the shower was quick. Do I not?”

“You kinda do. Like cherry blossoms.”

“Shut up.”

“What? Sue me for telling the truth. My girlfriend smells like cherry blossoms.”

Oh… oh?

Wait.

Your mouth shuts tight.

Did he…

The beam that spreads on your face is almost embarrassing; surprise, joy and affection conjoin, your guts twisting. You take a breath. Feel the sparkles in your own damn eyes; tender gaze directed at him.

And the freaking flutter in your heart; the temperature in your cheeks. Do these things ever stop?

The words sink in slowly; and Jungkook takes the time to ask, “What?”

“You… you haven’t called me that yet, have you?”

He’s perplexed. Guess even to him, it was a Freudian slip, because his eyes are wider than ever. He waits, thinks for a moment; then admits, “Uhm. No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, I… like the sound of it.”

“It’s… it’s true. You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?” His eyes smile before he does; unrestrained devotion in them. “My baby?”

He says it so innocently, so sweetly that you can’t help but coo. Teasingly, you pat his cheek, telling him, “I mean I hope I am. Considering I’m moving in with you.”

“Yes. You are. Of course you are.” 

“…Girlfriend.” Sheepishly, much like a teenage girl, you keep your twinkle intact, still feeling the lasting gleam on your face. You must be reminiscent of the sun and the moon. Emboldened, you start, “Then… boyfriend. Can I ask you something?”

The term elicits similar glee in him, teeth out, grin bright. He waits wordlessly with sparkling eyes, and you touch his lip, asking, “How do you feel right now? About all that?”

“I feel… I’m in disbelief. You’re moving in with me and just. Somehow, even saying it feels surreal.” He sighs, searching for words. “I’m in disbelief and crazy for you. That’s all I know.”

Falling deeper and without an end is possible. Jungkook has taught you that; still does.

“…I was so scared you wouldn’t like me doing this,” you confess.

“What? Saying yes to being with me all the time? Sounds horrible.” He laughs. “I’m happy. And I’m happy that you’re happy, too. Okay?”

“I wasn’t for a while, you know? You make me feel good. Take me by my word and give yourself credit for it.” He needs to. He might have doubted his role in everyone else’s life so far, but his value to you needs to be clear at all times. “Not just now, Kook, but, you always make me feel good. I hope you know that.”

“I do. This time, I do…” Content, you smile; until he stalls for dramatic effect, mouth open to indicate something to come. Your beam expands to exhilarated laughter when he squeezes your ass again, adding with another snicker, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make my favourite munchkin feel good?”

“…There’s more than one?!”

Hmm…

That’s what you’d been yearning for all this time.

Because there’s something so vulnerable about your elation; the enlivened titter. About your newfound feelings. About these very first phases of a sensitive relationship. Something serene.

And the meaning behind your words keeps changing with him; carries much more weight, and makes you feel so much lighter. As if levitating on cotton clouds.

Girlfriend. Boyfriend.

Peace reigns supreme and for a while you’re hopeful enough to doubt anything could disrupt it. Even the world is quiet when you look out the window.

September isn’t yet harsh enough to cover all above pitch black, but it’s still dark grey and drab. The sky still somewhat illuminates the unruffled room through the tilted window.

But just when tranquillity reaches its peak, your phone vibrates on the bedside table; you flinch.

The screen’s shine overshadows the faded monochrome of the world. It’s unwelcome, intruding — and once you lean over, holding the blanket over your chest, you realise that the message is just as unsought.

Mom [7:12PM]: We need to talk. Mom [7:12PM]: I’m still at Charmante for another hour and a half.

…At this time?

Did you leave her this desperate?

“What is it?” a dulcet voice asks from behind.

You hear the bed creak a little, his body cold without yours. Despising the distance, he puts a gentle hand to your shoulder, planting a kiss right next to it; when you lack his desired reaction, he asks again, “Everything okay?”

“Hm?” You barely tilt your head, eyes still glued to the words that you’ve already internalised. You cover his hand with yours. “Yeah. Just. Look.”

You hold the phone into his face; the penetrant white floodlights his skin. The warm gold shines in the glow, his lips drier than before. They move as he reads, and then, they close, giving way to a hum.

The initial silence suggests that he might be thinking the same as you — to bail. To shut the phone again, slide it to the edge of the bedside table and drop back against his chest, above his heart.

But you should know Jungkook better; he won’t discourage a familial reunion, praying for a better outcome than he ever had. He’s always spoken for your relationship with them — thinking back, he has never truly badmouthed your mother.

So you’re not too surprised when he hands you the phone back, careful to not turn your mother’s two marks blue, and suggests, “Maybe you should go.”

You sigh. You don’t want to. It’s too early for confrontation; time hasn’t passed, and the issue hasn’t yet marinated. Then again, the problem might only grow if you postpone this.

But your heart is biased, angry, refusing to oblige to her demands one more time. So you ask for yet another confirmation, “Right now? But I…”

You turn back to him, shaking your head slowly, troubled. He props his head up, eyes staring down to you as you lay flat on your back, hands folded under your breasts.

“Give yourself closure, babe.”

“I got closure.”

“No,” he strikes back, fingers lifting to your jawline. He touches it lightly, brushing it delicately, “Actual closure. To finish this. And she deserves it, too, you know? She’s still waiting there, angel.”

“Jungkook, you…” You click your tongue, gaze swerving to the unlit ceiling light and then back to him. “You’re too good.”

“I’m sorry.”

You smile, and he throws a palpitation-inducing twinkle back. You know he’s right — it must have been a shock for her after all. More or less double-crossed by her own daughter, humiliated in a public setting — her brain must be frying.

Reluctantly, you stretch your arm to the side, tapping for your phone, and roll your eyes at Jungkook playfully when you open the message to type back. His body floats down, lips planting a barely-there kiss to your collarbone.

You [7:14PM]: I’ll be there in half an hour.

“Alright then…”

Your body lifts off the mattress with the idlest of movements. The afterglow might die once you’re there, but you guess you need the confrontation–fight? Argument?—to ensure more, blissful nights.

This time, you don’t bother with your clothing as much as you did when you prepared for the press conference. You slip into the first best jeans you find, throwing a cosy pullover over your torso.

Busy with the rush, you don’t notice that Jungkook isn’t standing behind you in his usual grey joggers but in jeans, too. He’s fiddling with your car keys, stuffing his wallet into a pocket, and you stare wide-eyed, waiting for an explanation.

And once your digging stare pierces through him, he reciprocates it with similar confusion, half his hand still in the pocket as he inquires, “What?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, gesturing up and down his body.

“What do you mean?”

The back and forth of questions leaves you further bewildered, and you step closer, softly snatching the keys out of his fingers as you say, “Babe… It won’t take long.”

You don’t think he quite understands — it seems that to him, it was a given this entire time that he’d accompany you to your work building. But when it seeps through, his expression changes, more relaxed.

His head tilts, blinking slowly as he assures, “I won’t let you go alone.”

“Kook—”

“It’s honestly not a big deal. You said it won’t take long, so I’ll wait outside.” He shrugs, forefinger at the nape of his neck, scratching. “Plus, I’ll just get bored here alone.”

A warm flutter engulfs your heart. You wonder how couples spend days, months, years together without burning up every moment during their togetherness. Because you don’t think you’ll ever get over the fire he sets ablaze in your lungs — how does one get accustomed to affection like this?

You don’t know.

Maybe you don’t need to know.

Not more than what his eyes say, at least.

“What did you do all the time I wasn’t here?”

His grin is playful, but there’s tender truth in his words, “Something any guy waiting for you would do,” big brown irides meet yours, fingers fiddling, “counted the seconds until I could see you again.”

Your laugh is sudden before you ask, “Is that a quote from SpongeBob?”

And the joy holds on as you leave the apartment and rush down the flight of stairs. The short comedic journey to your car is distracting — most of reality only dawns on you when you step into the car.

Reminiscent of the last time the two of you drove over to a confrontation — just a little after his vacation; just a bit before the heartbreak.

The streets are quieter and emptier at this hour, the repose enhanced by the gentle drizzle. It’s significantly darker than when you arrived home, though it hasn’t been too long since you drove this exact way in the opposite direction. Two hours?

Maybe it’s the cloudy, almost black sky, accompanied by the hushed sound of the rain that’s amplifying your fears. Because the calming ambience from a minute ago worries you the closer you get — this once, you’d rather bask in sunshine and daydreams.

But no.

Hope is on your side; you’re done worrying, right?

As you sit up straight in your seat, Jungkook glances from you from the driver’s seat, eyes shooting to and fro between you and the street. His lips part as he operates the wheel with one hand, using the other to wrap around your fingers.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, squeezing once before he lets go, brushing over the back of your hand and gripping the wheel again, “there’s just so much she can say. You made a decision as a full adult and she’ll have to accept it.”

“Yeah.” You follow the streetlamps and their warm radiance, redirecting your focus on the next as you pass each. “I hope so.”

The ride home was different; you were filled to the brim with energy and adrenaline. Your legs were putty, so he insisted for you to freeze on the passenger’s seat, reluctant to hand you the keys to drive.

You were waiting for the streets to end, to shut his door behind you, and to breathe and sigh through a sleepless night with him. The anticipation, combined with the aftermath of the press conference made you restless — you wouldn’t stop gnawing on your thumb.

And he didn’t interrupt your thoughts, let you flick through them until he finally looked at you at a traffic light. Raising the back of his digits to your cheek, assuring, “It’s okay, angel.”

Maybe the breathy tone and the hundred promises wrapped into one reassurance prompted your reaction at his place at all.

Jungkook turns into your work street, and you hold your breath. Your heart knocks violently against your ribcage, disabling a proper thread of thoughts. Which is a shame, because you really wanted to draw a collection of snappy remarks you could retort in there.

Instead, you merely look at the entrance far at the end of the street, unmoving as Jungkook moves into a parking lot and kills the engine. You blink; then blink some more. The gulp, you think, is audible in the small space of the car.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks.

“No… I don’t think she’d want that.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, leaning forward to pinch your chin between two fingers. He moves your head toward him, eyes a liquid, wavy ocean at night. Affectionate. “She’s your mom. Despite everything, I know she loves you.”

“I don’t know…”

“She does. I saw it the night I picked you up and I saw it Monday morning, too. So.” The head tilt, the soft curve of his eyebrows, the care in his pupils — they’re a healing bandage around your heart. “Don’t be scared.”

He leans over the centre console armrest, still holding your face in his grasp, and presses his lips just barely, sweetly to your wrinkled forehead. You think the muscles react immediately, temples relaxing.

For a second, he lingers, and then he pulls back a fraction, looking at you from an inch-wide distance, and whispers, “Don’t be. I’ll be here all the time.”

Right — armour-clad, like a knight. You finally nod, a weight dropping off your heart. You cement his smile deeper into your mind; a coping strategy in case things escalate in there.

Once more, you squint at the entrance doors, though barely visible from here. Hand on the handle, you say, “If I’m not out in twenty minutes, call the police.”

Jungkook tsks, eyes rolling with badly hidden amusement, ordering, “Just go. Will be here.”

Yes. Breathe.

He’ll be right here when you come back. And it’ll all be over then.

The building feels sinister, empty like this. Nothing of the busy and lively mood remains; the lack of the chatter and footsteps drenches the entrance hall in gloom.

It reminds you of horror movie locations; you can’t help but hesitate as you walk in.

Especially today, the silence is unbearably odd; the press isn’t lurking anymore, isn’t swarming you anymore. You don’t want to imagine how hard it must’ve been to convince the reporters to finally leave.

You sigh…

In less than a day, they’ll have today’s highlights printed in newspapers and posted; feasting. Big, bold headlines will narrate the words you uttered; of course they will. With your family relishing a local celebrity status, the media would be damned if it didn’t make any profit out of you.

For the first time, however… you don’t care. You inhale.

And as you walk past the glass walls and up the stairs, clutching your work keys, you don’t feel the overwhelming urge to run away from this place anymore.

You’ve liked your job since you started, no doubt, despite your initial worries and fears. But the thought of losing against the world, or of losing him terrified you. Maybe you were too naive to fight those who wished you harm mere months ago, freshly out of college.

But now that you realise that you won’t be roaming these hallways in a couple weeks, that you have dropped the mic in a way they won’t be able to pick it up to hurt you again, you feel relieved. 

Feel a sense of responsibility. Like an adult.

Okay.

She told you she’d wait in an unoccupied office on the first floor — you usually frequent it with Zara, sifting through theories and changes. You wonder why your mother didn’t settle on her own office — then again, you imagine it must hurt to suffer defeat in the very room where she’s supposed to reign.

As you reach the room, your fist lifts to the door. Though you soon realise that it might be entirely unnecessary, judging the slight gap and the soft noise from within. So you gently push the ajar door open, met with a tired figure behind an imposing desk.

She’s lost in thought, but as you enter, her gaze slowly ascends, her posture reclining. And you see it immediately.

The usually cold eyes, now brimming with disappointment and sorrow.

Her eyes flit, as you assume unintentionally, into a corner. She dodges a simple greeting when you mumble a timid, “Hi,” and you drop the formalities right away. Don’t even attempt to sit — stand there, towering in front of her, not intending to stay long anyway.

And it seems her thoughts and intentions align, because she refuses to beat around the bush, a weary voice asking, “Why did you do that?”

“Mmh… You’re asking like I shouldn’t have.”

“Because you shouldn’t have.” Typical. Her point of view will always be her only truth. You listen on, but can’t help but tense. “Your father and I built this for you, and we intended to forward it to you. You know that.”

You don’t like that tone; you never have. It always ran over your spine as a shiver, weakening your knees. Even today, you’re conditioned to buckle just a bit. You exhale.

“Mom, have you ever heard yourself speak? You’ve never even remotely tried giving me anything else that way,” you complain, leaning to clutch the chair with one hand, the other gesturing around the room. “You built this stupid empire for yourself and kept it intact for me, so I can continue your work.”

You huff out a mocking breath, shaking your head just a little. “You never even asked me. You just told me to do it all.”

Her voice is sharper when she responds, “We didn’t hand it to you to make you suffer, for god’s sake.” She’s irritated, eyebrows deeply furrowed. “Christ, you were supposed to have a good future.”

“Yes, and I will! I’m happier than I have been all summer. Do you even have any idea what happened during that time?!”

You pause. She doesn’t answer, clearly sorting out a hundred answers.

Because a lot happened — most of it a direct effect of her or the media’s bullshit. Of course she won’t be able to pick out just one single thing.

So you explain, “Did you even understand that Jungkook broke up with me because of the thing you pulled with that dumb journalist?” You spit the word like a curse, grimacing. “And that he avoided me because he thought he was ruining me?”

You try to make it sound as ridiculous as you can muster, wondering if the realisation is dawning on her. 

“Did you even notice how I didn’t come out of my room for da—”

“Just why,” she interrupts, eyes shutting tight in disbelief and agitation, palms toward the ceiling, “would you jeopardise your life and emotions because of him?”

Jeopardise. Holy fuck.

She has a whack understanding of villainhood.

“Because he’s important to me! You can’t even imagine how hurtful it is to only be talking about work to you. You never ask me if I eat or sleep enough. You didn’t even give me a graduation present. He did! But you wouldn’t know!”

You think back to the lamp in your room, the one she has never seen — remember the dark ceiling, the aurora and stars projected to it. The touches that followed.

“He’s unbelievably important to me, Mom. Okay?”

“You’ve been with him for just a while.”

You grit your teeth. It’s like talking to a wall; a daycare child would catch the sentiment better than her.

“Yeah,” you say, scoffing, “and it makes me embarrassed for you, because I’ve known you my entire life and you never cared this much. Like, fuck, even Dad did.”

Her jaw clenches as you swear, nostrils close to flaring as you concede more pain, “Jungkook actually makes me feel human.” There’s a sting in your eyes. You blink it away. “I’ve been feeling like a person, which just… made me understand that—”

You gulp, your throat tied and your head heavier now. You wait, shrugging. Then—

“That I can receive affection, too.”

Your friends are your first memory of care; barring them, you only had a faint idea of what devotion entailed. Learning what it means to be genuinely important to someone had been on your bucket list — this year, you ticked it off.

“I just hate that he had to glue me together first for me to understand.”

Because she broke you first. The contrast couldn’t be more crystal clear.

She doesn’t dig your monologue. Her countenance fills with different shades of ridicule and embarrassment, shreds of anger thrown into the mix. Filed nails tap against an open folder, the other hand rubbing her forehead.

“You sound ridiculous,” she derides, “you can’t throw your future away because of love. It won’t pay your bills.”

“I’m gonna be a manager, though. I’ll pay my fucking bills. And Jungkook is working his way up, too.” Your latter statement gains a sceptical stare, followed by a skyrocketing eyebrow. It satisfies you. “He is. He’s getting his own part at an exhibition. We’ll be fine.”

She frowns, mouth already agape as she psyches herself up for another answer, and you already roll your eyes, prepared to interrupt.

“You—”

“You were so grateful last weekend,” you argue.

“Because you almost killed yourself!”

“No! If you’re so worried, then call! You could’ve called and asked where I was like mothers do. Made sure I was well and not drunk out of my mind!”

“Stop it,” she stands, her voice as damaging as a serrated knife. You flinch as she charges for you, and you breathe out, ready for a slap — but her body halts in front of yours. “How do you expect to run from this just by switching to another company? Novaura’s still mine, too.”

No…

You hold your breath. Straighten your back, hands sweaty as your nails dig in. She’s been predictable half her life; not always quite vile. But you know what she’ll say next, and you know it’ll be the most odious thing she’s ever uttered.

“And I could keep you here if I wanted to. They’d throw you out if I told them, too.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink, scorning, “You’re serious?”

A breath of laughter escapes your chest, and you shake your head in disbelief. You’re done.

You press your lips into a thin line before smacking them, nodding in faux agreement before you say, “Okay. Go ahead. But if you do, I won’t shut up this time. Today, I was being nice. I praised you, and none of my nice talk was actually deserved.”

Choosing your words carefully, you pronounce every syllable as if explaining molecular biology. She listens, not spitting an answer immediately.

So you challenge further, “You want to throw me out? Do it. It’s your reputation. I didn’t say anything wrong at the conference today, because it’s my right to choose the career I want. You’d be abandoning your own daughter if you pulled this through.”

You have her attention. Her lips stay sealed.

“And when they ask me,” you continue, eyes now fiery; you’re so done. So, so done. “I will let them know that you did it out of spite. Try finding an excuse why you did when we’re there. I won’t be at any disadvantage.”

You press into your palms one more time, relaxing your jaw, and opt to turn and walk away. Hurling one more glare towards her, you spit, “I have a degree, just a reminder.”

And that should be it.

Pride unfurls across your chest, warm in your stomach as you take long strides out of her office. You hear the quiet call of your name, suddenly desperate. But now that you’ve said your part of the truth, you don’t turn around anymore.

Only shut the door behind you hard; shutting all she’d hoped for with it.

Despite the satisfaction still bubbling in your stomach, you can’t shake the clump in your throat and the anxiety in your heart. The post-fight adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your fingers shake.

There’s discomfort in deserting your own mother; the irrational fears were to be expected. You didn’t do anything wrong, you know, you know. But your organ still thumps like drums, and you lift a hand to your chest. A vain attempt to calm your breathing.

And then… something miraculous happens.

The brisky gust of the evening brushes your cheeks; the bright lights of the city contribute to your sudden peace. They’re a reminder that the world is far wider than this damn building. Than her.

But more than anything, your worries dissipate when the strolling figure grows in your sight. As you walk the short distance to your car, you feel your heart lighten — your forehead and temples relax.

He has his hands on his waist, chin slightly raised as if watching the stars that hide in the city sky anyway. His steps are small, and his eyebrows calm. He looks serene.

And once his hands slide into his open jacket’s pockets, he looks down the street again, surprised when you’re mere steps apart.

“Ah,” he voices, one palm already out as he stretches it toward you, “barely fifteen minutes. I was about to come in.”

Deep sigh in, you let his arm pull you in his embrace, swiftly wrapped around your torso. He smells like fresh clothes, after-rain, and vibrant, like the lights in the sky.

Your arms sling around his body with an urgency, and you muffle your voice against his chest as you ask, “Already?”

“Already?” he repeats, though dragging the word more than you did. His arm squeezes you once as his other hand escapes his pocket, too, stroking your head. “Those weren’t days? I swear I felt myself ageing in there.”

Your fist thumps against his chest lightly, and you giggle against his sweater. “Don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes slowly unfocusing, you rub the zipper teeth of his jacket between your fingers, softly mumbling, “Thank you for being here. You’re the best.”

You feel a movement over your head; he’s lowering his chin to your hair, still caressing your head as if lulling you into sleep. And it’s working — you feel drowsier by the second.

But then, his chest rumbles as he hums, cautious as he asks, “Are you okay?”

Are you?

You’re about to start a new life where you desire, with whom you desire. Finding permanent residency in his presence the way he finds it in your thoughts.

A few more steps, and you can make yourself home. Not in those rooms, but in him. Because that’s what he is.

A blanket, a radiator, the comforting voice that soothes and heals. Worshipping you within the same four walls every single day.

You’re not just okay — you’re craving.

Leaving his warmth and scent, you lean back and look at him. His eyes are as big as you’re used to, awaiting an answer, genuinely curious. Your heart threatens to burst; the sting is painfully sweet.

“Yeah,” you answer, touching the purple sweater, “I promise I am.”

Because. Because that’s all you ever wanted.

It’s over. You’re going home — you are home.

You can’t remember whether it was your fingers clawing into Jungkook’s shirt or his hand brushing through your hair that kept you in the sheets twenty minutes longer than anticipated.

The plan was to snooze once and get into a routine with divided work. One prepares breakfast, the other makes the bed and cleans up before leaving the apartment.

But it seems that so far, your routine has consisted of lazy mornings. Tired hums. Quiet, hushed and slightly hoarse good mornings and entangled limbs.

You pressed between his shoulder blades as he strokes your head, planting kisses on your temple and your forehead.

“Slept well?” he asked today. Another peck in between. Then, drowsy and sighing, “Is the mattress okay, by the way? I like the firmer ones better since they’re good for your back, but I know you had a softer one, so if you need…”

“No, not at all,” you promised, warm and safe under the covers. “This is perfect.”

No… the softness wasn’t needed. Your muscles were so relaxed, you were sinking into the bed anyway. Sleeping a dent into it. At peace as his nails gently scraped over your scalp, massaging and caressing.

He could’ve lulled you into sleep like that; and his voice served as soft, white background noise. The words he used. The honey sweet tone. The past tense in what you had, and what you have now.

If you hadn’t been so lethargic, you would’ve floated through your chores. But when the clock ticked too dangerously fast and brought your working hours sickeningly close, you decided to eat out instead.

You always fool around at breakfast too much — stretching it longer than it needs to be. A café was, surprisingly, the smarter, more time-efficient option.

And a great opportunity and excuse to explore the places near you. Jungkook promised there was an amazing bakery nearby, and you trudged along, tummy rumbling, now that you weren’t in bed with him and satiated anymore.

“You’re sure you’ll be at home by the evening?”

You gather the remaining crumbs of your pastry with the pad of your thumb, waiting for Jungkook to slurp the last of his coffee. He nods, soon answering, “Mhm. I won’t be at work for long. Might come home before you do, actually.”

“Okay,” you suckle at your thumb, shoulders relaxing as you stare at the drizzle outside. The day started out grey. “And then tomorrow, I’ll be off work by the afternoon, so I should be able to bring more things over from the house.”

Tired from the morning, your eyes remain on the customers trudging in and out of the café. They shake the water drops off their umbrellas, or sigh at the prospect of stepping out into the rain again. 

Their expressions aren’t quite dispirited, but… perhaps a little dim.

You raise a side of your lips in empathy, and then continue, “And then on Saturday, I’m getting the truck to the house, for the rest of my stuff.”

“Babe,” Jungkook interrupts, pausing to smack the coffee’s taste away. His hand slides over the table, wrapping his fingers around three of yours. “Let me come with you tomorrow. You’re already doing too much.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t drag you there unless I absolutely have to. Besides,” your voice is soft when you lean forward, raising your entangled digits to your lower lip. “You’ve been busy plenty, too.”

And it’s true.

He’s been taking care of the apartment and cooking dinner these days. Organising documents with you, so you have whatever needed to change your address and whatnot. Doing small purchases for the household and vacating some of the closet to make place for your stuff.

Two weeks have passed since the press conference — and Jungkook has been a pillar of strength and sanity as much as you have been his. You communicate each night, regulating finances, dividing roles and sharing comfort.

You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed or felt a relationship as symbiotic as this one… and you’re just starting out.

His thumb brushes over your fingers, still reassuring you, much as you expected, “I honestly don’t mind.”

“It’s okay,” you argue, “we still have a lot more to do. Save your energy for that. I’d still love these deco vines for the living room, remember? Let’s get them together.”

Your words are breathy, as if you’re being reborn. A breeze of refreshment — and he feels it, too. There’s something about the thought of simplicity livening up your bustling days.

Mundane tasks, like shopping for casual things together.

Groceries. Decoration. Plants.

With all the planning of switching work and homes, the two of you have been incredibly breathless. You even told him about a meeting at your new place today, a discussion about trivial matters, general know-how and preparation you need to do.

The sliver of stress is visible in your eyes — you’ll be seeing the other managers today. And you’re nervous about it, unsure what vibe the meeting might set.

But despite the stress, you’ve been as bright as Venus in the night sky. He understands. If anyone does, then him.

Because the idea of strolling through Ikea's tableware department is balm to his mind. Your laughter sounding through its hallways, half your body leaning over the shopping cart, because you surely seem like the type to do so.

His voice is as gentle as the mizzle outside when he promises, “We’ll get anything you want.”

“Really?” Your smile is radiant, cheeks glowing as you press the lightest kiss to one of his knuckles. “Sounds good to me.” 

Time passing has always been a bummer. Despite the quiet noise in the café, the clock ticks as if in a deafening volume, a reminder that you need to let this hand go soon.

Sometimes, you do worry. About the attachment, and the healthy obsession with him. And on the other side, about every moment he worships you, and every second he misses you.

How there’s discomfort in being apart, even if for mere hours. Maybe that’s why he holds you so tight at night. Or why you’re constantly itching to get home.

Perhaps there’s a lingering fear that your time separated brought, a sneaking anxiety of being dragged apart again.

Yet, instead of dwelling in improbable what-ifs, you breathe in the air of the room, direct your senses away from the clock and toward the increasing patter of rain against the window panes. 

You squeeze the fingers around you harder, delving into one last soft conversation as you ask, “You’re at lunch with Joon later, right?”

“Yeah, he promised me burgers today.”

“What for again?”

“Because I’m his favourite staff member?” Jungkook lifts your hand to your mouth when you open it, shushing you with your own fingers. “Don’t say it. I am his favourite staff member.”

“‘Kay. Understandable.”

“You know…” He shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly, but the soft drop of his gaze, fingers fiddling and toying with yours betrays him. He’s still so delicate around you. “If you want, you can join.”

“Oh. Mmmh,” you think for a moment, but then click your tongue, insisting, “it’d be weird, I think. Dunno if he’d want it.”

“I would want it.”

He always does.

Yearning. Obsession. A humane way of falling in love.

You feel like a person. No matter how odd the phrase might sound in your head, the painful truth behind it is undeniable. You feel like a person.

“Okay,” you reply, slowly reclaiming your hand, reluctantly preparing to leave. “I’ll see if I find time and energy during my lunch break.” You halt, unblinking, before you look back at him with squinting, uncertain eyes. “Totes Bag Street, was it?”

The sudden, choking laugh erupting out of Jungkook is a surprise. If his coffee cup wasn’t empty yet, he’d still be sipping, probably ruining the white, silky shirt you’re sporting today.

You actually mean it, don’t you?

His trademark laugh is high-pitched, melodious, though a little more controlled in the public space, but the flashing of his teeth and his dimples implies genuine joy.

You already know: the lighthearted banter has become a hallmark of your connection. Doesn’t get old. Heartwarming — albeit right now, very confusing to you.

So you cock an eyebrow, questioning, “What?”

“Babe,” he simply mutters, hands coming together in a mock prayer. “Shit, you’re so fucking cute.”

He lowers his head between his shoulders, torso shaking, and you pull his palms apart again to dig with another, ”Hey. What?”

“Boats Track Street. Not Totes Bag Street,” he corrects, endeared by your wide eyes. The back of two of his fingers grazes your temple, and then down your face, before playfully pinching your chin. “You’re so cute. And a dummy. I mean it.”

“You’re a dummy,” you reply, forcing your face back and out of his grip. “Besides, that’s a pretty stupid name.”

“To be fair… I agree.”

A hesitant smile spreading on your face, your gaze wanders to the clock at the opposite wall again. The beam drops a little, giving way to a small sigh.

“It’s okay. I’ll probably be busy anyway… will join you guys another time.” You shove the chair back, getting off with a fatigued groan and a hand rubbing your tummy. “And I feel a bit weird today, too. Shouldn’t have eaten before bed because I’m feeling the effects right now.”

“Ahhh, I told you. No worries. I’ll make you something light tonight. And some peppermint tea.” His hands wave you goodbye, making a begone motion. “Go for now. The longer you stay, the worse the next hours will be for me.”

“Dork. You must survive.”

You huff, eyes rolling at the dramatics, and push your bag behind your body before you lean into him. A hand on his cheek, you watch his eyes close, setting your lips onto his.

The two-second long goodbye peck remains just that before his fingers, pushing against the nape of your neck, tug you in again.

Against your lips, he mutters, “Eat, okay? Call if your stomach bothers you. Anytime. And don’t be nervous. You’ll have fun.”

And before you can answer, he kisses you again.

Once, and then twice more. Your guts somersault, even when he finally lets you go. Your lungs feel dry all of a sudden.

All you have left in you is to nod. For your wobbly legs to step away. Looking back a few more times until the door opens, the bell chiming, your transparent flower umbrella spreading over your head.

Jungkook watches as your careful steps wander away, your head never lowered like every other passerby’s. They’re hiding from the rain, but you’re staring up, observing the movement of the clouds before your focus falls on the road — and a minute later, you disappear out of his sight.

His chest and muscles relax, a quiet laughter still tumbling out as he repeats, “Totes Bag Street.”

The sky may be colourless. The people might look into the world dimly.

But despite the rain tapping against the window, no inch of you is painted in a dismal, drab grey. You’re the brilliant, gleaming sun.

The location of your new job isn’t as fancy as the area around Charmante. The building certainly isn’t made of reflecting glass throughout.

There’s wood and actual walls; not every door opens with a chip, but a key, and the luxuries are limited. Compared to your old building, this one is humble, but it still oozes wealth and success — guess that’s what a subsidiary looks like.

The meeting room for today is somewhere on the third floor. Your mind races as you fix your clothes in the elevator, throwing regular glances into the mirror to guarantee that your hair sits as perfectly as three seconds prior.

You breathe deeply, exhale through a rounded mouth. Whether it’s this meeting or something you ate, your stomach does not feel great.

As the nerves start kicking in, you think of Jungkook’s hand in yours and the everlasting smile. You use him as your safe place; close your eyes for those few seconds that the elevator floats up.

And it works. Feels like an oasis, calm and lovely.

That is, until the bell pings, forcing your eyes open. You stare up at the number, nearly stepping out until you realise that — you’re not on the third, but on the second floor. Were you supposed to halt here?

No. And there’s nobody outside, waiting.

Until, someone is.

Rushed steps move to the elevator, a nice but stressed voice urging, “Ah! Keep the doors open, I’m coming!”

Strange. Oddly familiar voice.

You can’t say why, but you already prepare a polite smile, trying not to let the ticking seconds stress you out. Rationally, you know you’re not late, but the time passing messes with your nerves.

And it seems it doesn’t get better when the figure finally rushes in, pressing the already lit number 3 before he says, “Good. Just in time.” Looks back at you, delighted as if he expected you somewhere around, and adds, “Ah! Hello!

It takes a moment. Then another.

One more until you figure out who he is, why you feel like hurling and how maybe, just maybe, he might be heading to the same room as you — as another new manager of Novaura.

You blow a raspberry at the boxes in your backseat. 

Deciding to at least take your favourite box up with you, you leave the rest here for now; you don’t want to bug Jungkook yet. You can heave it all upstairs on the weekend, in peace.

It’s only moderately heavy — but with both your hands busy, the task is a hassle. You secure it under your arm as you close the door of your vehicle with your hip, clutching the phone previously tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

You straighten your head, reflexively looking up to Jungkook’s apartment window. To your apartment window. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue just yet.

Somehow managing to open the entrance door, you sigh into the phone, giving Taehyung a relieved, “I’m finally back home.”

“Mmmh,” Taehyung voices, and you imagine his full lips in a line, tiny nods serious, “how’s it feel? Knowing that this is where you’re gonna be for the foreseeable future?”

“It feels… quiet.”

“What, he bore you to death like that?”

You giggle, taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase; though slightly irritated by the slowly and constantly slipping box. You heave it back up.

“Absolutely. You’ve no idea, really.”

Taehyung laughs, but your joke doesn’t stick for long. You feel bad immediately — even in a playful tone, your heart knows nothing for Jungkook but praise. You guess that’s how kindness affects people.

And your brain stays mean, prolonging your pout — because it conjures pictures of a crooked smile, wrinkles around tender eyes, a tilted head as shoulders rise when the laughter reaches its peak…

A sting jabs your chest.

The longing is unbearable, and you’re barely another level from the apartment. He’s waiting for you on the other side of that flat’s door, and you know his pupils will widen in his dark brown eyes the moment they fall on you.

“No, that feels horrible to say,” you correct, shaking your head. You pause in the middle of the staircase for a moment, gaze fixated on a dirty spot before you shake your head once more. “You know Jungkook. If he’s not joy personified, then I don’t know.”

And it’s true — despite his own demons, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone spread this much comfort.

“I just meant that my mind’s been quiet. And a lot more peaceful. Not a hundred worries whirling around anymore,” you tell him, your steps upward slower now.

“Just ninety-nine, huh?”

You smile. “Maybe. But he’s not one of them.”

Dull background noise interrupts your thoughts; Taehyung doesn’t respond to you, but reprimands Yoongi in a distant mumble. He’s been doing it since he called, covering his phone to argue with his friend.

Apparently, Yoongi had been with him for hours before you picked up Taehyung’s call; they’ve been settling the rest of the arrangements, scurrying through paperwork. The apartment you considered is entirely their adventure now, but you aided in anything they needed.

Which basically just meant clearing things with the landlord and then answering his new tenant’s million questions. 

As in — how were you thinking of decorating it? Why were you going to take it? Did you calculate monthly costs including rent, water and gas? You didn’t mind, because Yoongi might be one of the most polite people you have ever met.

But it seems he’s reluctant to return to his dorm’s lonely walls, too.

Because Taehyung values alone-time, and Yoongi hasn’t granted it for hours. You feel kinda bad for Yoongi. And while the younger man attempts his hardest to maintain the gentle tone, you hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“I’ll drive you home after this, ‘kay?” he tells Yoongi; you snicker at the groan that returns. “You got this, bro.” Attention back to you, a murmur of your name. “Anyway. Everything should be good now.”

“I’m glad. That was… quite something.”

A euphemism, really. The handful of visits weren’t fun; not to mention the stuff you had to get over with for your own move. And then all those calls. You needed minutes upon minutes of preparation for each of them. One hell of a businesswoman, you are.

“No, say it as it is. ‘Cause it knocked me the fuck out. You guys really had to drag me into this.”

You feel guilty about making Taehyung your spokesman here; but as an already residing individual of the building, he was a great support in this matter. 

“We— love you,” you tell him, inhaling deeply between your words. You rub the dirt off your soles on the welcoming mat and hold the box tight, not opening the door yet. “Tell your forehead to feel kissed.”

“Nah. You’re gonna upset Eun.”

“Why? Eun and I are more in love then the two of you might ever be. She’ll choose my side.”

“Ha. Fair. Whatever.” His voice doesn’t carry an ounce of solemnity. Once again, you imagine him pulling a face, waving your statement off. “Enjoy your life. Your voice has been echo-y forever. Also, don’t forget to talk to Jungkook about what we discussed.”

Ah… yeah. There’s more than just one thing you need to clear, actually.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” you confirm, though arguing, “I’m surprised you haven’t done it yet.”

“You do it. I know he’ll like hearing it from you better.” He pauses to answer his friend; you don’t even know what he said. “Okay. I’ll go grappling with Yoongi then.”

“Good luck.”

“Buy me sushi.”

One last laugh before you cut the call.

The clicking sound of your keys turning in the lock is music to your ears and balm to your feet. You skip the threshold with a relieved release of air; the apartment smells like diffusers, so warm compared to the declining temperatures outside.

You don’t hear a movement until you get to your knees, seating the box next to the shoe cabinet. As you start working on your jacket, you register a shuffle from the living room, but no voice — Jungkook said he’d be home before you. Perhaps he’s painting; or gaming.

A short text message during lunch assured him he could start dinner without you; deep down, however, you understood he wouldn’t listen anyway. And the obvious lack of aromatic scents wafting from the living room proves it.

You don’t enjoy eating alone — and he knows.

Clearing your throat, you announce your arrival, bent as you take your shoes off and rub your aching heels for a moment. You wish you could float. Offer them reprieve.

Stumbling in the anteroom, you wait for a greeting, but it seems he didn’t hear or notice you. You lick your lips, standing straight, and then speak into the hallway—

“I swear I don’t have a foot fetish,” a short pause — nothing, “but can you massage my feet again today?” You wait. Not a word comes back. So you joke, “Actually, just massage my whole body? I don’t mind. Need some hands-on relaxation.”

Subjectively, you think you’re hilarious. You giggle on your way to the living room, cheerful despite the jam-packed day — but your laughter ebbs down soon. Because he’s standing in the middle of the room, lips pressed into a tiny smile, head lowered, hands in his pockets.

And right in front of him, a timid woman in a coat. Blinking at you.

Your eyes dodge her gaze immediately. It’s an impolite reflex, heart pounding as you watch Jungkook’s hand lift to his forehead, hiding behind his bangs as he rubs. When he looks at you again, there’s an equal amount of worry and amusement in his expression.

“Shit,” you mumble, another mishap, and you continue cursing internally. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And then, “I’m sorry.”

She looks like him. Same sweet aura, short hair, big eyes.

Her right digits are wrapped around the fingers of her other hand, mouth shut tight, though smiling. She knows less what to say than you, and the moment stretches and stretches and does not end and—

“Hi,” you finally murmur, bowing slightly before you cringe. Too much? Not enough? You clear your throat again, and then introduce yourself quietly. “You must be Mrs. Jeon. I… I didn’t know you’d be here or I would’ve come earlier! I’m very sorry.”

Are you rambling?

How horrid. You’d feel so uncomfortable if you were her.

Only, she barely showcases any sign of displeasure or irritation. Despite striking you as an introvert, her movements soon prove confidence — the type to know what she’s saying or doing, but in a humble and gentle way.

She unfolds her fingers and lets them dangle, soon moving up to clutch the strap of her bag. Looking between Jungkook and you once, she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head, as if to promise that there’s no reason for any tension.

You sigh when she speaks, “Oh, it’s alright. I didn’t stay long and I need to go in a minute anyway.”

“Oh?”

“I was going to leave ages ago, but,” she points to her son with rolling eyes, and the man in question shrugs in faux guilt before she speaks on, “that one wanted me to see you for at least a second. I wanted to meet you properly… prepare dinner and all, but. It’s still nice to meet you.”

Her eyes are kind, taking you in; if you could guess, you’d say she’s… excited. Urging to finally speak to her son’s girlfriend.

She moves a teeny tiny bit, as if opting to offer her palm to you, or to— maybe hug you? But maybe she realises the timing, or sees your terrified expression, because she holds back for now politely.

“I see. It’s wonderful to meet you, too.” Incredible how you spoke about initiatives just this morning, rambling in the office until someone had to interrupt you for their own turn. Now, you can’t get a word out. “But, I… I am still sorry I barged in so rudely.”

She grimaces, moving closer to you with a waving motion, “You didn’t barge into your own apartment. It’s all good.”

Jungkook doesn’t interrupt much; doesn’t interfere with his own jests and statements. They mirror each other so much, though. In the way they smile, and in the way they talk.

Even the manner in which she places her hand on your arm, reassuring you, delivers the same warmth. You tense for a moment, not quite expecting the touch; but it’s motherly. Soft. 

A new emotion floods your heart, but you can’t decode it. Too many thoughts streaming in, brain working overtime to come up with a full sentence without stuttering, without those dumb hesitation markers that your studies taught you to avoid.

And maybe you’ve succeeded — only, the clump in your throat, accompanied by a strange twist in your stomach builds a barrier now.

Her touch feels… good.

“Do you… would you like to sit?” you ask, voice softer by an infinite amount. “I have a variety of tea here, and you could choose one. If you…”

You want to talk. About whatever. Not the slip occurring a couple minutes ago; maybe you just finally want to know who made Jungkook the man he is today. It wasn’t necessarily his father, was he?

Somewhere, this incessant, constant comfort derived from. But.

“I’d like nothing more than that,” she admits, “but I have massage therapy in a bit, and should get going. An adult’s back.” You laugh, and she gestures towards you with an open palm. “Oh, don’t you work in an office? Take care of yourself, too.”

“Not just an office, Mom,” Jungkook interrupts, inching closer until next to you and rubbing your back, proud, “she’s a manager. She walks around a lot, so the problem are,” he nods toward your feet, “these.”

True. Just today alone, your heels made it feel like you ran a marathon. Learning about each corner and wandering around that building drained you.

“Ah… I thought so,” she says.

You blink in faint confusion until you realise. Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, brief but telling, and his mother smiles in awkward amusement. Hell.

Your blood shoots back into your face, warming it thoroughly, and just before you can opt for another apology, she says, “You have him to take care of you. Make him spoil you! You do, don’t you?”

Her voice changes the moment she faces her son, a little strict but all in good fun; her eyes squint and he exclaims, “I do!” the moment you defend, “Oh, he does! He definitely does.”

She seems to like this. There’s a sparkle in her eyes, similar to the one you already know; perhaps she’s just as endeared as mothers–usually?–get, realising their children are happy and settling.

“We take care of each other,” you tell her then, and she responds with a content nod.

“Good. It’d be a shame if not. Taught him how to treat people.”

“He knows for sure, ma’am. I don’t think you’ll ever need to worry about that.”

You’re careful with your gestures, your smiles, your movements. Even though she’s made clear as day that she’s not to fear, you still shift your entire focus on the delivery of your words.

If you weren’t, you’d be more lax. Looking through the room, exchanging glances with Jungkook. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d notice that he’s playing with the ends of your hair.

And you’d see the way he looks at you.

With those barely blinking, calm eyes. An ocean of fondness in them, a light, lost smile around his face. As though you’re soothing him, pumping oxygen into his lungs.

You don’t see any of it; but his mother does. And you register the drift of her pupils, the minimal upward movement in her eyebrows as she shoots a glance at him — then back at you.

But when you follow her gaze to him, he’s already snapped out of it, clearing his throat.

“You should go before you’re late,” Jungkook reminds her, removing his hand from your hair, “I’ll go spoil her as you taught me, Mama.”

“You better. Pressure’s on.”

He smirks, lopsided as he slings an arm around her shoulder. She’s so much smaller than him. “Tell Dad Hi from me.”

A slight drop of his lips. He doesn’t look at her but the ground. Tell-tale signs of a distant ache, hidden behind an attempt to find a cure.

The sting is palpable, right in the middle of your heart, but it dissipates bit by bit as he smiles at you again. Genuine once more, back to where he was only five seconds ago.

You nod at her, one last, non-verbal confirmation that you feel cosy here. There’s something inarguably sweet in her instant care. How she instantly roots for your happiness. How she’s pouring all her empathy into you with a single look.

A stare that usually understands someone else’s pain; and then hopes for eternal peace for them.

She doesn’t even know you — does she? You wonder if he ever did speak about you.

“Okay then. Tell me if you need anything,” she says it to Jungkook, but promptly turns to you, promising you, “you can, too. Of course.”

“I will. Thank you so much.”

Purse lifted further up her shoulder, she starts a move toward the exit, already starting to wave you goodbye before she suddenly stops. Looks at you, and blurts, “Oh, and— has he uhhh…?”

She starts the sentence with hesitation, ending it with uncertainty and a look over her shoulder. You follow her eyes, barely catching him throwing a warning sign. His eyes are ripped open, head delivering tiny shakes, but he returns to normal the moment he catches you staring.

Okay. Something happened there that you’re not part of.

But that you’re supposed to be part of? You don’t know.

You’re curious, though. Already aware of what you’ll be pestering him with tonight.

She shuts up, letting out a short, tiny breath. Her small, sweet fingers curl just once before she releases them again, and she flattens her coat, nodding.

“I’ll leave you two alone then,” she declares.

“You should stay for dinner next time, though!” you offer.

“Of course. I’m eating with my husband after the appointment, so he’ll probably already be waiting, but. Next time for sure. And you should come, too, someday.”

Right. 

It doesn’t stop. It’s permanently odd hearing someone talking about that man other than Jungkook. Shouldn’t be, because she’s the closest and dearest individual to him, sharing a home and marital bed. But…

It’s like people don’t quite feel real from stories until one actually faces them. His mom’s subtle, harmless words about her husband make him feel realer, and Jungkook’s issues with them.

But most of all you wonder — why has he never visited here? You wish he had. You wish he would sometimes. But she didn’t even suggest bringing him with her next time. Or how his father would be delighted about a visit, too.

It doesn’t seem to faze Jungkook. Or maybe it does, but he doesn’t let it show. Or — worse. Has he gotten used to it? His father’s absence, or the term that defines their relationship.

Because he nods, a soft smile as a son usually throws at his mother. Casual but loving. He says, “Won’t keep you here then.”

Jungkook kisses her head at the door, and she stuffs her hands in her coat, politely bidding you goodbye.

You watch as she approaches the staircase, still waving when she turns around one more time. You sigh in relief — she was friendly. No panic. You didn’t fuck up entirely.

And despite the last moments of gloom that the mention of her husband evoked, you hear Jungkook’s chuckle resonate once the door finally closes. His steps move toward the living room, his shoulders shaking.

You nearly slide down the closed door as you watch him, head falling back before he falls into a wholehearted laugh. You imagine deep, multiple crinkles around his eyes, mouth wide in joy.

Eyebrows kissing, you follow him inside, nearly bumping against him when you realise he’s standing in the middle of the room, body still shaking from the chortle. He’s facing the ground, and you hit his arm from the back.

“Shut up,” you only order, opting to walk away.

But he turns to you, a hand around your elbow; he can barely breathe when he assures, “Okay. Okay, I’ll stop. Sorry, I just—” He sniffles as you look at him, sulking and trying his gloating not to make you laugh, too. “What were you doing?”

“That’s not funny!”

“I’m not trying to be funny! I’m serious.”

Which he clearly isn’t. The smile is too infuriatingly wide, and the tug at your arm too affectionate. He’s amused and you hate–love?–that you are, too. You keep the act of agitation intact for another moment.

But pieces of you break, your heart a melting mess when you watch his eyes nearly close, nose scrunched up. His shoulders rise — they always do whenever his laughter increases, bunny teeth protruding and the mole under his mouth a magnet to your lips.

And when he raises his hands to your face, cradling it, and speaks, you lose it entirely.

“What were you even saying, munchkin, huh? You’re such a little idiot, you know?” he playfully scolds, squishing your cheeks; peppering kisses on your skin and your lips; barely allowing you a moment to talk.

“And you’re—” you say between tiny kisses, distracted by the childlike, muah-ish sound effects that accompany his pecks, “so mean.”

“And you are the sweetest thing to exist.” The lovingly aggressive touch vanishes from your cheek to be replaced by sudden pinches; your protests are high-pitched, and unfortunately, enhance his statement. “Okay, okay. Come on.”

He flicks your chin as if to provoke you further, but dodges all your teeny tiny rage to come when he moves past your body. Warning abandoned, his fingers tweak your ass as he targets the kitchen, and you yelp, instantly slapping a hand over your butt.

“Freshen up and let’s get to dinner. And hurry. Gotta give you hands-on relaxation later.”

“You’re the worst, I mean it.”

But his evil snicker isn’t.

He might make your hackles rise, and test your patience the way he used to so long ago. Back when you’d seek him out in a miniscule dorm room, eyebrows furrowed just to see him a bit longer after class.

You’re always baffled how your foundation still stands; after all the shattering and agony and stings that fractured your heart. Only now, you’ll be surrounded by the bicker every hour of the day.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Living through an odd day at work, driving around town and embarrassing yourself in front of your boyfriend’s mother makes one dizzyingly hungry, you realised. Stress didn’t let you eat properly today.

Even now, there’s something you need to reveal to him — but the moment you sit down to eat and crack the first joke, you don’t have the heart to. And then, combined with the rush still lingering from the awkward, wholesome interaction before, and the shift in mood, you soon do the worst:

Forget about the issue.

Your eyes meet the bottom of your bowl sooner than preferred, your stomach still seemingly as empty as before. Whatever magic Jungkook seasoned the dish with, you want him to sprinkle it on your tastebuds every day.

Jungkook is sipping on his water when you suddenly look up and place a hand on his bicep, shaking him for attention. A guilty Oh slips out of you as you watch droplets roll down his chin, and he tries not to choke as he puts the glass back on the table.

“Babe—”

“I’m sorry!” you exclaim, thumb wiping at the fluid dampening his chin. “Just. Can we have more? That helped with that sickness all day, and… I’m still hungry.”

Along with the lack of appetite, you assumed the stress and the constant overworking dragged the feeling of illness and stomach ache throughout the day, too. Jungkook keeps warning you about burnouts — doing a thousand things at once, you’ve been thoroughly burdened.

But honestly. Maybe it was just hunger for a real meal.

“Oh? I'm so glad it helped then! And sure,” he responds. “Go ahead, there’s enough for like four people.”

You blink. “And you?” He shakes his head, patting his full tummy, attempting another try at drinking. You argue, “I’m not eating alone, though!”

“Angel, I’ve had like two portions. I'll be full until next dinner.”

“Lame!” You shift on the couch, half of your ass holding you onto it, “And if we found ways to burn it off?”

“…Ah?”

“I mean… You like working out. So just work me out.”

“Shut up. You’re impossible.”

You’ve long given up — you’re not an ass. You would never force him to eat or not to eat, unless he hasn’t in hours. But you also need a foolproof way of amusing him.

Which, despite his very unimpressed expression, you know you did. His lips still twitch.

Sombre, his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he shakes his head. You pat his strong thighs, standing from the couch with a hungry groan.

“Fine. I’ll go heat up some for myself then,” you announce, but Jungkook’s shrill alarm bells ring immediately, his body jumping off his seat.

“Not the microwave.”

“Jungkook—”

“Not! The microwave. Just toss it in the pan and heat it up there.”

You tiptoe to the kitchen just a little faster, playful as he hurries after you. You spend your seconds explaining why the microwave won’t explode; how tickling you won’t change anything; how you’ll break something if he doesn’t stop.

But most of all, you spend your seconds allowing him to chase away all sorrows you carried for so goddamn long.

Shut up. You’re impossible.

His prior agitation truly wasn’t one at all.

Because despite your obvious jests, the calories lost on the couch rob you of all sanity at last. A hand in your hair, a body pushing yours down, free fingers roaming your sides and your legs, and lips never separating from yours.

He doesn’t strip you off a single piece of clothing. Doesn’t dig a hand underneath your shirt, focused on how your mouth feels, how his name rolling off your tongue sounds.

The eyes he stares into are vivid and bright, and he uses up all his power to not let them kill him. Your body wraps around his like the most tender of all embraces; he doesn’t need you bare for it, no matter how blank the thought leaves his mind.

Only needs the proximity. The tongue touching his, the nails testing his shirt’s quality.

You miss most of the movie that he suggested, eating each other up, a fist around the hem of his shirt until he nearly falls off the couch and wakes you from your dream. You giggle and joke, spending the second half of the film yawning, sipping the peppermint tea. 

Jungkook uses the quiet time for whispered conversations; massages your feet as you pleaded for, repeatedly asking for your comfort.

The moments aren’t anything big, in theory. You’re not in a fantasy novel, not throwing a ring into a volcano. You’re mortal and here, surrounded by humane domesticity and drowning in casual conversations.

Yet — even though you’re not living through spectacular adventures, you’re breathing through special moments nevertheless. Because not a single second spent with him feels mundane, after all.

Sometime as the ending nears, you let your legs fall, pulled close to Jungkook by your hip. You don’t quite understand when or how he does it, but miraculously, you land half on his lap, ass barely on the couch and cheek pressed to his temple.

Jungkook pushes a hand against your thigh, heaving you up further and moving you until you’re comfortable. There’s a light groan, followed by a feathery kiss to your jaw; and you wrap an arm around his shoulder to hold on, shifting even closer.

Your touchy warmth isn’t new to Jungkook; but it seems that the changes in your lives made your inhibitions disperse. Like you broke the bars trapping you so far.

Because the increasing clinginess feels carefree; you don’t overthink your movements tonight. Even before, there was lightness in your interactions; how you’d breathe in his presence, compared to when the world intruded.

The difference was still never quite veiled.

He saw it when he called from so far away all those weeks ago, staring at the distress in your face through a device — versus when he returned to your world.

Or just recently, when you stood on that tiny stage, talking down to reporters — as opposed to when you whispered for him to get you home.

Your shoulders always dropped in relief the moment you stood in his soothing radius. And yet—

There was quiet discomfort in your eyes. And today — today he doesn’t see that usual steam frying your brain. Your smile isn’t burdened; you’re weightless, like you’re breathing.

Overwhelmed and endeared, Jungkook gulps. The pricking needle rods his heart, simultaneously flicking the wounds. He could cry.

He watches you busy your fingers with his shirt, unable to put his thoughts into a coherent string of sentences; so he only says, “You’re so cosy today.”

“Hm? I’m always cosy.”

“Mmmh… a bit more tonight.”

Your forefinger traces the outline of his pecs over his shirt, and you nod with a hum before you declare, “That’s because I’m trying to establish a healthy balance.”

“A healthy balance? How so?”

“I need to be nice, because you’re not.”

His eyes follow your finger’s slow movements, so his voice is soft, barely concerned. But his brain can’t quite compute as he asks, “I’m not nice?”

“You’ve always been mean, actually.”

He laughs. Taps your thigh rhythmically, close to your butt. “How am I mean to you?”

“Like,” you press your palm flat in the middle of his chest, looking at him. There’s a crease between your eyebrows, the slightest hint of a pout on your lips. “You ass could’ve answered when I came home. You didn’t say anything! Or did you really not hear me?”

Oh.

Ogling into your anticipating, subtly piqued eyes, he suppresses a laugh. His lips form a thin line, but the glow in his dark eyes betrays him. Your hand lifts a little, ready to spank his pecs, but you close the gap again as you grant him another chance.

“Hey, if you tell me you didn’t hear, I’ll let it slide.”

You’re well aware Jungkook graduated as the best of his year in Teasing You, and holds the degree proudly to your face every day — but you also know he’s honest.

So you’re not surprised when he admits, eyes mischievous, “I heard you.” Your slow blinking, the scolding gaze are hilarious to him; he looks unspeakably pleased. “I wanted to see what you’d do.”

Now you do slap his tits.

“And you didn’t expect me to say that shit?!” you reprimand. He wraps his arms around you, his laughter a deep, genuine emergence from his chest. “I’m an idiot, in case you didn’t know.”

“Of course. I do know,” he suddenly deadpans. Wow. That couldn’t have come any more naturally. “I know you well, baby.”

“And yet…”

He waves your concerns off, hand soon returning to your back to pull you closer. “She’s chill. I knew you were gonna amuse her right away.”

“Oh god. You planned this… Wait. You didn’t shush her when you heard the door open, right?”

He doesn’t answer. Just keeps looking at you. And then… is he…

Is he zoning out?

“Jungkook,” you call again.

“Hm?” He stares at you beguiled, as if utterly distracted by whatever. “Sorry. Can’t hear you—”

“You so can. We’re alone and I’m speaking loud and cl—”

“Nah, you’re just so pretty. I can barely focus.”

“I hate you.”

But you don’t.

He doesn’t need to spell his intentions out for you to understand. He might be testing your patience, but there’s a hidden meaning in his words that he can’t hide as well as he intends to after all.

Because you know he just wanted you to be yourself instead of playing a different role; just like he has never pretended in front of your parents. He knows you’d try extra hard for him — but he needed you to come in and receive affection as the person that you already are.

Guess whatever you blurted was the first impression he wanted to leave of you.

“So,” you start after a moment, back to tapping his chest, “do you think I did amuse her?”

“Oh, she loved it.” Of course she did. You could see the Jeon-esque endearment in her eyes the moment you stepped into the living room. Humbles you. “She’s gonna adore you, too.”

“Ah. Like you adore me.”

Jungkook’s response arrives in the form of a long, semi-damp kiss, delivered to the corner of your mouth. You grimace, torso moving backwards at his gentle force. He adds another Mmmhhh to the gesture until you’re nearly falling off his lap, pushing him away again with a giggly, “Stop!”

He leans back with a content sigh, eliminating more of the distance between you until his head almost rests against your chest. But when you speak again, he looks up into your face.

“Hey. Your mom was saying something as she was leaving. What was it again?”

“Uhh…”

His pupils roll up in thought, one shoulder already rising to shrug, but then it drops again before he voices, “Oh… Yeah…” A break in thought; then, “I figured you’d be busy with everything going on, so I was being reluctant about asking. Didn’t wanna put you in a difficult position.”

You wait. He speaks on, “But my cousin’s getting married next month, and I’m invited.”

There’s a beat of a pause, and you anticipate, already sensing a presentiment before he spits it out—

“And you are, too.”

Hold on.

Weddings. More often than not, weddings happen in big places, filled with a great number of guests. Of friends. And… of family members.

If what he’s suggesting isn’t a hallucination, it means that’d be how you’d step into the battlefield. Attempting your best to be yourself, to charm his family with whatever strategy.

Is he thinking of the same thing?

Because you’re speechless.

You close the mouth you only now notice stood agape, trying not to show the bubbling exhilaration too blatantly. That’d be your first joyful event together.

Oh god.

You might squeal; faint of nervousness. If you could, you’d press your fists to your lips and stomp your feet and twirl your hair and—

“Wait… You want me to go to a wedding with you?” you finally ask instead, keeping your voice in a normal pitch.

“Only if you feel like it.”

“And… and you?” you inquire, wide eyes looking into his wider ones. He’s nervous, too. “Do you want me to?”

“I… yeah. I do. I really, really don’t want to go without you, actually.”

Shit.

“Where is the wedding?”

“Yeah, see, that’s why I was afraid to ask. You’re so busy and your job’s so new. But we’d—” He hesitates, as if scared of rejection. Clicks his tongue, evaluating his words. “The thing is that we’d have to drive all the way down. It’s back at home.”

You need a moment. Back at home; you’re home. Meaning, it’s not here.

Meaning, it’s in his hometown. Meaning, you wouldn’t just meet his family, but walk through a place of memories and deeply rooted, nostalgic affection, too.

Which is… such a huge fucking thing.

Especially for a girlfriend.

Eun always says it doesn’t do bringing a girlfriend or boyfriend to big events such as birthday parties or weddings. It’s disadvantageous for the pictures, she claims. Who knows how the future might play out?

But Jungkook isn’t concerned with these issues. Jungkook wants you all the way down there, lurking on streets with him that he grew up on; tripped on; played on.

These are places with core remembrances. So easily expanded when more are added to them in later years; and so easily shattered when hearts break.

But a heart breaking is not an option, is it? Not anymore.

“You’re… taking me to your hometown?” you ask. You immediately realise the choice of words, and don’t hesitate as you add, “I mean. You’d be taking me home. You’d like to—”

“Is that—” he interrupts, suddenly unsure, “bad? Did it change your mind? You don’t have to, I promise.”

“No. I actually might cry.”

His expression momentarily softens, a big, clear Awwwh written in it. Gentle fingers brush your hair back, observing the vulnerability in your eyes. But shit, you mean it.

You could cry.

Because you talked about this so long ago.

Back when he was miles away, yet so deeply settled in your heart. Sneaking his way into your head, eating you up inside. When he broke off a piece of you and took it with him as he left, no relief for weeks on end.

And when he came back, he promised he’d take you with him one day.

Is that it? Is that now?

“Fuck,” you curse under a quiet laugh, confused by the burning in your eyes.

Jungkook’s hand brushes over your cheek, eyebrows slightly cocked. He might not have expected you to react with such… emotion. You hadn’t either.

“Hey,” his voice soothes, “don’t cry. It’ll be good. And if it’s not, or if you don’t want to, we can just stay here and never go again.”

You’re gonna sob. How did you deserve him?

Of course you want to go. Of course you’d make the best of it. No fibre in you wants to reject his offer.

In fact, you’re already daydreaming. Because…

How’s it gonna be? Will you see more stars there? Will his family like you? His Dad like you? And what are weddings with boyfriends like? Will you be seeing him in every flower in the hall, in every kiss the couple shares?

“No,” you say, “I’ll go. I will go because you’re too obsessed with me to leave without me.”

Jungkook chuckles immediately, but not speaking before rolling his eyes, “And you’re a brat.”

You wait a moment, smiling in unison with him, and then ask, “Honestly, I… I’d love to. Can I just still ask…” You’re curious; but you also want to keep feeling that warmth. More tranquillity from his words. “Why would you not go without me?”

He doesn’t stall.

“Because it’s such a big event, and… so far away. I don’t want to leave you here. And the thought of being at the most lovey-dovey place without my favourite person sucks.”

You’ll freaking screech.

“Jungkook!”

Half of the name is muffled when your lips drop to the crook of his neck, back uncomfortably arching and face heating up. Your ass threatens to fall back on the couch, legs still over his, and he hugs you close as he snickers again.

He shakes your body gently, trying to lift your face. Calling your name when your breath tickles his skin, asking, “Are we embarrassed?”

“No.”

But when you look at him again, your smile is wide enough to freeze your muscles in place. He shakes his head, flooded with aching joy, and makes sure again, “So you want to go, yeah? Don’t need time to think or something? It’s okay if you do.”

“As if. I really wanna go. I’m gonna make this,” you touch his collarbones, then your own, “work.”

He smiles. Grants you a short break to organise your thoughts. And while what you query next shouldn’t come as a surprise, it does introduce a delighted shift in mood.

“What am I gonna wear?”

Jungkook puffs out a breath.

You don’t notice; your focus drifts, directed to the carpet. You mentally scurry your closet, quietly trying to recall appropriate attire for weddings. Which is odd, because you should have the entire catalogue of your and every other place cemented in your mind.

“What do I wear?” you repeat, back to looking at him, barely allowing him a moment to think. “And don’t say anything would look good on me. Serious answers only.”

“You know a question like this prompts nothing but unserious answers from m—”

“Kook—”

“Okay. I mean, you have such pretty dresses. Lemme just choose one and we’re supplied.”

It’s an easy idea; fair enough. Only, you’re barely listening, earning a side-eye from Jungkook when you say, “I should buy a new one.”

Which still doesn’t deter him, though. “Cool. I’ll go with you then.”

“Or will I seem overdressed?”

“It’s a wedding, baby. Overdress like hell.”

“And… if I’m underdressed?”

“You’re still gonna be the hottest around!” he exclaims, and you flinch just a little. He’s not truly agitated, but there’s playful frustration in his voice, a grin around his lips. “Don’t worry about the dress, okay? It won’t stay on you anyway.”

Jungkook expects you to react with similar scolding, using it to hide how timidly flattered you actually are. But you’re too fired up, restless in his grip as your voice grows shriller, “I’m so. Fuck, I’m so excited!”

“I am, too. But…”

His palm moves up and down your back, one eye squinting shut as you start swaying a bit, pumped with serotonin. Like a thrilled child. You’re so…

He lowers his gaze; you might just see the heart eyes otherwise.

“Okay, hey,” he tries again, calming you as his fingers grasp your wrist. “Should we go to bed for now, though?”

You wait with your answer, relaxing your body. Stopping your elevated sounds, you draw the deepest breath in history, and then breathe out a whispery, “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Good. Oh.”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t actually been to the bedroom yet, right?”

“Oh…”

True. Since you came home, you only conversed with his mother, then rushed to take a shower as she left, still filled with prickling and nervous emotions. And then you hurried back to him, starving, eating, watching TV.

And now you’re here.

Was something different about the bedroom, though? You don’t think so.

“You’re right,” you tell him, “no, not really. Just to shower. Why?”

“Just…”

“…What?”

“Okay. Hold onto me.”

“Hold ont— oh, f—”

You gasp for air when two strong arms replace his soft hands, settling under your kneepits and around your back. He shifts dangerously on the couch, moving forward before he starts to lift with a self-motivating grunt.

“And— off we go.”

You sling your arms around his neck immediately, hiding, letting out a panicked, ”Be careful, I’m sli—”

“All good. Relax.” His arms wrap more properly around your limbs, and you dare to listen. Allowing your legs to dangle, you let him carry you calmly, breathing air through O-shaped lips. “Good girl. I won't just let you fall.”

“You better not.”

“No. Just wait.”

He looks at you with a comical grin, throwing a kiss into the air and down to you. Using your feet to kick the door open, he halts at the threshold; for a second, he looks… up.

And just when he finally enters the room, you quietly follow his gaze. The question as to what to wait for gets stuck in your throat when you realise what it is he needed you to see.

Holy shit.

the chapter isn't over yet – much to go!! tumblr just doesn't allow more than 1k blocks/paragraphs. apologies for the scrolling, but i promise it's worth it :'D here's the rest! <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

[jakexneytiri]

Hi, idk if ur still taking requests or not, but if u are, could u plz do a Dad Neteyam fic where reader breastfeeds their newborn for the first time in front of him

love ur work btw 💕

lots of breastfeeding requests 👁👄👁 what are you guys trying to say LOL (i’m jk hehe ofc i can. and thank you!! 💞)

⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰

you’re roused awake from the sounds of your son crying, along with a hand shaking your arm. you blink rapidly, as the blobs in front of you come into focus.

mo’at, who is shaking you, along with neytiri, neteyam, and your newborn. you sit up slowly, wincing as the pain in between your legs returns. it’s dull, but enough where you could feel it. neteyam’s ears fold back, guilt pooling in his stomach as he painfully watches.

giving birth hit you like a ton of bricks. it was painful, excruciating, and almost unbearable at times. you fell asleep moments after, exhaustion taking over your body. this is the first you’ve been awake since, neteyam letting you sleep for as long as you needed. he is sitting next to you, your son cradled in his arms ever so carefully.

“it is time, child.” mo’at’s voice is calm, as she motions for neteyam to hand your son off to you.

neteyam gives you an apologetic look, whispering “i’m so sorry, my love. he is hungry, grandmother says he should feed now. i’m so sorry, you can rest again right after.” he kisses your forehead, gently handing your son to you.

his small sobs broke your heart, you wanted-no, needed to help him. and fast.

you push the feathers that cover your nipple aside, exposing your left breast. a cloudy, milky substance is leaking from it, dripping down your chest. the sight takes you by surprise for a moment, it all felt…real. how you were a mother now, producing her own milk. it gave you a sense of pride, being able to provide.

neytiri’s voice snaps you away from your thoughts, as her hand carefully cradles your son’s head. “like this, y/n. hold him here,” she says, shifting your son’s head to rest in the fold of your arm. “and guide him, here.” she motions to your chest, supporting your arm as you bring your son’s head closer to your nipple.

his cries cease, when a droplet of milk falls on his tiny lips. his head turns, trying to find the source. you carefully guide his lips to your nipple, as his small lips wrap around it, immediately suckling.

a surge of concern washes over you, causing your eyes to water. you look up at your mother in law, asking “i-is this right? am i doing it right?”

neytiri smiles down at you, brushing your hair back for you. “yes, my sweet child. just like that.”

neteyam’s hand caresses your back, gently rubbing your shoulder. his eyes are wet, too. the sight was overwhelming for the both of you. officially parents, watching your son feed for the first time.

neytiri guides neteyam’s hand to support the arm cradling your son’s head. you look up at your mate, tears overflowing and spilling onto your cheeks. “he’s- he’s feeding, i’m feeding him!” you whisper, a smile spreading across your cheeks.

neteyam smiles back, leaning in to kiss your tears away. “i know, i know. you’re doing so well, my love. i’m so proud of you.”

#dad neteyam #dad!neteyam #dad! neteyam #daddy neteyam #dilf!neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x you #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x na’vi!reader #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully x you

[odxrilove]

BIRTHDAY BOY

PAIRING: mingyu x f!reader

GENRE: fluff, friends to lovers, bday party!au? kinda confession!au, uni!au but not really mentionned

WARNINGS: , flirting, swearing, alchohol, drinking, one mention of being high (not yn or seventeen), etc typical party stuff, game of truth or dare, minghao is annoying x1 (jk), yn gets jealous a bit, yn and mingyu are in love ewwww, huge make-out session (borderline smut...) (JKKK. or am i), lots of tension + more?

WC: +8.1k

SYNOPSIS: It’s Mingyu’s birthday party, and Hoshi lets something out under the influence of alcohol. Apparently, you have two gifts prepared for him– completely throwing out the one-gift tradition your friend group strictly follows. However, Hoshi’s a liar — and a bad one at that — but it’s already too late. Even though Mingyu knows he’s supposed to be excited about all the gifts he’s receiving tonight, he’s (not so surprisingly) only interested in everything you’re giving him.

A/N: thank u so so much to sara the loml pookie bear (@4xiaojun) for reading it so many times over the past few months and hyping me up ! i couldnt have finished this fic if it wasnt for u ily bae !!!! &&& rec song - i dont understand but i luv u by seventeen 

FIC TAGLIST: @etherealyoungk @simpforyongbokk @luvhyun3 @nhularin @matchahyuck @graybaeismytae @mark-geolli @esloao @jaklvbub @sukistrawberry @raggedypansexual

back to masterlist !

“Having fun?”

The music is loud, resonating off the walls and making your ears ring. But even if you barely hear your own thoughts over the noise, mingyu’s smooth voice fills your ears.

You change your weight from one foot to another, bringing the red cup to your lips and taking a sip of your drink. The alcohol isn’t cold anymore and you slightly grimace at the way it burns your throat when you decide to empty your cup. You pull the cup away from your mouth, bumping it deliberately against his before crossing your arms and looking up at him.

“Yeah. Even more so now that you’re here.”

His already pretty smile widens and his little vampire teeth appear as he throws his head back to laugh. Your mind is hazy from the alcohol and you’re a bit tipsy, glossy eyes staring at his neck. You always thought mingyu’s skin was so pretty.

Mingyu takes a look around the room before focusing on you again, leaning with his shoulder on the wall next to you. He’s tall and looking down at you, it makes you smile a little.

His heart beats in his chest at the sight of your cherry lips, still wet from the drink. He doesn’t think he’s seen you wearing this lip color before, recounting all the times you came to hangouts wearing anything else than lip balm. The color suits you though, he thinks.

Unconsciously, his eyes wander to your cup before landing on the white plastic rim, the red trace of your lip gloss making him shudder.

The glint in your eyes is mischievous when he makes eye contact with you again. He sees you looking him up and down and he has to yell at his own mind when certain thoughts enter his head. He can sense how you fill up with pride at the sight of him wearing the watch you just gifted him, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“You’re already wearing it?” your body turns to him a bit and he leans down even more at the same time, faces centimeters away from each other. He lifts his hand up with a grin, pushing his shirt sleeves up his arms even more when he notices you eyeing them.

This time, you smile so big Mingyu almost awes at the sight. You force yourself to stop smiling and look away but your happiness can be heard through your slightly playful voice. “The others wouldn’t be happy to hear that, y’know?”

Mingyu wiggles his fingers and flexes his arm, making you giggle and uncross your arms in the process. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s my favorite gift.”

He tilts his head to the side, ruffling his styled hair with his ring-clad hands. Mingyu isn’t much of a ring-wearer but when he does, it fills your stomach with butterflies– not that that doesn’t happen on a daily basis.

“Who said the others have to know?” His stare makes you feel weak, knees almost buckling under you. You lean back on the wall for support, something he definitely catches up onto with the way he smirks. “Let’s say this is our little secret, yeah?”

You blush when you realize he’s, again, wearing the rings you gifted him months prior for secret santa.

Mingyu turns to lean against the wall with his back, facing the crowd as he lets himself drown into the loud music and the warmth your body radiates, shoulders touching. Your friend crouches down a bit, legs stretching on the ground and head close to your neck. With a sigh, he plops his head on your shoulder, turning to hide against you. He grabs your hips and holds his arm around your waist, audibly whining against your neck.

You nod silently, picking at the rim of your cup. From how close the two of you are, Mingyu can count your lashes, admire your face and the way your lips curl into a smile when you see your friends having fun on the other side of the room.

His breath tickles your skin and you realize mingyu’s just as tipsy as you are.

“You know what Hoshi told me?” he starts off, voice small and softer than usual. You guess he’s a bit tired from partying all night. It’s only a few seconds later that you look at him, smiling and humming when he silently waits for an answer. “He said you had a second gift for me.”

The man, who’s supposed to be 6.1ft tall, seems to shrink even more at your question, pouting and eyebrows furrowing. He glares at you before his eyes turn soft, hugging your body from the side. “You know I didn’t mean it like that~” His voice is slurry and you laugh at him, patting his head and passing your fingers through his hair.

Ah Hoshi, he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t go around spilling secrets and creating drama. You avert your eyes, suddenly finding the fabric of Mingyu’s shirt very interesting. “Is the watch not enough for you? ‘didn’t know you would be so greedy, gyu.”

You nod again, fixing a few strands of hair on top of his head. “I like your hair like this.”

“Yeah? You think I’m handsome?”

Mingyu abruptly gets up, rolling his shoulders back to stand up straighter. He lets out a mix between a gasp and a chuckle before turning towards a mirror near where you’re leaning against the wall. He passes his hand through his hair, going over the spots you didn't touch and paying extra attention to not mess up the ones you previously styled as he smiles. Suddenly, his tone turns confident as he examines himself in the glass, winking and adjusting the sleeves of his shirt.

You try your best to keep a straight face but the alcohol in your system makes it a difficult task. “Of course, you’re always handsome.”

Mingyu seems to light up at your words, a big smile on his face as he returns to where you are, choosing to lean against the wall on your other side. You know he’s up to something with the way he looks at you but you don’t question it– he’s mainly harmless so you have nothing to worry about.

To Mingyu's surprise, you don’t deny it. 

He taps his pointer finger on his chin, pursing his lips and giggling, “Could it be that you’re flirting with me?”

He swears he can see a teasing look in your eyes before it quickly disappears, making him gulp. He can’t even question you about it more before you’re intertwining your fingers together, holding his hand close and walking away from the wall. Mingyu feels like a puppy following his owner, tail wagging and tongue lolling out as he watches you drag him to the other room, discarding your empty cup on a random counter.

With a loud sigh, you plop down next to the armrest, dragging Mingyu down with you, squishing his big body between Hoshi and you. He looks at you and pouts as you let your head fall back on the couch, closing your eyes for a few seconds as the loud music resonates off the walls. 

When the two of you enter the living room, you’re not even surprised to see some of your friends gate-keeping the couches, seemingly playing a drinking game. Hoshi is one of the drunker ones and you walk past him to get to the bigger couch, ruffling his hair as he stares with empty eyes at a framed photo hung up on the wall. He’s still out of it so you quickly scratch the underside of his chin with your nails and he perks up, immediately scooting over to give you and Mingyu some space on the couch.

You feel Mingyu’s hand resting on your forearm, slowly dragging up and down as he intensely watches goosebumps rise up on your arm. When Hoshi seems to get dragged into a conversation between Joshua and Seungkwan, voices fill the room and you joyfully listen, letting Mingyu take your hand in his. 

His skin feels soft against yours and his thumb draws circles on the back of your hand. You turn towards him, leaning further against the armrest as he smiles at you. He’s cute you think, he’s always been cute. 

And then Mingyu brings your intertwined hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of your hand delicately and smiling into the sweet kiss.

His eyes sparkle, the party lights making him shine. His hair is ruffled from the many hugs he received from his friends and his cheeks are rosy from the alcohol.

Suddenly, it feels like you two are the only ones there, like there aren’t dozens of partygoers stumbling around Mingyu’s apartment. It’s weird, how you stare at each other in absolute delight, ignoring everyone around you as if Seungcheol wasn’t calling out both your names for a game of truth or dare.

It’s Mingyu who first snaps out of it, having been elbowed in the ribs by Hoshi next to him. He grumbles in pain but lifts himself off the couch anyways, extending his hand out to you and winking at you. You laugh and place your hand in his, his warmth sending shivers over your spine. 

Mingyu hoists you up from the couch and immediately wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you so close to him that your free hand lands on his chest. He tilts his head slightly and comes closer, mouth inches away from your ear. 

“I’m happy you came. Thank you.”

Mingyu pulls back with a slight blush on his cheeks, the tip of his ears read. A shy smile covers his lips and for a moment you’re not sure if you’re able to speak. You shallow and find your vocabulary again, thoughts racing in your mind. 

When you speak up, eyes locked into his, Mingyu thinks he could pass out from the sugary sweet tone in your voice. 

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

With a silent nod of his head in the direction of the hallway towards his friends, you put your hand in his again and lead the way, zigzagging between guests. 

—

“So, you really made out with that girl during summer camp? There’s no way that’s true.”

Laughter fills the room as you once again find yourself in the living room with Mingyu and his closest friends. At first, you had all followed one of the guys to the kitchen for a game of truth or dare until one of the partygoers threw up right on the stark white kitchen tiles, pausing the game and consequently pushing the group back to the sacred couches. 

Jun yells at Dino, hitting the latter on the shoulder and downing his drink. The younger one cackles, teasing Jun more for his confession. “Shut up, dickhead. I’m not saying anything else, just know that she was the one who initiated it.” 

His answer doesn’t convince Dino in the slightest and he just continues to laugh, falling backwards on the beanbag he’s currently occupying.

Mingyu’s laugh fills your ears, the joyful sound bringing a smile to your lips. You’re sitting right next to him again, but this time with your back to the armrest, one leg dangling off the couch and the other one blocked under the latter. Your heel digs into the skin of your thigh and unfortunately for you, it’s starting to feel like you have pins and needles in your legs.

You openly wince at the prickly sensation and squirm around, trying to release your hurt leg as you support yourself on the armrest, your feet on the floor slipping. Even with all the laughter and noise in the room– and Hoshi’s sudden barking, Mingyu notices and turns to you with worried eyes. You’re pouting without knowing it and he finds it hard to stare away from your lips, forcing himself to help instead.

What you didn’t expect however, was for him to pull your legs over his, in his lap, after you sat back down. You can feel your face heating up and you’re sure that your ears are full on red at this point. Mingyu knows the effect his action had on you, smirking while pretending like he’s absorbed by the current conversation– or more so an argument between Seungkwan and Dino about who used to have the best math grades in high school.

A gentle hand places itself on the side of your knee, helping you lift your leg as he guides you up with his other hand on your waist, respectfully and only after your nod of affirmation.

The boy continues to act like nothing is going on, seeming calm while his heart beats loudly in his chest. There is so much going on, the music resonating off the walls and friendly banter in the background, but Mingyu’s only focus is on the way your breath hitches when he hoists one of your legs up in his lap. He grabs onto your ankle, near the strap of your high heel and your leg soon joins the other one in his lap.

Mingyu’s being careful with his movements, unsure if he’s crossing a boundary or not– unsure if he just ruined one of his best friendships just because his heart couldn’t keep itself in check. But then you grin, eyes sparkling wide and radiant as you look at his hand on your ankle.

It’s a silent game of back and forth– Mingyu’s looking at you to see your reaction and you avoid his gaze, knowingly, to stare at his pretty hand running up and down your calf. Mingyu knows you would have said something if you disapproved of his action but he’s still feeling like a high school boy with a crush on someone for the first time, worrying about every small thing.

On the other hand, you are glowing, happiness and excitement radiating off you. You feel weird, butterflies erupting in your stomach as if you weren’t already aware of how much Mingyu could affect you– how he could make you fall in love with him over and over again.

Actually, if he thinks about it, he is a boy with a crush on someone– you, just not as a high school boy anymore since he graduated long ago.

You snap out of your little bubble, again, and for once you are grateful for Joshua. Because you’re almost hundred percent sure Mingyu was starting to trace hearts on your thigh. And you certainly didn’t know how much longer you could survive his constant flirting.

When your eyes lock, there’s a look and nod of agreement between you. And then his hand is on your upper thigh, thumb brushing circles on your skin.

“Truth or dare! Yn and Mingyu, you two are playing this round!”

Even with the guys’ screaming in the background, you hold eye contact with him for a little bit longer, just in time to see his eyebrows relax and his gaze soften before you’re diverting your eyes. 

“Isn’t truth or dare something you play in middle school?” You tease your friends, trying to lift yourself off the couch to sit up straighter so that other people can join and use the couch. Before you can do so and pull your legs off Mingyu’s lap, he stops you with a hand on your knee, looking at you with furrowed brows.

“Cmon Yn, truth or dare is a classic. Even us oldies have to play it once in a while!” Dino exclaims, unaware of the sudden tension rising from your couch.

A loud slap is heard before Dino winces, turning around to face the culprit as Scoups menacingly points at him, “Ya! Who are you calling old!” They continue to argue for a bit, with Dino calling the oldest, well, old and Scoups pushing the youngest off the beanbag and on the floor.

Normally, you would have paid more attention to it, the friendly banter bringing you much joy, but this time your mind is focused on something else.

If Mingyu tried to talk to you right now, you would barely be able to hear it over the loud music, but he doesn’t talk to you, his gaze tells you enough. “Don’t” is what you understand he’s trying to say and you let out a deep breath. He’s still staring at you, hand still on your knee and his eyes seem to be pleading you to stay.

At that moment, you realize you could probably never say no to Mingyu.

So you set your legs back down in his lap, readjusting your dress so that you don’t flash everybody. When Mingyu realizes you decided to stay, he sends you a big smile, teeth on display. And when he smiles at you like that, you would trade every couch in the damn world to see it a bit longer. You don’t even care anymore about the other party goers who might have wanted to join the game, Mingyu and you clearly taking up the whole couch, with a drunk Dk squished to Mingyu’s right side.

“Hey lovebirds! We said you two are playing, pay attention instead of staring at each other!” 

The game in itself isn’t that bothersome– your friends are mainly having fun, bickering and throwing each other under the bus when it comes to revealing not so important secrets. It’s pretty entertaining to watch and you take pleasure in it, but you can’t concentrate fully on Jeonghan’s story about how he saw his high school math teacher and science teacher, both married with kids, making out together in the science lab ten years prior. And all that because of the eyes boring into the side of your head. 

You huff when you still feel his eyes on you after Woozi downed his drink, poking Mingyu in the ribs. A quiet yelp leaves his mouth and you smirk, triumphantly, crossing your arms proudly, chin high. 

That is until Minghao turns towards you, pinky lifting from his glass and pointing your way. “Yn, truth or dare?” 

Your cheeks grow hot, being caught off guard as you sink into the armrest of the couch. You take a moment to think. You know Minghao isn’t the type to completely humiliate you if you decided to choose dare, he’s actually rather laidback with you, but you also remember accidentally spilling his last cup of his favorite tea right on his lap when you all went to visit his new apartment a week prior. And since Minghao’s pretty protective of his tea, you’d prefer to avoid walking right into the cage of a wild and unpredictable animal. 

And as the red-haired boy looks at you, waiting for your answer with a slight smirk on his face, you’re sure you made the right choice. 

“Truth. I don’t want to leave this place covered in a mix of glitter and cereal or something.” 

Truth it is. And could Truth possibly do even any harm?

Minghao hums, taking a last sip of his drink before finally speaking up. “Wise choice. Or not. Yn, of all the people in this room, who’s the guy you’re crushing on?” 

Okay, so apparently Truth can do a lot of harm. 

Your eyes widen, your mouth falling open in sock as everyone turns to look at you, some whispering between themselves and some even giggling. 

You definitely did not think this through enough. 

Mighao tilts his head a bit and you don’t waste a second more before you’re reaching forward to grab your shot glass off the table, “Pass”. In your haste, you forget that you’re basically sitting sideways on the couch and that you don’t have any support under you as you move your upper body off the couch, eventually losing balance and falling forward. 

But before you can hit the coffee table with full force, an arm snakes around your waist, holding you up and bringing you back on the couch. Mingyu’s hand is holding onto your hip firmly, his fingers dipping into the fabric of your dress. 

There’s a sudden silence as your friends look from you to Mingyu, then back to you. You turn your head towards your ‘savior’ and directly make eye-contact, the close position and the strong scent of his cologne making you dizzy. 

Your face heats up, again, and you quickly grab your glass from the table, downing it and returning to your seat, hands clasped tightly together. Minghao eyes the now empty shot glass and chuckles, “Hiding something?” 

You glare at him, “It’s one question only, Minghao.” You forgot sometimes how infuriatingly teasing he can be. 

The next round of truth and dare goes more smoothly, nobody’s falling to the ground and there are no questions regarding anyone’s love life– if you don’t take into account Joshua asking Hoshi if his sister is still single. 

You don’t know how much time passes but you feel at ease on the black couch, leaning the side of your head against the backrest as you continue to enjoy the nice and friendly atmosphere. The guys have now changed to another game in a smaller group, while the others thought it was a good idea to start playing Mario Kart.

The music changes to a slower genre when the clock hits 2am and you decide that maybe it’s time to get another drink, the alcohol leaving your system a bit too soon for your liking.

With a sudden boost of energy, you swing your legs off Mingyu’s lap and stand up, kneeling down to stack the empty shot glasses and bring them with you to the kitchen. While you’re doing so, you feel a tug at the bottom of your dress. Mingyu pulls the hem of your dress down as you lean over and he makes sure no one can sneak a glance under your short  outfit. 

You turn to him with difficulty, the stacked shot glasses in your hands and your heels almost knocking over a plastic cup on the ground. Mingyu looks up at you, hair brushed back and arm resting on the back of the couch. He waits for you to speak and you smile softly. “Want a drink?” 

The corners of his mouth turn up and he gets up from the couch, taking the shot glasses from your hands. “I’ll go with you, if that’s ok.” 

You nod, and almost notice the faint blush on Mingyu’s cheek, “Of course.”

The music is still playing through the heavy speakers in each corner of the room, the lights of the TV casts a colorful glow over Mingyu’s living room and the chatter of every party goer doesn’t go unnoticed as you two make your way out of the room, stepping over the many empty cups on the wooden floor and into the less crowded hallway.

There aren’t really a lot of people in the hallway, but most of them are walking from one room to another, making it a hassle to peacefully cross the hallway without bumping into someone. It’s loud and the people occupying the little space aren’t exactly making it easy to enter the kitchen. 

Mingyu sees the mess before you do, taking all the shot glasses in one hand and grabbing your hand with the other. His back is creating a wall between you and the ‘danger’ in the hallway, and before you know it, Mingyu’s pushing forward, bumping into drunk party goers to make it through. He quickly creates a path, one that is safe to take as he pushes away the cups and beer bottles on the ground away and to the side, craning his arm so that you’re close to his back and following him.

When a very drunk– and probably high, guy stumbles out of a random room and directly into Mingyu’s shoulder, the shot glasses nearly fall to the floor, earning a panicked gasp from the owner. The guy doesn’t even bother to say sorry, looking past the both of you with a dead gaze as he tumbles forward, weak legs bringing him to the living room.

You whip your head around, smelling the awful stench coming from the guy and bring your hand up to cover your mouth. When he’s out of sight, you sneak one last glance to where he disappeared off to and tsks. “Asshole.” 

Mingyu’s laugh brings your eyes back to him, puzzled. He just squeezes your hand, sending you a smile over his shoulder. 

As you two finally arrive at your destination, the kitchen, your eyes widen in horror. It seems that there are even more people in the small kitchen than in the living room, which is already crowded enough. There’s not even enough space to navigate properly, people choosing to squeeze themselves between other people to get to the exit, spilling bits of their newly-filled drink. You hear Mingyu sigh– the cleanup the morning after is gonna be a tough one.

“Hey, why don’t you wait for me here? I’ll go in alone and come back with the drinks.” Mingyu turns to you, the shot glasses carefully leaning against his chest. 

Mingyu watches as you glance around the hallway and then around him, into the kitchen. You bite your lip, showing you’re becoming a bit anxious and he furrows his eyebrows. His smile quickly falters, showing concern right away. “You okay?” 

You look up at him as he turns fully towards you, almost blocking the doorway to the kitchen. You pass your hands over your dress, flattening out the non-existent wrinkles. “Yeah, it’s just starting to feel a bit too stuffy in here..”

Mingyu hums, raising his head to look at the end of the hallway, where the door to the balcony is situated. When he returns his gaze to you, he tilts his head cutely, licking his lips. “You wanna wait by the balcony? I told the guests not to go on there too much so that i won’t get a noise complaint from the neighbors. I think it’s safe if you go there.” 

With a smile, you nod at Mingyu, “yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” You place one of your hands on the wall next to the kitchen before leaning in so he hears you better over the music. “Don’t die in there by the way! We haven’t even gone to Iceland yet like we planned to years ago– it would be a waste for you to miss out on our extravagant bucket list, right?”

Mingyu’s laugh fills your ears, the sound making you smile from ear to ear. “C’mon, who do you take me for? Seok– Oh sorry.” Mingyu cuts himself off, lifting his two hands in the air with one still holding all the shot glasses. The girl, who just bumped into Mingyu, and who you recognize as one of your classmates from your major, pushes her hair behind her ear, blushing at your friend. 

Before she leaves, she mumbles a few words, but the music is way too loud for you to make out what it was, and then she’s gone. 

You don’t pay too much attention to it, as does Mingyu, who’s already back to look at you. It’s not the first and certainly not the last time someone is going to bump into one of you two at his party. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You turn back to Mingyu, crossing your arms and making the silver necklace you’re currently wearing shine even more under the flashy led lights. 

“Ah, sweetheart, you never listen do you?” Mingyu brings his free hand up to your jaw, tapping on the underside of your chin with his index finger. “I said, you need to stop biting your lips when you’re nervous. They’re too pretty for that.” 

You can’t speak, your entire vocabulary having left your body. His hand then turns to cup the underside of your jaw, his thump grazing over your bottom lip, ultimately smudging a bit of your lipgloss. Your mouth falls open a bit at the shock but he doesn’t stop. “A pretty color.. for pretty lips. Suiting.” His thumb sweeps one last time over your lip before he retreats into the kitchen. 

“Wait for me by the balcony, I'll grab our drinks for us.” 

— 

The temperature outside is completely different from the stuffy warmth inside the small apartment, the cold breeze making you shiver. You’re not a fan of the winter, or the cold in general, but when it’s almost 3am and your cheeks are red from being around Mingyu, the weather is probably the only thing keeping you sane. 

You think it’s captivating outside– how the moon shines and provides you enough light, how the silence from nature and the muffled sounds from the party mix together, how the wind blows your hair around and makes you tremble. You like it all.

There’s a calming atmosphere around it. You don’t feel as edgy as before and you mentally thank Mingyu for allowing you to use his sacred space for your own benefit. 

If you truly think about it, you had come to the party with no real intentions, but as the night goes by, you find yourself yearning for more. 

You find yourself yearning for Mingyu. You suppose it’s not entirely a bad thing– it’s also not the first time. 

You’re leaning over the balcony railing, looking down to the street at the foot of his apartment building. The concrete tiles are darker than usual, and wet– you were too absorbed by the party to even notice it was raining outside. The water droplets on the railing are cold against the skin of your forearms but you just clench your jaw through it. In a way, it wakes you up.

Your eyes are closed as you hum to the melodies of the pop song playing inside, chin propped up on your palm. You don’t know how long you rest your eyes, but you missed Mingyu’s voice when he opens the door to the balcony, stepping out of the apartment and smiling your way.

“Sleepy?” You just tilt your head, eyes still closed. You do turn towards him as you feel his presence behind you. 

You realize Mingyu always smiles when he’s looking at you and butterflies race in your stomach. 

Your hands are on the slippery metal railing as you lean back against it, the water droplets staining the lower back of your dress. It’s cold against your skin and you shiver, suddenly, and Mingyu notices, immediately stepping closer to you. 

“Just a bit out of energy.” 

Mingyu closes the balcony door behind him, swiftly setting down the two newly-filled plastic cups on a wobbly garden table in the corner and joining you. He stands in front of you, hands in his pockets and smirking down at you. You gulp, feeling like his prey. 

“Why’s that?” His tone doesn’t show an ounce of concern. Probably because he knows he has nothing to worry about. 

You’re not a jealous person, truly. You’re relatively confident when it comes to your relationships and friendships and have never deemed it necessary to throw a tantrum about your partner and who he talks to. To be fair, your last relationship was quite a while ago, but you still stand by your own beliefs. 

So, feeling a tiny bit of jealousy creep up when your classmate– the one who had previously bumped into Mingyu– walked up to him in the kitchen and laid her perfectly manicured hand on his bicep was an entirely new thing for you. 

You had even questioned yourself if you had the right to be jealous. You and Mingyu weren’t even together! 

The fact that you could watch what was happening right from your spot on the balcony didn’t help you either– your curious self being unable to stop watching while your mind was telling you to think about happy moments– aka moments where Mingyu showed he was definitely more interested in you than in the party or your classmate. 

So even though the little angel on your shoulder tried to avert your eyes from the crime scene, the manipulation play from the little devil on your other shoulder was a bit too convincing for your liking. In conclusion, you found yourself staring at the entire event. 

Frankly, nothing happened. On Mingyu’s part at least. The girl however, let’s say she was just trying to get to know him (a lie you’re definitely not telling yourself to keep calm).

Honestly, you weren’t paying much attention at first. It’s Mingyu’s birthday party, of course people will go up to him and congratulate him. But when the girl– you honestly don’t even remember her name– leaned towards him and put her hand on his chest, on the same spot where your hand had been moments prior, you knew this was more than a simple “happy birthday!”. 

Was it foul to only remember the way Mingyu’s smile seemed fake, the way he slowly backed away from her presence, and the way he rushed back to you? If it was, you couldn’t care less.

The two drinks he brought back were still sitting on the old table, untouched as if forgotten. 

Mingyu’s a bit too close for your liking. You can probably start counting his lashes– or the sparkles in his eyes. But when you open your mouth to joke, so that the tension could leave your body, Mingyu interrupts you and gets even closer. 

His tone is serious but you know he’s enjoying this, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “Were you jealous?” 

You hate how good Mingyu knows you, and you hate the effect he currently has on you, even though you would normally bathe in it. 

You know he knows, so there’s really no need to lie. Even more so when one of the reasons why he rushed back to you was because your eyes met when he was getting your drinks, and he saw you biting your lip. And you know now he doesn’t like it when you do that. 

You lean back against the railing even more, the metal digging into your skin as your heart starts to speed up. Your sudden shyness doesn’t waver his interest in the slightest and he only takes a step forward, backing you up against the railing. 

“What are you going to do if I say I was?” 

At that, Mingyu chuckles, looking to the side before hanging his head down. When he looks at you again, his hand finds its way to your cheek and he carefully brushes over the blush adorning your skin. 

The only thing you hear is a small ‘cute’ uttered under his breath before he retracts his hand and puts both of them on the railing behind you, trapping you between him and the end of the balcony.

Mingyu caught you, literally, and there’s not much you can do to stop him from getting what he wants. So you opt the easy way out, speaking the truth. “I was jealous, yeah. For the first time ever actually.” 

His smile grows even wider. “Do you love me that much, darling?” 

You don’t give him an answer this time, because you know he’s not really waiting for one. He knows and that’s enough for him, now. He also doesn’t really have the correct mindset to play this game with you at his party. The few glasses of alcohol you both took earlier are probably a bit at fault too. 

You clear your throat and he speaks up again, voice a bit rougher than earlier. “I guess Hoshi didn’t lie when he told me you liked me that much that you would have prepared two gifts for me.”

“You know Hoshi almost always lies.” You let go of the railing, hands finding their way to Mingyu’s waist, fiddling with his leather belt.  

You hear him inhale sharply, looking up to the sky for a short moment before focusing on you again, and definitely not on your hands. 

To fight back against the aggressive butterflies causing havoc in his stomach, Mingyu pulls you towards him, one hand on your lower back and the other one squeezing the fat at your hip. He’s in total control, and he’s confident about it too– you couldn’t even blame him for it. 

“Oh, almost always? So he’s not lying this time?” Mingyu leans down again, faces inches away from each other, to the point where you could just close the distance between the two of you with a small movement of the head. “Because I do think there’s some truth to it, sweetheart.” 

Your hair swings in the wind, and even though it’s cold, you want to stay with Mingyu as long as possible. His body feels warm under your fingertips and you almost gasp when he pushes you against the railing, his hand protecting your lower back from digging into the cold, wet metal. 

A short silence fills the air and you don’t know what to do except look away, your face growing hotter and hotter with every minute. Mingyu doesn’t talk either, too busy staring down at you. He makes a mental list in his head of all the things he loves about you, adoring you with his eyes while the music inside resonates from the glass door. 

You look away because you can feel him stare, and you wouldn’t know how to react if you were to make eye contact, since the effect Mingyu has on you is continuously making your knees buckle under you. 

“Were you interested?”, you suddenly ask, voice much quieter than before. It takes Mingyu a few seconds to realize what you’re talking about when you don’t meet his eyes, deciding to rather look at his shoes instead. 

He thought he had made it clear– clearer than anything else– but he didn’t expect you to suddenly shy away while in his arms and close to his chest, all because some girl tried to flirt with him. Deep down, you know he isn’t (if he was, he wouldn’t be with you right now, risking at least a three day-long fever) but you want him to say it. 

Mingyu just tilts his head a bit, a soft smile on his face as he tries to show you you have nothing to worry about. “Not in her, no.”

This time you smile back, a quiet ‘good’ falling off your lips as you place your hands on his forearms, palming his muscles through the sleeves. “Just wanted to make sure, y’know.”

He knows. 

Now it’s his turn to ask questions though.

“Why didn’t you say anything during Truth or Dare?” The question comes off strong, completely out of nowhere and causing your eyes to widen in shock. You weren’t expecting him to mention the game and how much you had embarrassed yourself.

You’re quick to answer though, in all honesty. “Because the others didn’t have to know.”

Mingyu smirks, liking the way your face heats up whenever he does or says something. He feels like your eyes can’t take him in wholly, going from one part to another frantically as they slide over his upper body. “And can I?” 

Your eyebrows furrow after his teasing tone makes an appearance again and he has to stop himself from letting out a chuckle. You’re almost pouting too, lower lip jutting out and unintentionally showing off your pretty lipgloss. You cross your arms, nails digging in your own forearms as the cold suddenly takes over you again. “I think it’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

A beat of silence, and then, “I want you to say it.”

He’s begging for it, pleading eyes boring into yours. His voice sounds somewhat more whiny as he starts to rub your sleeveless arms, making the goosebumps disappear. It’s not the first time you’ve seen Mingyu use his puppy eyes, he usually brings them out when someone teases him or when he needs something, and today, it’s the latter. 

Once again, you find yourself unable to refuse Mingyu anything. 

“I should have said your name when Minghao asked.”

Then he’s smiling again, happy you finally (kinda) admitted what you two should have confessed months earlier. He didn’t think you would give in so quickly, making him beam in excitement. His eyes are full of joy and his cheeks are rosy– you like to think it’s because of what you said, but the alcohol could still be playing a part in it.

You didn’t even feel tipsy anymore, no blurred vision or imperfect balance. It’s the first time you’ve sobered up so quickly, and you entirely thank Mingyu for it. 

You truly don’t know how much time passed since you stepped foot onto the balcony, the cold weather dragging every minute out but Mingyu’s presence speeding everything up. The music seemed to have calmed down a lot since the beginning of the night, and when you glance around Mingyu and into the apartment, you notice you can actually now make out the furniture and picture frames in the hallway. The kitchen and hallway are mainly empty but you can still hear chatter and laughter coming from the living room, concluding the rest of the guests are probably scattered all over the couches.

When your thoughts are all over the place, a slight pinch at your hip wakes you up, bringing you back to reality– on the balcony, and still in Mingyu’s arms. He chuckles, smoothing down your dress where he pinched you, rubbing over the now sore spot as you slowly wince. 

He looks behind him, into his apartment, where you were previously staring at and comes to the same conclusion as you. 

You’re all alone, with no one around. 

That thought alone makes him gulp. Fuck, was he always this nervous around girls?

It’s a silly question, because he knows he’s only ever that nervous when it comes to you.

He’s nervous, but he still craves for more so he focuses on you again. On your pretty eyes and how much they glisten in the moonlight. On your soft hair and how perfectly his hand fits in the nape of your neck, playing with a few strands. On your pretty lips and how he wishes he could just kiss away the lipgloss, so that you’d have to apply it again and he could then mess it up again.  

Mingyu needs you now, and if that means speaking without a filter, then so be it– a sacrifice he’s more than willing to give. 

“Are you going to kiss me now?”

You giggle and he feels dumb. But then you smile so deeply that he falls in love all over again. And he thinks you’re with no doubt the most beautiful soul he’s ever met. 

Your hands start to travel back up from his forearms to his biceps, before landing on his shoulders, where they squeeze his muscles, the tension in them all too familiar. You eye him, entirely this time, taking your time to appreciate every single part of him. 

You stare a bit too long at his neck and Mingyu blushes, unaware of how he’s supposed to react to this sudden onslaught of attention. Your hands move up to his jaw, holding his face close to yours as you stroke both his cheeks. 

You truly have him twisted around your finger. 

“Do you want me to?” It's an unnecessary question, but you want him to say it– just like Mingyu wanted you to before. Mingyu thinks he’s on the verge of collapsing, the only thing still keeping him upright are your hands on him and his on your waist and the railing. 

He’s desperate as he catches both of your wrists and kisses them each, before bringing your right arm up to wrap around his neck. He’s slow but determined and it sends shivers down your spine. Your nails scratch against the nape of his neck and he groans, clearly affected by it– by you. 

“Please, Yn.”

Your left arm soon joins the other one around his neck and Mingyu has to mentally restrain himself from rushing whatever good is supposed to happen. When both your arms are loosely hanging around his neck, your bodies are closer than ever, chests pressed against each other, warmth engulfing you entirely.  

Your sweet voice is the last thing he hears before his mind circuits. “Guess it’s time for your second gift then.”

And then you’re standing on your tip-toes, closing the small distance between you two and finally, finally stopping the seemingly endless torture. 

Your lips smash against his and it’s so aggressive because you can’t control yourself anymore. His lips feel soft and delicate against yours and you think you might end up breaking them– you wish you would. 

Mingyu holds a strong grip onto your waist, his arm circling around it to make sure you don’t shy away again. His other hand is on the side of your neck, holding onto your face as he pushes you against the balcony railing. 

One of the first things he notices is your raspberry flavored lip gloss– which he swears he knows he will never get enough of– and the slight hint of alcohol on your lips. It’s enamoring, enticing and everything he’s ever wanted. 

You run out of breath quickly but you don’t stop, you refuse to, physically unable to separate yourself from him. It’s Mingyu who backs away first, leaving you desperate for more, chasing after his lips. You gasp for air, head spinning at the utterly new but heavenly feeling while Mingyu attacks your neck, jaw, and everything that could make your eyes roll back.

Your hands are gripping onto his shirt, nails clawing at his back as Mingyu takes pleasure in pressing kisses onto your skin, going from your neck down to your cleavage and stopping when his chin grazes the fabric of your dress.

Mingyu groans when you pull at his hair, biting and sucking at your neck before planting a last kiss on your collarbone, quickly coming back up to your lips. He swears he can’t live anymore without kissing you. 

You drag Mingyu closer to you by the collar of his shirt, and then he’s kissing you again. His lips were determined and unrelenting, not letting go of you. He was addicted, goosebumps taking over his body as he bit down on your lower lip. You whined at the metal taste in your mouth, craning your neck for more. 

Mingyu chuckled against your lips, kissing them slowly before sliding his tongue against your lower lip to soothe the bite. He’s barely leaving you alive, completely breathless but still– always–  aching for more. 

His mouth was devouring you and you just couldn’t get enough– both of you, too absorbed in your own little bubble to even notice the weather was becoming gradually worse, rain falling out of the sky in a downpour. 

His tongue slid against your lips, again, before entering your mouth. Your hands holding onto Mingyu’s shoulders weren’t enough to get you anchored, legs trembling as he held onto your waist, muscles flexing. 

Mingyu’s warmth surrounded you completely, to the point where you felt like you couldn't breathe properly. Mingyu had taken full control over you, as your mind was a total mess, and you were just able to follow his movements and beg for more.

You gripped onto his bicep as you arched your back, the rain drenching both of you to the core– not that you really cared anyway, the way Mingyu’s tongue fought with yours was what truly mattered. 

You were ruined– completely and devastatingly ruined for everyone who wasn’t Mingyu.  

Then he eventually parted from you, pressing one sweet kiss to your mouth and you almost teared up when you felt him smile against your lips. 

Mingyu was beautiful, soaking wet hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks and the tip of his ears spark red and his lips swollen, red and plump from kissing you. His chest is heaving as you stare up at him, not caring in the slightest about the rain messing up your makeup and outfit. 

His hands slowly lift up to your face, holding it so softly your heart skips a beat. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone and he leans towards you, nuzzling your nose with his. 

Mingyu’s eyes literally shine and your lips part in awe.

You stare too much but Mingyu doesn’t force you to look away, because he’s sure he’s staring just as much. 

It’s only when you lean back into his arms that Mingyu notices the lingering taste of raspberry on his lips. He grins and he hopes that your lip color stained his lips, so that when you go back inside, your friends know that you’re his now– not that they weren’t aware before. 

And when you lift your head to look at him, arms circled around his waist, your smudged lipgloss is enough to make him want more. 

“Happy fucking birthday to me.”

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#k-labels #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen fics #svt x reader #seventeen mingyu #mingyu x reader #svt mingyu x reader #svt mingyu #seventeen imagines #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu x reader #svt fics #svt imagines #svt fluff #mingyu x y/n #seventeen x y/n #mingyu fluff #mingyu fics #mingyu imagines #svt au #mingyu au #! music articles .. 💿

[aajjks]

The Devil Wears Glasses (m)

Synopsis. you were a bitch and he was your puppy.

Pairing: jungkook x Reader

Genre: bully au, mature. Fluff, angst.

warnings: sêxǔäl thèmès, YÂNDÈRÈ, dïrty thêmês, büllyïng, másôchïst kôôk, mâtürè thèmès, jèálôúsy, pôsèssïvènèss, pröfânïty.

note. OH MY GOD GUYS I JUST KNOW YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE HIM. HE’S SO UNPREDICTABLE AND THERE’S A HUGE SURPRISE SO LOOK OUT FOR THAT. ;) you can send asks for him, so let’s welcome a new jk into the multi.

You are such a bitch.

Oh you are the bitchiest person to ever grace this planet. How can you be so insensitive? You are heartless.

You deserve to burn in the deep flames of hell. Do you even have a heart? Were you even a human at this point? You could be a witch. Oh! Yes, that must be it, because...

You have got him tranced.

What does he even see in you? Jungkook is not sure, You are only a pretty face, with a hot smokin body, But that was about it.

He should hate your guts because he hates people like you.

Because you are a bully.

And he is a sweetheart. An innocent young man. While? You are the spawn of the devil. There you stand right in front of him, Jungkook fixes his glasses, feeling so nervous.

His heart is thumping, so loud.

“Puppy!” You call out to him, his eyes widen, you’re right in front of him and his mind is going blank. He stands tall over you, but you’re the one who is in control.

It’s so obvious and ironic.

You’re so pretty. And that cruel smile on your face, is making his pants grow tighter. Fuck, you’re not supposed to have this effect on him.

“P-Please don’t pity me.” He utteres in a small voice. You raised your eyebrow as your “friend” giggles.

“Oh, aren’t you a little masochist, puppy?” You coo at him, leaning in and whispering the words in his ears. He shudders, goosebumps on his neck. A sadistic laugh leaves your lips. Your eyes fall on his face.

Red as a tomato.

He seems to be lost as you trail your freshly manicured fingers on his rather hard chest. Your finger stops for a moment, can’t believe that you’re feeling his chest up.. right in front of your friend.

Yes, he works out.. it’s important.

Your touch feels so good- oh, someone help him.

He looks up in surprise, his doe eyes widen as he closes his eyes and whimpers quietly. “God.. this is all? A simple touch is all that’s needed to bring out the sick bastard in you?”

Your tone is mocking, cold.

He bites his lip, your words are crude but so true.

“You better complete the project, jungkook. Or else.” You spit in sarcasm, your eyes hardening, his heart flutters, He is pathetic.

He quickly nod. “y-yes I will, Y-Y-Y/N!!! I-I promise, p-please don’t get angry with m-me....” he pouts as you roll your eyes and leave him alone with your friend.

He watches with heart eyes as you walk towards the other direction of the school hallway with your minion.

God. You have such a bouncy ass, and such pretty legs. He blushes shamelessly, watching you move, his sudden lewd thoughts that surround his mind are making him feel a little embarrassed,

But you’re just so perfect.

You’ve got a perfect body, And a worth dying for laugh too?

Your laugh makes him weak in the knees. No, just a glance from you is all it takes to make him fall on his knees.

The way you walk, and the way that your hips sway make his mouth water. He stands still on his spot as his hand finds itself touching his chest, where you touched him.

He smiles, You touched him!!! Again! Was it the third time or fourth? He needed to know!!! He needed to write it down.

He needed to! But.. first, he needed to give you the already completed project. He smirks.

He turns to walk where you are now.

Slowly and cautiously.

...he feels like a really bad boy for lying to you... but as much as he deserves to be punished.. he can’t bring himself to give a fuck.

And also... if he didn’t lie then how would he get to see your pretty face and feel your touch? And listen to you cuss him.

God.. that turns him on so much.

Your pretty mouth saying such dirty words... he gulps quickly. His throat is getting dry.

But he adores it the most when you called him puppy.

That was so romantic!! It was such a lovely term of endearment. His heart flutters abnormally when you called him that.

He is your puppy. “gah, I love her so much.” He gushes to himself as he walkea slowly. “She’s so lovely.. I’m going crazy.” He breathes. Walking so carelessly, lost in his fantasies as he bumped into a person.

It was yunho.

His right hand man. Jungkooks face does a complete 180 change, now, jaw clenched and his eyes... hard. “Watch where you’re going, fucker. This was the First and last time. I’ll fucking shoot you next time.” He growls in a dangerously low tone.

Making sure that you can’t hear him.

Yunho eyes widen with fear. “I-I am so sorry Sir but... this was important..” he stutters. Looking down at the floor. The weight of jungkooks murderous eyes on him is making him regret every single decision in his life.

Jungkook looks around to see that the whole hall was finally empty. Everyone has gone to their classes, even you, he scoffs in annoyance.

This fucker is going to die.

“Spit.”

“W-We found him. The guy you asked for...”

Jungkook smirks. “Great.” at least now he will get to get his frustrations out on someone, he doesn’t exactly appreciate your stupid bitchy attitude, but- you manage to get him hard so.

Oh today is really a great day, Now he could finally be his real self. He’s getting tired of hiding to you, of course. It’s just been awhile since he got to kill someone.

He loves being always be your ever so loyal puppy, but now it’s about time he makes you his bitch.

But to the underworld. He was Jeon Jungkook.

The biggest fucking gang leader of South Korea.

Jungkook fixes his glasses once again, these glasses are fucking annoying- he needs to take them off- his eyesight is perfectly fine, but he looks cute in them like you said-

“where is my fucking homework?” He asks.

He only does your homework, and his people do his, sometimes he’s not sure what the fuck he’s doing.

he doesn’t even understand what he’s doing here because he doesn’t need to study. He just needs to take care of the business, but ever since you caught his eye when he was visiting this University, since his mother had insisted.

He wanted to be with you.

“I-I have it in my bag!”

“Fuck off now.” He growls, and Yunho doesn’t need to be told twice.

Oh, the things Jungkook does for you. It’s OK.. once he has you? You are going to find out about everything. Just a little bit more.

You were just the spawn of the devil. But he was the fucking devil himself.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jjk smut #yandere bts #yandere jjk #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #smut #yandere x reader #yandere smut #jungkook x you #jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jjk fluff #jjk angst #bts x reader #bts ff #bts fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkokk x yn #bts x yn #bangtan smut #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk smut #jungkook fluff

[keen-li]

PREDESTINED

Mortal/commer jk x goddess reader

Jk x fem reader.

Fantasy au

Wc: 4.1k

Oneshot

☆☆☆

You release a moan at how the water touches your body and how the bubbles of heat tickle your breasts. You hum your beautiful melodies, your melodious voice calling out to all the little night lights that luminate your night bath. Your body glows and causes the pool you're in and anything you touch to glow. You continue to rub your smooth and soft skin when you hear a rustle in the bushes behind you. No one and absolutely no one is allowed in your forest inclosed pool. Not even the servants. Anyone who dares to trespass your territory by your guarantee will be banished. There's only one person allowed, he's the main reason why you have this place enclosed. It's the only place where you to can meet freely. And so you already know that it's him

"You shouldn't be here" you say with a smile. Legally he shouldn't be here but personally you're glad he's here.

"I'm to be married tomorrow"

You can hear the cling of his belt and the his trousers hit the floor. By the sound alone you feel yourself clench. You don't have to be a genius to know how he's feeling. "And that's why im here..." his husky voice speaks.

"...to give you a goodbye" you hum at his words and see the ripples caused by the entrance of his body into the water. And in a second he's standing in front of you, muscles and tattoos on show for you. You've always loved his tattoos especially the effect you had on them.

"This is no goodbye, jeon" your hand touches his as your fingers trace the muscles of his chest. When your hand traces his tattoos, each little inked pattern begins to light up. You loved that and so did he, telling by the smile on his face as he watches his tattoos light up. "I love when you do that"

"I love to do it" your hands leave his now fully glowing tattoos and he takes the moment to take your hand in his. He places a kiss on your hand eyes still on yours.

"love your hands and the power they have" kiss. "the power they have on me" kiss. "on my mind" kiss, "and on my heart"

"And wont say where else..but you know"

He winks at you making you blush. His hands trace your hips feeling your curves. It took him sometime to get used to the power your body emits, but he's like a pro now, knowing how to hold and handle your body. Its like your power has become used to his touch and hold. You certainly have. You give into his touch immediately moving your neck to allow his lips to make a move. and they do. They're soft and gentle against your skin. If you could you'd pull him even closer into your body by his waist.

Your voice gives in to his contact. You whine at each touch. "its like you've got a spell on me, y/n" he says against your skin.

"you dare call my name, jeon" you say seriously but you're everything but serious.

He chuckles "should I shy away from calling my love's name?" he stops his kisses to look into your bright eyes.

"a goddess's name"

"my wife's name" you scoff at that. His fingers tickle your waist knowing your follow up statement. "kookie I can't be your wife" just by the way you his name electricity is sent to his crotch.

"you can be if you just get the tattoo" you know what he means he's been telling you ever since he knew his love for you that you should get the tattoo, but its not that easy. He already has your name tattooed on his. Right on his heart, magically, and on his left chest peck, physically. You knew all you had to do in order to be married to jungkook is if you got the tattoo, but its hard for you. You're timed to be married to someone else tomorrow and your family would never allow a god like you to be married to a mortal like him,

That's what your father said when you brought the idea to him. He even threatened to banish the mortal who had caused you thoughts like that. And after that you pushed away all thoughts of introducing jungkook. You knew it was never fated for a mortal and a god to be intertwined, but you swear you and jungkook's names are written in gold side by side and hearts tied by the red strings of fate. you believe its true and so does he.

"you know its not that easy" you say and sigh. Jungkook knows how hard this is for you, its also hard for him. The thought of being banished is scary but the thought of having you taken away from him is terrifying. he never wants that to happen and he's not gonna let it, whether because of the man you're to marry or because of your father.

"if you just get my name tattooed, you won't be able to marry him" he tries to convince you. "jungkook" you whine and each time you call his name it physically pulls at his heart where you engraved your name.

"baby" he whines back and his whimpery tone causes your core to throb. "if you dont want to I underst-" he says completely honest.

"no, I want to. I want to so badly" your face falls after your statement.

"im just scared..for you" he knew you were. But you didn't need to, and even though he can't compete with the gods, he'd rather be banished than live a life where he can't be with you. And he always wants to show you that. You give in to the touch of his palm on your cheek as you hum feeling his warmth. He stares warmly into your eyes as they stare back, if he wasn't already used to it, he'd go blind from the stars that shine in your eyes. Literally.

"remember when I first met you?" he asks and you nod.

"you were so stupid, how could you cross the garden? You could've been killed" you slap his chest playfully. Your slaps no longer feel like thunder claps now that he's used to them.

"I could've but I didn't, and I never will" he shows you his cheeky grin.

"don't be so cocky"

"speaking of-" he says his eyes dropping to his crotch, your eyes follow his vision and you chuckle.

"fine I'll do it"

"do what? My cock?" you slap his arm.

"no... The tattoo. I'll do it" he looks at you to see if you're serious and you are, you genuinely want to.

"What? afraid you might have to live life without my cock?" you want to slap his arm but he catches it at your wrist and grins at you. You cheekily smirk back.

"Maybe" you shrug "but mostly afraid of living without you"

"Aaa. You're so cute my goddess" he squints his eyes and grabs his chest feigning to be in pain. You're cute little laughter brings him back.

"why don't we change the mood. It's our last day together"

"its not, you need to stop joking about that"

"I'm sorry" he pecks your lips. "let me apologize" he says his lips now by your ears and his hands hooking behind your thighs.

He lifts you and soon enough your core meets his.

  "Fuck, you feel so good " he curses

"don't curse around me jeon" you can barely say by the way he's rolling into you.

...

You sit drenched in gold and jews on a throne that costs more than the lives of the people sitting below you tripled. You never liked sitting in elevated positions and degrading the commers with the way you're towering over them. But your father always said you should do so to remind them of your power and glory. you were never one to feel validation from power and glory, it never impacted you in that manner. Its hard staring into the eyes of the happy crowd knowing the event that is going to occur but what makes it worse is staring into the eyes of your lover while your 'husband' is sat next to you in his own throne. And unlike you he definitely likes the power and glory.

Jungkook is sat straight in line with your vision and he doesn't move his eyes away from you, not even once. You on the other hand keeped on shying away from his burning gaze and when you do he whipsers your name and says how beautiful you look and how your husband-to-be is ugly. he knows when he whipsers your name you can't ignore him and you hear all he says, it's like a prayer. It reminds you of the first time you taught him how to reach you directly.

"Just whisper it gently and passionatly" you say legs swing froma tree as he pays close attention to you. "I don't like it when people yell or say it aggressively." he notes down your likes and dislikes. Mentally and physically.

"you dont have to carry a physical note book to note down, jeon" you say to the man next to you.

"I want to remember everything, so that even if old age catches me and I cant remember anything I can always look back and remember" he turns his face from his book to face you with his warm and cute doe eyes. You love his eyes and unlike him you're not able to hold contact with them, its like their power overpowers yours. He's eyes have and unspeakable power that have captured you since the first day.

"You wont forget, kookie" a nickname he gave you gave to call him. "and I'll never let old age catch you" he chuckles at that as he feels your hand on his cheek. In an event where you to ended up together forever, because of his humanly fate, he'd grow old and die. While you live forever with your everlasting immaculate beauty. it was a sad fact for him but he accepted it. Atleast he gets to live his entire life with you. Even though you Suggested making him immortal, he declined. He never wanted to be with you so that he could be immortal, some moratls would call him foolish for saying no but they don't understand, they don't understand what he feels. He's not here to use you he just to be with you for however long he can.

"Let me make you immortal" you say so passionately hoping he says yes this time. "take it as my gift to you for bringing such joy into my life"

There you go speaking gibberish again, he thinks "i don't need a gift for making you happy, you're a gift for me already" he says and his eyes do sorcery on you, enchanting you not to argue with what he's said.

"I love you and I want to spend this little humanly life I have with you, not arguing about me becoming immortal" you can't argue with him. And all you can do is place a passionate kiss onto his lips which he happily accepts.

Somewhere in jungkook he knew the reason why he didn't want to become immortal, was the fear of living forever with her father's wrath for taking his daughter.

"And now we are gonna have the gift ceremony" the voice of the officient draws you out of your wonders. The gift ceremony is where offerings are given to the couple and even though you're gods and their gifts are meaningless, in value of course but you still appreciate the fact that people give them to you even though you know they do it to get blessings. It's an important part of the process and even though you don't like it you have to do it.

You watch people in the queue present their offerings. Some to you and some to the man next to you, you bless them as they do so. You scoff at how the man next to you feeds off the offerings of the people, that's one of the reasons you love jungkook. He's a selfless man, he doesn't feed off the power and glory. You remember the time he saved a litte bird and set it back in it's nest after you fixed its broken wing. Even though he never had any magical powers he did his best to help others.

"you don't need magical powers to be a good person" he once said to you. And you always smile at the memory.

Speaking of smiling, you watch jungkook smile in the queue as he aproaches quickly. You keep your eyes on him as you wonder what gift he could possibly give you.

Soon enough its his turn and you watch as he bows for you, something you never wanted him to do, but he always insisted. He lays down his gift.

"I hope you like my gift and can bless me adequately" he says as though he didn't just fuck you blind yesterday. His head is bowed to you and his knees on the the golden floor. When you catch his gift you gasp.

Oh jeon what have you done, do you not care for your life. You say in your mind. And like he can hear your thoughts he whipsers your name and speaks. "you are my life"

The ashes of a golden phoenix, given to a goddess on her wedding day by her husband. A symbol for the new golden life that will rise from the ashes. It's a gift only given by gods cause no human and afford the golden ashes of a golden phoenix. This gift is only given once and shows the enternal union between the giver and the receiver, if the receiver accepts.

"what type of gift is this?" the man seated next to you exclaims angrily. "how dare you give my wife a gift I'm meant to give her? How can you afford the ashes of a golden phoenix" at this point people start to stare and whisper at the scene.

"He must be a thief" he accuses. You watch jungkook's body which is still bowed to you. You cant believe he actually risked his life like this. Stupid mortal. Jungkook chuckles like he isn't being yelled at by a god and at risk of death.

"You dare laugh?" he dares to strike but you stop him.

"Leave him" everyone stares at you with surpise.

"Why should I leave someone who dares to discredit my honour and glory"

Fuck your honour and glory, you dont deserve it. Jungkook is the one who deserves to be seated in that seat, you want to say but you can't instead you keep it in your heart.

"I say leave him cause he's just a foolish and stupid mortal who doesn't know what he's doing" you say and jungkook's head lifts to finally meet your eyes. There is truth in your statement but its not as harsh as you say it, and jungkook knows he can see it in your eyes that avoid his. He knows what he's doing.

"And its not like im going to accept it anyways, he probably stole it from the poor phoenix. I don't accept stolen gifts" you finally meet his eyes and he can hear lies you're telling.

The man seems to have relaxed by your reassurance. "Fine I wont punish him because of my wife's mercy"

You and jungkook gag at that internally. "But wont you bless me?" jungkook asks you confidently.

"The nerves, you dare ask her to bless you after the scene you have just caused you." he spits at jungkook. "its her duty t-"

"Fine ill bless you" you say stopping jungkook from ruining his chance at life. "What would you like me to bless you for" jungkook smiles at the opportunity you've given him

"I ask that fate may always be on me and my lover's side" your heart pulls at his request. What is jungkook doing, he could've taken this chance to free himself from you and the danger you carry for them. He could've gone in to find maiden who he would spend the rest of his life with and have children with, even if it hurts you its better for him. But he's so stubborm. He's a very attractive man no maiden would say no to him. So why doesn't he just go that route.

I don't want to go into road where you won't be.

"it is done" you say, and it surely is done.

You don't know how to feel, a part of you wishes jungkook could have just gone away to a better life, but then another part of you knows a better life is when you're with him.

Jungkook knows the consequences, the risk, the challenge. he knows it all and he still wants to be with you as he said nothing is going to stop him not even you and your attenpt to push him away by not accepting the gift. He didn't do all this for nothing, he's not going to let his efforts go into water. And lucky for him fate is on his side even though you don't want to accept it, worrying about what will happen.

"What do you mean his name won't write" your father asks the officiant his voice thunderous at the revelation. Everyone is in a panic and in a shock, your mother, your father and your never-gonna-be husband. Even the people are whispering and gossiping theories. But you arent surprised. Jungkook is not surprised. You knew this would happen you expected it.and your heartbeat grew strong as the moment drew closer amd Jungkook's smile grew wider. People were gonna know who you were fated with.

"His name cannot be written for fate has written another's name" the white bearded officiant speaks. Fate is never wrong and there are no take backs with fate. What fate decides is what's gonna be and even if you try to run from it fate will bring you back to what's destined for you, even if it takes a million more tries.

"Who's name?" your father asks angry from this embarrassment.

"It's a mortal" you can hear a thousand plus gasps in the hall "his name is jun-" it's like he's taking his time saying it on purpose, when he gives you a look you immediately turn to the crowd scared eyes meetng jungkook. You know what's gonna happen when they find out the name of the mortal and so before he says his name. You immediately scream.

"JUNGKOOK GO!" Your voice thunders in the hall. And he does. He goes, to where? he doesn't know but he knows you'll know and you'll find him.

Just as the crowd opens up so jungkook can run out your father screams for thunder. But jungkook is protected not by you, but by yor mother's power and the part of you that's in him.

You turn to your mother who rushes to grab you from the chaos. She takes you to the open room, where all official meeting are held.

"is he -" she knows what your worry is.

"He's gonna be perfectly fine" she comforts you. And you begin to weep and you're glad you have your mother's arms to fall into. She understands and knows your pain, she to was once in love with a mortal, unlucky for her fate was not on her side but love was, it wasn't enough and he died.

"where is it?" your father walks in yelling "where is the tattoo that bound you to that mortal" you shiver under your mother's hold as your father grabs your arm to pull you from your mother. Which he does. "I will srcap it myself" he says to you coldly and you don't expect more from him. "if I have to I will cut the limb its on... NOW WHERE IS IT?" he says starting to tear the sillk covering your body. You cant do much apart from scream and try and stop him.

"you cant disobey fate!" Your mother exclaims and he drops your hand now approaching your mother who doesn't coward from him.

"i don't care about fate, I am a god and I'm  more powerful than fate" he exclaims. "my word is fate"

"And after I scrap that tattoo off her, she'll be married to Min-ho" you sob even more your cries causing a storm outside. And whereever jungkook is , he knows by the way the thunder roars and the lighting strikes he can tell what you feel. Anger, fear and sadness. He wishes badly to be with you but your mother warned him he should go away for a while. And she promised to help him when the time is right.

"Where is it ?" he asks and you try to collect your thoughts.

Before he can ask you again you speak "my heart..." you speak finally saying  where it is.

"You let a mortal engrave on your heart?" he's pissed and you can tell but you aren’t afraid of him. All you're thinking about is jungkook. Is he okay?, is he safe, is he even alive? "a mortal?" he asks again. He knows a mortal does not contain enough power (or any at all) to engrave on a god's heart.

"He's not a mortal" both you and your father turn to your mother who speaks. "He's not a mortal" she repeats.

"What do you mean?" he asks and you too pay attention to her as you wonder what she means. "you made that idiot immortal" his anger is now moving to your mother, but she doesn't fear him.

"No I didn't, she did" your mother nods to you and you widen your eyes prepared to defend yourself.

"I never made him immortal" you defend when your father's eyes burn holes in you.

"Actually you did" your mother says and you wonder if your mother is on your side. But she is on your side. "gods don't engrave their names on mortals hearts and then nothinghappens after" she continues.

"whoever told you to engrave your name on his heart might not have told you, but by doing that you made him immortal."

And then you remember who you went to for help.

Hoseok, the cast out god himself; your uncle.

"You're so rebellious huh? Wanna be like me" he asks you mockingly when you explained everything to him.

"If I do end up like you atleast I'll have somewhere to go" you say and he chuckles at that. He's always told you that if you ever became rebellious you'd have a home with him and that still stands.

So hoseok helped you, he got jungkook's name engraved in his. He's the god of marriage and prosperity after all.

He's the one who told you to engrave on jungkook's heart, in any other situation he'd be worried for jungkook that he might die but the fact that jungkook and you we're fated (he doesn't know how and he still wonders) he knew instead of killing jungkook it'd make him immortal.

Unlike in his sister's case she had begged hoseok for the same thing that you are begging for, but only she was not fated to the mortal. And even if he told her what would have happened she still begged and he did it. And expectedly  the mortal died.

Your mother still feels guilt and curses her hope and how hopeful she was that maybe he would've survived.

You wonder if jungkook knows he's immortal and if he did know why didn't he tell you. Now you understand why jungkook's presence and gaze caused much pressure, no mortal could've had such an effect on you. And why he became immune to you gaze and touch.

Your heart relaxes knowing that your father can't kill jungkook, but that doesn't stop him from being cast out like hoseok.

Wherever jungkook is he grunts and groans at the feeling that pulls at his heart. He lays down as his tattoos flicker on-off like a bulb.

"Hurts to be away from your love right?" Hoseok asks giving him something to drink.

Jungkook nods. He knows who hoseok is, so it's not weird being in his presence but he doesn't know how he got here. But hoseok remembers he's sister's instructions.

"Watch for him and when you see him take him with you" she says the day of the wedding knowing what would unfold.  After hoseok told her what was going in with you, she knew what was going to unfold and she needed a plan. "He needs your help. Train him to embrace and use his power"

Hoseok's home was simple, warm and comforting, but he misses your presence.

"Well you're going to have to deal with it a little longer cause you won't be able to see her anytime soon"

☆☆☆

#fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungguk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook jeon #jeongguk #jeon jeongkook #jeon jeongguk #bts imagines #bts fantasy au #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts fic

[outofconcheol]

friends forever? (lmh x f!reader)

pairing: Minho x reader (afab)

genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst if you squint, brief smut, established relationship, 18+

summary: Minho has the difficult task of wooing someone very important to you.

warnings: CATS, a very confused Minho, swearing, mentions breakups, mentions periods, just lots of feels ok, smut warnings: brief oral (f receiving), kissing

word count: 1.9k

a/n: Where are all my cat people at? this idea came to me today and it was so cute i almost passed out (jk I did actually pass out today). i really said enough of Minho wooing reader, i want to see this man woo a cat and i made it happen! Also Lulu is one of my nicknames for my cat (but he's a boy). this is very unedited, I wrote it in like an hour but I hope you enjoy!

It’s past midnight when Minho notices the eyes for the first time. They peer at him from the endless darkness of the hallway and he looks around nervously, wondering if he should say something. In the corner of his eye, he can see you rustling around in the kitchen, cabinets opening and closing as you try to find some snacks for the both of you. If there’s an intruder in your apartment, you don’t seem perturbed, humming quietly to yourself.

He wonders if this is some kind of test from the universe, if some evil spirit’s been sent down so that he, as your newly-minted boyfriend, can prove that he’s brave and worthy of protecting you. But before he can whip out his ghost-busting skills, your sock-clad feet are padding towards him on the couch, a surprised gasp leaving your lips.

“Oh! I see you’ve met Lulu.”

Minho blinks once, twice, before following the sound of your voice, looking down over the edge of the couch. 

Those same eyes from the hallway blink up at him. It’s a cat. Your cat, fluffy fur and all, looking at Minho through narrowed eyes.

Immediately, he softens, silently relieved that he wouldn’t have to slay any demons tonight. Minho loved cats. He had three of his own waiting at home. He slides off the couch, dropping to his knees, extending an arm out.

“Hi there Lulu, I’m Minho. Nice to meet you.”

Lulu cocks her head, taking a few seconds to look Minho over, assessing him from head to toe. And then she… remains completely still, refusing to budge and accept the offer to smell Minho’s hand. Minho feels his heart drop, arm still outstretched with the hope that she’ll change her mind, but to no avail.

“Babe,” Minho zips his head in your direction, and you offer him a comforting squeeze to his arm. “Lulu takes a while to warm up to new people, it’s nothing personal. She never liked any of my exes.”

You giggle, pulling Minho back onto the couch with you so he can rest his head in your lap while you start the movie. Minho tries to focus on the film, but his mind remains elsewhere, darting over to the side where he sees Lulu sitting next to the couch. Eventually, she jumps up onto the cushions to join you, snuggling into your side, but maintaining a safe distance from Minho.

Minho resists the urge to overthink the interaction from earlier. He knew better than anyone that cats were temperamental beings, and that they required extra love and attention. So what if Lulu never warmed up to any of your exes? She’d warm up to him eventually, because he planned on sticking around for a long time. 

If you asked Minho the key to winning a cat’s heart, he’d tell you time. And maybe lots of treats. But mostly time. He thought time would be enough to heal the frosty first impression he’d left on Lulu, but every time he was over at your place, there she was around the corner, mean-mugging and making him feel guilty for crimes he didn’t commit.

He didn’t want to worry you with his silly beef with your cat, knowing that you loved her and she’d helped you through many hard times. 

So Minho, being the amazing boyfriend he was, tried to tackle the problem on his own.

He started with treats of course. The sizeable dent in his wallet from owning three cats only became all the more palpable when he’d buy an extra box from the pet store every week, hoping to woo over Miss Lulu with the five-star meal of some pureed chicken in a tube.

Lulu stared down the tube like it was a foreign object, before slapping her fluffy tail against Minho’s face, turning on her heels, and walking away.

She had the same reaction to the freeze-dried treats he tried the week after.

Then he theorized that maybe Lulu was averse to the smell of his own cats on him. So Minho kept an extra pair of clothes in his car all the time, one he’d change into before coming over. When he knocked at the door, he was met with your dazzling smile, cupping his face to press your lips to his, but as soon as it was over he caught sight of Princess Lulu running down the hallway away from him.

Months passed with Minho doing everything he could wrap his mind around what he could do win over the second most important person in your life (after him, of course). He’d even powered through a tense meeting between Lulu and Soonie, Doongie, and Dori, worried that his sons would scare her away, or even worse, hurt her, and that would be the end of you and Minho. But much to his surprise, Lulu played happily with the boys, even letting Dori tackle her and lick her fur.

And so began Minho’s mutual grudge against your cat. He did his best to hide it, but the lack of acceptance from Lulu was getting to him, like an arrow through his heart. He wondered if he could survive years by your side with a cat that hated him, but one look at your sparkly eyes and pretty smile told him that yes, this was worth it. You were worth it.

So Lulu ignored Minho. And Minho ignored Lulu. And both of them continued on in their own little worlds, centered around you. 

Minho slams his lips against yours, pushing you up against the door of your bedroom, smirking when he feels your lips part in a soft moan. The two of you make out lazily against the door for a few moments, until you’re both breathless and panting, Minho stepping back to admire the handiwork he’d left on your neck, the angry marks disappearing underneath the neckline of your shirt. 

Minho runs his thumb over your lip, watching your eyes go dark with desire, and in no time at all, you’re pinned underneath him on the bed, legs dangling with Minho in between them. He wastes no time diving in, eating you out with fervor until you’re writhing against his face, a wave of pleasure building inside you.

Only for it all to come crashing down seconds later, when he suddenly stops. You let out a pathetic whine, running your fingers through Minho’s hair while he remains crouched in between your thighs.

“Min, baby what’s wrong?” you lift his chin up so he’s looking at you, and the look in his eyes is so starkly different from a few minutes ago, his face pale.

“She’s watching us,” he whispers, like he’s seen a ghost.

You follow his line of sight to the top of the dresser, where Lulu is now perched, tail tucked underneath her butt, eyes narrowing at you and Minho.

“Just ignore her, babe,” you nudge his head between your legs again. Minho gives a few tentative licks to your folds, but lets out a heavy sigh, sitting back on his knees.

“I can’t.” And he looks so unbelievably guilty it makes your heart melt. You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, before throwing on his discarded shirt, softly padding over to where Lulu rests.

“Hey pretty girl,” you coo at her, cradling her in your arms. “How about we go drink some water, huh?”

Minho sits on the edge of the bed, legs crossed and head in his hands. He doesn’t hear you come back inside, jumping slightly when you throw your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“She doesn’t hate you,” your voice is muffled, nuzzling your nose against his jaw.

“She does,” Minho whines, trying not to let his voice break. “She literally won’t accept any treats from me. Every time you have period cramps, she glares at me like she’s saying “It’s your fault, asshole.” She even plays with Changbin more than me. And he’s allergic! She hates me and you’re going to break up with me because I can’t get along with your cat.”

“Why would I break up with you, silly?” you giggle. “I love you.”

Minho grabs you by the shoulders, cupping your cheeks in his hands, shock on his face.

“Y-you do?”

You nod your head, reaching up to grab his hand with your own.

“I love you, Lee Minho. And Lulu too. My heart is big enough for both of you.”

Minho feels better after that night, his anxieties melting away, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can survive this impasse with Lulu.

Until you ask him to do the unthinkable.

“Please Minho? It’s just for one night.” you beg him. Something urgent had come up for work, and you needed to take an overnight trip to handle it. Which meant Minho had to stay home with Lulu.

Minho wants to protest, saying the little brat will be fine, but then you pout. And it’s game over. He’s agreeing before he can think it through.

So you leave, the door clicking behind you, and Minho sits on the couch, Lulu across the room from him, the two of them staring each other down much like the first time they’d met. He takes meticulous care to fill up her food bowl and clean out her litter box, his heart doing a flutter when she doesn’t refuse either.

But she remains at her safe distance, and Minho is alone on the couch, missing the warmth of your presence next to him. He clicks through a few tv channels, before turning the TV off, throwing his hoodie on and slipping out onto your balcony, making sure to leave the door slightly ajar in case something happened to Lulu.

He sits with his knees curled to his chest, watching the city lights twinkle, until he hears a soft whine. He turns to see Lulu across from him on the balcony, maintaining her healthy distance, but staring at him with curious eyes.

“You’re a tough nut to crack Lulu, you know that?” Minho blurts out. “I just wish you’d like me, kiddo. I try so hard for you. And for your mom.”

He leans back against the railing, letting out a heavy sigh, and the words keep pouring out.

“I love her a lot. Like a lot a lot. I think I’m probably gonna marry her someday. And then we’ll be stuck together whether you like it or not.”

Minho closes his eyes, wondering what the future would hold for the two of them, when he feels it. The soft brush of fur against his leg, and then tiny vibrations.

He blinks his eyes open, and Lulu is nestled against his leg, soft purrs coming from her as she burrows her nose into Minho’s sweaptants.

Tears prick at the corner of Minho’s lids as he fights every bone in his body not to jump for joy. He reaches over, softly stroking Lulu between her ears, and chuckles when her tiny mouth drops open.

“Of course. The only thing you love more than attention is ____. I should have known.”

He stays impossibly still, battling against the ache in his leg, his eyes growing heavy with sleep. 

That’s how you find him in the morning, still cuddled up to Lulu. You smile softly, grabbing a blanket from the couch to throw over Minho while you work on breakfast for him and Lulu, finally content that the two most important people in your world love each other as much as they love you.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

#kvanity #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x you #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagine #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know #lee minho #lee know fluff #lee know smut #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids soft hours #skz soft thoughts #lee minho fluff #lee minho smut

[tanniefm]

all mine | jjk (m)

summary - after a heated argument in the car, jungkook makes sure to set you straight in the only way he knows how.

pairing - jungkook x (f) reader

genre - smut/minor angst, established relationship

word count - 1.5k

song inspo - all mine by brent faiyaz (but also seven cause FUCKKKKKKK)

warnings - jealousy and misunderstandings, lowkey sexual harassment (not from jk ofc), explicit language (especially calling kook out his name 🫣), angry car sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex (yes yes bad we know), creampie, reader says sorry while she gets fucked and jk like doesn’t care 😭, they love each other a lot still

a/n - heard the explicit ver of seven and my jaw dropped and pussy started throbbing and this is the result of that :)

♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°

Jungkook is having the worst possible time right now. When he came home from the studio this evening, he fully expected to see you laid out on the couch watching some random show in those tiny little pajamas he likes. He’d forget all his stress and the minor headache he’s had for the past hour and squeeze, and kiss, and touch his pretty girl to his heart’s content. He did not account for the fact that you’d be slipping into a form-fitting dress and fussing over how long it would take to do your hair and makeup.

“Um…where are you going?” he asks with a raised brow. “To the company dinner I told you about, remember? I told you about it before you left.” Jungkook does not in fact remember. How could he when his dick was stuffed down your throat and his eyes were rolled to the back of his head? But that was earlier, and this is now.

“Oh. Should I like, change or..” he trails off. In all honesty, he really didn’t want to go, he knows if he said as much you’d be completely fine with him staying home, the problem is he doesn’t want you to go either. You look over at him and see his cute little pout. You had a feeling he'd act this way, he had a tendency to be needy for your presence. You always found it endearing though, he was like a clingy puppy at times.

“Yes baby, wear something nice please, it's business casual but you know I can't pass up an opportunity to get dolled up,” you wink. He sighs wistfully and goes into your shared closet to find an acceptable dress shirt. Since your dress is gray he felt it was only right to wear a gray shirt with a black blazer overtop and some freshly pressed black slacks. You always call him corny when he tries to coordinate his outfits with yours but he knows you secretly love it. All he can do is hope the dinner is short so he can end the night with both of you fucked out in bed.

♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°

He really tried to have a good time, honestly. You seemed to be making it very hard for him, however (both literally and figuratively). He couldn’t seem to stop staring at how good you looked in your dress, the way his hands itched to caress your curves drove him insane. And not to mention how everytime you’d politely laugh at whatever your coworker was saying, your boobs would jiggle like they were purposely trying to taunt him. If Jungkook had his way, he would’ve taken you in the restaurant bathroom by now, but he promised before you two left to be good. But you just make it so, so hard for him.

“_____? Oh my god, how are you? I haven’t seen you in ages!” You turn to see the source of the familiar voice only to find an old friend from high school. “Chris? Holy shit I didn’t know you worked here! I’m good, it feels like we haven’t talked in forever,” you say cheerily. Jungkook slightly furrows his brow, Chris? You never mentioned a Chris before. As he watched the two of you catch up, he couldn’t help but notice the dark look in Chris’ eye. The way he seemed to look down at your breasts and ass more than he did your eyes. He knew exactly what that look meant, and he had no intention of watching him continue on with it. What especially irritated him was how naive you seemed to be to it. How could you not see that Chris wasn’t listening to a word you said? But the last straw was seeing him lean in for a hug and watching his hands slowly but surely make their way to your lower back, dangerously close to your ass.

“Ok that’s enough,” Jungkook said gruffly. He tugged you out of his arms and swiftly pulled you along out of the restaurant. “Jungkook what the fuck?” You were honestly surprised he was handling you like this, who the fuck does he think he is to be gripping on your arm like you’re some kind of bad child?

“Get in the car,” he says sternly. He must’ve lost his damn mind. “Excuse me?” Where was this coming from? Just a second ago he seemed fine, why is he acting so pissy all of a sudden? “What the fuck is your problem Jungkook? What are you so mad about?” you ask desperately. He says nothing as he opens the passenger’s door and waits for you to get in. You scoff and sit down, rolling your eyes while doing so. He always hated when you rolled your eyes at him, and frankly, it was pissing him off even more. But it’s ok. He knows how to get that little bratty attitude you had to go away.

He gets into his seat and takes a deep breath. “So. You and Chris seem close huh,” he says calmly. You raise a brow and look at him with utter confusion. “Uh no, not really. I haven’t talked to him since I graduated,” you reply. He gives a huff of laughter and shakes his head. “Then why exactly was he giving you ‘fuck me’ eyes baby?” Realistically he knows he’s being overdramatic. Chris was obviously being a creep and you just so happened to be the person he set his eyes on. But Jungkook’s been annoyed the whole night, and it seemed like this was the catalyst for his patience.

“How should I know? It’s not like I was purposely trying to seduce him!” you say exasperatedly. This is ridiculous! Does he think you wanted to make him jealous or something? For what? He was making zero sense right now, and all it was doing was making you angry.

You two went back and forth for what couldn’t be more than 10 minutes before saying something you knew you should’ve never said. “Fuck Jungkook, why are you being such a little bitch right now,” you exclaim, annoyed. His eyes widen slightly before his entire face hardens. You’ve never seen him look so serious. “Come here.” He leans his seat back slightly and looks at you expectantly. “Baby I-“ “I wasn’t asking,” he interrupts. You’re so fucked.

♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°

“Fuu-uu-uuuck m’ sorry! M’ so sorry!” you cry out into the steadily rocking car. Jungkook grips your hips tight as he pulls you up and down on his fat dick. “Sorry? Oh, but I thought I was a bitch? What happened baby?” he grunts. This is exactly what he needed. He's been pent up ever since he got home and he needed to pound into this tight cunt to relieve all this pent-up stress he’s been feeling.

“N-no! Didn’t mean it I promise daddy, promise!” Your eyes start to roll to the back of your head. You’re so fucking close. He’s hitting your g-spot with precision, angling his hips in just the right way to take you over the edge. His big, strong hands move down to your behind and grab each globe. He holds you still and pistons into you with an ever-growing speed.

“Don’t give this pussy to anyone else, do you hear me? he pants as he throws his head back in ecstasy. “Whose pussy is this?” he questions. “It’s yours, daddy! Yours yours yours, no one else’s!” you moan out. His moans start raising in pitch as he works his throbbing length in and out of you. Your wetness staining his dress pants and his seat. “Uhhhh fuckkk I’m almost there princess I’m right there hold on baby,” he babbles.

You bring your hands to the back of his neck to lift his head to yours, making sure those pretty doe eyes of his look directly into yours. “C'mon, daddy. Cum in your pussy,” you say seductively. His eyes shut tightly as he lets out a loud whine. His hips still and press into you as deep as your walls will allow him as he paints them white. Feeling his warmth overflow from inside of you triggers your orgasm right away, you tuck your head into his neck as you sob and shake.

Jungkook wraps his arms around you and kisses your head repeatedly as you both breathe heavily and try to bring yourselves down from the intense moment. He squeezes you into his arms as if you’ll disappear if he doesn’t have a strong hold on you. His kisses go down to your face where he peppers them all over your cheeks and lips, whispering how much he loves you and how good you were for him.

“I love you so much ____ please don’t ever leave me,” he whimpers into your mouth. You pull away and look at him incredulously. “Baby…why would I leave you?” you ask softly. “I just…I don't know. I guess I got a little insecure back at the restaurant. I know it's stupid but, for a second it really seemed like I was losing you.” he explains sadly. You frown and give him a long, heartfelt kiss. “Koo baby, I don't even think about anyone else when I have you. You're all I need.” He blushes and grants you his precious bunny smile.

“My big jealous baby, you know I love you.” ♡

#bts fic #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #bts fanfic #jungkook boyfriend #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook x reader smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook

[bonny-kookoo]

I totally fell in love with Princess ❤️ My heart broke when mc broke down saying she just wants to go home, poor baby must feel so lonely and exhausted 😣

I can already imagine JK being super protective of her. Like say her superior from the company (maybe a manager or something?) is super harsh with her, thinking they're in private, but JK overhears them?

Thank you for writing such wonderful stories, I'm so excited to see how the story unfolds!

I didn't know if it was a drabble request but I'm writing it anyways haha (trigger warning for: food restrictions)

"Since when do you eat those?!" Your manager scolds loudly, and Jungkook can clearly hear the man through the slightly open door. Maybe he forgot that hybrids have heightened hearing- or maybe he thought Jungkook had left the area entirely during his break.

Either way, he doesn't like that tone at all.

"Its just one.." you mumble meekly, which surprised the wolfdog hybrid a lot. Never has he heard you this.. submissive. Like you're trying to pacify the guy.

"One every day, possibly more, we both know you're lying right now!" He yells. "You've gained already, how do you think you'll lose that weight again before the competition?!" He scolds harshly. "All your measurements have to be consistent! We talked about this!" He tells you.

"I'm sorry.." you answer quietly.

"I'm taking those." Jungkook hears a plastic bag rustle. "You're only eating the food staff makes you, am I clear?"

"Yes.." you answer again, noticeably disappointed.

"I'll talk to Jeon, a few more hours of training each day will make that extra weight drop quickly-" He starts before he almost runs straight into the man he's been talking about, who's leaning against the doorframe with a more than dark expression.

"Thats mine." Jungkook nods towards the plastic bag. "I brought it for her to eat."

"She- I.. excuse me but she's on a very strict diet plan." The manager explains a lot more carefully now, voice entirely different. "She has a dietician-"

"Then that dietician will agree with me when I say that she needs a lot more food each day to have enough energy to burn." Jungkook explains, still blocking the doorway, before he holds out his hand, wordlessly.

"Thats not for you to decide." The man denies.

"Then we have no reason to continue working together." Jungkook says, making your eyes widen in the background, panicking. You don't want Jungkook to cut the contract so soon. He said he'll help you, what is he doing?

"...she better work that off until the contest." The man grumbles, pushing the bag into Jungkook's hand before he pushes himself past the wolfdog hybrid, who glares after the man. It's only when you pull on his shirt that he looks down on you, no anger left in his face.

"You didn't have to argue with him." You say. "He's.. always like that. I should've known he'd get angry."

"I don't care." Jungkook denies, walking into the small break room to sit down, slapping the seat next to him. "Now come here and eat. I didn't lie when I said I brought them for you."

"But-" you start, only reluctantly sitting down, though you can't talk more because he's already ripped off a piece of the sweet donut to stuff into your open mouth.

And while you glare at him with stuffed cheeks, he can't help but smile to himself.

You really are all bark and no bite to him.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader

[jeonsweetpea]

Will It Fit? (Teaser) - NOW OUT

Roommate!AU | Roommate!Jungkook x Reader

genre: fluff, smut, comedy, lil angst, slight idiots to lovers

rating: explicit

description: So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can’t exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom…

word count: tbd (currently at 5k)

warnings: size kink, JK has a big dick (no, really), slight pain kink, light choking, dirty talk, Dom!JK, flustered/shy JK at first, unprotected sex (this is fiction, we all wanna be raw-dogged by JK okay), lube, JK loves OC’s panties a LOT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, OC gets embarrassed at first but JK is sweet about it, oral sex (male & female receiving), cursing, Soft Dom!JK, more to come I’m sure.

a/n: As soon as I saw JK’s OJO face from that GCF, it kicked me into gear to write this. I’ve had this idea for SO long, but never had the motivation to finish it. I was supposed to release it last winter, so hope you’re all excited for it! 

*update: I have posted the full fic! Check my pinned. :)

“[Y/N], I can hear you in there.” 

The muffled, disgruntled voice came from the other side of your door. Your eyes fluttered open and your hand stilled in your panties, your heart rate spiking. Maybe if you didn’t move a muscle, he’d go away. 

“I know you’re up,” he added. You rose up from your bed.

“Um… exactly what did you hear?” you squealed, face burning up at your terrible acting skills.

“Unlock this door.”

You didn't know what compelled you to saunter over and open the door a mere crack, but oh the sight before you was almost worth the humiliation. Jungkook was in nothing but gray sweats that sat dangerously low on his hips. He had a bad case of bedhead, but his locks looked so soft that you wanted nothing more than to grab onto them and make out with his beautiful lips, which were captivating you just as much as that intense gaze of his. 

“Hey… you…” you said with a meek smile, which he did not return.

“It’s 2 AM in the morning. I have work at 5. As hot as you sound, we either do something together so we both get satisfied or you let me get my rest because I am incredibly frustrated right now.”

Your eyes widened at his curt response. You’ve never seen him so tense, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek as his glare bore into you. He leaned against your door frame with one arm, leaning in close enough to make you break eye contact. He tapped on the wooden frame with his index finger, awaiting your response. 

“Sorry…” 

God, you sounded absolutely pathetic. 

“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?” Before you could respond, he let out a tsk sound and retreated back to his bedroom. You stood there in a trance until his door shut loudly, snapping you out of it. You wondered if he realized how much worse he left you than when he found you. 

Fuck, was he always this hot when mad? 

#jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #teaser #jeon jungkook

[oftenderweapons]

In Your Calvin's | JJK

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 9.6k

Genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established relationship

Rating: 18+ Minors, do not interact

Synopsis: Being Jeon Jeongguk's girlfriend is a great honour, but it comes with great responsibilities. When the commercial celebrating your boyfriend (very secret boyfriend) starts playing on everyone's and their mother's phones, it's time you face what it means to be loved by the most wanted idol of them all.

Warnings: Jealousy and general possessiveness. Swearing. Powerplay, switch!reader, switch!jk. Masochist!jk (?). Marking (hickey, writing on body with a pen), hair pulling (male receiving), edging (male receiving), spanking (male and female receiving). Teasing. Mild degradation. Dry humping. A very mild boobjob. Breast worship. Unprotected foreplay, oral sex (female receiving; brief male receiving), unprotected sex (be smarter, kids), rough sex. Mentions of cockring.

One last thing: 1. this was edited at 3am, please bear with me. 2. Sidenote: I try to be as neutral as possible with the way I describe the girls' appearance, however I wanted to specify that in this fic, I mention Candy having long, straight hair (and huge badonkers, but that's kinda canon by now LOL). It's just a brief mention, absolutely nothing major and holds no relevance to the fic, you might not even notice it; but still, I wanted to make sure I thought about my curly haired goddesses, and short haired queens, (or a combo of both heart eyes) and that I apologise for making this fic just a pinch less immersive for you. (Is this the right moment to apologise to small boobs princesses too? ily sisters, itty bitty titty committee 5evah)

Here's my masterlist, lemme just disappear very quickly. Enjoy 💜✨

You knew Jeongguk had a gig with Calvin Klein. You've known it for months. You've seen him cut calories and hit the gym and dehydrate for a couple days before the shoot because he explained to you how muscle definition works, and crucial to showing a great slab of abs is being basically as dry as a breadstick, to the point of being cranky because you have drunk three glasses of water in the last forty-eight hours. 

Which all means, you knew his stomach would be quite surely showing.

And yet your world still stops once you're merrily sitting on your train back home and his half undressed form appears on the screen on your phone. 

At first you slam your phone shut, mostly because you're used to hiding your boyfriend away and that's the reaction you usually have when you open one of his flirty pics from your chat. 

Next, you realise you weren't on your private chat, and you weren't even looking at pictures in your phone gallery. 

You were absentmindedly scrolling. On Instagram. 

You unlock your phone again, and right there you're confronted with the very naked truth. 

Jeongguk. Is basically naked. On your phone. And it's for the entire world to see. 

Your brain slows down, as if the earth axis is tipping over a little in the opposite way. 

Something inside you snaps around the third time the video plays in front of your unseeing eyes. To anyone looking at you, you could be just an obsessed fan taking a close look at the fine piece of art, but your eyes are unfocused, your mind too deep in thought to register any stimulus from the external world. 

The vibration from the phone awakens you from your state of trance. 

“Candy, baby,” says the adorable lover boy calling you. “Have you seen it already?”

Your lips are sealed, and you can't quite bring yourself to speak, you don't know why. 

“I'm on my way back home.” You say, and the words feel like cracking a glow stick in your chest. 

“But did you see it?” His voice isn't as bright now. 

“I'm coming home.” You repeat. 

He's silent for a few seconds, and you can hear him sigh. “Okay.” 

“He's so insanely hot,” you overhear a girl sitting across from you comment. 

“I want to run my palms down the sides of his waist,” says her friend. 

You stare at them and you know you must look like a woman possessed right now, but you still allow yourself to incinerate them with a glare, as if your eyes could turn into flamethrowers. 

“Candy?” 

“I'll be home in ten.” And you close the call. 

On the way back home, you hear more people talk. More girls fawn. More women zoom in. 

On the escalator, you notice a woman fanning herself while staring at the screen. Another one even crosses herself as the ad from your boyfriend reruns on her phone screen. 

Every step on your way home is utter agony, and once you step over the threshold, you're not sure what you're going to do.

Jeongguk is in the kitchen in a sleeveless top, tattoos out, piercings glowing in the gentle light of the living room. And his hair is fluffy, which means he's probably just done blow drying it after taking a shower. 

The fact that the scent of his body lotion is still sharp gives you further indication of how recent that shower must be. 

“Hey,” he says, turning towards you with a bunny grin, which immediately dims once he sees your expression. “Oh. Bad day?” 

You bite your lip and stare at him a fair bit. Then, a bit more. 

“Candy, love.” 

You don't know what to do with him. Is he yours? Is he really yours? 

How come you come home to him making dinner, and being freshly showered, and being so domestic? How come you're living in his apartment, knowing his pass code, having an ID card for his apartment complex and his studio at HYBE? How come he gives you a copy of his schedule and talks about you over the phone on his weekly call to his grandmother and brings you to his parents' house? How come you go on trips together and you're the emergency contact to his fur babies and you make love two to four times a week? How come he's brought you to the town he grew up in and loved you down in the place where he lost his virginity because, "I wish it had been you since the very first time"? 

Who is this man? 

Is he Jungkook from Bangtan Sonyeondan? Or is he Jeon Jeongguk, your very own quiet, shy, reserved lover boy? 

“You're scaring me,” he whispers, putting down his wooden spoon and taking a few steps to stand in front of you. 

“Why me?” you ask, staring at his collarbones, too scared to look into his eyes. 

“What do you mean?” he asks back, sheepish. 

This time your eyes meet his. “Why me? Of all the women out there, why me?” You look down, taking in just how average you feel, every imperfection magnified in your eyes, now that you have so many people you're comparing yourself with, and competing with. 

“Candy—” He starts. 

“Everyone, everyone out there is literally foaming at the mouth at that commercial, and I'm here? I come home to you? I make love to you almost every night?” You pause and laugh bitterly at him. “I'm a fucking fraud.” 

He shakes his head and moves closer, grabbing your wrists. “A fraud, you say?” He tuts in disappointment, places your hands on his waist. “You're not a fraud, ____, you're my soulmate.” He leaves your hands once he feels them clutch at his narrow waist. 

Possessiveness hits you all of a sudden, and it is only mildly ebbed by his hands landing at the top of your ass. 

“I love you, and I make love to you because it's a fucking dream. You're a fucking dream, and I'm so upset that you don't see it.”

You're jealous. You're simply jealous. It's human and it's healthy to be moderately jealous. After all the comments you heard and read, it's fair to be jealous. 

“I reckon you saw the commercial.” 

“I saw the commercial and everyone's reaction to it,” you comment, slightly acidic. 

Jeongguk bends to place a kiss below your earlobe. “Are you angry?” 

No. Not just anger.

Your hands mimic his and crawl to his lower back, toying with the hemline of his underwear. “I'm not mad.” I'm disgustingly jealous and I don't like them having more of what's mine. They already have too much, they've always wanted too much and you always give it to them and I'm furious that it's not mine alone. 

Jeongguk wears a mischievous smile as he makes you take several small steps back, the back of your legs hitting the kitchen counter. “Do you like it?” 

You click your tongue and shake your head. “No.” 

The reply startles him, and he feels his mood dim. Did he—

“I'm not a jealous person, but this… God, this hits a new level,” you finally admit. “They already drool over you quite enough, and now they even have a video of you shirtless. How would I not be jealous!? Half the girls would have snapped your neck. If Yoongi ever did this, Kitten would have his balls dangling from her Mercedes keychain. I don't even know how Lace and Princess are handling their boyfriends naked on everyone's phone. If I were Tae I would seek political asylum in Greenland. Or maybe Tibet.” You take a large mouthful of oxygen before you launch yourself in another tirade. 

“Everyone's talking about grabbing your waist, licking your abs, tugging at your hair and shit and hi! I'm here! I'm the girlfriend! Sorry I exist! WHAT THE FUCK!?” 

Jeongguk laughs and lowers himself to your chest, kissing where your heartbeat echoes like a crazed war drum. 

“It's not fun!” you complain, significantly agitated. 

“Mh.” He hums as he moves aside the hem of your shirt, meeting the soft, smooth skin of your chest. “It was supposed to come out on your birthday, that's why's a bit more racy,” he explains more patiently. “But they decided to release it early.” He kisses a tender spot and your left knee tingles a little. “It was supposed to be a slightly too public boudoir shoot. But secretly it was just yours.” Jeongguk finds the cup of your bra and stares up at you as his fingers reach the hem and slide the fabric aside. “I was thinking of you when I made it.” 

And once his mouth wraps around your nipple, your right knee starts tingling too. 

“Must admit I had to push the limits a lot to finally make you jealous,” he purrs once he is done with the licking, sucking motion of his mouth around your tender flesh. “But I'm sorry I crossed the line.” 

What line? You think, your brain already hazy. No sharp line exists in the world you’re currently in. Just the loving, plush hills of Jeongguk's lips, the slippery slopes of his waistline, the sinuous curves of his hip bones leading you to his pelvis, and the soft curls of his luscious dark locks. No crossed borders, only gentle waves licking the shore, water and land embracing one the other. 

“Remind me who's the boss here, Candy,” he says, and you know he's playing you right now. “Remind me where I belong.” His mouth is at your ear as he whispers, “Show me who owns me.” 

The tingles are spreading as his fingers grab at your ass, his lips connecting with your jaw. “Talk to me, Candy.”

You’re not sure you can articulate words at this moment. Talking isn’t as easy as everyone makes it seem. 

His eyes connect with yours and he can tell you’re staring at his lips by the poetic detail of your lashes lowered over your cheekbone. 

It makes him chuckle, very gently, that he has all these details of you he adores, and that you have the audacity of asking him why he picked you, and why he keeps choosing you over and over. 

He loves you, his family loves you, his dogs love you. This is the way it’s supposed to be. 

His finger reaches underneath your chin, forcing your eyes to actually meet his. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he purrs, and as your lashes dart up, he shakes his head a little, loving the way you arch up a fraction, as if pulled towards him. “There she is, beautiful.”

You feel completely neutralised. Disarmed. All the storms brewing over you a minute ago are forgotten as soon as his sweet smile shines like sunlight above you. 

His hand combs your hair back, cupping your cheek and landing a kiss on your temple. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod. 

“What mood are we in?” You’ve asked him this question thousands of times since the two of you became serious, ever since he opened up about feeling too closed off to make a relationship work; and now, the fact that it was such a solid, valid ritual in your dynamics made it natural for him to ask too. “You need to talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I’m better. I…”

“Tell me what you want.”

You stare at him, at his shoulders, at his biceps, you trace his tattoo with your fingertip, and he looks closely at your finger, at it drawing swirls and circles on his skin. 

“Pick me up,” you say softly. 

And he does, immediately. His biceps flex and he grunts a little, not at the weight, but just because he knows the sound can make your toes curl, and he likes that a lot. His hands are wrapped around the back of your thighs, then they adjust to your bottom. 

“Next? Counter? Bed? Shower?”

You kiss him. Impatient, and needy, you kiss him. 

He opens up for you without hesitation, moaning at the sweet invasion of your tongue in his mouth. God, he loves it. It makes him melt, to feel your tongue slip against his, moving wet and sloppy, your lips plush and hot pressed up against him. He loves kissing you. Actually, he loves making out with you. He’s pretty sure he could come of that alone, and he tries to remind himself you have to give that a try. Another day. 

He places you onto the counter because he fears his knees might give out on him. And once he has you there it means his hands can roam all over you and grab your chest and toy with—

“No touching,” you snap at him, gripping his wrists and pulling his hands behind his back. 

His eyes go wide at the shift in pace, but he obeys. He also feels like he's awakening from a dream only to find out reality can be so much better. 

You dig your hands in his hair and he hisses a little as you tug gently, but still roughly. You think of all the people who wish they could do just so as you stare into his eyes, seeing just how turned on he gets as you manhandle him. 

You lean towards him and you notice him trying to kiss you, but you tug at his hair harder, holding him in place as the heat of your exhale fans over his parted lips and his chin. 

“You want me to own you?” you ask him, watching his muscles twitch as he fights the urge to grab you and put you in place. 

He nods. “Do me all the things no one else can.” He has a roguish smile as he adds, “Do me everything they won't ever, ever do to me.” And he is god of deception when he finally tips you over the edge. “Do me everything I want just from you, and you alone.” 

You watch him intently, then tug at his hair so that his head is angled upwards, throat vulnerable and exposed. 

He's staring at you with a mischievous glint in his expression, a walking temptation, and you can almost hear him say it, 'come on, do it'. And you do it. 

You bend forward and sink your teeth in his flesh, the tender skin caving in as your bite marks him softly before your cheeks move into a suctioning motion that you know will turn into a bruise. It just pleases you so. 

“Take a step back,” you order as soon as you're happy with the hickey. “Take off your shirt.” 

And he winks before he does. You watch the plain of his chest, the valley in between his pectorals leading you down to his navel. 

“I hope you're wearing your Calvin's,” you tease with a cocked eyebrow. 

He smirks. “Always in my Calvin's.” 

You snicker and shake your head. “Take off your pants.”

His forehead scrunches up in surprise, but he eventually obeys. 

He's standing in a pair of socks and his white boxer briefs. At least he didn't lie, they are Calvin Klein. 

“Do you want—” 

“The Calvin's stay on,” you sentence, then you descend from the counter. “Head over to the bedroom. I'll come over in a minute.” 

He stares at you, flabbergasted. 

“Oh, and I almost forgot: don't touch yourself. Settle down, hands on the headboard and wait pretty.” 

He blinks, unsure of where this is going to end or where it came from, but so blazingly grateful for it. 

“Okay.” 

You give him a quick once-over as you stand in front of each other. His abs are toned and defined, but now less alarmingly than the days before the shoot. His thighs are strong and you love how the material from the boxers wraps around them comfortably and smoothly. 

You dare stare at his crotch, at the way the fabric traces the curve of his length, so perfectly long and so perfectly thick.

You allow your fingertips to trace the curve of his spine, so lightly that it causes him to close his eyes, his head inched to the side as he shivers in pleasure. 

“Can I be rough with you?” you ask him, your hand reaching the small of his back and cupping the curve of his ass. 

He moves his hands on you the exact same way you did. “Maybe I like pain,” he suggests, and from the collection of tattoos and piercings, but mostly from the supercut of memories of him getting bitten, spanked and scratched by you, you’re reminded that you’re not dealing with the edited version of him he has promoted publicly. 

This is your boyfriend. Jeongguk. Your Jeongguk. 

You sink your nails into the flesh of his ass, and he hisses but smiles, pulling you closer, swaying his hips to tease your crotch with his. “Go get ready, babyboy,” you croon.

He hums invitingly and kisses your neck, trying to get you to move with him, but you’ve made up your mind already. 

“Go,” you repeat.

He pouts and grabs your hips. “Come on, what are you trying to do?” he asks, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark and wide and imploring for you to just follow him and spare him whatever cruel surprise you want to use against him.

You grab his wrists, making him unclasp his hands. “Go and you’ll find out.”

He hesitates and then he faces away, still reluctant, turning around a couple times on his way, checking if you’re following him — perhaps, maybe, hopefully…

Yet, you don’t move, not until he turns the corner to the bedroom. And then you make your way over, slow, unbothered. 

And you close the door on him. 

You head to the bathroom, wash up quickly, and equally quickly you cover yourself in his favourite lotion, taking special care of your neck and chest. Once properly buttered up and covered in nothing but pretty Calvin undies and his favourite Calvin jeans jacket, you’re ready to attack. But you stare at yourself in the mirror, and you feel like there’s still something you could do to give him a heart attack…

Oh, that, you think. And you get to work. 

Apparently he has behaved, as you find him lounging in bed, with his boxers still on, his hands laced behind the crown of his head, a fine slab of abs in full glow from the dark amber hue coming from his led lights. 

“Are we on a sunset gold kinda vibe— Holy shit.” He didn’t manage to sound as cool and aloof as he’d tried to be once his eyes landed on you. 

He wished he could take a picture of you and spread it across town, just so he could stare at it while waiting for a bus, or hanging out at Hongdae with his friends, and excitedly point at it while tipsy to holler “that’s my fucking girlfriend, that fine piece of ass fucking owns me”. 

He wished he could put you on an album cover and fill it with all the insane stuff you do to his heart and his mind and his body. How his heartbeat does a little hiccup thing when he sees you first thing in the morning, and how he’s spent every wish on fallen eyelashes over you, and making you happy, and building you a house and having fireworks for your wedding night, and having all his fans seeing just how incredibly fantastic you are to him, how you make him so happy and deliriously smitten and barely coherent when it comes to talking about you, and just… He just wants everyone to love you half as much as he does. 

And maybe for you to be only ever in love with him, so he doesn’t risk anyone thirsting for you enough to steal you from him. 

“What were you saying about golden lights?” you ask, climbing on the bed, your hand modestly holding the lapels of his jeans jacket together — it’s not time to destroy him yet. 

“I— I…” He tries to sit up, but you push him back where he belongs with a well-placed hand pressed to the middle of his chest. 

“Put on the red lights, love.” You grin devilishly, watching his doe eyes glimmer with wonder and disbelief. 

“Have I ever told you I am one lucky motherfucker?” he says, staring at your neck, at your face, at your hand, his palms already moving to your hips as you straddle him. 

“I just know it.” You sit on your throne — his lap —, stretch to the end table to grab the remote to switch the lights to red, and once the deal is settled, you let the jacket open. “I mean. I’m the luckiest because I have these, but considering you profit from them… You know…” You let your breasts show. 

“I know…” he says, entirely mesmerised. God, he is so easy, you think, watching his eyes scan your chest like a cat playing catch with a laser light. You mix your standard level of charm with a slow grind of your hips, so slow and gentle that it’s straight up teasing, torture at its blandest level.

“You make it so hard to think,” he speaks with a strangled voice, trying to make you move the way he wants, but you grab his hands with the excuse of lacing your fingers with his, only to drag them back by the sides of his head. 

“I didn’t know I could turn your brain into mush just like this,” you reply, feeling your folds moisten in an attempt to ease the sliding of your crotch against his length. Too bad both of you are still clad in your underwear and, according to your plans, would stay that way for quite a while, as long as possible. “You’re so whipped.”

“I am,” he purrs, and tries to get away with moving his hands back to your hips, but before he can dig his digits in the soft of your flesh, you tut. 

“You’d better not touch that ass, Jeon. Keep your hands to yourself if you want my hands on you,” you threaten. “Just to remind you who’s in charge, sweetheart.”

His eyes go wide and he moves his palms back behind his head as soon as you finish your remark. “Yes, miss.”

“Good boy,” you praise him, and you visibly notice him holding back from smiling at the praise. “Did you see my little mark?” you ask. “Call it a slog

an of sorts. A vision statement.” You shrug and push back the lapels, hoping for the lights not being too low for him to see. 

It has taken a while for your handy work to happen, mostly because it can be absurdly tricky writing in reverse, but thankfully you’re quite prone to graphic arts. 

Jeongguk rises a little, getting closer to where he can recognise dark scribbles on your chest. Unusual dark scribbles. 

“Is that… Tattooed?” he asks, and his eyes go wide as he meets your face. 

You cackle at him, leaning over and licking his lips, sucking his lower one, then travelling along his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe in a way that makes his hips jolt against you, buckling. “I can't have that tattooed, can I? Unless the world knows and it gets a little too permanent.” 

He frowns, not at the way he loses contact with your warm crotch, but because of the unwelcome realisation of what it means to not belong to you entirely. “I'm so sorry,” he sighs, trying to hold you, but stopping his hands before he can touch you. 

He goes back to his assigned position and begs you with his eyes. 

“Oh, no. Don't worry, it's okay.” To keep him distracted, you get back to a soft roll of your pelvis against his, and he seems to oppose, but it only lasts for maybe five seconds. 

His wound-up exhale convinces you to reward him further, lowering your chest so that it drags against his as you keep grinding on him. 

“Jeongguk, baby,” you murmur fondly. 

“So unfair… That I don’t get you like a girlfriend like anyone else…” He speaks, his focus spotty and frail. 

“What do you mean, love?” you egg him on.

“All the public stuff… All the PDA and the grand gestures. The stuff that makes it official, you know.” His eyes are glassy and fleeting as he speaks, and it really feels as if speaking were like making a necklace except he can’t quite line up the beads the right way and he can’t manage to get the string inside the hole and it takes a very long time for the words to finally turn into meaning and it’s all so frustrating. 

“I don’t care,” you reassure him, and this time you’re not unaffected either, the sentence stumbling out of you before you can even fully register the meaning you were trying to convey. “Can you read the tattoo, Guk?”

His eyelids lift through great effort, and in slow motion. You stop moving to help him focus on the writing, and he grunts at the interruption. He does not like that at all, and having you so close, so soft, so hot and wet for him is making his instinct vibrate with need to be inside you, move inside you, and then finally find his release in the welcoming darkness of your womb. 

“I—” He’s really trying so hard, god bless his heart, but he’s so unfocused and his vision is blurry and he needs to blink for a bunch of seconds before he manages to spell the message, and then compute it, and then smirk wildly before he bucks his hips up against you, letting you know that you’d better move on him. 

“What is it, Jeongguk? Mind sharing with the class?” you bait him with a cheshire grin. 

“Not sharing any of this,” he growls, and you can feel his arms jolt at the urgency to wrap around you, press you to his front and shove you underneath him, so that he can finally move as hard and as fast as he knows the both of you need. 

“Oh, don’t be a greedy little boy! Don’t you want to test how it feels to say it?” you tease him further, ready to push him to his breaking point. After all, that is what you’re always trying to do, get as far as it needs to make him go wild on you, barely coherent and entirely animalistic. 

“You want me to say it, don’t you?” he provokes you, feeling just how much the humiliation will further send you soaring over him. 

“I do,” you admit. 

He bites his lip and you look at him, you study the shape of his lips, the glint in his eyes, the dark shimmering of his lovely ebony locks, and the way his chest heaves with effort and arousal. “These tits own Jeon Jeongguk,” he speaks, his gaze piercing yours, holding you accountable for the undoing he knows will follow. 

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Your smile is sardonic, evilly pleased with his admission of submission, with him confirming, with conviction, that he is indeed entirely enslaved to his fascination for your chest, that he is so deeply enticed by it that just a silly part of you can guarantee you his unflinching devotion. 

“You know it’s right,” he grunts as your movements resume. And at this point, he knows this is going to take a while, and it will most surely turn out vicious. 

“Just checking in on you, making sure you haven’t found a better pair—”

“Don’t you dare talk to them like this. Not in front of me,” he hisses with a passion, and you chuckle at how chivalrously he defends your breasts from your own ill assumptions. 

“That’s so gallant of you,” you reply, your hands pulling his hair back, your tone fond and just vaguely lined with mocking. “Let them repay you for your kindness,” you suggest, as you start crawling down his body, your breasts landing heavily on his lap. 

“Really…?” he asks, first distracted and then extremely alert as he connects the dots. “With my boxers on?” He says with a frown. 

You shrug and smirk. “Maybe we’ll get rid of them later…” You sprinkle some kisses on his abdomen, your chest dragging against his sensitive parts. 

He frowns at the weight of them, so welcome, and yet deceiving as the fabric is hindering him from fully enjoying the act. “Please, off,” he huffs, tutting and fussing a little, but you decide to reward his patience with your nails tracing patterns against his chest, your fingertips drawing his areolae, your eyes hungry on his lost, bewildered state. 

“Not yet, love… Be patient with me,” you reassure him, tracing the rift in between the crests of his hips, one side, then the others, ricocheting between the bones on the two sides. “I’m going to make it so good to you,” you promise him, placing kisses all around the underrated perfection of his belly button — a huge ‘fuck you’ to the people salivating over him and never, ever knowing how such a minuscule inch of his body has you so irreversibly whipped. 

“Candy… Mh, love—” His voice has grown unbearably raspy and airy, so light it feels almost incorporeal, if it weren’t for the velvet smoothness of his skin underneath your lips, like marble that has finally received the breath of life, your boy an ineffable Galatea. 

“If you knew, Guk, if only—” kiss— “you knew—” kiss— “how sexy, and erotic, and exciting and poetic you look right now, baby. You look like art.” 

“Lemme touch you, I need you, I need—” he gasps and you’re almost expecting him to release a groan before he comes, way too early, much earlier than planned. But fortunately he doesn’t, he holds back stoically and cants his hips away. “For fuck’s sake,” he whispers, an arm covering his eyes. “I need a second if you need me to hold back.”

“Oh,” you reply in surprise, lifting yourself off him. “Are you alright?”

“Just give me some quiet for a second, Candy, don’t you dare even speak.” Jeongguk’s chest is rising and falling in wide movements, enticing and captivating.

Finally he removes his arm from his eyes, but he barely makes eye contact. 

“Guk?” You ask, worried. 

“Just— I’m trying to keep it cool here, love.” He wiggles his body a little, trying to get his boxers to fit a bit less tightly around him. “We should be smarter about this, you know?” His hands clench as he stops himself from reaching for you. “We should get a cockring for next time.”

You ogle him, then smile excitedly. “Really?” you chirp.

“Totally,” he concedes. He smiles even bigger at your smile. “Don’t tell me you bought one already.”

“Uhm… No,” you admit with a pout. 

“Dammit. It would have been weird, but I wouldn’t even have complained about it since it would pretty much save my ass right now.” He licks his lips, stares at you some more, and he groans and throws his head back at the renewed flare of arousal after he’d just managed to tone it down a notch. 

“I’m so sorry, bunny.”

“I’m alright,” he admits, his tone defeated. 

“Is this the right moment to suggest I ride your face?” you say, your grin now sardonic, almost drunk on him and the sight of his body shutting down for you, malfunctioning at the mere touch of you. 

He stares at you, wide eyed, nodding energetically, like a kid being asked if they want to visit Disneyland. “Guess it took a half naked commercial to get you to finally ask for it like you own it.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Careful or I can keep going with torturing you. I’m liking it anyway.”

“No no no, come over here,” he says with a stern and determined expression on his face, his hands reaching for the back of your thighs. “I’ve been waiting. Get comfy,” he encourages you, and after some manoeuvring you settle on top of him. 

He nods to himself, his nose nuzzling against the crotch of your panties, his mouth opening so he can feel your heat with his tongue, trying to get as close as possible.

Unsatisfied, his fingers reach to slip your panties to the side, but you slap at his hand. 

“Nope. You wanted the Calvin’s, and we’re keeping the Calvin’s,” you scold him. 

He frowns. “No, you were the one wanting them,” he argues. “Keep them on, you said.”

“Whatever.” You arch an eyebrow at him, but you also know he’s right and this decision has come to bite you in the ass. “Imagine how good it will feel once we take them off… And it feels a bit kinky to keep them on. Like… Like we’re having a quickie and everyone out there is waiting for model Jeongguk to come out anytime now, but once he does, well, he looks freshly fucked and everyone can’t stop talking about it— Oh, that!” you moan, your musings interrupted by Jeongguk trying to get bits of you in his mouth. 

You’re thankful for the brazilian cut panties giving him plenty of stuff to work with even with the underwear still on. 

“Stop me if it’s lewd but, dammit, I love the smell of you.” He drags his face side to side, basking in the damp, salty scent of your arousal. “I don’t even know what it is about it, but I like it so much.” 

“Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” you comment, your voice breathy. 

“Do you want me to keep talking?” he asks, and you just rub yourself against his chin, his mouth, and his words come out muffled. At some point you think you might have hurt his nose, so you ease the pressure a little, but he grabs handfuls of your butt and keeps you snug to his face, parts his lips wider as if he were really trying to eat you. 

He parts from his designed heaven only long enough to announce, “I’m pushing ‘em to the side, fuck it.” And you’re barely coherent, and he’s speaking with that intimate lisp of his, his accent heavy, like he can’t pay too much attention to words anyway. 

You don’t oppose. 

In seconds, his tongue is tipping inside you, slippery, and so hot, and you moan without even noticing it. Everything is soaked, his chest is covered in perspiration, and so are your thighs. 

You dare look down, and his eyes are closed as he is filling all his other senses with the sensation of you.

You bask in the sight of him, one forearm draped against the headboard of the bed, your other hand reaching down, to his fluffy hair currently tickling your inner thigh. You grab it, careful to be right between gentle and aggressive, in that way he finds so pleasant and sexy. 

He opens his eyes suddenly, and the moment he finds your eyes already connected with his face, he finds himself more eager to give you just what you need to plunge into oblivion. 

He gives you lush, slow licks, from your centre to your most sensitive spot, he takes his time, and moves into more sinuous motions, drawing curve after curve on his way up. He is unrushed, patient, and eloquent. He is luxuriant, explorative, curious. 

He loves what he’s doing, and he loves you and he’s showing it, top to bottom, and all the way up again. 

“Guk,” you breathe out, and it’s almost a hiccup.

“Yes, I know,” he murmurs against the bend of your inner thigh, right at the fold to your crotch. It’s so private, so sacred. It’s heartbreakingly yours and his and no one else’s. You’re in a shared space where nobody else can tell what you and him know. 

“Please,” you manage to say. 

He rearranges his arm so he can move two fingers along the seam between your legs, and then they’re inside, and he’s moving them right, rubbing them against the back wall of your entrance. 

As you tip your body forward, he moans with his mouth to your clitoris, happy with the new angle, and once you start grinding against him, climbing your way to your climax, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t go faster, he doesn’t add pressure. He does not change one single thing, and you’re so grateful for the way he has come to understand you, your body, your tells. 

“Just right,” you encourage him. “You’re so damn perfect, love— Oh, there.”

That’s the last thing you can remember saying before he sets you off like fireworks. You don’t take much into consideration after that. All is fair, unless he’s holding you back. 

You grind, hump, moan, thrash just a little as you get too sensitive and fold in two, your forehead pressed to your wrist on the headboard 

as you shake your head ‘no’ but can’t bring yourself to stop from feeling everything he wants you to take. 

When you manage to recover, you whisper, “Okay, gimme a second.” And you try to unstraddle his face, but he holds you there, and simply avoids touching your sensitive parts, removing his fingers from inside you. 

“Are you alright, Candy?”

You nod and take some large breaths. 

He moves your panties back in place, then kisses your mound softly, affectionate, innocent even. 

“Can I do anything for you now, love?” He asks with a reverent, caring note in his voice. 

You shake your head, still recovering. “Can I lay on top of you?” 

“Sure thing,” he says, unlatching from you and leaving some room for you to realign with him, face to face, torso to torso, hip to hip, calf to calf. 

He’s still hard as marble, and the gentle grind of your pelvis against his causes him to groan softly. 

You press your lips to his to distract him. 

The jeans jacket you’re still wearing gives him something to ground himself, his focus aimed entirely at the feeling of the fabric underneath his fingers instead of the humid warmth of your crotch pressed against his. 

Just then, you bring your heels underneath your ass, rising to your knees as you swiftly remove your upper garment. 

The way his focus moves immediately to your breasts makes you cackle a little, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. 

“Candy, you’ll have to get that tattooed.”

“Nah, too dangerous. They might tell on you.”

He frowns. “You’re right,” he still agrees. Too dangerous. You’re dangerous to him too, and there are not many chances of him keeping some form of dignity if he could at any time see a tattoo calling him out for his undying liaison with your chest. 

He catches your wrists, making you lose your balance so that your torso collapses onto his. And he keeps you there, wraps you up in his arms. 

“Still jealous, love?” he asks you. 

“More than ever,” you admit, and you look into his eyes, recognising the feeling pooling in them. 

“I'm only yours,” he swears, kissing the side of your head, whatever he can reach, and it's so tender, so innocent, so magical. “What can I do for you?” he whispers, flirting with you. 

You wrap your hands around his forearms and bring them up above his head. “No. I want to do things for you.”

You press your lips to his gingerly, then start to kiss down, tracking his throat and moving further downwards, to his chest, stopping where his heart thumps against the petals of your lips.

“Beats so hard for me,” you comment lightly. “Do I make your heart race, love?” 

“You do, Candy,” his reply is strained, as if it hurt to speak at that moment. 

“But I—” You let your nails tickle the flat of his waist, the elastic band around his hips— “I also make your dick hard, don't I?” 

He moans eloquently, then chuckles at your teasing. “You so do,” he admits, embarrassed but also excited, and so so thankful for having found you. 

You grab the waistband of his underwear with your teeth, letting it slap against his skin with a dry snap. “Grab a pen from your bedside, will you?”

You look up just in time to catch his eyes flickering open, his expression coming to life slowly. “What?” he asks, confused. 

“A pen, from your drawer,” you repeat. 

“Oh.” He had been too unfocused and he hadn’t realised you were talking to him, as if the words were just sound with no meaning; however, now he’s paid attention, so he stretches to the side, exposing the slender twist of his waist to your reverent mouth. You kiss him there, his body contracting as your lips attack his ticklish spot. 

“You’re a menace,” he complains, giving you the side eye, but also offering you a boyish, loving smirk. 

“And yet, you love me.”

“You’re lucky,” he says, right before you nip at his skin in reprimand. “Okay, I am the lucky one,” he concedes, returning to you with a pen in his hand. “You want this one?” he asks.

You nod and stretch for it, then peck the mole beside his navel and make your way down. 

His underwear by now is bitterly persona non grata, still you make yourself okay with it and simply move the elastic down, exposing his hipbone more fully. 

“What you gonna do?” he muses, propping himself up and staring at you bent over his pelvis. You look at him and prepare the pen, staring in his eyes as you suck at your bottom lip, torturing it a little as you think. 

“Are you gonna mark me? Sign me up?” he asks, a mocking grin on his face. 

You move the pen away and loll your tongue out, drawing a thick stripe following the shape of him in his boxers. 

He immediately drops his cocky act and arches up, sensitive, holding on barely. 

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” you scold him provokingly. “Remember where this is all coming from,” you remind him threateningly. 

He gasps as your mouth sucks his tip through the fabric, your nails tracing the indentations of his quads. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’ve got me.”

You nod to yourself. “I do,” you say, patronising just in the slightest. And because you can you rise, remove yourself from the way, and pull at his hipbone, trying to flip him around. 

He’s alarmed, but he follows your lead. You straddle the back of his thighs, bend down, and move his underwear down, the elastic stuck under the fold of his ass, further emphasising it. It looks plump and delicious, and for a moment you’re caught admiring him. 

He’s twisting his neck to try and see what you’re doing, filled with wonder at the way your hair tumbles over, and he’s mesmerised by the shine of it, the softness of the tips, like a brush, whispering at his skin.

You pick the right spot, then settle down, folded over his glute. His skin is hot against your touch and when you finally bring the pen to his flesh, you hope it won’t fail, despite the perspiration and the soft surface. 

Shamelessly, you draw the words like an inscription on a stone. 

Poetic, and dirty. Just the way you like it. However, you don’t give him the benefit of knowledge. 

You lean back, watch your little handywork with a surging of pride and love and confidence. You smack it, just because you can, not hard, not soft either, just sweet enough that it doesn’t feel like a violation doing it without asking his permission first. 

His muscles squeeze, and his breath catches. 

Because I can, your brain keeps telling you, over and over, like a mantra. You’re allowed to. He’s yours and you’re the only one allowed to. 

“You’re getting confident with this,” he comments, and suddenly your eyes are meeting. 

He looks like something you would paint. Something you would dream of, and then wake up and sketch down in the middle of the night, caught by some sort of frenzy, some urgency mixed with an impending fear of forgetting, of losing it. Losing him. 

“I’m gonna draw you.”

He doesn’t connect the words for a bunch of seconds. Not until you’re standing up and running out of the room and he asks himself, why, why the fuck is she leaving?

“Candy?” he calls, unsure. 

He tries to see what in the world you’ve written on his ass, but you’re making your way back in the room, tablet in hand, and your steps are bouncy and your tits follow the movement so his attention is divided. 

“What— Where—?” He’s confused. 

And then you’re perched on the armchair at the corner of the room, and the light from your tablet reflects on your face, and you look spirited, caught by some urgency he can’t quite find a name for. 

“Candy, for the love of—”

“Just a bunch of minutes. A quick sketch, no more.”

He’s been patient. He’s been understanding. He’s let you tease him, and he’s let you touch him, lick him, suck him. He still has your taste all over his face and chin and he still feels the phantom touch of your breasts against his crotch and all he wants is to feel you on him, around him, against him. 

“Please,” he whines. 

“Just a minute.”

He swells. Frowns. Thrusts his hips against the mattress. 

“Almost—” you say, drawing a couple more lines. 

You’re in his arms next. “Put that down, Candy.” His face is right above yours and he’s carrying you bridal style. “Put it down,” he repeats. 

You're very still. He's looking at your quick sketch, at the way it was all a rough frame and some basic lines. “You're gonna post that? Share it as some fanart instead of a live portrait?” He throws you on the bed and you clutch your tablet harder, trying to save it from any damage. He's on top of you next, grabbing the device and moving it to his drawer before he returns upon you, blocking your wrists above your head. 

“Are you maybe going to draw it faceless, so you can sell it as a picture, to decorate somebody's house?” He bends to your ear and nips at the side of your neck. “Let my ass hang naked on someone else's wall?” 

You feel overwhelmed and surprised by his counterattack, not really knowing how to react. 

He drags his body against yours, stealing a whimper from your lips. “I think you enjoyed topping a little too much tonight.” He flips you onto your front next, and you find yourself only mildly embarrassed that he's made only one tenth of the effort it had taken you to flip him. 

He slaps your ass, and it is nowhere as playful or light as the spank you'd given him. It is his turn to grab the pen. 

“Let's see if you can walk the talk, Candy. If you like the taste of your own medicine,” he muses, and he bites your ass cheek, bending over to start writing, but accidentally finding himself unable to resist the urge to sink his teeth in your plush flesh. 

“Since I'm not a selfish asshole, I'm gonna tell you what I'm writing. Here we go, 'This ass likes spankings from Jeon Jeongguk'. What do you say? Is it true?” 

You're panting, wiggling in his hold, trying anything to see the possessed look on his face. “It's true,” you admit, breathless. 

He smirks and lands one more hit on your ass. “Damn right it is,” he says confidently. 

He tugs your underwear off harshly, almost angry. 

Soon he's naked, and so are you, and he's slipping inside you while you're still on your front, your hips arched all the way up, cupped by his hands. “Let's make this fuck more fun than your drawing, huh?” 

And when he starts, goodness, you want him to never, ever stop. 

He's ruthless, and he only asks if you're alright once, after three strokes. After that, all's fair, and he's ramming inside you in a way that makes you gasp and arch further, trying to get him even deeper, to an even better angle. 

You can't really look at him, since you'd risk a kink in your neck, but he doesn't care. He only cares about his handwriting on your ass, and his name on it. He only cares about the way you're gasping his name, and sometimes, when he slams in at the right moment, the impact causes too much of your breath to come out, so the whispered begging gets punctuated by moaned-out, hiccuped syllables. 

He smacks your ass a few more times, his hand tingling, but the spanks seem to make you happy, so he doesn't stop, and he doesn't complain either. 

“You're jealous of me, Candy,” he manages to speak, slowing down just enough so he has more of your attention. “Do you have any idea how jealous I am of you? How hard it is to feel like you want to own me half as much as I want to be yours?” He's on his knees behind you, and his thrusts grow more patient, more luscious. Richer and fuller. “Sometimes I'm scared you'll leave me, and someone else will get to have all the wonderful sex I get to have with you. Someone else will get to see your face first thing in the morning, and become a character in your cartoons, and talk about you with their granny, and bring you home for New Year's.” His face collapses close to your shoulder. “What will I do with myself, then?” 

You turn your face and you finally get to see him. “Flip me around,” you order him, but your voice is fond. “I want to look you in the eyes while you fuck me like no one else has ever.” 

His hair is fuzzy with his perspiration, and his face glistens with a light sheen of sweat. “Sure?” he asks, in confirmation. 

“I'm sure,” you comfort him. 

He's only happy once you're below him, and he's on top of you, inside you. 

You clench around him, and he frowns deeply, trying to control himself. Still, he gives a sharp jab with his hips, and it steals your breath. 

“Like that,” you praise him. “I want you to fuck me like that. Like no one else can.” 

His eyes stay wide open, stubbornly nailed to yours as he starts moving. It's hard and slow, and it makes you see stars. 

“Do you still feel like drawing?” he provokes you, “Or am I fucking you good enough?” 

You hiss and bite his arm, both to keep him humble, but also, again, because you can — and nobody else does. 

“Maybe I could get on top of you so you can watch my tits bounce, and maybe that will make you want to draw,” you bite back, and next thing you know you're both sat up, you're on his lap and he's bouncing you on his dick. 

“Definitely feeling inspired right now,” he concedes. “Maybe I should stop and paint them.” 

You push him down and he's finally with his back to the mattress, you on top. “Or maybe you could shut your mouth and get busy so I can cum.” 

The slap lands almost immediately on your ass. “Dirty mouth. And a fucking divine cunt,” he speaks through gritted teeth. 

He lets you lead for about thirty seconds, during which he stays occupied with your boobs, grabbing them, slapping them, pinching your nipples, and then he grabs your hips and stills them. 

“Touch yourself,” he orders your roughly before he starts fucking up from below you. 

It escalates quickly from there, and in less than a minute you're gone, collapsing forward, against him, and he's so thankful because he's coming too and your kegels are squeezing him just right, and he only manages to say “fucking yours” before he abandons all his inhibitions and loses himself inside you. 

You come back to reality only, and you find yourself tucked in his embrace, his body above yours. You don’t know when he flipped the two of you over, but you like his weight on top of you. 

“Hey,” you murmur, combing his hair away from his face. 

His expression is lazy and satisfied. 

Well done, you tell yourself, almost giving a pat to your own shoulder. He looks fantastically fucked, deliciously edible and perfectly yours. 

“Hey you,” he replies, with the most heavenly, blissful grin on his face. No, too tired to be a grin, more like a glowy smile. It’s not fully on, it looks like those battery-operated lights when they’re almost out of energy, a bit faded, or maybe pale. Faint, feeble, dim. Soft. Muted. If his bunny smiles were jewel tones, this was the most delicate pastel pink. A powder baby blue, almost robin egg blue. 

You want to wrap yourself in the hazy glow radiating from him, gentle as a sunny dawn in late May. 

“So glad you got those Calvin’s,” you joke, and there it is, bunny grin, ten million watts. Apparently that makes his battery die because his head collapses to your neck and he doesn’t seem willing or ready to lift himself back up. 

“So glad I made you jealous. But also sorry,” he says, truly apologetic. “I’m happy we did this. I’m happy I saw you like this.” 

His lips tickle the side of your neck, and you squirm a little, but you try not to move too much. You want to be comfortable for him to rest on. You want him to stay like that on top of you forever. “I’m still maddish. But I think I can deal with it.”

“There’s more pictures coming,” he says tentatively, and he makes the effort to pick up his head to give you a helpless look, trying to protect himself already by giving you the sweetest pair of puppy eyes he’s ever used on anyone. 

“Oh, I’m totally getting your ass branded,” you reply, saccharine. “I was thinking I could make those ribbons, like the ones the police use, except I put my name on it and I wrap it all around your chest, so they can’t drool all over your abs.”

He laughs, and the sound is boyish and playful, and lovely. You fall in love a tiny bit more. 

“Can I see the pictures in advance?”

He hums as he thinks about it for three seconds, except he already knows how he wants to play it. “Mh…” he says some more, keeping you on your toes. “No.” He looks up, testing you. “But let’s say I hope you get that cockring ready.”

You pull your head back, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re not naked in your Calvin’s, right?”

He grins, gives you a devilish wink. “Maybe.”

You grab his cheeks and squeeze his face and he laughs so hard you can’t be possibly mad at him for even a nanosecond. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“And your tits will be it for me,” he flirts back. 

You shake your head. “Brat.”

And he kisses you. Just that. 

Before he hits the shower the following morning, Jeongguk inspects the damage you’ve done on him. 

He’s quite happy with it. A very faint bruise on his neck. A red splotch on his abs, and another on his hip, but nothing that won’t fade within one or two days. He knows you know the drill by now. 

He turns around to inspect his back, and he’s okay with it, nothing that will get him in trouble in case he needs to be shirtless or generically undressed around staff members. He drops his underwear and it’s only once he’s making his way to the shower that he notices something strange on his asscheek. 

Oh, fuck. Suddenly reminded of your little handiwork with the pen the night before, he bends to the side, trying to get a better view at his ass. 

He finds himself wobbling side to side, like a silly puppy chasing his tail, and that is exactly the way you find him when you enter the bathroom. 

A laugh bubbles out of you and you smack his butt playfully. “Do you need help with that?” you ask, cheery. 

“No,” he bites back, but he has the most innocent, pouty look on his face, and he is having fun a little. “Maybe,” he concedes, his voice young. 

You wrap your arms around him and rise to your toes, propping your chin on his shoulder as you hug him from behind. “I wrote, ‘Candy’s babyboy’.”

His ears go red, just the tiniest bit. “Really?” His expression is so sweet. 

“Really,” you confirm, confident, serious, and loving. 

“You’re not making fun of me,” he asks, vulnerably. 

“I promise I’m really, really not, Guk.” You kiss his shoulder. “You’re my babyboy. And my sexy man. And just mine, generally speaking.”

He nods, a happy, fulfilled look on his face. “Right.” He’s once more confident. Entirely adult. 

“Love you,” you reassure him again, and then you kiss his shoulder, again. 

He grins. There he is, your boy. “Love you too.”

Hi it's Dita, the writer, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment to keep this poor gremlin fanfic writer motivated. Bye and I LOVE YOU!!!

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x candy #jungkook x yn #jungkook au #bts x reader #52 hertz #bangtansorciere #btswritersclub

[onlybunss]

Always and Forever

Pairing~ boyfriend!jungkook x girlfriend!reader

Warnings~ crying ,soft!jk, pet names, kissing

A/N: How is it😭

After Friends Forever

Both can be read as a stand alone

"Good morning, Koo."

I say this as I feel my boyfriend stir beside me, his eyes fluttering open with a smile.

"Good morning, babe," he replies, wrapping his arms around me in a warm embrace.

"Remember what day it is.." I say

"Ofc Happy anniversary, baby," he says while he leans in and kisses me softly on the lips, making my heart swell with love and gratitude.

"I can't believe it's been seven amazing years together," I whisper, feeling incredibly lucky to have him by my side. "I feel like the luckiest person in the world to have you," I say, burying my head in his chest and breathing in his familiar scent.

"I love you more than words can express," he murmurs, gently stroking my hair as we lay there in each other's arms.

"I wouldn't want to spend my life with anyone else but you," he adds, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

As we finally untangle ourselves from each other, Jungkook smiles and says

"Baby, go take a shower and get dressed before I lose control and forget all about our date later.".

I chuckle at his playful tone and give him a quick peck on the lips before heading to the bathroom, feeling grateful for his love and affection.

Timeskip to later that evening.

We arrive at the restaurant hand in hand, both of us still feeling the lingering warmth of our earlier embrace. Jungkook's eyes sparkle with adoration as he pulls out my chair, making me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

As we sit down to enjoy our meal, I can't help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude for having someone like him in my life. Our date is filled with laughter, love, and genuine connection, making it a night to remember.

"koo" "yes,baby" "How was your meeting with Namjoon last night?"

"Actually, it went really well. Namjoon loved the ideas I presented, and we're moving forward with the project," Jungkook replies, his smile widening. I can't help but admire how passionate and dedicated he is to his work. It's one of the many reasons why I fell in love with him in the first place.

I remember how nervous I was when we first met, but now I know that he's the one for me. Our relationship has only grown stronger over time, and I'm grateful for every moment we share together. I can't imagine my life without him by my side.

As we finish our meal and leave the restaurant, Jungkook says

"Baby, I have a surprise for you, but first put this blindfold on."

As he places the blindfold on me, my heart races with excitement as I wonder what surprise he has in store for me. I hold his hand tightly, feeling grateful for the love and happiness he brings into my life. I trust him completely and know that whatever he has planned will be thoughtful and special. I can't wait to see what he has in store for me.

The anticipation builds as we walk towards the car, my mind racing with possibilities of what the surprise could be. I feel incredibly lucky to have someone who goes out of their way to make me feel loved and cherished.

Timeskip

As we drive to our destination, I can't help but get a little bit nervous about what the surprise could be. I take comfort in knowing that whatever it is, it will be a reflection of his thoughtfulness and love for me.

"Baby, you can take your blindfold off," Jungkook says. "ok koo"

As I slowly removed the blindfold, my heart was pounding with excitement and curiosity. As I opened my eyes, my eyes instantly watered at the sight of Jungkook on his knees, holding a ring box, asking me to spend the rest of my life with him. The tears of joy stream down my face as I realize that this surprise is a proposal.

"N..no y..your n..not koo," I manage to say through choked sobs.

Jungkook smiles, tears glistening in his eyes as well, and whispers, "I love you more than words can express."

He stops for a moment before he continues.

"Today is our anniversary. I can't believe we started dating seven years ago . It feels like just yesterday that I saw you walk into that coffee shop, and my heart skipped a beat."

I laugh a little in between sobs as I remember how I tripped and accidentally spilled his coffee.

" I am so grateful for all the memories we have created together, and I look forward to many more years of love and happiness with you. You are my rock, my best friend, and my everything. That's why I want to ask you to spend forever with me as my partner in life, my person to lean on, and my eternal love….I guess what I'm trying to say is y/n l/n/... Will you marry me? "

My heart feels like it's about to burst with happiness at his words as I nod my head in response, unable to form any coherent words.

Tears of joy stream down my face as I reach out to embrace him, feeling overwhelmed with love and gratitude in that moment. I can't wait to start this new chapter of our lives together as we embark on this journey towards forever.

Our eyes meet, filled with tears of joy and love. I lean in and kiss him passionately, knowing that this moment will be etched in our memories forever. Our love has brought us to this beautiful moment, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with him by my side.

In between our kiss, I say,

"I love you, Jeon Jungkook." "And I love you Jeon y/n/ always and forever "

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts hot #bangtan #bts

[hobisstar]

So delicate| jjk x fem!reader

summary: Love isn’t fun when your young lover is caught cheating.

Warning: JUNGKOOK IS A PIECE IN SHIT IN THIS OMG, 8 year age gap, dom! Jk, sub! Reader, mentions of smut, toxic relationships, cheating, after math of cheating, and that’s all I could think of. Oh and maybe a little bit of yandere.

Crash.

Was what yn felt when she got home. Oh she couldn’t wait to just crash and go to sleep after a nice hot shower. But of course, that’s not what happened.

No you see yn came home to her boyfriend, cheating. It’s not like she was surprised no she has felt this was coming since a few months ago. Just how dare he bring into their home? How could he? The he in question is none other Jeon Jungkook.

According to jungkook they were falling apart after her late night working hours and his chilling at home hours. And because not to mention yn is a little older than Jungkook. Yn being freshly 34 and Jungkook being 26, they bumped heads with that 8 year age gap.

Yn frowned upon it so so much, but for some reason Jungkook insisted that they be together and forget about the age gap. They were adults in love and that’s all that mattered to him.

Recently, it hasn’t been so much love though. Yes, it’s still there but after this, is it?

One day Jungkook was nitpicking. Everything yn did that day, he just didn’t like it.

Going to work, didn’t like.

Walking around in clothes, didn’t like.

Not holding him tightly enough when she left for work, didn’t like.

Not riding his cock until he was begging to breed her with his then limp leaking cock, didn’t like.

The last one, cause an argument. Can you imagine having an argument while being onto of your lover? After he basically cummed in you more than once? Same. I couldn’t!

But yn being yn, she tried. Truly she tried to understand so much of his recent actions but what he said the day after? Was heart breaking.

“It’s not my fault that you decided to date a 26 year old at your old age. Should’ve dated someone your own age..”

It didn’t hurt yn because she knows it was true. So her rebuttal was

“ your right. And since you are so fucking right I’m done with you. You don’t want to be with my old ass anyways so I might as well find someone who will.”

Soon, that argument turned into angry sex. Yn saying she hates him while Jungkook replies I love you and your mine.

A whole lot that honestly needed to end anyways.

But this time, you were serious.

As soon as yn heard the moans coming from what once was their shared home, she quietly walked to the room, opened the door, packed a bag, and went downstairs. She completed drained out Jungkooks yelling and the woman’s panic voice trying to call Jungkook down when all she got was a get the hell out, to that she did.

“Baby… I thought you had to work late today?” He mumbled walking up behind her.

Yn did one swift turn toward him and looked him in the eyes and smacked him. “ You… you dare do this behind my back but you got some hefty balls to do this in my fucking home? I’m not surprised. Jungkook you’ve been hinting at this since 5 months ago. I was just dumb enough to ignore them. So you know what? Stay with her. Stay with whoever. I’m done and you don’t have to worry about my grown ass any longer… I’m done. Officially.”

Yn grabbed her bag and walked passed a stunned Jungkook making sure she shoulder bumped him on her way out.

He didn’t even attempt to stop because he knew. He knew that if he did she’d never have a chance of leaving of again. She wins this time. He told himself.

Oh let chaos begin…

#bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #hobisstar writes #jungkook ff #jjk #bts jeon jungkook #BTS #Jungkook smut #yandere jungkook #bts au #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts scenarios #bts fic #bangtan #bts jeongguk

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you are jungkook’s religion and he wants to be your passenger princess.

> fluff / wc: 3k

> warnings: there’s like a three second earthworm cameo lol, jk is living his best life in this bicycle date <3

note: i loved writing this + it reminded me of this drabble i suggest reading it too :( pls tell jk to stop being so cute my heart can’t handle it :( oh and imagine the current jungkook with his long hair and pretty bangs btw <3 reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated :]

—

“hmm?” you hum in question when jungkook’s tattooed hand pushes up your elbow. the book you’ve been reading uncovers his head lying on your lap, acting as a paperweight for the pastel yellow summer dress adorning your figure.

“humor me, okay?”

in the midst of his pensive facade, his lips are curved into a lazy smile, almost undetectable if only you aren’t so close that you can vividly see the scar on his cheek and the texture of his honey skin. his face is a little puffy and his eyes are hazy, adorably so, courtesy of the nap he woke up from ten minutes ago.

there are scattered speckles of sunlight painted all over the two of you, in the shape of the gaps between the leaves of the tall tree supporting your back. the wind gently blows through his hair and the edges of the blue gingham picnic blanket spread out beneath you, as if the earth is sighing dreamily at the han riverside scenery.

“would you still love me if i became a worm?”

“what?”

you cover the lower half of your face with the book when a snort bluntly escapes you, and uncontrollable giggles racking your body follow soon after. they prompt the thin strap of your dress to fall off the curve of your right shoulder, and your boyfriend swiftly swoops in, slipping his index finger through it to put it back into position.

“would you still love me if i became a worm?!” he repeats the question louder in faux irritation, but he can’t conceal a toothy grin because your laughter is contagious, a melody that brings him unfathomable joy. an echo that will remind him he was once here, with you, a moment in time locked away in the palace of his most precious memories.

he grasps your wrists to his chest to confront you, and you completely lose your weakened grip on the book. unshed tears gather at the corners of your eyes as your laughter refuses to cease.

“listen- you’re cute, but i need to take the internet away from you.”

his doe eyes grow rounder, whiny voice with a lisp tugging at your heartstrings because you never not find every little thing about him painfully endearing. “baby, stop avoiding the topic. i demand honest answers!”

“of course i would! love doesn’t go away that easily!” you yield to his stubborn need to pry the answers from you. “but it depends on my mood that day, and maybe how you even became a worm in the first place? uh, i’d build you a garden and a little house. oh! and even crochet some cute little outfits for you according to the seasons, keep you warm and safe so you don’t have to hide in the soil . . .”

it’s true that you’ve been dipping your toes into crocheting nowadays, one of your works in progress being a sweater for bam in early preparation for this year’s winter. however, the stars in his eyes ignited by your sweet rambling transform into a dull glimmer of disappointment when he hears the horrifying continuation of your sentence.

“or if it’s a beauty and the beast situation and you got cursed for being bad, then i’d put you in a bucket and go fishing.”

he abruptly sits up, sending your book tumbling down on his lap and . . . you lose your page number just like that.

“fishing? fishing?! isn’t that too harsh? what happened to for better or for worse?” dumbfounded, he frantically shakes his head. “what are you going to say when bam goes looking for his daddy?!”

you tilt your head to the side, highly amused at the man who turned out to only want a sweet response from you despite spitting out the question in a joking manner.

you look at him with wide, innocent eyes. “that you went fishing?”

he pouts somberly, staring into the far distance, where the blue sky stretches endlessly. “bro, you’d expect to know somebody because you live with them and you raise a dog together.”

he heaves a dramatic sigh as he raises both arms to push his hair back, long fingers smoothly gliding across the dark locks. the sleeves of his oversized black t-shirt bunch around his shoulders to reveal more of the tattoos covering the entirety of his right arm, but then his bangs fall back into place like dominoes, and he does it all over again.

“oh, my baby. come on.” you inch closer to hug his waist, planting a kiss on his cheek before leaning your chin on his shoulder. “you’re really just going to ignore the garden and crochet part?”

he overtly ignores your words with a scoff, but he puts a hand over your interlocked ones so he won’t slip out of your embrace as he reaches out for a stick among the lush green grass. your loud gasp beside his ear makes him snicker as he scoops up the earthworm that has crawled dangerously close to his white and washed denim nike air jordans. aside from the cover of ‘the seven husbands of evelyn hugo’ hovering above his face, he was also greeted by this unwordly creature when he woke up from his nap. still sluggish as his body and brain gradually recovered to their full functions, he quietly watched it crawl around the spacious picnic blanket, half out of his mind. well, that was until he got bored.

“go- you need to go. get away from here and travel far where you won’t be found. you’re not safe in this place!” he cries out with his roleplay mode turned on, garnering a weird look from a passerby.

“that’s not far away. at all.” you remark teasingly as he gently sets it down behind the tree, less than two feet away.

“i only showed it a new direction. it can manage on its own. the lessons in life are sprinkled along the treacherous journey.” he scrunches his nose as he chuckles, placing back the stick exactly where he found it. “okay, i’m awake! let’s go ride a bike now!”

“i’m already on chapter 40, though.” you sadly mumble to yourself, having enjoyed the inner peace that enveloped you a while ago, when you finally overcame your month-long reading slump with the meditative aid of nature’s generous spring.

your arms automatically drop down to your sides when he energetically springs up in excitement. he picks up the handwoven picnic basket, opening one of the lids and pushing aside the emptied lunch boxes to safely tuck your book inside.

“baaabe, move.”

“huh?” he makes a noise of confusion when he feels the fabric get tugged underneath his feet. “oh- right, wait.”

he walks backwards at your command, allowing you to remove the rest of the picnic blanket off the grass. he patiently waits as you fold it into half, and half, and half, until it becomes small enough to fit in the basket he’s holding open.

he’s been unable to keep his eyes off you since this morning— glancing, looking, admiring your facial features and the way your eyebrows furrow in the slightest when you’re focused on a task (he doesn’t think you know this at all); down to your neck, and your chest exposed by the low square neckline of your dress. you were pouting in the car because you forgot to wear a necklace, exclaiming ‘i knew i forgot something!’ but he thinks your bare skin under the sunlight is priceless compared to gold. he loves your legs in shorts, dresses, skirts; hell, his boxers— loves how you carry yourself with grace and finesse wherever you go. past the walls he built around his heart, didn’t have to make them crumble because you are the key.

his lips have touched every inch of your body a couple million times that it has become more of a religion, putting mere familiarity into shame.

he puts down the basket on the grass after you slip the blanket inside, whispering a tender “baby, come here,” as he guides you towards the tree, pinning your back on it.

“why?” you gape at him in curiosity, hands grasping at his hips because you unconsciously trust jungkook to keep you steady more than a tree deeply rooted in the earth.

“the straps won’t stop falling off. i’ll fix it.” now that he’s speaking in a hushed tone, you can hear the roughness around the edges of his voice caused by sleep.

he deliberately towers over you to shield you from strangers’ eyes, pulling at the strings wrapped around your right shoulder to undo the ribbon sitting on top of it. he maintains a secure grip, wary of the neckline of your dress sliding further down as he makes a knot, and then another to finish off the ribbon.

you gaze at him lovingly, an affectionate smile lighting up your face. sometimes you forget how attentive your boyfriend is. you confess that you meant to tie the straps a little loosely, but you didn’t intend for them to fall off so often.

“thank you.”

he responds to your lively chirp with a kiss on the lips, your mixed berries flavored lip balm staining his. his tongue instantaneously darts out to give it a taste, the mole under his bottom lip making an appearance as he separates the straps of your tote bag from the second pair of strings.

the wind blows once more, three times stronger than the last, and jungkook tightly twists the strings around his two longest fingers as he waits for it to pass. you squeeze your eyes shut, forehead colliding with his chest to hide from the dust that could potentially blind you.

the wind eases, and he clicks his tongue as he continues fixing your dress, repeating the same steps with thoughtful precision. the back of his hands graze your skin every now and then, soft and smooth from the skincare products he smears on them to apply to his face.

“ah, this is insane. good thing we already had lunch before it got this windy.”

“i kind of love it. the earth feels so alive.”

your breath hitches when he ducks down to press a chaste kiss on where your neck and shoulder meet. the warmth of his lips contrasts the coldness of the ring pierced at the corner of his mouth. the intimate sound chimes in your ear, the sensation sending tingles to your lower abdomen.

“mhmm, know you do. you always see the good in things.” in me, the words he wants to add hang unbalanced on the tip of his tongue.

—

by the time you decide that you want to rent an electric scooter instead of a bicycle, jungkook is already paddling towards you while wheeling one by his side.

he enthusiastically shouts, “let me be the passenger princess today!”

and a wave of flashbacks from two years ago wash over you as he draws nearer— when he poured his blood, sweat, and tears into eight tortorous days of teaching you how to ride a bicycle because you forgot how to. you’d expect him to take that as a very telling sign not to ride one with you, but the man standing infront of you seems enraptured by the idea alone.

“sure, but give me a kiss first.” you bat your eyelashes coyly, and he doesn’t waste time in granting your request. he pulls your face closer by the back of your neck, lips crashing against yours for a kiss that robs the air from your lungs. and what a heavenly way to die.

“happy? or more?” he raises an eyebrow flirtatiously.

“greedy boy.” you scold him, lightly pushing his cheek to the opposite direction, and he dryly chuckles at your choice of words. fuck, you know him too well.

“you carry this, love.” you transfer the basket hanging on your forearm to his tattooed one, and your thumb briefly skims across the indents on your skin left by the pattern of the handles.

“i thought you wanted to ride one yourself, though?”

“changed my mind when i saw there’s a backseat.” he sticks out his tongue playfully, laying hold of your tote bag and putting it in the basket between the handles infront.

you roll your eyes as you climb on the seat, putting one foot on the pedal and anchoring the other on the asphalt road. you release a heavy sigh. “made myself all pretty today not knowing i’ll end up sweaty and gross.”

“aish! my butt! it hurts!” his moans and grunts of pain are accompanied by cackles as he shifts on the metal seat behind you. once he deems himself comfortable enough, he wraps his arms around your waist for . . . hopefully, obvious safety reasons. “damn, okay. there we go. i’m ready. sweep me off my feet, baby.”

you swat his hand lightly. “be careful what you wish for.”

“you’re cute when you try to be mean.” he squeezes your sides as an alternative for your cheeks.

“aren’t you scared that i might drive us off into the river? not even a little bit?!”

instead of pressuring you into not making an uncalculated mistake, he simply says “so what? i can swim.”

—

“shit, shit, shit! i feel like i’m falling! b-babe- are you doing this on purpose now?!” jungkook erupts into another fit of childlike giggles and high-pitched squeals as you glide across a curve and the bicycle tilts slightly to the side. your hips occassionally rises from the seat so you can push down at the pedals with more effort, spurring moments of him loosely clinging to you.

“maybe? you enjoy stuff like this!” you grin mischievously to yourself.

his long legs are starting to feel sore from having to keep them lifted off the ground, but this is infinitely better than putting them on either side of the bicycle and risking the possibility of getting his balls smushed. besides, he is enamored by the fact that he is face-to-face with the perfect view of the dancing trees, the babbling river, and the bustling city life on the opposite side.

he taps the circle button on his phone screen to end the panorama, swiping to the left to switch to a video. he allows the camera to capture the rest of the beautiful scenery before flipping it to the front.

“i’m having so much fun! i’m never sitting at the front of the bike again- never!” he yells at the reflection of himself, hair covering almost his entire face. the sight makes him laugh heartily. “ay, i look ridiculous with the wind slapping my face. fuck, what is this? my hair- it’s driving me crazy-”

he aggressively shakes his head to get them out of the way, regretting not tying up his hair before you took off.

“then what about me?! i’m fighting against it!” you yell back, squinted eyes persevering the ruthless gusts of wind. the only difference is that you can feel it sweeping through your hair, through your dress, as if you’re soaring and you’re free, not running away but heading somewhere.

“but you’re going to enjoy it when we go back and it’s behind you! trust me!”

this is the first time jungkook is the bicycle passenger since god knows when. he doesn’t remember it being this marvelous, thrilling in its most wholesome form. meanwhile, this is the first time you’re riding a bicycle with a passenger. perhaps you made the same mistake you kept on making two years ago: kicking your feet as if you’re in a race, thinking speed equals to balance. he had to remind you to calm down, slow down, stop looking down all over again. that was at the first minute. your anxieties have been long gone, quelled by your boyfriend’s sheer delight radiating for miles and miles. his happiness is a bubble expanding in size as the wind blows relentlessly.

his phone is returned to the confines of his deep pocket after he deems himself satisfied with the memories he recorded in the device. he properly hugs your waist again, resting his head on the expanse of your back, thin cotton against the apple of his cheek. his heavy eyelids flutter shut. he breathes in, chest rising and pushing against the tough handles of the basket hanging pretty on his forearm, and he breathes out. with his sense of sight idle, it almost feels like you’re flying him to outer space.

“jungkook, you better not fall asleep there. i’m serious.” you sternly remind him, panic meter going up when you notice more of his weight gradually limping against yours.

“yah! you- i love you; i won’t do that to you. don’t be scared.” he chuckles, heart swelling with fondness for the concern lacing your voice.

you melt at his charming reassurance. “i love you too.”

“nyam.”

“did you just bite me?” you whip your head to the back in suspicion when you feel a faint sting blossoming on your shoulder.

he innocently looks at the bite mark he left on your skin, and when he tilts up his chin to catch a glimpse of your face, your eyes have already refocused on the bicycle path. ”i did . . . you taste like what i imagine the sunshine would taste.”

“is that a good thing?”

“yeah, good. like honey.”

“thank my body wash for that.” you giggle, and jungkook yearns to see your face, but he shall marvel at the rows of pink and white flowers approaching ahead in the meantime.

“no, that’s not it.” a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he corrects you in a voice so soft it almost breaks. “it’s you. just you.”

—

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts reaction #bts fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut